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reiding-writing · 11 days

Note

Hiiii, first of all i wanna say congratsss!! You’re an amazing writer and i LOVE your stuff! Secondly, i would like to mention that i’ve never actually made a request before so bear with me 😬 Okay okay, so i was wondering if you could write cold!reader with angsty prompt 28. "I can't believe I didn't see that coming." and general prompt 23. “I thought I’d lost you.” Maybe spencer gets hurt and reader shows emotion (maybe some tears) and the team is all like ???

(feel free to ignore this btw 💗💗)

CLOSE CALL [CLIMACTERIC]

28. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

23. “I thought I’d lost you.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, guns, hostage situation, character death, reader is her typical rash self, happy ending

spencer reid x cold!reader || hurt/comfort || 2.8k ||

a/n: thank you <3 i’m honoured to be the conduit you chose for your first request and i hope this is what you envisioned 🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

event masterlist!!

Spencer’s hands shake so much as he pulls off his bulletproof vest you’re not sure how he has enough articulation in his fingers to do so in the first place.

“Reid, you’re not ready to do this.” Your words aren’t as harsh as they are truthful, but it cuts him down the same anyhow. “Let me or Hotch do it.”

“No, I need to do this myself,” Spencer shakes his head determinedly, and if he wasn’t so focused on the sheer amount of adrenaline running through his veins right no he’d probably be proud of himself for standing up to you and not just following your word as law, but alas, the only thing he could feel right now is absolute dread. “He won’t listen to you.”

Why was it always him that got personally involved with the unsubs? It was like they were a heat-seeking missile locked only onto his location.

Literally locked onto his location in this case. He’d seen him —Daniel as he called himself— on the train home from work, in the coffee shop he frequented, the local library, and he swears he also saw him parked in his apartment building’s parking lot.

It was like he was silently screaming at Spencer to notice him, and when he finally got to speak to the man, he asked for help. He was afraid. He was afraid of himself because he was having horribly intrusive thoughts that made him want to do terrible things and he viewed Spencer as his only scapegoat. Pros and cons of being all over the news for his job he supposes.

Spencer really did try to help him, but every suggestion he made was shut down like they weren’t good enough, like Daniel wanted Spencer to physically go into his brain and remove all of the faulty parts that were making him feel insane.

Spencer’s help just wasn’t good enough, and it lead to multiple people dying as a result.

And now Daniel was holding a woman hostage in her own house.

How was he supposed to not feel solely responsible for that?

Spencer had to be the one to speak to him. Not you or Hotch and your negotiation training, him and his personal connection to all the deaths that had happened because he wasn’t able to help someone that was begging him to save them from their own mind.

He practically shoves his revolver into your hand as he commits to going inside, taking a second to regulate his breathing before emerging from behind the SUVs to approach the closed front door, leaving you all in wait, guns raised at every window in the event that something goes wrong.

Something was bound to go wrong.

“Reid the minute that something feels off you leave, understand?” It technically wasn’t your call to make, but as you spoke into the small radio on your chest you weren’t really thinking about that. It’s not like Hotch would disagree with you anyway.

There’s a few seconds of silence over the radio, even though you know he heard you from the slight jolt in his spine as he reached the front door of the house. “Reid. Tell me that you understand that.”

“Copy,”

You had half the mind to drag him back into the car from that response alone. He clearly wasn’t listening to you, not properly anyway, and having such an emotional involvement in something like this was going to get him killed if he treated it the wrong way.

“Be careful,” Hotch was less antagonistic in his warning, but it held the same message.

Spencer threw an arbitrary thumbs up above his head before knocking on the door of the house and entering slowly with both his arms raised.

Then it was a waiting game. A stalemate where you had to sit with your guns trained and just wait for any sign of change. It was like absolute torture.

It was virtual silence and tumble weeds for the best of five minutes, and then there was a loud gunshot sound that echoed from inside the walls of the house, and all of that waiting felt for naught as you pressed the button on your radio with a steady stream of trepidation raising in your throat that he might not answer you. “Reid? Reid come in.”

You wait for something to come from the other side of the radio, even if it’s just the crackle of static from him pressing the button without actually speaking into it. But all you get is silence, and it makes that sinking feeling grow until you literally feel like you’re about to throw up your stomach.

You don’t think twice about running towards the front door of the house after you don’t get an answer, ignoring the calls of Hotch for you to back down and let SWAT take care of it so he didn’t possibly lose two agents instead of just one.

He knew you weren’t going to listen to him either way.

You open the door with your pistol raised at your eyes, the weight of Spencer’s revolver tucked into the waistband of your jeans acting both as an instrument to ground you and as a torturous reminder that the gunshot you heard couldn’t have possibly been from him.

It had to have come from Daniel.

Logically you should’ve swept the ground floor first before rushing straight into the dining room where you knew the three had been last, in case Daniel had left the room and approached you from behind.

You don’t of course, and you kick open the barricaded dining room door with enough force to splinter the door frame holding the hinge pin in place, the door hitting the wall with a thud.

The sight you’re met with is not what you expected to find.

“Reid—” You drop your gun to your side the second your eyes land on the back of his head, his back to you and his eyes locked on Daniel, lying on his back on the dining room floor with a bullet hole to the side of his head, his blood slowly pooling on the linoleum.

The woman he had hostage was alive too, thank god, practically trying to melt into the corner as she cried into her hands, obviously still in shock over what happened.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming,” Spencer’s words didn’t feel like they were coming from himself as he spoke, his voice feeling detached from his consciousness as his mind focused on fully comprehending the situation.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are—” Your body forces a sharp breath to leave your mouth as it cools don from the adrenaline rushing through your system, and you pull Spencer backwards by his arm to stop the blood from Daniel’s body reaching his shoes. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I just- I don’t know,” Spencer gives up on trying to find an explanation for his actions before even really thinking about it. He knows there’s no use, because he really wasn’t thinking, it was just acting on instinct.

“You see this Reid?” You give the radio on his chest a pull with your hand, causing him to stumble forward towards you in the process. “It’s a radio, use it.” There’s no denying the insurmountable rage in your tone as you berate Spencer for his carelessness, something that he most definitely deserves as he stands there nodding at you like an idiot.

You let go of his radio with a small push, sending him stumbling backwards this time, and you take a second to compose yourself before pressing on your own radio to communicate with the rest of the team. “I’ve got Reid and the hostage alive. The unsub shot himself.”

“Copy that, we’re coming in.”

Hotch’s voice may as well be a leaf in the wind as Spencer puts his full focus into how absolutely furious you seem with him.

“I’m sorry—”

”Sorry isn’t good enough.” You ignore the arrival of your teammates in the house, how they carefully guide the hostage outside to get her looked over by the ambulance waiting outside and how they secure the scene for the forensics team to deal with. “You cannot throw your life away by running head first into a dangerous situation knowing you can’t defend yourself.”

“I thought—”

“What? That it’d be fine? That you all of a sudden had all the training you needed to talk down an armed serial killer with serious delusions that could leave you as his next victim?” Maybe you we’re being a bit too harsh on him, but it was important he understood exactly what could’ve gone wrong. “You might be a genius Reid, but you are the dumbest goddamn person I have ever met.”

Spencer presses his lips together into a line at your declaration, lowering his head until his gaze is firmly planted on the floor.

“You are not an expendable resource, you can’t be replaced, and you need to understand that before you throw yourself into a possible line of fire do you understand me?” You ignore the lingering gaze of Hotch as you continue your verbal assault on Spencer, and you know you’ll probably get an earful yourself for being so hard on him, but he gave you a real scare, and you were expressing that to him in the way that suited you most.

“Yes I understand, I’m sorry…” The slight waver of his voice as he responds to you is enough to knock your anger down a peg, and you drag your hand down your face with a sigh.

“We were scared for you Reid, you could’ve died.”

“I know…”

You give another soft sigh at the voice he barely keeps his voice controlled as he whispers out his answer to you, on the verge of tears from your thorough verbal assault.

“Don’t do it again. I thought I’d lost you.” You lift up one of your hands to put it on his shoulder, although it lands closer to the curve of his neck, prompting his face upwards to meet your eyes once more. “And as much as you can be idiotic, the team needs you alive.”

He gives you a soft hum as an answer this time, not trusting his voice to not crack if he were to speak properly.

He tries not to focus on the warmth of your hand on his neck, nor on the fact that you’d said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ when talking about being concerned for his safety under fear of only worsening his attempts at keeping himself composed.

Your gaze softens marginally as you spot the glassiness of his eyes, and for a second he swears that the protective shield you cover yourself with disappears to show the amount of concern you truly felt for him.

“I’m okay… I promise,” He nods softly at you with rounded eyes. He’s mildly flattered by how much you care, but he doesn’t want you to show it as concern, positive emotions suited you much better he thinks.

“You’re lucky, and it won’t last forever,” You use you hand against his shoulder to turn him around, pushing him gently towards the front door and using the opportunity of him not facing you to swallow the start of your own tears, clearing your throat into your elbow as he takes your lead in leaving the house.

“Reid,” Hotch is on top of the two of you before you even walk out the door. “Go and meet Morgan by the ambulance, I want you checked over,”

“But—“

“Go,” Hotch’s inherent ability to be authoritative trumps Spencer’s resistance immediately, and Spencer begrudgingly leaves your side with a small “yes sir,” to go and be checked out by one of the EMTs.

You attempt to follow him at first, but you’re promptly stopped by Hotch raising his hand in your direction, and then gesturing you over to him.

“Berating somebody for running into a dangerous situation head first with how you responded is very—“

“Hypocritical, I know,” You interrupt the end of Hotch’s sentence by finishing it yourself. “But if he hadn’t gotten into that situation in the first place then I wouldn’t have had to respond the way I did,”

“I understand you care about Reid,” Hotch crosses his arms over his chest, and although there is zero malice in his expression or his tone, you can still tell that he’s not exactly happy with you right now. “But you also need to be more careful with how you handle yourself,”

You narrow your gaze at him a little, and he mirrors it right back at you. “You can’t worry about keeping Reid alive if you’re not alive yourself, you need to be more careful, understand?”

“Yes sir,” The words are almost begrudging as they leave your mouth, but you know he’s right really. Running in after Spencer without a second thought and then berating him for being reckless was hypocritical, and you probably deserved to be reprimanded for it.

—

“You really gave her a scare you know,” Morgan speaks, prompted by Spencer’s very obvious lingering glances in your direction as you speak with Hotch.

“I know,” Spencer sighs dejectedly as he finally removes his eyes from you to allow the paramedic in front of him to check his pupillary response. “She made sure of that,”

“She cares about you Reid,” Morgan gives him a squeeze on his shoulder. “You’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack if you keep this up,”

“That’s quite dramatic, the chances of somebody going into cardiac arrest from shock is extremely low, only 5% of all cases, and technically it would actually be cardiogenic shock, which isn’t a heart attack,”

“It’s a figure of speech Reid,” Morgan gives him a small playful shove after the paramedic has finished his evaluation, rolling his eyes. “Point is, you scared her, and I don’t know whether to be amazed or concerned at the fact that’s even possible,”

“She’s just as likely to be afraid as anyone else,” Spencer bites his cheek at Morgan’s declaration, unsure whether he should feel guilty or flustered at just how much you seemed to care about him, from the words of the rest of the team anyway.

“I mean yeah we were all worried about you, but she ran head first into the house with a potentially manic shooter inside, by herself, after Hotch told her to wait for backup,” Morgan gives Spencer a light nudge with his elbow, raising his eyebrows with an amused expression. “You know what I call that? Favouritism,”

Spencer lets out a small airy laugh, shaking his head as he stands from the edge of the ambulance.

“Face it pretty boy, you’re stuck with her for life, even if it means she follows you into an early grave,” The teasing in Morgan’s voice is unmistakeable, but his words ring truth either way. “Let’s just make sure you don’t end up in an early grave alright?”

“Yeah—” Spencer lets out another small breath through his mouth as Morgan pats his hand between his shoulder blades, gesturing for Spencer to follow him towards the rest of the team with a nod of his head.

Spencer doesn’t want to cut himself short just yet, especially if that means you’ll serve yourself the same fate. Although the idea of having you accompany him, even if it did mean in whatever lies after death, didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #climacteric 🪶

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mrdixon · 8 months

Text

Shut it

pairing: established daryl dixon x f!reader

wc: 5.9k

summary: pretty much trying to make Daryl jealous GONE WRONG !!!!

warnings: 18+ content, swearing duh, hair pulling, fingering, rough sex, p-in-v, unprotected sex, squirting, little bit degrading, some spanking,,,,

A/N: GOD this took way longer than it shouldve but writers block makes me want to shove my fingers in my eyes. anyway i hope this was worth the wait because i do not enjoy this as much as i should. BEWARE not fully proofread so i may come back to edit things im just so fucking tired and wanna get this out asap. also i personally dont believe that daryl would be the type to be this rough during sex but a guy can dream…

masterlist!

Daryl was never the jealous type, he trusted you and your decisions so there was no point in getting jealous. He had you, you both knew it. So when a certain man in Alexandria started pursuing you, he didn't pay much attention.

It sort of bothered you, feeling kind of guilty that you wanted your boyfriend to be jealous. You guessed it was just cause you wanted him to be possessive, but he wasn't like that. He cherished you, held you carefully. Sure he liked people knowing he was your boyfriend, but he wouldn't go as far as to mark you up or do something rash in public. That didn't mean he didn't care about you, hell he loved taking care of you and loving you. He just preferred to keep your intimate life private.

You were outside in the front yard tending to some flowers when the guy pursuing you, William, walked up.

“Hey, (Y/N).” He grinned down at you, making you have to look up at him. Squinting from the sun in your eyes, smiling.

“Oh hey, what brings you here?” You replying in a friendly tone, wiping the dirt off your knees before standing up and taking your gloves off. You could feel William’s eyes trail down your body and you mentally eye rolled.

“Just… y’know. Hanging around, taking a walk… Whatcha’ up to?” He murmured, clearly distracted.

You laughed sarcastically, “just fixin’ up these flowers. Couple of kids ran over them yesterday.” William nodded absentmindedly, staring at everything but your eyes.

“Uhuh… poor dog…” He mumbled, clearly not paying attention to anything you just said and it took everything in you to not just flip and slap him across his stupid face.

The front door opened, Daryl walking out with his crossbow on his back, covering those angel wings on the fabric of his vest. You looked up at the sky as if thanking some kind of god for sending Daryl to save you. Though to your misfortune, he wasn’t staying for long.

“Jus’ goin’ out huntin’,” he murmured gruffly and kissed your cheek briefly, nodding towards William before walking down the street towards the gates. Your eyes trailed after him sadly while your shoulders slumped, nibbling your lip to stop yourself from calling him back.

“Uh (Y/N)? I was wondering if you wanted to accompany me to pick some berries later, I could even make you a pie with them if you’d like…” William broke through your thoughts and you thought for a bit. One half of you was telling you to say no, but the other half sort of wanted to make Daryl jealous. Or at least try. Ultimately you decided on the second option, this could be fun…. right?

“Sure, later then?” You smiled at William, watching as he looked down towards your chest again, a slight scowl appearing on your face.

“Mhm… I’ll pick you up later then,” he mumbled. You immediately broke out into a smile once he looked up at you again, you just nodded before turning towards your home. Your smile dropping once you entered the house.

The hard part was getting through the afternoon with William, the aftermath with Daryl would surely be the best part.

You sat in the kitchen, doodling in your notebook as you waited for William to come pick you up. Around this time Daryl came home, removing his muddy boots knowing how much you hated when he made a mess in the house before walking into the kitchen to find you with your back to him. You could feel his gaze trail down your body, keeping still particularly around your legs, which were shown off by the shorts you were wearing. Unlike William, you quite liked when Daryl stared at you like this.

You giggled once he came up behind you and wrapped you up in his big, strong arms. Planting soft kisses along your neck and exposed shoulders. “Mmmh… ma girl dress up fer me?” He grumbled, turning your chair around to get a closer look at you. You felt a sense of pride as he bit his lip, admiring your legs, more specifically your thighs which he squeezed affectionately. You weren’t wearing anything extremely extraordinary per se, but it was new to him. You usually covered yourself up for no particular reason, maybe it was your subconscious teasing Daryl since you knew how much he loved seeing you, every part of you. You were just simply wearing a lower cut tank top along with some jean shorts you pulled up in the back of the closet.

He grunted, moving his lips underneath your jaw and planting teasing kisses there, causing you to giggle, “I didn’t dress up for you… I’m going out.” You smiled, rubbing the stubble at his jaw with your thumb.

He jerked his head back slightly, furrowing his brows. “Goin’ out without me?” He snorted jokingly, running his fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp which elicited a soft moan from you. “Sounds like you wanna stay home wit’ me…” He huffed, kissing your neck again more forcefully. His hands squeezing at your sides as if trying to convince you to stay home.

You groaned, pushing him back, his hands sliding down to your hips. As much as you’d like to stay home and continue this with him… You were on a mission. And it was to make this man in front of you get jealous. It was like your one fantasy about him, treating you like you were nothing but his. Using you to satisfy his needs, fucking you roughly…

“Sorry baby, I promised to help…” He narrowed his eyes at the nickname but shrugged it off, instead frowning. Rubbing circles into your hips.

“Who ya goin’ with?” He mumbled, burying his face into your neck. Gently pecking any skin he could get his lips on. Your shoulders shook softly as you chuckled, your fingers in his hair.

“William, he asked to help pick berries so he can bake us a pie.” You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant about it.

“Err William, the guy you were talkin’ to earlier? The guy who has a painfully obvious crush on ya?” He furrowed his brows questioningly, was it finally working?

You rolled your eyes, “well yeah. That doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him though, right?” He narrowed his eyes, moving his hands down to your thighs and shrugging.

“Guess so, wha’s the harm in that?” He murmured, rubbing his thumb against the flesh of your thigh. A spark of warmth pooling into your stomach at the gesture, “jus’ be careful. I trust ya, I don’ trust him though. I see the way he looks at ya.”

You sighed, slightly disappointed you couldn’t wring out a bigger reaction from him. Nodding in understanding you responded, “yeah I know. But don’t worry he’s a good guy, I can see it.” You lied smiling, hoping he wouldn’t see through you. He squinted at your defending of William, but again he shrugged it off.

“Well alrigh’, have fun then.” He kissed your cheek, removing his hands from your thighs. The warm feeling leaving you with his hands. You stood up, closing your notebook and wrapping your arms around his neck. Kissing him tenderly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed you back happily. His arms held you in place as his kisses moved down to your chin and onto your neck, softly suckling at the skin causing you to giggle and squeeze him back.

The knock at the door catches you both off guard, Daryl letting you go reluctantly after kissing your lips briefly. You sighed not wanting to leave him but you knew you had to if you wanted to see a jealous counterpart to your boyfriend. As you walked towards the door he gave you a small pat on your ass, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

You grinned at him before opening the door, William’s eyes immediately blazing down your figure. You could hear Daryl snort behind you causing a smirk tug at the corners of your lips. Deciding to tease Daryl a bit you chuckled at William, “like what you see?”

William was caught off guard by your comment, obviously never hearing you give in to his advances, “oh yeah very much…” You smirked, nudging William playfully.

Daryl stood still behind you, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed. “Yeah you bring ‘er back before 7 pm. An’ don’ try anything’,” he said jokingly, but there was a hint of seriousness in his tone.

William straightened up, he was well aware of your relationship with Daryl but it never stopped him. “Of course… I’ll make sure she’s well… taken care off.” He hovered his hand onto the small of your back, you took the opportunity and placed his hand firmly on the area. Smirking at Daryl.

“I’ll see you later then…” You grinned, placing an arm around William’s shoulder. You cringed in your head, doing all this with William was probably fueling his desire for you. The thought sickening. But by the look on Daryl’s face, it was working. His eyes narrowed, nodding slowly while he nibbled the inside of his lip. He waved to you, keeping an eye on William’s hand on the small of your back while he shut the door to your house.

You sighed deeply now that you were alone with William, slowly moving out of his grasp discreetly. The man grinned at you which you returned with an awkward smile. Now for the hard part, actually hanging out with this guy.

After an agonizing 3 hours of picking berries while flirting with this guy he finally brought you home, after 7 pm, just so Daryl can get a bit more angry about that. You knocked on the door, hearing heavy footsteps come closer before Daryl opens the door.

“Hey… it’s like 8pm,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. You smiled, turning to William.

“Oh well I just had soooo much fun with William, he is such a great guy!” You exclaimed over enthusiastically which Daryl found odd but he shrugged it off, eyeing the man behind you. Who was licking his lips while looking down your back.

“Is that so…” Daryl mumbled skeptical of you two. The other day you were just complaining about how creepy this dude was, and now you’re talking him up like he’s the best person in this fucked up world?

Your eyes twinkled once you realized your teasing was getting to him, deciding to push it and hug William, reluctantly giving him a kiss on the cheek. He of course, hugged you back happily, his hand trailing lower down your back….

You gasped as Daryl grabbed you before William could touch you further. “Okay tha’s enough, goodbye William.” He grunted and slammed the door in his face.

You bit your lip in anticipation, looking up at Daryl who was fuming. “Hun…?”

“What the hell was that about?” He grumbled, pulling away from you. You tilted your head innocently, walking up to him.

“What do you mean?” You asked gently, running a hand down his chest. Which he grabbed forcefully, throwing it back.

“You think tha’s funny?” He growled lowly, his eyes glaring at you enraged. You chuckled, not taking this seriously because it was what you wanted. Stepping towards him with a seductive look on your face.

“Aww is my Daryl jealous?” You hummed playfully. He stared at you in disbelief, running his hand through his hair, a loud grunt escaping him as he paced the room. Your face dropped immediately, definitely not the reaction you expected.

“Tha’s what that was about? You tryna get me jealous? Yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me girl,” he spat agitated. You just stood there looking down at your fingers, not expecting this to backfire so badly. “Shoulda jus’ fucked him at that point. The asshole was practically fucking ya with his eyes.” He growled lowly, pacing around you.

“I didn’t mean to—” You started softly.

“Didn’t what?!” He yelled causing you to flinch, he rarely raised his voice at you. Just by this action alone you knew he really was angry, not just frustrated, pissed. Off.

“I just wanted to… get you angry,” you mumbled, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Well ya did, happy?” He grunted, standing in front of you with his hands on his hips. A stern look on his face, “I didn’ even care if ya wanted to hang out with the guy. But goin’ as far as to kiss and touch up on ‘im. Not fuckin’ funny. Especially when ya’ve been complainin’ about him all week, wha’s wrong with you?”

“I didn’t… actually kiss him y’know…” you argued softly, looking down ashamed of yourself.

“Not the point. It’s the fact that you, flirted, acted invitingly, and even kissed a guy on the cheek who’s been tryna get wit’ ya, invitin’ him fer more. Hence the way he almost grabbed your ass. You led him on, purposefully to get a rise outta me.” He said through gritted teeth, his gaze piercing.

You sighed, realizing how out of line you’ve been acting. Your own lustful desires leading you to act out stupidly. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean for this to go this far.” You whispered, looking down embarrassed.

He took your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. Fury flashing through his blue eyes, his breathing heavy. “I bet,” he grumbled, harshly letting you go before walking upstairs to your shared bedroom. You stood downstairs, beating yourself up mentally for acting like an idiot. The door to your bedroom slamming shut as Daryl locked himself up upstairs.

You groaned, digging your palms into your eyes frustratingly. Not liking the outcome of this at all, instead you were left needy, ashamed, and with your boyfriend angry at you.

A few days passed and Daryl was still rightfully so angry at you, ignoring you and giving you the cold shoulder. Still, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Was he really that angry?

You found your boyfriend outside on the front porch sharpening his knife, his muscles flexing slightly by the force he used. The longer he stayed angry at you the more desperate you got. You were practically aching for his touch, to feel him against you.

“Dar?” You said quietly, stepping out onto the porch. He didn’t turn his head but you could see his eyes shift up towards you, grumbling something you couldn’t quite make out before returning his gaze on his knife. You frowned once you realized he was ignoring you again, moving to sit down next to him, to which he immediately stood up and holstered his knife. “Can you just talk to me?” You sighed exasperated.

“Dun’ wan’ ‘ta talk.” He mumbled, stepping into the house. You followed him in, slamming the door behind you. Daryl spun around, glaring at you. “The fuck do you wan’?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Can we just talk and be fucking mature about this?”

“Yer one ‘ta talk,” he grumbled under his breath to which you rolled your eyes at.

“I said I was sorry, I really am Daryl! But you’re being so unfair, you won’t even kiss me.” You threw your arms up before running your hands through your hair, all he did was roll his eyes and shake his head.

“Whatever, you pull tha’ shit on me then you get what you get,” he grunted before turning to head into the living room. You watched your boyfriend’s back angrily as he exited from the conversation.

“Fine,” you grumbled to yourself, stomping upstairs. If he wanted to play this game then you were too, wanting to see how long it’d take for him to snap. Rummaging through your closet you decided to put on a very, very short skirt. Wondering to yourself as to why you even have this in the first place, well first time for everything. You made sure to put on a pair of panties that you knew for sure would drive Daryl crazy, finally finishing the outfit with a tight fitting tanktop. After looking at yourself in the mirror you snorted, you looked ridiculous for sure but maybe it’d work.

You made your way down the stairs quietly, walking with a little sway in your step. Daryl wasn’t shy about his attraction to your body, he loved having his hands on you so you were curious to see what he would do seeing you like this. Especially having not touched you for days now. You moved swiftly into the living room where he was sitting on the couch smoking, you felt his eyes immediately shift over to your body, a shift from where he was sitting.

“Wha’ are ya wearin’?” He grunted, his voice a slight rasp while he looked you up and down. You turned to him, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips.

“It’s a little hot today… s’all.” You chuckled, moving towards the disc rack. It held a lot of cds for music, the two of you never played anything because of how outdated it was but you went over to look at it anyway. Hearing the way he choked once you bent over to check out the bottom of the rack. You moved onto your knees, reaching under the rack to grab, nothing. There was nothing under the rack, but his breathing was getting heavier and you knew he would give in soon.

You sat on your knees, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. Smiling once you met his eyes, he was already looking at you with parted lips. His cigarette sat between his index and middle finger, nothing but a mere object as he already forgotten about it. His leg crossed over the other while his eyes started at your own, slowly moving down to your lips. Then the swell of your neck, down your back, and of course over to your ass which was peaking out from under your skirt. He swallowed thickly when he noticed the lace fabric of your panties, contrasting beautifully with the colour of your skin. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, from the look in his eyes you knew he was aroused. You just had to push him further to get him to actually act on it…

You stood up slowly, making sure to flash him a little of your panties. He coughed, putting out the cigarette as you walked up to him. Slow and seductive. However he kept his eyes ahead, you would’ve scoffed if you were still in a mood but you were far too aroused to do all that. He was stubborn and you praised him for it, after all you were both the same. You lightly traced your fingers up his forearm, towards his bicep, and then over his shoulder. Standing behind him as you leaned down next to his ear, “what’s that look for?” You whispered low and sultry.

“Wha’ do you think yer doin’?” He murmured quietly, his breathing shortening. You smirked, placing a soft kiss under his ear, his breath hitching as you do that. “(Y/N).” He said lowly, your hands moving from his shoulders and down the front of his chest, slowly making your way down to his belt. Looking over his shoulder and noticing the huge bulge in his pants, a sense of pride flowing through your body at the effect you had on him. He uncrossed his legs due to the tightness in his pants, groaning softly as your hands moved down towards his thighs, teasingly avoiding his erection.

“I’m not doing anything,” you whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder back onto the couch. His breathing shallow and hot while one of your hands moved towards the erection.

“Don’t.” He muttered, grabbing your wrist. He flicked your hand back away from his crotch, suddenly getting up and turning to face you. His eyes were narrowed and full of fury, but most importantly. Lust.

His piercing blue eyes looked at you with a hungry gaze, stepping around the couch to stand closer to you. Nibbling the inside of his lip as he stared at you, especially your exposed thighs. He abruptly picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder carelessly, causing you to shout out in protest. “Daryl! Put me down!”

”Shut it.” He growled lowly which for sure shut you up quickly. He moved through the house with ease, walking up the stairs and making his way towards your shared bedroom. His fingers dug into your thighs possessively which drew out your excitement even more, wondering what he would do to you. He walked into the bedroom with you over his shoulders, shutting the door with his foot and throwing you onto the bed, eliciting a small yelp from you. Your eyes were wide when you met his own, his jaw clenched at the sight of you laying on the bed in the provocative outfit. He grunted, crawling onto the bed and up to you. Rough and calloused hands gripping onto your thighs as he pushed them apart, a raspy groan leaving his mouth as he saw your soaked panties. “This whatcha’ want?” He murmured with a hint of amusement, running a finger over your slick covered panties.

“Daryl,” you gasped, closing your eyes. His free hand shot up to grab your face harshly, your eyes opening in shock.

“You look at me, ya ain��t gettin’ outta this one easily girl.” He drawled, letting go of your face as he removed his finger from your panties, “and I don’ wanna hear a word from tha’ pretty little mouth of yours unless I say so, ya hear me?” You nodded slowly as you met his intense gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmured which had you throbbing around nothing. His hands grabbed at the collar of your tanktop, ripping it off your body easily. You gasped, wanting to scold him for ripping it but you kept quiet as to not anger him even more. His eyes rolled back in arousal when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra underneath the top, “such a fuckin’ tease.” His hands groped at your breasts, your nipples hardening under his touch as you let out a quiet moan. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on one of them, licking around the bud before biting down harshly. A loud groan left your lips, causing him to growl and pull away.

Your eyes searched for his while you panted softly from the loss, his hands gripping your waist and flipping you over onto your stomach before grabbing your hips and lifting them up so your ass hung up in the air. “Hold yerself up baby,” he grunted. You did as you were told, placing your hands underneath you and onto the bed while pushing yourself up so you were on your hands and knees. Blushing profusely from the position you were in, trying to turn your head to look back at him. He slapped your ass once, a groan escaping you at the contact before his hands started pulling off your skirt, tossing it onto the floor haphazardly leaving you in your lace panties.

He sat up on his knees, teasingly running two fingers over the waistband, lifting it off your skin only to let it go and have it snap against your hips. You jolted slightly, one of his hands rubbing your ass softly before slapping it again. He leaned closer towards your ear, biting your earlobe before whispering gruffly, “don’ think ‘m gonna be gentle tonight. No, you got yerself into this.”

You whimpered as he pulled away, a big hand grabbing at the crotch of your panties and ripping them apart. The same hand running its fingers through your slick causing you to moan, your arms shaking momentarily. It didn’t take long before two thick fingers plunged themselves into your tight entrance, the sudden intrusion causing you to cry out, “Daryl! Wait!”

“Shut up,” he grunted. Forcing his fingers in and out of you roughly, the pain mixed with pleasure only made you wetter, groaning softly. The obscene noises of his fingers thrusting into you at that speed echoed through the small space of your bedroom, your moans getting louder as you got closer to your orgasm.

But just as you were about to reach that sweet release he yanked his fingers out of you, bringing them up to you and shoving them into your mouth. Immediately your tastebuds were met with the taste of your own arousal, “suck.” He growled lowly to which you obliged, sucking on his fingers that were covered in your juices. He groaned as your tongue slithered between his two fingers in your mouth, reaching down to adjust himself in his pants.

He removed his fingers, moving behind you once more and giving you a little tap on your bum. While you kept your head straight forward, looking at the wooden headboard. You heard the clink of his belt being undone, soon pulled out of his belt loops. You breathed heavily out of your nose once you heard the sound of the belt being tossed aside, hitting the floor with a slight thud. The heat pooling between your legs was getting hotter, throbbing with need as you waited patiently. Your arms were burning from holding yourself up while your stomach swirled with anxiety and excitement.

You heard him shuffle behind you, his pants soon joining the rest of the garments on the floor. His eyes were on you the entire time, though you couldn't see it, you could feel it. By the way his breathing deepened seeing your pussy clench at nothing, the way a low purr sounded from the back of his throat, and the way your skin burned from his lustful gaze. When it got a little too silent you turned your head back, you eyes immediately meeting his. He peered at you through his eyebrows, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up over his elbows. Biting your lip when you saw his forearms, sprinkled with random tattoos here and there. Ones you’d kiss over when he'd make gentle love to you, but it would be different this time.

You couldn't look any lower from the position you were in, settling to look back at the headboard. Which had definitely seen better days. A small gasp left your lips when his large hands suddenly grabbed at your hips, engulfing them completely. His touch wasn't gentle. His calloused hands rubbed at your hips harshly, squeezing and pinching your sides resulting in you mewling softly from the tinge of pain. Suddenly, a slap sounded through the room as his thick cock landed on your ass. A low groan escaping him as he slowly rocked himself against you, rubbing his length between your asscheeks.

“Daryl….” You whined, moving your hips back against his cock. His hand made contact with your ass again, the slap echoing through the room as he pulled his cock away from your ass.

“Wha’ did I say?” He drawled lowly, rubbing the area he just smacked, spanking you once more causing you to jolt. “Answer me.”

You whimpered at the sting, your skin turning a bright red. “No speaking unless asked…”

He spanked you again on the same buttock, eliciting a moan from you this time. “See? Ya know the rules so why do ya not listen?” He tutted you, hitting your other buttock. He sighed, placing his thumbs on the folds of your pussy, spreading them and teasing a finger at your entrance. Just circling it around, not entering you. “Yer such a bad girl.”

You whined, trying to push back on his fingers, desperate for something to ease the ache in your core. He pulled back once again, slapping your pussy. The action sending a wave of pleasure through your body though it was harsh, a quiet mewl slipping out your mouth. Your arms were slowly getting tired of holding yourself up, moving down to your elbows which made your back arch. He grunted, running a hand down your back and into your hair before suddenly gripping it, pulling you up harshly against his chest. You cried out in pain, his lips against your ear while his fingers remained gripped in your hair. “Yer not listening again. I told ya to hold yerself up, so do it.”

He threw you back down, your eyes teary as you placed your hands down again to hold yourself up. His hands found place on your hips again, the rough feel of his palm against your skin made you shiver. One hand left you to grab his cock, teasing it around your clit. “Ya wan’ me to fuck ya, don’cha?” He murmured teasingly after hearing your impatient whines. He chuckled, finding your desperation amusing. “This is wha’ ya wanted, isn’ it?” He slapped the tip of his cock upwards against your clit, your wetness only fueling the sensation further.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he murmured, circling his tip around your entrance. The longer he teased you, the more you were willing to speak up. You moved back on him, his cock slipping into you slightly before he hissed and pulled out.

“Jesus fucking christ can you just fuck me already?” You snapped, earning a spank from him once again. You groaned, already sick of his teasing. “Daryl if you don’t—”

He suddenly shoved his whole length into you, the stretch painful as he started thrusting in and out of you hard. Not giving you any time to adjust to his size, crying out. “If I don’? Yer just gonna find someone else to fuck ya?” He growled gruffly, his hips snapping against yours.

Pleasure soon overpowered the pain, a loud moan ripping itself out of you. He groaned in response, squeezing your hips as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, making an erotic symphony that heightened the both of your arousals. “Not gonna answer me? You’d jus’ let anyone fuck ya huh?” He grunted, the tip of his dick hitting closer towards your sweet spot.

You cried out once again, tears of pleasure brimming at your waterline, shaking your head at his question. Your fingers gripped onto the bedsheets below you, your biceps burning which made you just want to drop down onto the bed while he fucked you senseless. His fingers found themselves in your hair again, tugging you upwards so your back was against his chest, growling into your ear.

“Wha’ was tha’? You’d let anyone fuck ya, righ’?” He grunted, thrusting up into your sweet spot, eliciting a loud whine out of you. “Yer such a filthy slut, ya know tha’?” He bit at your neck, leaving a mark that was going to be hard to cover.

You clenched around his cock at his words, shaking your head slightly while he tugged your head back further against his shoulder. “No…” You moaned weakly, the pain from him pulling your hair was even more arousing than you thought. The tears in your eyes spilling over and down your cheeks.

“Yeah yer mine… This pussy?” He mumbled, reaching down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, your back arching as you cried out in ecstasy. “This pussy is mine, only mine ya hear me?” He let out a primal growl, tugging your hair once more.

“Yes! Yes Daryl only yours!” You cried out pathetically, your walls clamping down on his cock as it moved in and out of you at a punishing speed. He grunted approvingly, releasing his grip on your hair which caused you to fall over, landing straight onto your face into the pillows. His hands then gripping at your ribcage, just under your breasts as he pounded deep into you, hitting that same spot over and over again. “Fuck… Oh shit, Daryl..” You whined into the pillows, the bed creaking under the movements.

He pulled you up again, his hands still under your breasts while he whispered in your ear. “Ya gonna be a good slut for me now?” He grunted lowly, you nodded vigorously as moans continued to escape your mouth. “No one can fuck you like I can.” And with that he held you just enough to push himself deeper into you, making sure you feel every inch of his cock invading your tight heat.

The small space of your bedroom soon shifted into a safe, intimate haven in which you two created. Full of your moans and his grunts, skin slapping against skin, while the bed rocked under your movements. You felt a familiar feeling building up and you knew you were close, clenching around him as your moans got whinier and breathy.

He groaned, feeling your walls tighten around him, thrusting deeper into you. You whined at the feeling, anticipating the soreness you’d feel in the morning. “Daryl…” You whined, “I’m gonna cum.”

He growled, pulling you up against his chest again, a hand near your throat while the other moved between your thighs. “Ya really think ya deserve to cum?” He groaned, his breathing a little ragged from his own orgasm building up. His fingers moved to play at your clit again, tugging it as he thrusted sloppily into you. “Go on.”

You mewled softly, turning your head to his. He grunted, his lips meeting yours messily. Shoving his tongue into your mouth and exploring the depths of it while bringing you both closer to the edge. You bit his lip, earning a whimper from him as your walls clenched around his cock, reaching your climax. His hands jumped up to your breasts while you screamed in ecstasy, pulling your nipples while speeding up his pace.

Your back arched, the pleasure getting overwhelming as he continued to delve deeper, abusing that sweet spot inside of you. “Fuck! Daryl too much!” You cried, reaching back and grabbing his hips. But it didn’t stop him.

“I told ya, ya aren’ gettin’ out of this easily,” he grunted, his hips maintaining his pace while you felt something else squirt out of you. The slippery liquid slipped out of your pussy, slithering down the base of his cock and onto the bedsheets. A rough moan tearing through your throat before collapsing down onto the bed, feeling him pump his cum into you.

“Holy shit,” he murmured, stilling inside of you as he emptied out inside your cunt. He chuckled, pulling out of you and letting the rest of your body fall onto the now wet sheets. “Haven’t seen ya do that before,” he sighed, patting your ass before falling down next to you. “Ya got wha’cha wanted?”

You looked at him tiredly, the tears on your face dried, your voice too hoarse to even respond. Settling for a gentle nod and a small, “I win.” He chuckled, shaking his head before leaning back and closing his eyes. He was also extremely exhausted.

You lay there, unable to move and felt his cum slowly drip out of you. It almost felt uncomfortable but you couldn’t be bothered to get up and clean yourself, wanting to lay there and sink into the sheets. You sighed contently, scooting closer to him and burying your face into his chest. He grumbled, his arm wrapping itself lazily over your waist. You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes as you felt the rush of satisfaction. Sure you were going to feel absolute pain once you woke up, and maybe you wouldn’t be able to walk or speak for a while. Nevertheless you had finally got yourself fucked rough by a jealous Daryl, who was no longer mad and pushing you away. The issues led up to something amazing for the both of you. Maybe you should get him angry more often.

#divider by cafekitsune #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #norman reedus #daryl x y/n #daryl smut #daryl dixon smut #twd smut #smut with some plot....#mrdixonposts

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penny00dreadful · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 2 AO3

“Shit. Things move fast in this timeline, don’t they?”

Eddie turned his head and froze, staring wide eyed at the third figure standing next to them.

It was him, he was older and wearing glasses but it was Steve. He was greyer than Eddie’s future self, with a haircut that looked almost the exact same as Future-Robin’s and currently distractingly bare-chested, ripping up a cotton t-shirt into makeshift bandages with a sweater thrown over his shoulder.

He wasn’t as muscular as his twenty year old self, but still devastatingly handsome, still strong with the same smattering of chest hair and a simple gold band on his ring finger.

Yeah.

He’d fuck fifty-something year old Steve.

“C’mon. Battle vest off. We gotta switch those out.”

Eddie had to drag his eyes away from Future-Steve’s chest and back up to his face as he spoke, immediately going red when he was caught. His Steve rolled his head to the side, only sparing his future self a glance before nodding and starting to shrug his way out of the denim.

Eddie and Future-Steve reached out to help. “Careful. Mind his back.” They took the weight of the denim off Steve’s body and Eddie tucked it under his arm.

He ran his fingers down Steve’s arm before grasping his hand as Future-Steve dropped to his knees to start undoing the bandages wound around his waist and oh boy Eddie should not be thinking the kind of fucked up things he was thinking right now.

“You ready? This is gonna suck ass.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.” He breathed. “Just get it over with.” He pushed his face into Eddie’s neck with a groan as the bandages were quickly peeled off and bit down on the collar of his leather jacket when the new bandages were mercilessly pulled tight.

Eddie gripped at the back of Steve’s head with his free hand while his other hand was being crushed in Steve’s grip.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re doing so good, baby. Just a little more.” He whispered into Steve’s hair, not really giving a singular fuck at that moment, trying to talk him through until it was over.

“Alright. I have enough fabric left over for your arms but not enough for your back I’m afraid.”

Future-Steve got to his feet again and began to wind the remnants of the cotton shirt around Steve’s biceps.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” Steve protested, but didn’t pull away. Future-Steve rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips once he was done, muttering “So that’s what it’s like to be on the other side.”

Eddie helped Steve back into his battle vest, placing the weight gingerly over his shoulders, trying not to irritate the road rash over his back. He glanced back over to find Steve’s future counterpart watching him closely with tender eyes.

“God, look at you.” He reached up and tugged at one of Eddie’s curls. “You’re so young.”

If this is what Steve looked like in the future…

If this is how he looked at him?

No wonder his future self was still pining.

Eddie had to avert his gaze for his own sanity, trying to fight away the redness crawling up his face but it was a futile attempt because his eyes just landed on his grey haired chest again. His chest, his stomach, his scars…

The scars.

Those old long healed scars that he’d already seen in a photo with black lace and-

No.

No fucking way!

“Hey! The kids are on their way to the trailer par-” His future counterpart's voice petered off as he rounded the corner of the stairs and took in the sight in front of him. “Stevie, what is with you getting topless in the Upside-Down? Also what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Ellie called.”

“Of course she did. And you didn’t want to miss the reunion?”

“Didn’t want to let you get your ass handed to you again.”

Future-Eddie rolled his eyes before bounding down the last few steps and throwing himself into Future-Steve’s arms.

The hug was weird.

Stilted.

Like they were trying to hold back from doing more, which if Eddie's recent revelation was true, was probably to try and save his and Steve’s sanity from the revelation that they were fucking married?!

The rest of the group crashed down the stairs, surrounding Steve to see if he was okay. In the mess of distraction as the two Robin's started interrogating the two Steve's, Eddie grabbed his own time traveller by the upper arm and dragged him out of earshot.

"Ow! What the fuck, man?"

"I need to talk to you because I'm kinda freaking out."

Future-Eddie shook out his arm. "About?"

Eddie leaned his weight onto the wall behind him, thunking his head back a few times before taking a deep breath in.

"Is it him?"

Future-Eddie looked at him, blinking his familiar deep brown eyes and pursing his lips before nodding slowly.

"Oh Jesus." He put his head in his hands. "Oh fuck. How? Why? How?"

"I have no fucking idea, man." His future counterpart shrugged. "I just count my lucky stars."

"How do you keep your hands to yourself?"

"With great difficulty, I assure you. How did you figure it out? Were we really that obvious?"

"No. I, uh- I saw the photo. I didn't see a face but I saw the scars. And," he waved his hand back towards the group where Future-Steve was thankful fully clothed again, "the scars."

"Ahh… shit. Sorry about that. Spoilers, I guess? But you two already seem to be moving faster than we were on our go around."

"Really?"

"Yeah, man. We danced around each other until Halloween."

"Hey, hi, hello there Double-Trouble. We need to head out if we're gonna get to Forest Hills on time." Future-Steve leaned his elbow on his husband's (what the fuck) shoulder.

Eddie shook his head and tried to get his brain back online. "Why are we going there?"

Steve's smile was just as heart melting thirty-seven years in the future as it was now and Eddie wasn't sure how he'd survive.

"The kids are busting you guys out. And our own exit strategy is there too."

"What is our exit strategy?"

"Ellie said we'd know it when we see it."

Future-Eddie rolled his eyes. "Cryptic."

There weren't enough bikes for all of them so Eddie watched as his future self giddily sat on the bike seat in what was a pathetically transparent excuse to wrap his arms and legs around his husband as Future-Steve pedalled.

Eddie was almost jealous he hadn't thought of it himself except for the fact that his Steve's waist was chewed up to shit. So Steve sat behind Future-Robin, sniggering with her as they cycled, swapping out halfway through so his Steve was pedalling and his Robin was perched on the handlebars.

The gate in the ceiling of his trailer pulsed grotesquely, a thin film of something was stretched over the opening, turning his stomach.

He shoved every thought of Chrissy into the back of his mind.

Something pushed against the gate, poking through, causing their group to jump back but the future trio remained calm as though this was expected.

What wasn't expected was the competing looks of irritation, exasperation, confusion and pride that passed through all three faces at what they saw above.

"What the hell are you three doing here?!" Future-Steve called up towards the gate.

"Do you think you can just run off on some world saving mission without us finding out?" A woman's voice called through followed by a scoff. "Honestly, do you even remember who you're dealing with, dad?"

"Dad?" Steve whispered next to him and before anyone could stop him, he'd darted forward to stare up through the portal, followed quickly by the rest of the group.

Eddie looked up and saw three girls, his girls, his daughters standing in a patch of grass staring up at all of them wide eyed.

"Woah, you two really did used to go all in on the hair, huh?" The one he recognised as Cassie said, a cheeky smirk on her face. "I mean it's one thing seeing it in photos, it's another seeing it in person."

"Hey, watch it, Little Star. It's good hair." Eddie's future self scowled, pointing up towards them.

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Never said it wasn't, pops."

Eddie could feel hig group's eyes on him, flitting between himself, Steve and the girls above. Steve's gaze was burning into the side of his head but he couldn't look away, not from this, not from his future.

"The three of you still haven't answered me. What are you doing here? How did you even find out?" Steve’s future self had his hands on his hips again.

The oldest girl, Rhea, looked like she was fit to burst, practically clamping her hand over her mouth and vibrating with excitement.

The middle girl, Poppy, shrugged the tow rope off her shoulder, holding it up. "Aunt Ellie called. We're your exit strategy."

Future Steve and Eddie glanced at each other.

"We're gonna have words with her once all this is over."

"She didn't have any other option! You three were stuck and everyone else is already at the Lab!"

"What?!” Future-Steve shouted. “Fuck. We have to go."

"Shit. Okay." Eddie's future counterpart grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away from the portal before enveloping him into a crushing hug.

"Listen to me, everything's going to be alright. It's gonna be shit hard sometimes and you're gonna have to fight for it. You're gonna have to fight so hard but it's worth it. I promise you. It's all so worth it. You're gonna be okay, do you hear me? You're gonna be okay."

Eddie looked at his future self and thought back to everything he’d learned so far. How he’d spoken to him, how he’d talked about his kids, how he’d talked about his husband, about Steve. He wrapped his arms around his waist tightly, reciprocating the hug and whispering, "I think I would've liked to have a dad like you."

"That was the goal." Future-Eddie squeezed him tight, before eventually pulling back. He gave his hair one last ruffle before he moved onto his next round of goodbyes, Future-Steve taking his place.

“It's kinda trippy seeing you so young again.” He said, pulling Eddie against that chest.

Oh Christ, he wasn’t able for this. Yeah, the guy was in his mid-fifties and married (to him, what a mindfuck), but he was still a painfully attractive man.

“It’s kinda trippy seeing you grey.” He really tried not to stick his nose into his neck but it was a damn losing battle when it was right there.

He felt Future-Steve laugh against him before he pulled back. “Still look good though?”

“Shit. Yeah, you still look good.” Eddie grinned.

“Hey, you know I- he- he’ll always be there for you, right?”

“I’m starting to.”

Next came the two Robins. Robin’s future self grasped him by the shoulder, turning him a little so his back was to the rest of the group and pulling the two of them into a tight hug.

“Okay little babies. Always use protection, don’t get anyone pregnant, as soon as a company called Google makes itself known, invest. Look forward to your first pride parade together. It’s gonna be wild. Eddie, don’t be so hung up on the semantics of DnD and metal all the time. Robin, babe, relax every so often. Also DnD is kinda fun. I didn’t have to get married to Steve for a safety net, but it was a close call. Eddie, if they do get married, do not buy the yellow suit I know you were planning to try to stick him in.”

Underneath her rambling Eddie could hear frantic whispering behind him from the rest of the group. When he tried to pull out of the hug to look behind, he was tugged back in firmly, keeping him in place.

He raised an awkward hand to pat Future-Robin on the back, confused but relaxing into the hold regardless.

“Uh…” Future-Robin seemed like she was casting around for more things to say. “Cryptocurrencies are a scam. Steve doesn’t have rabies, so you can stop worrying about that, mini me. But maybe watch out for his eyesight. Make sure you put Prima Nocta in the wedding playlist, he’ll lose his mind but it’ll be so funny. There’s a few of the kids that are gonna come to the two of you with some very personal shit and you need to try to handle it like grown-ups but you’ll probably- oh thank god.”

She finally released the two of them, sounding relieved that her rambling was over with.

Eddie and Robin blinked at each other, confused.

“You’re getting eccentric in your old age.” He nudged her.

“Hey!” Future-Robin flicked him on the nose. “Who’re you calling old? Don’t make me put you in a time out, squirt.”

He turned to try to catch the eye of anyone else to impart ‘you seeing this shit’ energy but instead he found Nancy pale faced and angry, resolutely staring at the wall like she wanted to fight it and Steve…

Steve was looking at him like he would disappear at any second. Similarly pale faced but worried and afraid. He found himself immediately gravitating towards him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, just barely touching his fingers to Steve’s wrist.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Steve tried to laugh it off but it fell painfully flat.

Eddie glanced back at their future counterparts as the tow rope fell through the portal, hanging in mid air.

Freaky.

He looked back at Steve who hadn’t even noticed, still looking at him like he was trying to memorise his face.

“Did they tell you something?”

Steve curled his fist into the lapel of Eddie’s leather jacket, holding on so tight his knuckles went white. Once his hand relaxed, still holding on, but looser this time, Steve’s expression had smoothed out, giving him a small easy smile.

“Just to keep an eye on you. Said you’re a real troublemaker.”

Eddie searched his face. His smile was easy however his eyes were still worried, but he seemed to want to drop the subject. Eddie wanted to pry, he wanted to know exactly what had been said, what had he missed but he didn’t really know Steve yet. He didn’t know if he was reading the situation wrong or if he’d be the type of guy to close off if pushed.

So he didn’t push.

“Sounds like me.”

Steve laughed, though it was really more of a strained exhale. “Yeah.” He muttered. “Sounds like you.” He released his grip on the leather jacket and turned back towards the group who were now gathered around the portal, but stuck close to Eddie's side.

They rejoined everyone and looked up at the three girls. Cassie was hanging off the rope, testing its weight while Rhea and Poppy were hissing at each other.

Rhea still had a hand clamped over her mouth.

“Honey, you look like you’re about to burst.” Future-Steve called out. “What’s eating you?”

"Poppy met a boy!" She blurted out, clamping her hand back over her mouth and immediately being shoved by the sister in question.

"Dude!"

“I’m sorry!”

Future-Steve snapped his head up at the revelation. “Here in Hawkins? A Hawkins boy? Who?!”

“No one-”

“Jacob!” Rhea squeaked through her hand.

“Ugh.” Future-Eddie grimaced. “‘J’ name.”

“What’s his last name? Who’re his parents?”

Poppy crossed her arms. “Why does it matter?”

“Because that’s information I need to know!”

“Why? You gonna stop me from seeing him?”

“I can’t stop you from doing shit but I have a right as your father to grumble about it!”

“Well I don’t know, dad! I didn’t exactly get a family history from him when he was giving us directions!”

“I swear to god.” Future-Eddie ran his hand down his face and turned to his husband. “If we ran hundreds of miles away from Hawkins only for one of our kids to end up back here I’m gonna lose my mind.”

A loud crack sounded through the portal causing the three girls to jump and turn around.

“Holy shit.” They said at the same time.

“What?! What is happening over there, fuck, we’ve got to go, Robin. C’mon, up.” Future-Steve frantically waved his Robin over.

“There’s nothing to break the fall!” She shouted.

“So you better not break anything when you fall.”

“Har-har. Alright,” she called up through the portal, “are you listening Little Miss Cheerleader? You better be there to catch me!”

“I’m a flyer, I don’t catch, I get caught!” Cassie called back. “Keep your knees and elbows loose and try to roll with the momentum!”

“Shit. Okay. Gimme a boost, Steve.”

He hoisted Robin up, practically sending her through the portal on her own without the rope. She tumbled out onto the other side landing with a clumsy roll and a groan, but was uninjured, helped to her feet by Cassie and Rhea.

“That was not as fun this time around! And it’s a longer drop now that the trailer is gone!” She called back up to them.

Eddie turned his eyes back onto his future self. “Why’s the trailer gone?”

He shrugged. “It’s a crime scene. You’ll get set up in a nicer place, don’t worry about it.”

“There’s a lot I seem to be ‘not worrying about’ these days.” He grumbled as his future self clapped him on the shoulder.

“Just wait until you have teenage daughters. See you on the other side, kiddos!” He stepped in front of the tow rope, but instead of creating a bridge with his hands for Future-Eddie to step into, Future-Steve just grabbed him firmly around the hips and effortlessly lifted him upwards.

It really wasn’t the time for it, it really wasn’t the time for it but Eddie suddenly felt the need for some smelling salts or a white lace handkerchief to wave in front of his face or something.

His future self landed with far less grace than Robin had but Cassie did dart out this time to stop him from completely faceplanting.

“Okay.” Future-Steve turned back to them, one hand on the rope. “Be good, kids. Remember what I said, mind the vents, find a different spot for Erica and as soon as he goes through the attic window, get back downstairs and finish it.” He directed the last two statements towards Steve and Nancy before giving a dorky two finger salute and starting to make his climb upwards.

Future-Steve had barely landed (without help, the showoff) back in his own time before there was a gruesome sucking sound the portal began to grow another layer of slime skin, cutting off their future and past selves and severing the tow rope in one fell swoop.

Silence was only able to settle around the four of them for a few seconds before something was pushed back against the portal. With a great squelch the skin was broken again.

Though this time it wasn’t grass and their future selves staring back but the grinning faces of Dustin, Max, Lucas and Erica in the Rightside-Up version of Eddie’s trailer.

Over the next day, they formulated their plan to defeat Vecna. Both Steve and Nancy would occasionally jump in front of a suggestion with a simple explanation of ‘that won’t work’ .

When Eddie and Dustin suggested they act as a distraction for the bats with the most metal concert in the world, both Nancy and Steve shouted a firm ‘No!’ before they could stop themselves.

Eddie wasn’t an idiot, he knew they had been told something that, for whatever reason, hadn’t been shared with him and Robin but now wasn’t exactly the time to pry.

As long as he made it out of this with all his limbs intact he supposed he could let it be.

Setting up the stereo away from the trailer park should have worked in theory. They had plenty of time to turn it on and bike back to the portal, keeping a healthy distance between themselves and danger.

But when the bats descended too quickly and he watched Dustin run inside, expecting Eddie to follow because why wouldn’t he, he took his opportunity to lock the door and draw them away.

By the time the bats dropped and he was able to stumble his way back to the trailer, Dustin had the door broken off its hinges. He was pissed but relieved that Eddie was okay. Yeah, his sides had been pretty badly chewed up but it was nothing worse than what had happened to Steve.

Steve and Nancy, however, were incandescent with rage and panic when they got back and saw him bloodied, only really calming down when both he and Dustin started arguing back, confused and bewildered about why they were acting like someone died when they should be celebrating, considering they’d just confirmed Vecna was definitely gone.

He spent the next month holed up in Steve’s house with Wayne, waiting for his name to be cleared.

Barely a week of that living arrangement had passed before they shared their first kiss, wrapped up in their softest clothes in the middle of a scary movie marathon that neither were really paying attention to.

There were a lot of firsts that night.

It was during a particularly heated argument a couple of weeks later between Eddie and Steve that he learned why Steve was so insistent on taking rigorous care of Eddie’s bites even though his own went mostly neglected.

He learned he had nearly died in the other timeline because of the bites he and got it, he did. But this wasn’t the other timeline, this was their own one.

Memories of their future selves were already starting to slip away piece by piece and Eddie didn’t want to spend the rest of his life dwelling, trying to live up to or keep track of his other self. This was his life and he was going to make mistakes but he was going to make the most of it too.

“Make the most of it with me?” He asked Steve holding out his hand and sitting next to him in what was essentially their bed, guest rooms be damned.

Steve looked down at Eddie’s hand then back up to his eyes before allowing a small smile to crack through his worried expression.

Steve nodded before linking their fingers together.

“Okay.”

Part 1 Part 2 AO3

Oh my god, oh my god you guys. I don't know where you all came from but I'm so happy you're here. For my small dinky little blog this story completely blew up and I have not been able to get over it all day. I had a cocktail of happy chemicals absoloutly ruining my productivity at work today and I could not be more thankful.

Thank you for your sweet and kind words, each one sent me into a happy, smiley mess and I'm so completely floored that people like this story so much. Thank you all for coming on this journey with me.

XOXO Penny

🖤

Tag list: @epiclazershark, @estrellami-1, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @addelyin, @deadflowercollector, @every-aj-needs-an-angel, @avacrebs, @silversnaffles, @sharingisntkaren, @marsbars97, @bidisastersworld, @theghostinmymachine, @panicatthediaz, @daydreaming-mood, @notaqueenakhaleesi, @minjintea, @u-a-wizard-jamie, @dropiv04, @mad-h-w, @immortal-iratze, @nburkhardt, @birdsandorbees, @gregre369

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ladykailitha · 26 days

Text

Batshit Soulmates Part 8

Second chapter of the day. In which I resolve the original cliffhanger and leave you with another.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1|Pt 2|Pt 3|Pt 4|Pt 5|Pt 6|Pt 7|

****

Steve was not a fan of the plan. Of any of their plans, really. But he went along with it anyway. What choice did he have? It wasn’t as though he just pick up his ball and go home. Not when they needed him.

He was forced to watch Eddie armed with a small bag of tools break into an RV. Once Eddie was in, Steve set about helping everyone else in. Erica first, Lucas, Dustin, Nancy, and finally Robin. Then hauled himself in.

Immediately he sought out Eddie.

He leaned on the seat as he watched his soulmate pull out a pair of pliers.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to start this thing?” Steve asked, unsure.

Eddie yanked out some wires from under the steering column. "While all the other dads were teaching their kids to fish or to play ball...my old man was teaching me how to hotwire.” He stripped the wires. “Now I swore to myself I wouldn't wind up like he did, but now I'm wanted for murder and soon grand theft auto so...uh, yeah really living up to that Munson name."

Robin came up to them and gently leaned on Steve’s shoulder, careful of the road rash.

“Eddie,” she softly, but clearly concerned. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you driving.”

Eddie grinned. “Oh, I’m just getting her started. Stevie’s got her, don’cha, big boy?” He leaned forward so close that Steve was sure he was going to kiss him.

Steve’s lips pursed without meaning to, but Eddie was already pulling away.

Just then then the RV roared to life and the owners of said RV started banging on the door, screaming.

Eddie and Steve looked at them and then each other.

They swapped places, Steve immediately slamming on the gas pedal. And away they went.

****

They made a short stop at Steve’s car to get his wallet so that he could pay for all the shit they were going to need, but in no time at all, they had arrived at The War Zone.

Steve gave Erica, Robin, and Nancy a list of things to get. Max, Lucas, Eddie, and Dustin would watch the RV.

Nancy went straight to the guns, which surprised no one. She had been able to wear some of Max’s clothes, but Robin and Steve made for the combat gear first. They removed all the tags and got dressed, Steve grabbing two pairs of boots but not stopping to put either pair on. They were in a hurry and there were too many laces.

He came up behind Robin and started putting in more gas cans into her cart.

She looked up to see Vickie standing there, talking to her boyfriend and she just stopped.

Steve followed her line of vision. “I’m sorry, Robs.”

Robin closed her eyes and looked away. But Steve saw that Vickie looked over at Robin and then back at her boyfriend. They were too far away, but it looked like whatever Vickie had seen had made her hiss something at her boyfriend. He turned away just their argument got heated.

He had a world to save.

Nancy came up and touched his elbow. “We’ve got to hurry,” she hissed. “Carver’s here and he’s loading up on arsenal too.”

Steve’s body began to quake at the thought of him getting Eddie. He nodded and grabbed everyone. He paid with his father’s credit card and dashed out of the store as if Venca himself was on his heels. Or more like, as if Jason Carver was on his heels. Because he was.

Still barefoot, he hopped into the driver’s seat and told everyone to hold on. He gunned it and drove to a secluded spot where they could prepare for the final show down.

Erica threw the second pair of boots at Eddie and he put them on.

“Those tennis shoes are going to fall apart if you look at them funny,” she explained when he looked up at her in shock.

Inside the bag she had thrown at him was a tactical vest and bullet belt. He loved Steve’s feral children with all his heart. They clearly looked after their own.

Steve sat down with Robin making Molotov cocktails, having found a few bottles of alcohol in the RV.

He looked out at his ragtag army and a shudder went through him. Nancy and Max were sawing off the barrel of Nancy’s shot gun. Eddie and Dustin had finished making their nail shields and were rough housing in the field. The Sinclair siblings were making spears out of long sticks and hunting knives.

“We shouldn’t have to do this,” he whispered.

Robin looked up at him and then out at their friends. “I know.”

“I’m sorry about Vickie,” he murmured. “I guess I was wrong about her.”

Robin shook her head. “I can’t think about that right now. I have to focus on this.”

Steve nodded.

“I’m sorry about Eddie,” she muttered. “Finding your soulmate like that and not knowing if you two are going to live to make use of it...”

He let out a long sigh. “I know. But at the same time, I’m happy he’s here. He’s been so helpful. A lot of this wouldn’t have been possible without him. And I’m grateful.”

She pursed her lips and looked back out at Eddie, who was desperate to keep the kids’ spirits up.

“Yeah,” she said. “You found yourself a good one.”

****

They got to the Gate and Steve tumbled in first, doing a back flip to land deftly on his feet.

Nancy, Robin, Dustin, and Eddie who were watching from below were surprised at the move.

Robin scoffed. “What does he want us to do, clap?”

Steve winced and went in search of the mattress. When he came back into view Eddie started clapping.

Robin and Nancy glared at him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clearly not sorry, “but what he did was cool and should be rewarded for it.”

Steve looked back up at them and gave them a thumbs up. Nancy went first, then Dustin and Robin. Eddie coming in last.

Steve helped him to his feet and they were close. Chest to chest almost. Their breathes mingled and their eyes locked on each other’s.

Dustin pushed between them and broke the moment.

Eddie was sure in that moment, Steve was going to kill the kid.

They walked outside of the trailer and Steve looked like he was about to cry.

“Don’t be heroes,” Steve begged. “If things go south, I want you to run. You two are just the–”

“Decoys,” Eddie said with a smirk. “We know. Look at us, do either of us look like heroes?”

Steve nodded and then turned and walked away.

Eddie called out, “Steve!”

Steve looked back, eyes full of hope.

“Make him pay.” He couldn’t make himself say the three words he had been wanting to say since learned the real Steve Harrington.

Steve nodded again, but Eddie could see the light leave his eyes.

Dustin hit him and hissed, “Kiss him!”

Oh.

Then Eddie was running. He spun Steve back around and pressed his lips to Steve’s.

Steve melted in his arms and Eddie knew it was the right thing to do.

They said their real goodbyes and Dustin and Eddie watched as the three of them went to go take on Vecna.

****

Between him and Dustin they were able to get the trailer shored up as best as they could against the onslaught of demobats. The trailer looked less like home and more like a fortress, but it couldn’t be helped. It needed to protect them.

Eddie walked into his bedroom, carefully skirting the vines that taken over his home. And there completely untouched by the vines was his Warlock.

“She looks like she was born to play in another dimension,” he breathed, reaching out to touch the strings.

He pulled her off the wall and swung her over his shoulder. He turned to Dustin, “You ready for the most metal concert in the world?”

Dustin’s face lit up. “Hell yeah!”

They made their way to the roof and Dustin plugged Eddie into the sound system they had rigged up.

Eddie pulled off his pick necklace and gave it a kiss. “This concert is for you, Chrissy!”

Then he laid into his guitar, starting the opening chords of “Master of Puppets”.

The bats that had been tearing toward Steve and the girls suddenly stopped and turned toward Dustin and Eddie instead.

The bats couldn’t attack while the song was playing it was messing with their echolocation.

Dustin crossed his fingers hoped that seven minutes was long enough to defeat Vecna, because that was all the time Steve and them were going to get.

The song was over and they dove back into the trailer. Then the demobats descended on them, clawing and screeching and fighting their way into the trailer. Dustin made it up the rope ladder, but Eddie could see them struggling their way into the trailer.

He yelled at Dustin to get a hold of Steve and booked it.

Steve had told him to run, he just hadn’t been clear where to run to. So Eddie ran toward Steve. Toward the person that knew him best next to his Uncle. Not because they were soulmates. But because Steve cared.

Suddenly they were fighting side by side. As equals this time, instead of Eddie saving Steve, they worked as a team.

But there were too many bats.

They were going to die.

Eddie held his shield above his head and hoped that he could protect them long enough for Nancy and Robin to kill Vecna.

There were the sounds of demobats hitting the ground, some of them hit the shield, but most of them rained down around them.

Eddie opened his eyes and looked out over the barren wasteland that was Lover’s Lake in the top world.

Littered around them were the dead bodies of hundreds and hundreds of demobats.

Eddie stood up and walked over to one to kick it with his foot.

Steve came up behind him and peered over his shoulder. “Are they dead?”

Eddie shrugged. “It appears like it.”

“What the hell happened?” Steve asked.

“Steve!” Dustin cried. “Eddie!”

The two older boys turned as one.

“It’s Max!” he cried. “She’s been hurt!”

****

I couldn't find a way to put in the story itself, but the reason Vickie was with Dan in the first place is that he lied about being her soulmate. He has a treble clef on his back near where her trumpet is on her shoulder blade. And when he comes back for college for spring break she learns that he's been cheating on her with his real soulmate. That's what they're fighting about here because she realizes who her real soulmate is.

Part 9 Epilogue

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@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #soulmate au

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brbsoulnomming · 7 months

Text

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 17

-----

Eddie wakes up with his face smooshed against Steve's bicep, which, honestly, is not a bad place to be. He lifts his head up a little, blinking bleary eyes, and sees they've both migrated towards the center of the bed. Steve's rolled over onto his stomach, face buried in his pillow. Eddie's still on his back, but he'd shifted a little, leaned in towards Steve, and they're pressed together all along their sides.

Steve moves, which Eddie is guessing what woke him up in the first place, and turns his head to look at him.

"Morning," Steve mumbles, all rough with sleep.

It's not the first time Eddie's heard him like that, yeah, but it is the first time that Eddie's been this close, that he's been touching this much of him, and it makes his brain shut off.

"Doesn't it hurt sleeping like that?" he says, like an insane person.

Steve huffs out a little laugh. "My back's all torn up too, man, it kind of hurts sleeping like anything."

Shit, right, Steve'd gotten dragged over the lake bed in the Upside Down. Eddie has a vague memory of red streaks like road rash all up his back before he'd put on his vest.

Eddie makes a noise, quietly distressed, mostly because he doesn't know what to say to that, and he gets to watch the way Steve's eyes go all soft up close.

"I've had worse," Steve says.

It makes Eddie snort. "You keep saying that, but it's not as reassuring as you seem to think it is. Will you at least let me take a look at it later?"

Steve smiles. "I look after you, you look after me?"

"Something like that." Eddie ducks his head. "Come on, I'm starving."

They take turns in the bathroom. Eddie borrows more of Steve's clothes - another pair of boxers, the same track pants and a dark gray sweatshirt this time. Steve abandons the attempt he'd done at jeans yesterday, opts for navy sweats and a green sweater.

This time, Eddie lets Steve help him downstairs, even gets set up in a chair at the kitchen table so he can watch him cook breakfast.

They're halfway through eating a massive stack of pancakes when the walkie flares to life, and a time is agreed on for everyone to come over.

Turns out Steve hadn't been kidding about an invasion.

There's everyone in their little Vecna fighting mission, of course, Robin and Dustin and Erica arriving in Nancy's station wagon with her. But a Surfer Boy pizza van comes up alongside of it, Max and Lucas and Mike Wheeler spilling out of it along with Jonathon Byers, a pair of kids that Eddie's going to guess are El and Will Byers, and a dude that Eddie's pretty sure he's never seen before.

He's Argyle, apparently, owner of the van and the guy who pointed out that Eddie was not a girl, Jonathan's best friend from California.

Also brand new to all of this, which makes Eddie toast him with his second mug of coffee, from where he's pretending he needs to lean against Steve for support to stand up but he's also mostly using him as a shield because both Dustin and Mike look like they're ready to tackle him any minute.

Someone must have updated the California crew on what went down in Hawkins, because no one asks Eddie why he's standing in Steve Harrington's kitchen wearing Steve Harrington's clothes.

Steve stops working as a deterrent for Dustin about two minutes after the introductions are done, and really, Eddie's kind of surprised it took him that long to come over and hug them both. He's reasonably gentle about it, at least, so Eddie guesses he can't complain much.

"Hey, buddy," Steve says, ruffling his hair. "We're still okay."

"Still alive and kicking," Eddie chimes in, slinging one arm around Dustin and giving into the hug.

Mike looks - sullen and uncertain, like he's not really sure of his place here and he's unhappy about it. For a moment, Eddie considers ignoring it until he absolutely has to do something about it, but, well. He's kind of ignoring a lot of things right now, and he really doesn't want them all to come back up at once.

So he stays in the kitchen as everyone else trickles out into the living room, plops down at the table and makes significant eye contact with Mike, raising one eyebrow. Sure enough, it works, and Mike stays behind.

He doesn't say anything, just drops down to sit at the kitchen table with him and looks mulish.

It reminds Eddie of himself, actually, and he wonders if this is how Uncle Wayne felt sitting across from him when he was fifteen. Shit, he owes that man so much. Eddie's still got some coffee left, though, and he can wait this out, taking slow, lingering sips.

"You weren't supposed to get involved with all of this," Mike says finally.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, well, Vecna disagreed with you."

Mike scowls. "You were supposed to be safe. Everything was supposed to be done, or I never would have-"

He cuts off, but Eddie knows exactly what he was going to say.

"Or you never would have left," he finishes for him.

"I wouldn't have!" Mike insists, looking up at him with a fire in his eyes. "Joyce left, and she took Will and El and Jonathan, and Nancy said she wouldn't have left us alone like that if the gate wasn't closed and we weren't safe. Once November passed and nothing happened, we thought we were good."

Eddie sets his cup on the table, the hand that isn't all splinted up running absently over his knee. "That's a lot to unpack right there, Wheeler."

Mike groans. "Whatever. The point is, people who get involved with this because of us die. And it wasn't supposed to be you."

"Aw. Almost sounds like you care," Eddie says, batting his eyelashes at Mike, who scowls harder at him. "Mike, none of this is your fault. I didn't get involved in this because of you, I got involved in this because Hawkins is a shithole and Vecna is a jackass who targeted a girl I knew. Being friends with you guys is the only thing that got me out of this, okay?"

Mike scoffs. "You mean Dustin and Lucas got you out of it."

Eddie raises his eyebrows at Mike, because really, is there jealousy happening here? "If we're going to be technical, Nancy was the one who figured out the Creel connection, and Robin was the one who figured out that music was the key, and Steve got to Max in time and-"

"Okay, okay," Mike grumbles. "I still should have been here."

Ah. Not jealousy - or at least not entirely jealousy. It's the paladin thing, being upset with himself for not being there when his friends needed him. "Mike," he says, pitching his voice a little gentler. "You can't be everywhere at once, you know that. When the party splits, you have to pick which group to go with, and from what it sounded like, you were right where you needed to be. El and Will needed their paladin, didn't they? And we had Steve."

The cloud over Mike's face had been lifting, and he even got a smile when Eddie said that El and Will needed him, but it drops back into a scowl when he mentions Steve.

"Steve's not a paladin," Mike retorts. "If anything, he's a barbarian."

That's not the point, Eddie knows it isn't, but he can't help but consider that, thinking about Steve bare chested with blood and grime all over him for probably a moment or two too long. "All right, yeah, I can see that," he admits. "But what gives, I thought you guys all thought Steve was a badass?"

Mike whips his head around, looking out the kitchen door, then slouches down in his chair. "That was before you knew him! I just didn't want you to like, pick a fight with him when he picked us up, because he's already had too many concussions."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And how many of those concussions did he get saving you little assholes?"

Mike pulls a face that Eddie is going to assume means all of them. "That's not the point. I just - are you and he -"

Oh, shit. Somehow, Eddie had completely forgotten their shenanigans over the walkie yesterday morning. He fights the urge to fidget, and instead gives his best stoic, you'll never get it out of me face. "And what if we were?"

Mike slumps down even further. "You don't have to yell at me. Jonathan already got there, I'm not going to say it's gross. It's just - I was gone for like a week! You kept insisting that he was an asshole, and wouldn't believe Dustin and Lucas, and now you're staying with him?"

All right, well, when he puts it like that - Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. "Kind of hard to hate someone when you watch him rip up demobats and then he carries you out of the Upside Down."

Mike rolls his eyes, but he looks a little less like his world has been completely shaken. "Oh. Yeah, Steve does that. So you're not-"

"No," Eddie says, because he can't keep talking around it, and saying anything else would be a lie. There's a pit in his stomach that says no is technically a lie, too, because Eddie's pretty convinced that Steve is his soulmate, but he can't let that trip him up. "I mean, we're definitely friends now, but he's letting me stay here because I've got nowhere else to go."

"They told us," Mike says, his scowl back. "We'll figure something out. Nancy and Jonathan got Hawkins Lab to release a story about Barb, and all of Starcourt got covered up. We'll get your name cleared."

It's a great sentiment, but Eddie's not sure he can believe it at the moment. He clears his throat, nodding towards the living room. "You better get back out there."

Mike stands, though he pauses to look at him quizzically. "You're not coming?"

Eddie holds up his cup. "Just finishing my coffee, I'll be right out there."

Fuck, he knows as soon as he says it that it's a lie. He'll just have to hope that Steve is too busy with the gremlins to check what just got written on him.

Mike apparently doesn't believe him, either, because it's only a few minutes after he leaves that Robin comes into the kitchen.

"Your turn to check on the new guy?" he asks her.

She scoffs. "Awfully self absorbed of you, Eddie. Maybe I just came for leftover pancakes and coffee."

He raises an eyebrow at her.

"Okay, I mostly came for coffee," she relents, pouring herself a cup. "But also to check on you. Hey, though, bonus, you're not the newest guy anymore."

"Thank you, Argyle," Eddie mutters as Robin comes to sit next to him.

"So," Robin says, taking a long drink from her cup. "Are you going to give me something that's a reasonable approximation of the truth so I can not lie when I give a condensed report back to concerned parties, or are we just going to sit here for a while and make this awkward?"

He huffs out a little laugh. "I don't know, Buckley, I'm pretty awkward and you're definitely awkward, I don't think we have much of a shot of this not being awkward."

She smiles at him, wide and amused, but that doesn't stop her from taking another pointed sip of her coffee as she looks at him over the brim of her mug.

"How come I have to be the one who's always getting checked in on?" Eddie bitches. "I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one not doing okay."

"Because you are the new guy," Robin says, though not unkindly. "Everyone else has been through this enough that we kind of know how they're going to react, and what to look for that means things are getting worse. They did it with me, too, after Starcourt."

Eddie hadn't actually been upset, just a little ruffled by the fact that so many people are this concerned over his well being, but if he had been, that would have soothed it. "Steve told me a little about the aftermath of that, about the song you taught him."

Robin laughs a little. "There you go. I had Steve singing that for me just about every night for a while. That's mine - my brain gets itself all worked up with hypotheticals and possibilities, and things that could have happened but didn't will just start spilling out until I have a hard time sorting them all out from what actually did happen. Some of the others have gotten pretty good about knowing when to let me talk myself through it and when to cut me off and distract me."

It's shockingly vulnerable, especially for sitting in Steve Harrington's kitchen with a huge group of people just on the other side of an open doorway, and Eddie appreciates it more than he can say.

"I hyperventilate," he blurts out. "I get trapped in my head and I can't get words out. It gets worse at night and when I wake up, but Steve and Dustin have kind of figured out how to talk me down. I'm sure some new terrible way of not coping will probably come up, but that's me right now."

Robin nods, looking thoughtful. "Has Steve had a nightmare yet?"

"No," Eddie says. "I don't think so. He said he does better with one of us there, so we've been sleeping in the same room."

He isn't expecting it, but that makes Robin light up, looking at him - almost like Steve does, when Eddie did something for one of the kids, and Steve smiles so warm and open at him.

"Thank you," Robin says, toying with the handle on her mug. "My parents wouldn't let me stay over until they knew for sure I was okay, and I just - yeah, that's him. He goes into protect mode when he wakes up from a nightmare, and he needs someone there to tell him that we're all safe."

Eddie gives a little smile, trying not to give into the way his stomach does a stupid, lovesick little flutter at that. "Protective mode fits him so much better than that you're all so beneath my notice thing he did in high school."

Robin barks out a little laugh. "Right? I couldn't believe it when I actually met the real Steve and found out how dorky and sweet he was."

He lifts his mug to her in a toast, draining the rest of his coffee in one gulp. "I'll keep an eye on him for you until your parents relent," he promises, even though it feels a little disingenuous because he was planning on doing it anyway.

She shoots him a grateful smile. "It was a lot easier after Starcourt, probably because it was so new and my parents figured I'd just sneak out and be over here anyway. This time they said they'd come find me, so, you know."

So she didn't sneak out, because Eddie was here and no one can know that, and he feels a stabbing of guilt.

Robin continues before he can decide if he should say anything, though. "We came to a deal, I'm home for a week and then I can come over and stay with you guys until they start school back up again."

Fuck, okay, then. Well, no, mostly not fuck - he's kind of excited about it, actually, the idea of staying with both Steve and Robin for a while is stupidly appealing - but it means he's only got a few more days to suck it up and tell Steve he thinks they're soulmates, unless he wants to do it with Robin there. Which, actually, wouldn't be the worst thing -

"Wait, start school back up?" he asks, his mind skipping and catching on that.

She grimaces. "Yeah, with the earthquake and the school still being used as a shelter, the school year's on hold. They made sure to inform us we'll have to make the time up during summer, but, eh. Gives us more time to make sure you're graduating."

He must look a little blank, because she rolls her eyes at him.

"You're one of us now. If you think Nancy and I aren't going to make sure you're right there with us on graduation day, then, well, you've got a little more time to get your head out of your ass before the mandatory study sessions start."

Oh.

He shouldn't have finished the last of his coffee, because there's suddenly a lump in his throat that he can't quite swallow past.

There's a little bit of a commotion outside the kitchen, though, saving him from having to say anything.

"Robin!" Dustin shouts from the living room. "Is Steve lying?"

"Nice try, dingbat, you know I need more than that before giving up any of the goods!" she shouts back without hesitation.

"He says there's nothing the hospital could've done for him if he stayed and let us look after Eddie!"

Robin pauses, like she's doing a mental catalog of something, and Eddie clocks onto what it is at the same time as she calls, "Not lying! Not enough to count, anyway."

His stomach drops, and he feels like the floor goes with it.

"You and Steve are soulmates." Eddie's not sure why he says it. It's obvious, and he doesn't really want to hear it confirmed, but - he's an idiot, apparently.

"Yeah, we figured that out during Starcourt."

Eddie - needs to say something, he knows he does, because Robin's looking at him in that searching way again, like she's seeing too much of him. But what the fuck is he supposed to say? Robin's his friend, how is he supposed to tell her that he'd wanted her soulmate to be his so bad that he'd almost tested it a few times, that he still wants Steve to be his, that he's angry at her and Steve and himself and the goddamn world, even though he knows he's the only one to blame for thinking he could have this? He can't even bring himself to look at her, gaze dropping down.

"Wait, you didn't know? I thought the gremlins told you."

There's a moment of silence before he hears a sharp intake of breath, and he can't stop himself from wincing.

"Steve and I have two!" she blurts out in a whisper-shout.

His gaze snaps back up to her face, and she's staring at him wide-eyed and frantic.

"What?" he asks, feeling a little wide-eyed himself.

"Soulmates. Steve has two soulmates, and so do I."

Oh.

"Oh," he breathes out, his eyes darting to look back at the doorway, where he can just see the back of Steve's head.

"Yup. A platonic," she says, emphasizing the word way more than is really necessary for Eddie to pick up on what she's implying. Steve hasn't found his platonic soulmate yet - it could be Eddie. "And a romantic. So, you know. If you wanted to do anything with that information. It's there."

Eddie swallows, finally looking back at her to see the way her eyes are brimming with nervous excitement. "And you're… you'd be okay with that?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "If anything, I'd be relieved. It'll be a hell of a lot easier to navigate if it's someone who's been through the Upside Down stuff. I like you, Eddie, don't go getting a big head or anything, but you're pretty great."

And that's soft and sincere enough that it actually does make his head feel a little bigger - or at least his cynical heart, anyway, because he likes her, too. He's never been jealous of her before - watching her and Steve together has always felt good, made him all gooey and fond even when he refuses to acknowledge it - and he doesn't want to be jealous of her now.

He can do this, he decides. Steve might already have a romantic soulmate, but Eddie'd already resigned himself to having a platonic soulmate more than once. He can do it, if it means having Steve.

"Cool," he says, and resists the urge to make a face at himself. "That's, uh, yeah. I'll keep that in mind."

She raises one eyebrow at him, and he groans, leaning over to plant his face on the kitchen table.

"Just leave me here," he implores her, his voice all muffled.

Robin laughs at him, though not meanly, and pats him on the head. "No," she says cheerfully. "Suck it up and take your next dose of meds and let's go into the living room."

He groans louder, but he does get up and shuffle over to down his meds, not looking at her as he sets the bottle back down. "You're pretty great, too," he admits.

She doesn't say anything in response to that, until he finally looks up to find her grinning at him.

"I know," she replies smugly. "Now come on, potential soulmate-in-law, your solitary brooding time is up."

Taglist (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

-----

Part 18

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie fic #mike wheeler #steddie soulmate au #platonic soulmates stobin #soulmates au #misunderstandings time

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coldgpa · 2 years

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I'm sorry but the fact that steve is smiling and flustered when he has literal chunks ripped put of his stomach with the most nastiest disgusting road rash underneath Eddie's vest. And hes just like... 😳 eddie teehee stop omg ☺ and like giggling at him? The man likes men.

#like i guess u could say maybe he cant feel the deep deep flesh wounds he has bc of adrenaline but still #i find it notabke that eddie got him to smile even tho hes absolutely busted up #stranger things #st4 #steddie

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tomhollandisabae · 1 year

Text

a mistake - simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | pt. i

masterlist

fandom; call of duty

summary; simon and his wife are unable to control their feelings so they make some bad decisions that are going to affect their future on the long-run

warnings; angst, pregnancy, giving birth (descriptions of a very painful situation), mature language

words; 1.6k

a/n; so I've been gone since like december, but now I'm finally back!! yayy!! 😊 so anyways this is going to be a three- part story so stay tuned!! love y'all!!🥰

Y/n had just arrived at the hospital as she had just gone into labour. The pain was incomprehensible and all she wished for was for everything to be over soon. However, she was missing someone... her husband.

Ghost was on a mission, but not far away from home. He, obviously, hadn’t thought about the chance of his wife giving birth before her due date.

So, the first think she did when she got to the hospital was to call him, as she hoped that she could be able to talk to him between her screams of pain.

Thankfully, Ghost was keeping his phone with him, in case something happened to her, so he could get to her as soon as possible. That was also the reason why he was on a mission close to where he was leaving.

So, when Ghost’s phone rings and he see his wife's name on the caller ID, he immediately picks up.

“Aye, what’s app?” he says once he answers the phone.

However, this pisses Y/n off, as she finds his tone annoying and between screams, she yells at him;

“WHAT’S UP?! YOU DARE TO SAY ‘WHAT’S UP?! I’M IN FUCKING LABOUR, SIMON! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”

“Calm down, Y/n, calm down. What the blazes happened?” Ghost says, while he is heard grabbing his rifle and pistol. He makes a few adjustments to his equipment and throws on his plate carrier and tactical vest.

“ARE YOU ON A FUCKING MISSION RIGHT NOW? ARE YOU SERIOUS?! I’M IN THE FUCKING HOSPITAL GIVING BIRTH TO YOUR DAUGHTER AND YOU’RE ON A MISSION? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS, SIMON?!” Y/n yells at him once again through the phone, while the pain she’s experiencing is worsening as time goes by.

“Calm down, I got it, I got you. What’s your current location?” He says as he grabs his helmet, mask and his radio.

“Price, I’m out. Y/n’s in labour.” He informs his Captain through the radio.

“I JUST TOLD YOU; I’M IN THE FUCKING HOSPITAL!” Y/n screams painfully loud as she yells at her husband “I’M CURRENTLY PUSHING YOUR DAUGHTER OUT OF MY VAGINA! IS THAT ENOUGH STATUS?” She ironically says, without lowering her tone not even for just one second.

“Alright, keep calm, Y/n. Keep calm. I’m on my way to you.” He hangs up the phone and grabs his gear and throws it into the back of his SUV, he makes a mad dash towards the hospital. He walks quickly into the lobby asking the receptionist where his wife is and he rashes to her room.

The door to Y/n's hospital room bursts open and Simon walks in.

“Y/n! Y/n, are you alright?” He asks panicked as he makes his way next to her.

She looks at him like a madwoman, ready to cut his head off and says;

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU! I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU SIMON!” She screams at him while pushing, trying to give birth.

Her breathing picks up.

“I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH!” Tears are now streaming on her cheeks as the pain is maddening.

“Calm down! Calm down, Y/n!” He gives her a comforting hug as he speaks “You’re going to be okay. I’m here now, please just relax.”

However, this doesn’t help fix things up as his wife clearly can’t think straight anymore and as she screams into his face, through gritted teeth she tells him;

“You’re not getting out of here alive, Simon. Do you hear me? You’re NOT getting out of this room alive!” She cries out once again and another scream is heard.

Ghost’s mask shakes as he starts to get frustrated and yells at her;

“Shut up, Y/n. Calm down.” A tear can be seen rolling down his mask. He looks into her eyes and continues “You can and will do this, you’re stronger than you think, the pain is only temporary, and it’ll be worth it in the end. This is all for our little girl.”

Y/n gasps at Simon’s tone and she grabs his hands, digging her nails into his skin, while she starts pushing and screaming again.

“Fuck you Simon...” She tells him as tears are keep on escaping from her eyes.

Ghost pulls his hand out of her grasp and looks her dead in the eye.

“Y/n, if you scream at me one more time, I swear to God, I will leave you here to have this child alone!” He tells her, words coming out of his mouth without him realising it.

Once again, she gasps at his words as she’s now sobbing.

“Leave!” She yells at him “FUCKING LEAVE SIMON! BUT DON’T YOU DARE SOME BACK ASKING TO SEE YOUR DAUGHTER!”

At this point, the doctors and nurses, that are assisting her, watch the entire scene unfold in front of them as if it is a out of a soap opera.

Ghost grits his teeth together and clenches his jaw.

“Fine... If that’s what you want...” He stands up and turns around.

He walks away but stops and turns back to his wife as tears fill his eyes, but he just stands there silently and walks away and out of the building, closing the hospital door behind him. No words are said between them as he walks away once and for all.

A doctor that has witness everything, though, runs after him trying to stop him.

“Sir! Please, sir, slow down!” The doctor yells at him.

Simon stops and turns around to face the doctor and he says absolutely nothing as he stares into the doctor’s eyes. He has a look of despair on his face. He looks like he’s about to start crying or burst into uncontrollable rage.

“Sir, you must understand that women tend to say those things when they’re in labour. They’re experiencing the worst pain anyone can ever go through and the way they’re showing it to others is, most of the times, through hateful words, but you must know that these words are never true.” The doctor tries to explain.

Ghost is still silent, but his expression softens as he listens to the doctor speaking.

“I understand...” He says in a quiet voice as he fights back more tears.

“You decide whether you stay or leave, it’s your choice, but I just had to let you know.” The doctor looks sympathetically at him as he turns around and heads back into the hospital.

Simon just stands there for a few seconds and takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He finally makes a decision, turns around, heads back into the hospital and gets to Y/n's room.

Once Y/n sees him, though, her eyes fill with so much hate.

“Why did you come back? Leave! Please, someone get him out of here!” She yells frantically as she sobs “LEAVE!” The nurses are trying to calm her down and one of them tells her; “Ma’am you have to keep pushing, otherwise the baby will suffocate, it’s been way too long.”

Ghost walks over to her and kneels beside her bed. He reaches out and grabs her hand gently.

“I don’t care how much you yell at me, how much you hate me... I’m not leaving you until this baby is born...” Tears are running down on his cheeks.

Lucy looks at him and while breathing hard she tells him;

“Once the baby is born, you’re leaving.”

He just nods, while still holding her hand.

“Okay... Y/n... just... just do your best... alright?... I’ll be right here...”

Now, Simon, can barely hold himself together, but he has to stay strong... for her.

Y/n takes her hand out of his and without looking at him she says;

“Don’t touch me.”

Simon nods, but says nothing, he stands there silently until the baby is born.

And indeed, half an hour later his beautiful girl has finally arrived. With a sadden expression he takes out a piece of paper from his pocket and begins writing something on it as he looks at his wife and their newborn daughter, trying to capture this image in his mind, because this image will be the only thing that he will have left.

Half an hour later, Y/n has finally calm down and she looks around trying to find her husband. However, he’s nowhere to be seen. On the bedside table she notices a piece of paper folded up and her name written on it. She takes it in her hands, unfolds it and starts reading it.

The paper reads;

“I’m sorry for ruing this special moment. I made a huge mistake and I accept the consequences of my actions. I love you, Y/n. I will always love you, no matter what.

I understand if you don’t want me in your life anymore, but at least think of me as the father of our beautiful daughter.

Love you always,

Simon”

Tears are running once again down on her cheeks as she sobs and rips the paper into pieces.

“I hate you...” She whispers to herself, but the words are no longer directed to her long-gone husband anymore. They’re directed to herself.

Finally, a doctor walks over to her and says;

“Excuse me, ma’am, but we need to take your daughter to the nursery for a quick evaluation. If the baby is healthy then we are free to let her stay with you for the rest of your recovery. This is one of the most special moments of a new parent’s life, you deserve to have your child with you for this. Is that okay with you?”

She can form no words anymore, so she simply nods at the doctor.

“I’m giving you some privacy for the moment. If you have any questions or concerns, or need anything, don’t hesitate to ask the nursing staff. I’ll back shortly.” The doctor leaves and as she does so, Y/n is left alone to bond with her newborn daughter.

All by herself...

*Four years later*

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octopiys · 3 months

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The Screaming, Heaving, Fuckery of the World

Relationships/Pairing(s): eventual John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, Rodolfo Parra/Alejandro Vargas

Warning(s): Violence, Blood, Religious Imagery, Phillip Graves

(I wrote this over a year ago, but the chapters do get longer as we go. Thank u for reading!)

Chapter 1

Alejandro opened the door quickly and got out of the transport truck, sizing up the Shadow officer in front of him. It had been raining, and Soap had ignored the way the puddles soaked the bottoms of his pant leg, making the denim material slightly uncomfortable, wondering how the humidity would fray his hair in the morning. The rain was washing the gel out of his mohawk.

"What's this?" Alejandro had asked, slamming the door behind him. The Colonel fixed his vest, and Soap noticed his hand twitch subconsciously towards his weapon. The skies flashed in the rain overhead, thunder booming as the water pattered down from the clouds, softly puddling around their feet. The air was thick, but it wasn't the humidity.

Graves noticed their arrival, and quickly ended his conversation with two other Shadows to speak to the newly arrived group. "This is the immediate future." He greeted, a hardness in his eyes that Soap doesn't think he's seen before. "Step away from the gate." Graves' voice was cool, collected, and Soap could only feel how it made the Colonel's temper boil in front of him.

"What?" He had asked, taking his place to the behind left of the man, bewildered at Graves' sudden behavior.

"You heard me."

"You're crazy, this is my base." Alejandro glowered, all but raising his voice.

"This is not a base. This is a sizeable covert facility, and I admire it-" Graves paused, looking around as if to exemplify his words. "...So, I'm taking it. You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service."

"No, no, no. I don't take orders from you." Alejandro's rage had turned to bewilderment, his brows furrowing, although the majority of the anger was still there.

"Didn't Valeria say that?" Graves snapped, adjusting his stance; as if they were a threat. Soap felt Ghost materialize out of the corner of his eye, a Shadow planted directly behind him. It was instinct to take inventory of his surroundings, something telling the Scot that this situation was.... Wildly off-putting, but he would have to wait for the outcome to reveal itself before he made any rash decisions. Graves continued. "Now, that makes me wonder what else I don't know about your affiliation with the drug-lord?"

Alejandro looked back at Soap, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Soap felt the same. There was something... Something about this whole situation made him uneasy. It was like Graves had pulled a 180 in his attidtude towards them. The same kind of cockiness was there, but something had.... shifted. In the darkness, only illuminated by the artificial light of the gates, Soap could see wild rage running rampant in Alejandro's eyes. He'd have to stop this, but Graves was....

"What the fuck did you just say to me, pendejo...." Vargas started forward slowly, his boots crunching on the wet gravel, leaving Soap enough time to place a hand on his shoulder and follow.

"Ye're out o' line, Graves." Soap warned in a thick accent.

"Don't do that." Graves glared at the three of them, Ghost still off in the shadows of the truck. "Don't.... do that. No one needs to get hurt here." He waved his hand, as if he was giving a speech to a loving crowd. This was not a crowd, nor was it loving, but Graves couldn't seem to differentiate between the two. Maybe it was for the best.

Ghost spoke up for the first time since they had loaded into their transport. "Are you threatening us?" His deep voice rumbled across the hood of the truck, collected as he had already run through every possibly situation that this could turn into. He was cautious, but his shoulders had bowed up at the same time.

Defensive.

This couldn't be good.

"Soldier," Graves addressed, a note in his voice making Soap's blood boil. "I don't make threats.... I make guarantees. So let's not do this." It was no longer a command. It was definitely a threat now.

".....I'm calling Shepherd." Soap said, disbelieving, turning away to do as he spoke of. He raised his hand to his radio before Graves interrupted.

"General Shepherd sends his regards." Graves said coldly. Soap froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as Graves continued. "He told me y'all wouldn't take this well."

"He knows about this?" Ghost asked, now sounding more tense than before. An angry ghoul is never one to prod at, and Graves had just mounted a bucking bull.

"He put me in command of this operation from here on out. So y'all need to stand down, and let the pros finish this." Graves shifted his stance, looking Alejandro and Soap up and down. Ghost shared a glance at Soap. Something was going to go so massively wrong.... "And why the hell are we talking about this like its a negotiation? It's not. I've got my orders, and now you have yours." Graves let his anger slip into his voice, only barely. A weakness. A mistake.

"And who the fuck do you think you are, cabrón? My men are inside!" Alejandro raised his voice, no doubt worried about the rest of the Vaqueros, especially Rodolfo.

"I'm afraid not. Your men have been...." Graves pursed his lips, like he was deep in thought. He wasn't. He clicked his tongue. "Detained."

That was all it took for Alejandro to snap, springing forward before Soap could give him the forethought not to, or even another hand on the shoulder. Two of Graves' Shadows grabbed him, shoving him against the side of one of the transport trucks, before zip tying his hands together.

Soap's hands shook as he approached. "Graves, what the fuck?!"

A Shadow lifted their gun and fired, Soap's last minute thinking saved him as he pulled a spare Shadow to use as just another body to deflect the bullets. He wasn't the youngest SAS in the branch for nothing. From the mirror on the tactical truck, Soap sees Ghost do something similar, unsheathing a knife with a sharp shing and shoved it deep into the nearest Shadow's throat, before pulling it back out, and throwing it into the throat of another. Blood spurted in the rain.

"Get your fucking hands off me-" Alejandro protested before being hit by the butt of Graves' rifle, sending him crumbling to the ground. This distraction was Soap's downfall. A Shadow fired towards his left, and he used the armored body to deflect, but Graves had taken his blindspot as an opportunity to fire.

The knockback is what hit him first, pushing him flat on the ground. As much as he wished it was gradual, a searing heat of pain stabbed its way through his shoulder, already going numb. The rain hit his face, flat and heavy and cold, and he let out an exclamation of pain without knowing any different. He was momentarily stunned, muted noises barely filtering through the sudden roar in his ears and the agony in his shoulder.

"Johnny-....-of there! Soap- Go!" Ghost hadn't ever sounded more worried than he was then. That wasn't right. Ghost is... never worried. Never nervous. Never- anything....

Soap pushed the body off of him, slowly processing that the blood in the rainwater wasn't just the Guard's. One of the Shadows must've thought he was down for the count, as they snuck around the back to cover Graves. It was an opportunity. Before he knew it, Johnny had heaved himself over a concrete barrier, sliding down the slick embankment, firing back at the Shadows that had slowly started to swarm the bridge, vaguely hearing Graves yelling orders above, before the rain in the trees muffled his words. He fired once more, before cursing to himself and stumbling back into the comforting cover of the foliage.

His shoulder was agony, the water that filtered out the dirt and mud from sliding stinging the fresh wound.

He hoped Ghost had made it out. If he didn't, then there wasn't any plan of action. Silence, from the other radios, no hope, no-

He cut himself away from that train of thinking. Ghost didn't have a choice. If he was dead, Soap would find him, resurrect him, and beat the shit out of his Lieutenant.

Why, why, why was now the time that the pang of worry, of feeling in his chest lit up like lights on a Christmas tree when he saw Soap hit the ground, unmoving, but the scottish accented noise uttering from his mouth was enough telltale sign of life that Ghost took it and ran.

"Go, Johnny, get out of there!" He watched the other man move slowly, numb. He felt himself slip into an adrenaline rushed panic. "Soap- Go!" He shouted, trying to ease himself over there, but realizing that he'd get ambushed for a second time along the way. He watched as Soap struggled to push himself over the concrete barrier, before disappearing below. Ghost did what ghosts do, and he disguised himself in the darkness and ran.

"You there, Ghost?" Graves' voice echoed down from above his hiding place beneath the crossway. His chest heaved as he breathed through his nose, trying to stay quiet. "That was a big mistake, brother. It did not have to be like this." There was a brief pause in time, and Ghost's heart thundered in his chest. Outside, he was utterly silent, nothing but a wisp of who he was before. This is what always happens.

Careful who you trust.

"Sonovabitch." Graves cursed, slinging his gun. "Find em!" He barked the order, and his footsteps trailed off. Ghost waited before slinking off into the night, towards the light of the town that was more welcoming than whatever he had left behind.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the roofs of the town beneath them. In the distance, steep chapels rose in a church, but Ghost felt like there would be no God with them tonight.

Ghost was not a religious man, but he was praying Soap had made it there too.

Masterlist | next

#call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #modern warfare 2 #ghostsoap #captain john price #alejandro vargas #alerudy #phillip graves #kyle 'gaz' garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #rodolfo x alejandro #rodolfo parra #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2

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planetharrie · 9 months

Text

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Rockpools

In which Harry takes his little adventurers in search for rockpools when they find a little friend.. 🐠🏖️🪣

⭐️

Lucille was sunbathing on the golden sand as her husband and two children were down by water. She could hear their faint giggles and splashing of the sea water and Harry's voice carry from down the sand. His words were uncoherent from a-far but they seemed to be having fun. The high-pitched laughs drew closer and she sat up to greet them just in time for her two girls to pounce on top of her, dripping with water.

"Oh my goodness!" She squealed, tickling both of their rash-vest-covered tummies. "Have you been in the water?"

Dottie giggled and blurted out "Yes! Now you're all wet!" before bursting into another fit of giggles. Lucille rolled her eyes playfully. Harry walked up, his hair soaked and swim-shorts creased with water.

"We made Daddy go in the water too!" The oldest, Opal, explained with her cheeky smile. Her goggles were pushed up into her hair and the bottom hem of her rash-vest was bunched up from playing in the sea.

"Yes, you both forced me!" Harry complained jokingly as he squeezed out some of the water in the hem his shorts.

"No we didn't!.." The two girls protested against their father. A lighthearted bicker grew between them, resulting in Harry being punched in the legs by little fists.

"Right!" Lucille interrupted, "Time for another suncream top up—for all three of you!" She eyed Harry specifically. They all groaned and Lucille scoffed at Harry's scrunched-up face. Harry, being in his usual child-like and playful mood, decided his wife's responsible attitude was not was he was going for today.

Diverting his daughter's attention from the suncream top-up, "I heard there's some pretty cool rockpools hidden, shall we go find them?" Harry offered in the midst of Lucille rubbing suncream into Dottie's face. The two girls squealed and ran off out of Lucille's grip.

"No, girls! Wait!" Lucille called after her kids, grumbling and frowning at Harry. "Harry, I don't want them getting sun-stroke; I'm serious, Babe."

"Hey I can be serious too." Harry matured a little and reassured that he'd make sure they would have their 'top-up' as he cupped his hands to catch the bottle of sunscreen.

"If one of them falls and scrapes their knee on those rocks, it's on you." She raised her eyebows and tossed her husband the bottle.

"Babe, I can take care of our children."

Lucille raised a brow before the pulling her sunglasses from her head down onto the bridge of her noise, "We'll see."

"Daddy, Daddy! Hurry!" Dottie eagerly called, jumping up and down with excitement. Harry was walking towards them with two sand buckets and the bottle of sunscreen. "Walk faster, slow coach!"

"Hey, cheeky monkey!" He tickled Dottie's tummy. "We must listen to Mummy and put on some more sunscreen, alright?"

The two little ones groaned and crossed their arms but obliged; standing with pouts on their faces as Harry rubbed in the cream on their face and legs. They both wore brightly coloured rash-vests to protect their backs, shoulders and arms. And to also ease Lucille's paranoia of losing them of the busy beach.

"Are you done yet?" Opal whined, starting pull away from her Dad's grip.

"Hang on, Opal . . and done!" He booped her nose with a tiny blob of the yellow product, just like what he used to do when she was a baby.

"Let's go!" Dottie called. She'd already began climbing the rocks, too inpatient to wait for her sister and Dad.

"Wait for me!" Opal tailed her little sister.

"Girls, go slow. We don't want you grazing a knee or elbow, alright?" The two girls jeered back, their little legs and arms helping them clamber over the boulders. Harry chucked the sunscreen onto the sand, away from the tide as it would be a burden to carry while climbing; he made a mental note to remember to grab it on the way back. Harry smiled to himself as he watched his babies explore; he loved that he had two very outgoing and brave kids, with Opal being especially adventurous at only age 7.

"Dottie! I found one!" Opal called, her high pitched voice echoing in the cove.

Harry stepped carefully on the rocks as he makes his way over to where the girls where crouched over a small pool. He bent at the waist with his hands resting on his knees.

"Is this a rockpool, Dad?" Opal asked, looking up at him.

"This is a good find, good job, Opie!" Harry complemented his eldest, patting her lightly on the back. She looked very pleased with herself and grinned, showing her tooth-gap.

Dottie and Opal suddenly squealed and reeled back from the pool, "A crab! A crab, Dad!"

Harry put his arms around them both as he crouched down to their level and peered into the semi-clear water. Sure enough, a little white crab was crawling around on the bottom of the little pool.

"Hey, little guy," Harry cooed at the tiny creature.

"Where's my bucket? Can we take it home?" Opal asked eagerly searching for the two sand buckets.

"No! He won't have a home then." Her sister interjected, frowning and trying to cover the water surface with her hands to protect the little crab.

"Our house will be his home, though.." Both girls looked up at Harry with two very different expressions on their sun-kissed faces. Harry stuttered slightly and stroked Opal's hair.

"No, love. We can't take him home. He looks super happy where he is. Isn’t that right, Dottie?" He explained softly, kissing Opal's forehead and spotted Dottie nodding from the corner of his eye.

Opal's face scrunched up and began whining, tears brimming in her blue eyes. Harry cooed and tucked her into his bare chest, rubbing her back soothingly. Her shoulders and head jolted as she sobbed. She was a sensitive kid and, not that she was a brat, didn't like being let down. Often enough she didn't quite understand, even after her parents explain the situation.

"Don't cry, honey!" Harry chuckled slightly, taken aback by the sudden burst of tears. "He's happy here in the water with all his crab-friends."

"But I love him!" She sobbed, shuffling her feet in her pink crocs. "He's so tiny. ."

"How 'bout when we get home, we can draw him? Hm? Then you won't forget him," Harry softly cooed, tucking a strand of Opal's hair behind her ear, "How does the sound, Baby?"

Opal coughed in between her cries, nodding slowly into her father's collarbone. "O-Okay.."

"Good girl. Ready to head back? Dottie?" The two broke away from their hug, expecting the youngest to be still looking into the rockpool but there was no sign of the 6-year-old. She was wearing a bright-yellow rash-vest yet there was no small yellow blob to be seen anywhere. Harry suddenly panicked and stood up, leaving Opal to wipe her own tears.

"Dottie! Come on, it's time to go!" He called, trying to remain as calm as possible; for Opal's sake mainly. "Dottie! This isn't funny, come back here please!" Harry's eyes scanned the rocks and, dreadingly, the crashing sea. Opal began using her own voice to call for her sister.

"I'm here!"

Harry whirled around, his flip-flops scraping against the rock. His heart thudded as he clambered quickly towards his daughter who was trying to do the same.

"Dottie, baby!" He picked her up and held her head into his neck, "Don't ever scare us like that! Why on earth would you walk away?"

"I-I'm sorry. . ." She whimpered quietly, her eyes glossy. "I got hurt, Daddy."

Harry looked down and saw blood trailing down his stomach, indicating that she'd scraped her knee. He sighed.

"Let's get back to Mummy and we'll have a look, okay?" He placed Dottie back down on her feet and took both girls' hands and they climbed from the rocks, back onto the wet sand.

Opal and Dottie ran up the beach back to their spot where towels and an umbrella were planted. Lucille sat up at the sound of their voices and gasped when she saw Dottie's knee.

"Dottie! Oh Sweetheart, what happened?" She exclaimed, pulling her youngest in for a hug. "Harry, I told you to be careful with them! I mean what the—"

"It was my fault, Mummy. Daddy was helping Opal cause she was crying and I got bored so I wanted to find more pools. ."

Lucille's frown still didn't leave her face and she winced when her thumb gently soothed over Dottie's bloodied knee. He glared up at her husband.

"Babe, honestly, she just left my sight. I was consoling Opal and I wasn't paying proper attention. I am sorry!" Harry picked up a towel and chucked it around his neck. Lucille sighed and kissed Dottie's cut knee.

"Well, guess we're going to have to be more careful next time, hm?"

The girls nodded, even Harry. "Can I get a special plaster?" Dottie asked, her eyes lighting up. The two parents laughed and reassured her that her special plaster was waiting for her at home.

Perfectly, the sound of an ice cream truck rang down the beach from the carpark and the two girls jumped up at the thought of ice cream. Lucille handed them a pound each from her purse (which took many high-pitched 'pleases' to wean her) and the two sisters ran up to the parked truck where a queue of kids had already formed.

Harry had turned around to pack up the umbrella when Lucille spotted that he'd burnt his back and neck red-raw. She rolled her eyes with a smirk, knowing he was going to be complaining all week about the pain and asking her to apply cool cream on his back.

"Cute back-burn, babe." She teased, looking over the brim of her sunglasses jokingly.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened.

"Fuck, Lucille!"

"I did warn you! Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, ya loser!" She swatted his lower legs with a towel, grinning. “Did you even bring the suncream back? Harry, that was fourteen-bloody-pounds!”

"Yes well guess I’m just the enemy today.” He rolled his eyes. “Maybe next time you can go climb those bloody rocks!”

“Alright, I will!”

⭐️

#harry styles #harry styles instagram #harry styles fluff #soft harry #harry styles social media #harry styles writing #love on tour #harry styles imagine #harry styles prompts #dad!harry #harry styles sickfic #harry styles fic #harry styles x oc #harry's house album #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year

Note

List 72, prompt 5, and list 74, prompt 2. Pairing: hyunlix x reader, please!

Prompts: "Are those...bite marks?"

"You have to do your part, sweetheart. This goes both ways."

Members: Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix

Relationship: Fae Healer!FemReader x Hunter!Hyunlix

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Suggestive

Warnings: Injuries, Gore, Blood, General Predicaments of Various Unwellness (all the important people survive, don't panic),

You should be used to wounded fae stumbling through your door at all odd hours of the night, dripping blackening blood onto your floor, urgently seeking your profession's skills.

But there's still something about the pair of fae that crash through your front door tonight, one of them supporting the other, both covered from head to toe in some sort of gore and damp with rain, that catches you completely off guard.

The storm howls outside the open door, and still, you stand, staring at them like a new fawn, entirely shocked and shaken to your core, watching them drip a mixture of blood and rainwater onto your perfectly clean floor.

The blonde one-well, the blonder one-the one not currently being held up by the other, but the one doing the holding, moves into motion first, staring at you with something akin to almost open amusement in his gaze as he heaves the other man toward the nearest available surface, which just so happens to be your kitchen table.

He lays the other man down, who groans long and low at the jostlement, and turns to you, hands on his slender hips.

Gods, have you ever seen a waist so tiny? You don't think so.

Your mouth suddenly waters.

"You're a healer, correct?"

You pull yourself from your weirdly distracted thoughts and realize the man has been addressing you this entire time. You shake your head and instantly snap your gaze to his.

"Yes." You nod, and hurry to the table where the injured man still lies in a crumpled heap, suddenly transitioning into business mode as you bustle about, gathering basic supplies. "What happened?"

The standing man leans against the edge of the table, seemingly entirely unphased by both his companion's pained groaning, and your frantic flurry.

"Little run in with the wrong crowd." The man supplies vaguely with a slight shrug, and your fingers pause in their search of the dozens of bottles on your shelves as you glance over your shoulder at him incredulously.

He shrugs again.

"We've both seen worse."

You seriously doubt that, considering his friend is currently bleeding out on your kitchen table, but you bite back your retort and gather the rest of your supplies in tense silence.

Your mother had always warned you your sharp tongue and rash nature would get you into trouble some day, and you didn't doubt it, but at the time, her beatings had seemed like trouble enough.

You dump the armful of salves, herbs, and relics onto the table beside the other man and reach for another basket full of wound bandages, carefully curated earlier that morning.

You glance to the man standing beside the table, the frighteningly unbothered one, and then down to the other man lying on the table.

They're both wearing dark, black clothing, laced with straps and vests. You catch the hint of a dagger peeking from beneath the standing man's shirt, and you don't doubt that they're both absolutely covered in hidden weapons, though that fact doesn't seemed to have done the wounded fae much good.

You almost snort in amusement at the thought, but clear your throat instead and glance down once more to the injured fae in front of you.

There is dark blood still seeping from somewere you can't quite track because of his black clothing worn head to toe, and as you watch it puddle on the floor at your feet, you suddenly have a terrifying thought.

You don't know where to begin.

The lighter blonde leans onto the table, watching you with a sharp gaze. When he speaks, his words are slightly taunting in a way that make you itch with irritation.

"Aren't you going to, you know-" He shrugs and gestures to his friend with an arched, cocky brow. "-heal or whatever?"

"Yes, just give me a minute." You snap back testily before you can stop yourself, clamping your teeth down on your lips immediately when you realize your tone.

You don't know who these mysterious men are. They're clearly higher station than you are, dressed to the nines and touting expensive weapons, and you don't know what they could have done to you if you mouth off.

They could have you tortured. Or exiled. Or-worse.

You shudder at the thought, but the fae standing across from you doesn't seem angry, or even perturbed, by your sharp, out of line retort. In fact, if anything, he looks-amused?

He crosses his arms over his chest with a slight smirk. "Okay, you're the healer here. Just thought we might want to help him before he bleeds out all over your kitchen floor you know?"

You ignore his clear jibe and hold out a hand without looking up at him, your gaze scanning the fae lying still now on the table, assessing him how you've been trained to do.

His pulse and breathing are erratic, but that's normal, he's probably in shock. If you can find and stop the bleeding-

You glance up as your open hand remains empty and the man across the table continues to stare at you blankly.

You force down your irritation and motion with a jerk of your chin to the small table next to the kitchen sink, and coincidently to his left.

"Hand me a knife please."

A slight smile ticks the corner of his mouth at your obvious distaste in the polite word, but he reaches over and hands you a knife without so much as a word.

You thank the gods for that at least.

Turning back to the wounded fae, who you're fairly certain is unconscious by this point, you carefully begin to cut down the line of his fine tunic, tearing the fabric with nimble fingers to reveal his chest.

It's a shame to ruin such a pretty frock, but you're sure they have dozens more just like it.

Your eyes beg to get stuck on the defined ridges of the male fae's abdomen, the v of his lean, toned muscles where they disappear into the waistband of his breeches, but you focus, grounding yourself with running through a list of herbs that might be helpful, no matter what the wound, as you continue to shear through his tunic.

Marigold. Fane's Bane. Tempter's Snare. Lilac of Sumac.

Your thoughts come to a brief halt as your hand stills, your lips parting on a sharp inhale of breath at the sight of the man's torn lower ribcage.

You're absolutely gob smacked at the extent of the wound bared before you, entirely caught off guard that it hadn't torn the side of his fine tunic to tatters just like his skin.

The reddened gleam of muscle stares back at you, the blood sluggishly still sliding down the table and to the floor, and a hint of white bone flashes where it sticks through the tattered skin.

Or what's left of it.

The man across the table takes notice of your sudden freeze, and he leans over to get a better sight of what you're looking at.

A low whistle escapes his plush lips.

"Fuck. That's a nasty one." He exhales in a mutter, and you glance up at him, appalled at his obvious lack of concern and the blatant almost impressed lilt to his words.

You grab the mortle and pestle from where you placed it earlier, and begin to shred herbs into the bowl, working so quickly your hands are a blur, the motions almost automatic.

You have to stop that bleeding. And fast.

You pound the mixture into a pulp, then reach for a small decanter full of sparkling, shimmering liquid, and carefully pouring a tiny amount of the Moon Water into the bottom of the bowl with the rest of the herbs, you stir diligently until it resembles a thick, blue tinged paste.

Breathing out a harsh breath, you set aside the pestle and scoop the salve into the palm of one hand.

You're aware the fae across from you is watching your every move carefully, but there's no room in your mind for him right now.

Not when you're fairly certain his friend's life hangs in the balance.

Carefully, you pinch the ripped skin together as best you can, covering the gleaming bone and slick muscle, and smooth the paste slowly and thoroughly over the gaping hole in the male fae's side.

He gives a pained groan in response, and you know he's still unconscious, but you also know that this particular treatment stings like a bitch.

Pressing the palm of your hand down harder, so the salve seeps between your spread fingers and into all facets of the wound, you start to mutter the incantation beneath your breath that will stitch the skin back together.

The words flow over your tongue like water, familiar and sure, and beneath your palm, you feel his ribs begin to shift back into position, his muscle kneading itself right again, the skin pulling closed under your fingers.

You can feel the drain on your reserves with each word whispered, but you don't stop, not until the wound has all but closed, leaving nothing but a fresh, angry, red scar against his tan skin.

Pulling back with a sigh, you reach up with the back of your hand and swat aside a stray, irritant hair, before you glance at the other fae.

He's watching you with an odd look on his face, that disappears as soon as your eyes meet his.

You ignore the weird, low burn in your gut and wiping your messy hand on a nearby rag, lean low over the table, putting your ear close to the wounded-now healed-fae's lips.

You listen, taking stock of his rhythmic, even breathing, the slowing of his pounding heart, and feel instant relief soothe over your tired, stretched body.

He's okay.

"You know, if you wanted to kiss me, love, all you had to do was ask." A low, guttural voice rumbles hoarsely, and you start in surprise, your eyes snapping up to the once unconscious man's dark gaze, now staring right at you with a slight smirk on his full lips.

You realize then that you're incredibly too close to his face still, and instantly shove back from him, creating space between the two of you.

He chuckles, wincing slightly as the sound pulls at his newly healed ribs, and the blonder man steps forward then, slapping his hand into the other's with familiar camaraderie and slowly pulling him into a sitting position on the table, ignoring his slight groan of pained protest.

"Glad to have you back." The irritatingly cocky one says, and the one on the table gives him half a grin.

"Can't get rid of me that easily."

Both their gazes flit to you and you realize you're staring, trying to puzzle them out.

You quickly look away and move to start cleaning up your supplies, placing everything in it's acquired place, studiously avoiding their curious gazes, following your every move.

Finally, you've had enough of their silent perusal, and you turn, placing your hands stubbornly on your waist as you glare them both down.

"Well? Are you going to sit there or are you going to clean up the absolute mess you've made of my kitchen?"

You motion to the blood still dripping slowly and surely from the lip of the table, but all the standing man is chuckle, pulling up the other with a heave of effort so they're both on their feet.

Your glare doesn't waver, though you suddenly realize with a jolt that the previously wounded fae is still shirtless.

You resist the urge to let your eyes drop down the length of his hardened body, but only barely, and curse yourself as he gives you an arched brow and knowing smirk in return.

"Actually-" The annoying pain in the ass with the lighter hair says, reaching for his discarded bag and stepping toward the door. "-we have to be on our way."

You scoff, outrage filling your belly like a fire, and leap forward to slam the door shut once more as he pulls it open a mite to reveal the still howling storm outside.

"Really?" You growl out, staring up at him, trying to ignore how much taller he is then you, staring down, watching you like some predator assessing a future prey. You ignore the heat that thought lights in your belly. "I saved your friend's life and not even a thank you? Don't they teach you upper classes manners or some other useless shit for a situation like this?"

The man's eyebrow tics up at your words, but you don't think it's in surprise, and when he laughs, you realize you were right.

He's amused by you.

Like you're some sort of pet meant to entertain him with tricks.

The thought makes your insides sear with rage, and before you know what you're doing, you've balled your hand into a fist and moved to swing it right into the middle of his gut.

There's that impulsive side of you again.

Your mother is probably rolling in her grave right now.

As quick as lightning, the man catches your fist so easily it's pathetic, and you struggle against his hold, his long fingers on your wrist, as the other man gathers his own gear and watches on curiously.

He doesn't make a move to intervene.

"Let me go." You spit out on a hiss like an angry, cornered cat, and something akin to challenge flashes in the man's dark eyes as he leans toward you.

"No, I don't think I will." He practically purrs, and you want to rip his throat out with your teeth, wipe the lazy, confident smirk right off his perfect face.

He crowds into your space, and your back hits the wall beside the door.

"As for a 'thank you-'" He muses, reaching up to twirl a strand of your messy hair around his finger, and it takes everything in you not to bite said digit off. His gaze flicks down to your mouth and back up again, as if he knows what you're thinking. "-I don't know if you're quite ready to receive all that our gratitude entails just yet, little bird."

"Don't call me that." You spit out, but he merely laughs, releasing you and moving to the now open door beside the other waiting man.

He cocks his head and gives you a slight smirk, and you don't know if it's luck or fate, but in that moment, the lightning flashes, illuminating his handsome face and the dark, swirl of his eyes.

Something inside of you shudders at the sight.

"We'll be seeing you around, little bird. I'll make sure of that."

And then, another blink of lightning, and they're gone.

************************************************************************

The second time they come through your door in the middle of the night, there's less blood than the time before, but definitely a more generous plethora of colorful words that weren't used before, heating your ears and turning them red.

The one who was hurt last time closes the door behind him, and you scan him quickly, assessing silently, as the cocky one from before continues to swear low and steadily, settling into a chair in front of your small fire without so much as a lick of invitation.

You heave a sigh, biting back the irritation itching beneath your skin, and put your hands on your hips, bouncing your gaze between them.

"You know, you can't just barge in here whenever you please-"

The blonder one swears, more harshly this time, and shoots you a glare that doesn't quite hit when his features contort with a grimace of pain halfway through, his fingers flinching where they rest against the side of his throat.

"Save the lecture, birdie. I'm fucking on fire here."

You stare at him, shooting him a glare of your own in response, another retort on your lips, but the sharp words die on your tongue as soon as you see the dark tinged blood trickling from between his fingers.

You instantly jump into healer mode, hurrying to him and prying his fingers away from his neck in one smooth movement.

He hisses in pain, flinching as you tear his fingers away from the wound, and you gasp, eyes going wide as you glance at the injury once more, and then to the other man, standing nervously beside the fire, playing agitatedly with a dagger between his small fingers.

"Are those...bite marks?" You manage to get out, your gaze falling once more to the slowly oozing holes on the side of the sitting fae's neck, and he manages a laugh that ends in a groan as he winces with pain at the movement.

He takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and the only show of his discomfort is the whitening clench of his fingers on the arms of the chair as he smooths out his features, one by one, before looking up at you.

He gives you half a smirk. "If it looks like a mule, and sounds like a mule-"

You resist the urge to slap him, and instead, hurry to your herb cabinet, calling over your shoulder as bustle about, "What happened?"

You're not sure they'll answer, but you're surprised when he answers back between gritted teeth and on the end of an irritated sound, "Vampires."

The fae beside the fire sighs. "A hunt gone wrong. And vampires a ruthless fuckers at the best of times, but especially when they're cornered and wounded with no where to go."

"Bloody bastards." The sitting man growls in agreement, and you can hear the murderous rage simmering just beneath his words.

Your fingers still in shock, but you quickly shake yourself, melding together a poultice and wrapping it in a warm, wet linen bandage before you return to the fire and the fae waiting there.

You kneel down beside him and look up at him, and a dangerous, fire comes into his eyes as he stares down at you from his sitting position.

"I like you on your knees for me, little bird."

Fuck decorum, fuck being careful. You immediately slap the prepared poultice a little bit too roughly down on the wound on his neck and he visibly winces, which gives you some sort of sick, twisted satisfaction.

"Fuck." He grits out, and you shoot him a triumphant look as you hold the medicine in place.

"Don't antagonize your healer. That's rule number one on a long list of rules."

He matches you stare for heated stare.

"What else is on the list?"

"None of your concern."

His brow tics upward, and a muscle in his jaw feathers at the challenge in your voice.

"Everything about you is my concern, little bird." He growls warningly, sitting forward toward you, even as the poultice runs with the movement and stains the fine black collar of his shirt.

"Hm. I must have missed that announcement." You sniff, refusing to be cowed, staring him down right back. "Maybe when I missed you introducing yourselves, or saying 'thank you' like civilized human beings instead of barging in here like savages and treating me like your own personal play thing."

He glares at you, hissing when you adjust the poultice rather harshly once more, but you match him step for step.

He's no match for you. You're not afraid.

You can feel the fae beside the fireplace watching the two of you with something akin to amusement as you bicker, and you're surprised when he suddenly announces into the tense, stiff silence, "I'm Felix."

The man in front of you flicks his gaze quickly to the other, and something he sees there must cement something in him, because with a defeated sigh, he sits back, away from you, and says with slight irritation, "Hyunjin."

You pretend you're not disappointed by the sudden space between you, and take in a long, deep breath before looking to the two of them.

Hyunjin arches a brow, staring at you sharply as you remain silent, studying them.

"Aren't you going to return the favor?" He asks with slight bite to his tone that makes you bristle.

You glance beneath the poultice, and satisfied the bleeding has stopped and the poison has been pulled from the bite, you remove your hand, shoving to your feet without a backward glance and heading toward the door.

You tug it open and turn to them expectantly, the cool air wafting in from the dark night and brushing your skirt against your ankles.

"No. You owed me, not the other way around. I owe you nothing. Now-" You motion with a jerk of your head and try to bite back a satisfied smirk at the annoyance that flickers across Hyunjin's features at your clear dismissal. "-please leave so I can go to bed."

Something akin to interest alights in Hyunjin's swirling eyes at your words and you already know what he's going to say before the worlds drip suggestively from his full lips.

"If you want to go to bed, little bird-" He starts with an arch of a brow, pushing to his feet in a predatory sort of way that makes you want to shiver, and not entirely in a bad way.

"-then she should." Felix finishes for him firmly, tugging him toward the open door and past you with a pointed stare, one which Hyunjin returns with irritation.

You bite back a grin and give them a flippant little wave.

"Please don't come back." You call out pleasantly, though you mean every word, and then you slam the door shut right on Hyunjin's fierce glare.

Locking up, you can't help the grin that creeps across your lips at his ire.

*****************************************************************************

They do come back.

Again.

And again.

And soon, it becomes routine-the door crashing in in the middle of some random night, one of them dripping blood onto your floor, as you assess the wounds and hurry to gather supplies.

It becomes routine to gather herbs that might help their specific ailments when you're out in the meadows during the day, or hunting through the village market in the early morning before the crowds descend.

Routine to keep things on hand that you know they like-the sweet buns Felix loves, the recipe passed down from your grandmother, held in a little basket beside the stove-the bitter tree bark from the aspens that grow all around the clearing of your cottage that Hyunjin likes to chew to paste between his teeth, especially when he's irritated or hurting, just to take the edge off, stuffed into a jar on the fireplace mantle.

You hate yourself for thinking of them often, knowing them so well, but another, smaller, more hidden part of you hopes they think of you as well.

Tonight, they've brought you a nasty arm slash, courtesy of a Changeling's wickedly sharp claws, and Hyunjin flinches slightly as you smooth a purple, foul smelling paste over the edges of the wound.

"You really are a big baby." You tease, as you reach for a vial of golden Sun Glow, tipping carefully measured drops onto the jagged edges of the largest gash that mars his forearm.

Hyunjin levels you with a glare and a protest that holds little heat, his gaze darting wildly to his counterpart who is lounged beside the roaring fire. "Not true! Felix was wailing last month over that banshee curse like a welp screaming for its mother's breast!"

Felix flips Hyunjin off lackadaisically, his feet propped on the opposite chair as he practically suns himself in the fire's flickering flames.

"Hold still." You chastise under your breath off handedly, concentration on the words you chant beneath your breath and the liquid you're now smearing across Hyunjin's torn skin.

He goes still as a rock beneath your fingers and something inside of you goes warm at the thought that he listens to you when he really needs to.

You finish smoothing the skin back over the torn muscle and sit back with a sigh, wiping your dirty fingers on your skirt as you take in your handiwork with a satisfied nod.

"There. Good as new."

Hyunjin flexes his fingers, the muscles in his forearms rippling, testing the movement, and you can't stop yourself from staring at the ropes of corded muscle as they shift beneath his tan skin.

You wonder briefly what they'd feel like beneath your tongue, or wrapped around your bare waist, or how they'd flex differently if he was using his fingers inside of your-

You glance up, and he's watching you with a knowing smirk on his plush lips, like he knows what you were just thinking.

Gods, you hope not.

Blushing, you duck your head and begin to gather up the mess of supplies, standing up so quickly that you nearly upend the basket in your arms, hurrying to put space between the two of you.

You feel hot all over, and it has nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with the still smirking fae currently sitting in your rickety kitchen chair.

You clear your throat, washing your hands in the bucket of water in the sink, and call to Felix over your shoulder, "Felix, do you think you could hand me the rest of those supplies that need washing?"

Maybe if you just stay in this dark little corner of the kitchen, dousing your skin in frigid water, the blush will leave your cheeks faster, and the heat lingering between your legs from your impure thoughts about the two men currently sitting in your cottage will dissipate like a banshee in the wind.

"You look like you need help, little bird." A low, lilting voice murmurs darkly in your ear, and everything inside of you instantly melts into a molten puddle that settles between your upper thighs as strong, corded arms slink around your waist.

Okay, so maybe not, damn them. You should've know they wouldn't make this easy on you. They're hunters after all, their entire profession deals around smelling out a prey's weakness and using it against them.

Only now, you're the prey in question, and the weakness they can smell all over you is the sinful, heated need slowly growing wetter by the second between your legs.

"I don't." You reply back, a little delayed and a lot more breathless than you had hoped.

Hyunjin chuckles against your skin, his breath warm, pricking goosebumps all up and down your arms as the delicious sound finds a home in your chest, sending your heart skittering like a frightened deer.

"What do you think, Lix?" Hyunjin asks smoothly, casually, as if he's simply discussing the time of day, not your current predicament, wedged between the warm, hard lines of his body and the stiff lip of the counter.

He glances sidelong, and you follow his gaze to see Felix there, watching the two of you with something sharp and delicious and promising in his eyes that has your knees instantly feeling weak.

You're glad Hyunjin is currently holding you up.

You watch as Felix's tongue darts out to slowly wet his lips, his pupils swallowing up the golden glint of his irises as he stares at you like you're his next meal.

You can't seem to bring yourself to care.

"I think-" He takes a step toward the two of you, eyes never leaving your own, and you can't help the whimper that escapes your lips as he comes closer, crowding you in like a predator cornering his prey. He licks his lips once more, as if tasting the sound on the air, and his pupils blow. "-she wants our help, Jin, craves it even, but she's too prideful and stubborn to ask for it."

Behind you, Hyunjin shifts, and you bite down hard on your bottom lip as you feel him press into you from behind, hard and eager.

"Is that true, little bird?" Hyunjin purrs, his fingers going up to curl around your chin, directing your gaze back to his, fiery and filled with promise. "Do you want our help-"

His gaze drops down your body, trapped between his and the unyielding sink, and something flashes in his eyes as a smirk crosses his lips, and then you feel it, the press of his thigh between your own, and you know, know by the way you shiver and the way he takes in a sharp breath, that he can feel your wet silent, plea through the thin material of your dress.

Something smug comes into his dark gaze at this realization, and he finishes his previous goading statement in a low, satisfied growl, his fingers tightening around your chin, "-with this?"

You find a tiny shred of will in yourself to be infuriatingly stubborn on the matter for just a bit longer, to hold out, even though you really want to give in to everything they're suggesting, everything they're offering, without a second thought.

"Aren't you the ones usually asking me for help?" You goad back, and something flashes in Hyunjin's eyes at your taunting tone, something that makes the heat between your legs flare with urgency. You tsk, relishing the way his heated gaze flares in response to your challenge. "My, how the tables have turned, hm?"

"Enough playing." Hyunjin growls, and instantly slings you over his shoulder easily, as if you weigh less than a sack of potatoes, toting you toward the hallway that leads to your small, modest bedroom.

You shriek and kick helplessly, succeeding in little other than hiking your dress up around your hips, and when you glance back at Felix, following closely, his gaze has moved boldly and unabashedly to the bare skin of your legs, and his expression has morphed into something akin to open hunger.

Heat curls low in your belly at the look on his pretty, delicate features, and the thought that you, and you alone, put it there.

Hyunjin tosses you onto the mattress that takes up the majority of the small room, and you breathlessly try to right yourself, not even thinking to ask how he knew where your bedroom was.

It probably wasn't that hard to put two and two together when it comes to your small woodland cottage honestly, especially for a man trained in the ways of observation.

"Who gave you the right-" You start to protest angrily, but Hyunjin is already moving to place himself between your thighs, unlacing his tunic in one smooth movement as he does so.

"You did." He pushes right back, his eyes trailing hungrily down the lines of your body, till they rest between your thighs where you currently ache, and you're not even sure for what.

He leans forward, his breath hot as it washes across your skin, and you resist the urge to tremble beneath him as he snakes a hand up to cup your jaw.

"You did-" He repeats in a growl, his eyes holding yours with fiery triumph. "-when your body reacted so perfectly to ours, little bird, like you were made for us."

You can't help the gasp that falls from your lips at his words, heady and almost dizzying like wine as they drip over your body and mind, finding a solid place in your chest beside the flare of something else that's been slowly building every time they've come to you in the night.

You can't deny it now, worming its way between your ribs, cementing itself into the crevices of your heart like the vines of WurstWood that trail the trellises of your small home, sealing every crack.

But you want to, because that's what you are, who you are-all sharp retorts and biting remarks and cracked, barely healed wounds.

Something determined cements in Hyunjin's gaze at the open war happening on your face, and then he pulls his tunic over his head fluidly, baring himself from the waist up.

All words of protest immediately die on your lips at the sight of him, bare chested, before you.

You trace the mounds of his firm pecs, then down the ridges of his perfectly sculpted abs, the deep v of his muscles where they disappear into the cinched waist of his breeches, and without thinking, down the hard, ready outline of where he strains against the expensive fabric, ready to spring free.

You swallow hard, and your gaze drifts back up to his face-the sharp slope of his nose, the full pink bow of his lips, the scar that marks the dark line of his elegant eyebrow.

You take in the scars that litter his bronze skin-the pale, silvery lines of old wounds, the jagged, angry, pink puckers of new injuries-and as you catalogue them silently, one by one, the realization that you've been there for most of them, run your fingers over each one of them, that you've healed most of them, steals your breath.

"Hyunjin-" You breathe out, not sure where you're going, but you don't have to find out, because his lips crash into yours then, silencing any further useless words.

His tongue slips between the part of your lips that was left behind by your surprised gasp as he devours you, and when he groans into the open seam of your mouth, you react without thinking, tangling your fingers into the long, platinum strands of his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to you, covering your body with the lithe, lean lines of his own.

You mold together like you were made for each other as he ravishes your mouth, and when he pulls back suddenly, leaving you gasping for breath, your breasts brush his chest with each panted inhale and exhale, and you can feel him pressed hard between your thighs as you groan with barely concealed frustration at the distance he's put between the two of you.

"I know, little bird." He chuckles, the sound hoarse, and leans forward to nip at your lips once more, and when you buck your hips up into his in retaliation, making him growl, long and deep in his throat with barely restrained desire, his hand goes to your throat to hold you still, pinning you to the bed, and he glares at you with a thinly veiled threat in his eyes.

"Careful, little one. I'll make you pay for that."

"Do it." You challenge back, your own voice hoarse and thin from kissing, your teeth tacky as you run your tongue over them, not missing the way his eyes track the movement, smugness flaring to life in your belly at the restrained heat you see in his gaze.

"As much as I would like to-" He warns, voice low and dangerous, sending heat right back between your thighs, as he leans forward once more, his teeth scraping across your throat in a biting, rough promise that has you whining and arching into him. "-I'm sure you understand, little bird, that I need to share."

His words send molten confusion through you, but when he sits back on his heels above you, smirking down at you, and Felix appears in your peripheral, still fully clothed, but just as worked up as the other hunter, suddenly, things slot deliciously into place.

"We share everything." Hyunjin says, voice like liquid heat, as his attention slides to the other hunter, the burning flame in his gaze not wavering as he leans forward, running a thumb along Felix's full bottom lip slowly, sensually, in such an intimate way that it has you rubbing your thighs together to get some much needed friction, hoping it will give you relief, just a bit, to the burning need that's flaring anew just from watching the two of them.

"Hunts. Quarries." Hyunjin continues easily, voice dropping to a sensual purr in his chest as he flits his gaze down Felix's body, the way his chest heaves beneath his tunic, the hard muscles of his chest beneath the thin fabric, the obviousness of the other man's breeches straining to contain him. "Kills."

"Each other." His gaze flickers back to you, and you resist the urge to whimper as he tugs Felix down on the bed beside the two of you, reaching for the laces of the other hunter's tunic, before he slowly begins to undo the closure at Felix's collarbone, the other fae's throat bobbing with a hard swallow as Hyunjin closes the distance between them, swiping his tongue up Felix's exposed throat, leaving a long, wet stripe on the bronze of his skin.

Hyunjin's gaze stays firmly on you-the way you writhe between his legs, looking for some sort of friction, for some sort of relief to the heat gathering in your core-even as his fingers continue to steadily unlace Felix's shirt, revealing the tan, scarred planes of his chest, before he finally tugs it off of the other man's frame with one easy, fluid motion, leaving Felix bare to the two of you from the waist up, just like the fae currently straddling you.

You resist the urge to drool as you hungrily take in first one of them, then the other, like a peasant eagerly taking in the sight of a splendid feast set before them after months on the street.

Just like Hyunjin, you recognize more of Felix's scars than not, the familiar marks on his rippling skin telling the story of your time together.

"And now-" Hyunjin leans forward once more, his eyes flashing dangerously, his lips close to your own.

You fist your hands into the sheets to stop yourself from closing the gap to meet him, and lie still.

He smirks, watching the internal battle in your eyes, and you growl in response, as he tics an eyebrow upward at your unspoken, unfounded threat, the smirk only growing wider at your obvious agitation.

"-you, little bird."

He admires you for a moment, staring down at you as you hold his gaze, not willing to back down even an inch, and then he slides his molten gaze to Felix, slowly, casually, as if he has all the time in the world.

The ache between your thighs would like to argue that point immediately.

"What do you say, Lix? Wanna make our little bird sing?"

Felix must read the open invitation on Hyunjin's face because he turns his dark gaze on you, and there's something predatory on his features that wasn't there before, something that makes a pleasant and entirely anticipatory shiver roll down your spine.

He smiles, teeth flashing, and it does nothing to calm the sudden excited patter of your heart against your ribs.

"I dunno, Jin." He muses thoughtfully, staring you down, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, making you clench up, and his eyes flash at your response, dark, warning, the gaze of a hunter. "Does the little bird's song sound like our names being screamed from her lips?"

Your throat goes dry at his obvious implication, and you want to say something along the lines of fuck you, and gods, yes, please all at the same time, so instead, you just let out a strangled sort of whimper from between your lips that has both hunters grinning in tandem dangerously.

"I think that's a yes from our little bird, hm, Lix?" Hyunjin queries as he arches a brow at Felix, and when he looks at you once more, his expression is all predator, and the pulse between your legs in response has you thinking that you'll enjoy being prey for the first time ever in your life.

********************************************************************************

You don't know what woke you from your sleep, until you hear the sound of something scratch against the front door, and everything inside of you instantly goes on high alert, all the fuzziness of remaining slumber washed from your limbs as you silently creep from the bed and down the hall on cautious steps.

It's not Hyunjin and Felix, here for one of their routine, middle of the night healing sessions.

They would have simply kicked the front door in with no pretense or any hint of stealth and demanded you help them.

Besides, they're away on a hunt, and told you not to expect them back till closer to the end of the week.

No, this is something far more sinister, you can feel it in your bones.

Holding your breath, trying to figure out the culprit of the noise, you crouch when you reach the front room and stealthily sneak behind the table in the kitchen.

The noise sounds again, louder this time, like some sort of claw being dragged down the wood of the front door.

You silently glance around the room for anything that you could use as a weapon, trying to remember what Felix and Hyunjin had taught you, and settle on a broom you find tucked near you between the sink and counter.

It's crude, and probably won't be much help, like your limited fighting skills, but it's better than nothing.

The lock on the front door jiggles, as if someone is trying to see how solid it is, and then it drops to the floor with a crash, skittering you into better hiding beneath the sink before whoever just broke the sturdy lock on your front door comes crashing into the front room and catches sight of you.

You quiet your breathing, making yourself as small as possible beneath the safety of the sink among the bottles you use for various healing methods, holding the broom out in front of you, and wait.

There is silence for a brief moment, and then the sound of the doorknob turning, and the front door creaks inward.

A heavy footstep.

And then another.

You hold your breath as the steps grow closer, and a stench washes over you that has you choking not to cough, biting back the urge to gag as you try slide further beneath the sink.

A large, clawed foot covered in coarse, dark hair comes into your limited line of view, and everything inside of you goes cold.

Werewolf.

There is a lone, far away howl from outside, and the beast in the room with you pauses and then answers back with a piercing howl of its own that threatens to burst your ear drums.

Your fingers tremble on the broomstick you still hold, and you fight your hardest not to cry out in fear as the beast quiets, snuffling loudly as it works its way farther into the room.

You whimper, and before you can stop it, the sound leaves your mouth quietly, audibly, and the werewolf freezes in its tracks.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You immediately slap a hand over your mouth and freeze, but it's sniffing the air now, long snout and yellowed fangs cocked, and it takes a halting step toward you, before it growls, long and low in its throat.

You have approximately ninety seconds before that thing finds you and rips you to shreds.

It takes another step in your direction, and shifts down to all fours, teeth bared and beady eyes scanning the room sharply, nose still quivering.

It can smell your fear.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you make a decision, and move.

Dropping the useless broomstick with a clatter, you duck out from beneath your hiding place and dart around to the opposite side of the kitchen, hoping to make a run around the wooden table and escape out the open front door before the beast can get its barings.

Your feet slide on the rug underneath the table in your scurry, and with a sharp cry, you go down hard, just as the beast rises to its feet with an angry roar and swipes at you with razor sharp claws at least ten inches long.

Glasses of herbs and salves go shattering as it down around you, and you scream as you cover your head from the brunt of the chaos, pushing yourself on hands and knees beneath the safety of the table, in between the legs of the chairs.

The werewolf bellows and comes down hard on it's front paws, putting it's weight on the table, cracking the old wood right down the middle.

You scuttle out and away from its angry rampage, and make another desperate sprint to get to the door, your lungs burning, your knee and arm aching where you went down on the floor only moments before.

You hear the beast turn and follow, barreling down on you, its paws slapping the floor, a growl in its throat, and you push yourself even harder.

You don't know if there's more of them out there, but your best bet is to get out of the house and try to lose them in the trees.

Just as your searing lungs get a taste of cold night hair, the werewolf swipes a large clawed paw out as it lunges with a roar, and your feet are swept violently out from underneath you, sending you tumbling to the floor once more with an exhausted scream of frustration and fear.

You lie there, seeing stars, willing yourself to get up, even as your body doesn't respond.

You can feel hot, warm liquid running down one of your calves, and you know the muscle is shredded from the hit from the werewolve's giant claws.

The werewolf chuffs approvingly, as if triumphant it caught you, and stands over you, your body feeling absolutely dwarfed and defeated between it's giant tree stump legs.

It leans over, snarling low, its teeth snapping in your face, and as hot drool drips from between its bloodstained lips down the arch of your cheek, you screw your eyes shut and take a deep breath.

This is it.

This is how you go.

Taken out by a werewolf? How stupid. How asinine.

The beast sniffs along your face, as if scenting you before it mauls you, and you do your best to remain as good as frozen under it's massive body.

Maybe if you stay still, it'll kill you quickly and not play with you before it decides to eat you.

I'm sorry, Felix, Hyunjin, you think helplessly, as the beast leans over, it's teeth going to your throat. I didn't want it to end like this, I didn't get to tell you-

Suddenly, there is a pained whine from the werewolf standing over you, and bright light floods behind your eyelids once more, as if its shadow has disappeared from on top of you entirely.

There is the agonized sound of another werewolf howling, somewhere far off, and then you hear another cry, closer, and much more familiar.

The wolf in the room with you snarls, and you crack open an eye in time to see Hyunjin leap over your fallen body and stand protectively in front of you, bow drawn and another arrow, matching the one already protruding from the werewolf's muzzle, already knocked and waiting.

"Fucking mutt." He growls, eyes flashing with hot fury as he circles the werewolf, waiting for its next move, his hunting leathers still cinched tightly around his legs and waist. "You won't live to regret this."

Suddenly, hands are on you, and you're dragged to a corner of the room, away from the werewolf and the hunting Hyunjin.

Your body feels like lead, but when you look up, Felix is crouched in front of you, shielding you from the danger and the werewolf with his body, his arms caging you in, his eyes full of open concern.

You want to cry, you're so relieved to see them.

"Are you hurt?" Felix is asking, scanning down your body, as if looking for a reason to join the fight right alongside the enraged Hyunjin.

You laugh, a watery, panicked sort of sound and shake your head as you draw in a shuddering breath. "I should be asking you that."

"Fuck." Felix swears, having caught sight of your leg, and he rushes to press his hand to the still oozing wound, applying pressure, even as you hiss in protest. "You're bleeding."

You want to tell him that he's stating the obvious, but your head feels fuzzy and your mouth is full of cotton, and the sound of the werewolf snarling as it battles Hyunjin seems to be growing farther away by the second.

You reach up a finger, swiping away the streak of fresh red blood that adorns Felix's high cheekbone.

He holds your gaze seriously. "It's not mine."

You stare at him, everything relaxing inside you slightly at the knowledge, and then without thinking, you blurt out, "I think I'm in love with you."

Okay. This is a more stupid way to go than the werewolf.

Felix stares at you with his mouth slightly agape, and you don't know if it's the blood loss or the sudden bravery etching through your veins, but you hold his gaze, unwavering, until a small smile finally lifts the corner of his pretty mouth.

"You think?" He repeats back, as if he can't quite believe it, or maybe he's berating your word choice.

"I don't know!" You throw out your hands, and wince when the movement jostles your injured leg, your voice rising with irritation. "I don't know what love feels like, but I would assume this is it? I don't want either of you to get hurt and I miss you when you're gone and I really never felt lonely living here alone but now I do, and I know all your favorite things and could trace every scar I've ever healed with my eyes closed, and when I thought I was going to get eaten tonight, I realized that I never got to tell you any of that."

Felix is still staring at you, expression unreadable, and you huff and fold your arms over your chest, glancing away from him at his lack of response.

Gods, you really hope he just lets you bleed out.

Hyunjin appears then behind Felix's crouch, wiping a bloodied blade on his tunic before he sheaths it and glances down at both of you. His face is splattered with dark red blood, and you blame it on the blood loss for thinking he looks even more attractive covered in gore.

"What's going on here?" He asks with a curious look between Felix's frozen state and your petulant pouting.

Felix shifts, the movement making you hiss between your teeth, and glances up at Hyunjin with something akin to amusement on his features.

"She 'thinks' she loves us." He says without any preamble, and you almost choke on your own spit.

You'd get up right now and kick his ass if it weren't for your bum leg.

Hyunjin snorts, glancing down at your shocked face and then he sighs, crouching down beside Felix, his eyes searching your expression for something you're not sure he finds.

His lips lift into half a smile as he studies you, but his dark eyes are nothing but intent, serious, truthful.

"The night I brought Felix to you. The first night we met." He starts, and you nod, acknowledging you remember. He cocks his head and his eyes brighten slightly. "You didn't take one ounce of shit I gave you, and I respected the hell out of that."

You scoff, moving to roll your eyes and look away, but his fingers capture your chin and keep you in place.

Your feel your breath stutter in your chest at the look that washes across his face as he glances down at the blood slowly oozing from your leg between Felix's fingers.

"And then tonight, I came in here, and I saw you on the ground and I thought-" He pauses, taking in a deep breath, and you're fairly certain it's the first time you've seen him even look remotely vulnerable.

He shakes his head and clears his throat. "Anyway." The hint of a smile is back and he reaches up with his thumb to wipe a splatter of blood from your own cheek.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, little bird, is that I've been in love with you since the first time you gave my shit right back to me from across that table."

Your chest collapses, and tears fill your eyes.

Felix reaches up to carefully wipe away the moisture, his own lips pulled into the hint of a soft smile now.

"And I was a goner as soon as I woke up and saw those perfect, plush lips so close to my own, love."

You laugh a little, swiping at your eyes, and bite back a grin that wants to tear your face in half.

“Now say it back. Without the ‘think.’ Hyunjin commands, but his eyes are teasing and warm. “You have to do your part, sweetheart. This goes both ways.”

"All right, fine." You admit teasingly. "I guess you're all right. You did save me from a werewolf after all."

Hyunjin growls playfully and swipes at you, and you manage to evade him, even with your useless leg.

Felix glances down at the wound and you sigh, glancing around at your wrecked home, the dead, bloodied body of the werewolf slowly dissolving to ash in the corner, the pile of broken bottles on the ground by the cracked table.

Hyunjin leans over and swipes one last stray tear from your eye, and when your gazes meet, he gives you a smile that sends warmth all the way through your body.

"C'mon. We'll help you clean up." He wags a finger in your face as Felix helps you stand. "But only because we love you, and only this once."

217 notes · View notes

loverhymeswith · 2 years

Text

Say You Want Me and I'm Yours

Pairing: Rick Flag x F!Reader

Summary: A prequel to Nothing Will Ever be the Same

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, language, p in v sex

A/N: Thank you so much @a-reader-and-a-writer for the prompt, and for beta reading 💖

Rick follows you into the staff locker room but you pretend not to notice. He’s barely exchanged two words with you since your argument onboard the helo and judging by the steely scowl you just caught a glimpse of in the mirror, that isn’t likely to change anytime soon.

This suits you just fine. You’re too tired and sore to engage with him right now anyway, and besides, you've said all you needed to. The mission was a success; who cares if you went a little off-script to get the result?

Certainly not Amanda Waller. You could practically hear her glee over the comms when Rick had informed her the asset had been retrieved. That was all thanks to you – a fact that Rick had deliberately failed to mention.

While you might consider yourself the hero of the hour, Rick hadn't seen it quite the same way. Stupid and rash, he'd called you. A liability.

None of this is new. In fact, lately most of your missions have ended in a similar fashion: the two of you embroiled in a blazing row while the rest of the squad watches on in bemusement. Rick accuses you of being sloppy and undisciplined; you tell him he's a control freak and too tightly wound, that perhaps he needs to get laid.

The sparse facilities of Belle Reve along with the life-or-death nature of the job leave little room for modesty and you can hear Rick moving behind you – the sound of his tact vest and t-shirt hitting the floor. As tempting as it might be to poke the colonel-shaped bear further now that you find yourselves in the privacy of the locker room, you truly don't have the energy. Instead, you strip out of your own filthy vest and shirt and start to examine the extent of your injuries.

It could have been much worse. There’s a dark bruise forming around your left bicep where Boomer had pulled you out of the way of a grenade, and an array of scratches and scrapes across your forearms and knuckles, but nothing to write home about. The only thing bothering you is your ankle. You suspect you must have landed badly jumping off the roof of the compound, though it's probably just a sprain.

Continuing to ignore Rick’s presence, you sink onto one of the benches and start to unlace your boots, until eventually you sense the weight of his gaze settling between your shoulder blades.

"You should get that checked out."

You twist around and spare him a cursory glance. A rapid assessment reveals no new injuries to his thick, muscular body. All differences aside, you're relieved he seems to be in one piece. Not that you let it show. “So you’re speaking to me again?”

Your words appear to find their mark as usual, the large vein on the side of Rick’s neck bulging as he works his jaw and grunts. "Who says I wasn't speakin' to you?"

You shrug, kicking off your boots and gingerly rolling up your pant leg to assess the damage. Sure enough, the skin around your ankle is swollen and inflamed. Hopefully nothing that aspirin and a few days rest won't fix.

When you don't respond, Rick places himself in front of you.

"What?" You snap at his feet, hoping he isn't planning for round two. A faint headache is beginning to bloom at your temple and you want nothing more than to go home and collapse into bed.

"Why have you always gotta be so goddamn confrontational?" You can hear the exasperation in his voice and when you tilt your head to meet his eye, his lips are turned down into a customary frown.

"Why do you always have to be such a jerk?"

Rick folds his arms across the expanse of his bare chest. A thin sheen of sweat is glistening on his tanned skin. He'll be heading for the showers any moment now. You know his routine like the back of your hand. Straight-laced, predictable Rick Flag.

"That is exactly what I'm talkin' about." He sighs audibly, nostrils flaring. "Straight in there with the childish insults. Why can't we ever talk things out like grown adults?"

"Because you don't listen."

"Like hell I don't." Rick shifts his weight from one foot to the other, drawing his lips into a thin line. It's his default expression; you can't remember the last time you saw him smile. "You're the one never listenin'. You're the one ignorin' orders and tryin' to get yourself killed."

Your rise from the bench, planting yourself squarely before him. A pulse of anger flares through your chest. "Don't act like you give a fuck about me, Flag. All you care about is bossing the squad around. You'd rather fail the mission than let anyone else take the lead."

"You got no idea what you're talkin' about," he growls, hazel eyes flashing with a fury to match your own.

"Don't I?" You take a step closer until you're standing toe to toe. With barely any space between you, Rick’s scar-flecked chest is directly in your line of vision, rising and falling with each heavy breath. You’ve never noticed the latticework of thin silver lines marring his skin before. That one man could walk away from battle so many times is nothing short of a miracle.

But you don't tell him this. Instead, you fold your arms to match his stance and continue. “Why didn't you let me take the credit with Waller today? You know we never would have succeeded if Boomer and I hadn't gone up on that roof."

A muscle in Rick’s jaw ticks. "Is that what you really think? That I give a damn about who gets the credit?"

You shrug half-heartedly. It certainly seems that way lately. Constantly down-playing your achievements and speaking over you in briefings with Waller, it’s like Rick wants you to fail. "Prove me wrong."

"Prove you wrong?" He's barely a hair's breadth away from you now. So close that when he huffs out the last remaining whisper of his anger, his warm breath flutters across your cheek.

"I'm tryin' to protect you," he mutters quietly, as if he's suddenly worried about being overheard. "If Waller learns the truth… if she learns just how fuckin' fearless and capable you are, she'll take you away from me."

"I'm not a possession." You bristle at the implication, fingernails digging painfully into the flesh of your arms so he can’t see just how much his words are affecting you. "You can't keep me all to yourself."

"I don't want to own you," he grumbles, unjustly annoyed that you can't seem to decipher the inner workings of his mind. "I'm tryin' to keep you free from Waller. She'll set you up with your own squad. I won't be -"

"I don't need you around to save me all the time, Flag." You cut him off before he can do further damage to your already precarious relationship. "Didn't I make that clear today?"

"Fuck. Darlin', that's not what I'm tryin' to say."

In Rick's honey-coated southern drawl, the pet name causes you to falter. He's never called you by anything other than your last name before. He seems to notice his mistake too, because he's scrubbing a hand over his jaw, gaze focused anywhere but you.

"Darlin'?" You repeat with the arch of a brow. You'd intended for it to sound condescending, but even you can't deny the surprise in your tone. "That's a new one."

"You just…" Rick stumbles over his words like he’s been knocked off course by an invisible force. "I can't think straight when I'm around you."

If you were on top of your game, you'd have snapped back with a cutting remark, teasing him for showing even a hint of weakness, but something about the sincerity of his words leaves no room for mockery. "What?"

Rick's eyes shutter, dark lashes kissing golden skin, and suddenly you’ve lost all direction too – can barely remember why you were so pissed at him in the first place.

Recovering from some internal conflict, Rick pins you with a heated gaze. "You heard me."

When your back hits metal you realise he's stepped even closer, his large body looming over you as a pair of tattooed arms reach out to keep you caged against the lockers. You read the hunger in his eyes a split second before he leans in.

His lips have barely brushed your own when your hands fly to his glistening chest, pushing against the solid wall of muscle. He staggers back instantly, wide-eyed and panic-stricken, like he can't believe what he's done.

That makes two of you.

"What the hell was that for?" you demand, heartbeat racing furiously while your brain fights to catch up.

"I…I'm…" You can sense him stumbling again, grasping blindly for any kind of excuse he can offer you, anything that might justify trying to kiss you.

Ultimately though, it doesn’t matter; he's too slow to respond. Because in that moment, he's breathtaking. So beautifully flustered and unlike the Rick you thought you knew that you have no choice but to grab his dogtags and drag his mouth back down to meet your own.

Your action awakens something in Rick, or at the very least it chases away his doubts, because he seals his soft pink lips to yours and he's really kissing you now.

It’s angry and it's messy and your teeth clack together as you tug him closer, fingers rising to thread through the lengths of his golden hair. His battle-worn hands have dropped to your waist, burning against your bare skin as he squeezes you tightly, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his body.

If you were still of sound mind it might have occurred to you to question whether this was wise: a colonel and his lieutenant overstepping every boundary in the book. But all sensible thoughts are driven from your head when Rick wedges one of his legs between your own. The insistent pressure of his muscled thigh against your centre forces all the heat in your body to rush south, stirring some long dormant desire you'd thought had been buried by the battlefields and bloodshed.

As your fingernails rake over the sweat-slick skin of his impossibly wide shoulders, Rick grabs your ass and drags you roughly along the length of his thigh. The friction against your core is so delicious that you find yourself whimpering into his mouth.

His tight hold on you falters and he pauses, seemingly startled by the sound.

"What are you waiting for?" you hiss, pulling back to find wariness written in the fine lines of his brow.

What you really mean is don't stop now.

Rick’s eyes have turned almost-black with lust, but there's an edge to his rasping voice that forces you to listen. Even now he commands your begrudging attention. "I don't want you havin' any regrets."

Your fingers head south, tracing the path of silver scars along the ridge of his abdomen, causing him to tense beneath your touch. "No mistakes, no regrets," you murmur, echoing the wisdom he'd shared before your first mission together two years earlier – wisdom that has served you well up to now.

Rick huffs out a laugh, a sound so foreign that it's hard to believe he is the source. "Beautiful sentiment, darlin'." But it seems to satisfy him, because he's closing the distance again, his lips finding your jaw.

Trapped between the press of Rick’s warm body and the cool metal lockers against your spine, your nerves are set alight. All the anger you were carrying around has faded now, giving way to pure, unfiltered desire.

His large hand replaces his thigh, swiftly parting your legs and cupping your covered core. "Been dreamin' about this," he admits roughly, dragging his fingers along your aching centre. "Dreamin' about all the ways I could stop that pretty mind of yours from racin' for a while. All the ways I could make you feel good."

Your head falls back, clanging against the metal, and all sense of reason abandons you. "Make me feel good, Rick."

Your breathless command unleashes him. He has you out of your sports bra and pants in a matter of seconds, that military efficiency apparent even in moments like this. “Should’a known,” he growls, as he palms a large hand over your breast. “Everythin' about you is so fuckin’ perfect.”

As you stand utterly naked before him, Rick's calloused thumb brushes over your peaked nipple, sending another pulse of heat straight between your legs. The white-hot need for him to touch you is almost unbearable, but instinct tells you that he's going to make you wait.

"Even better than I imagined." He continues in earnest, lowering his head and sealing his lips around your delicate pebbled flesh.

You barely recognise the sounds leaving your mouth as he worships your breasts with his wicked tongue; licking and sucking and teeth grazing until you start to come undone. He's expertly breaking you into pieces, leaving behind nothing but a flustered, needy mess.

When he pauses his ministrations to capture you in another claiming kiss, you seize the opportunity to reach for his belt. Your attention is centred on his arousal, which is visibly straining against the rough material of his tact pants. "Take them off,” you whine against his mouth, fingers frantically fumbling at his buckle.

Rick withdraws from your lips and steps back, flashing you an uncharacteristic smirk that has your thighs clenching tightly. "Still as impatient as ever."

Any quick-fire retort you might have planned dies on your lips as he complies with your wishes. His thick, capable fingers swiftly unfasten the silver belt buckle and you're left to stare unashamedly as his pants and boots join your own in a heap on the floor.

You can't believe it's taken so long for you to notice: Rick Flag is a study in perfection. You shouldn't be surprised to find that every part of his body is as long and thick and beautiful as the rest, as if he'd been carved by the gods themselves. You drink in the sight of him like you've been dying of thirst since the day you first met, your mouth watering when you try to imagine how good he'll feel buried inside you.

Because that's where this is going to end. The fuse has been lit and there's no choice now but to let the sparks fly.

Standing on tiptoes, you loop your arms around his neck and pull yourself closer, until you can feel his scorching length pressed against your stomach. He's bigger than you could have possibly imagined.

As his hands rise to cup your jaw, Rick’s dark gaze meets yours and tension crackles in the air. "Kiss me," he rumbles.

For the first time since you met him, your colonel doesn't have to tell you twice. You kiss him deeply and thoroughly, running your nails through the short hair at the back of his neck and revelling in the soft groans you're able to elicit from him. This new side of Rick steals your breath; his harsh lines and stern frown melt away beneath your touch, causing you to question everything you thought you knew.

It should scare you. It should fill you with doubt – how you've already crossed so many lines in such a small amount of time. But your brain has been short-circuited. The only thing you know with any certainty is how good it feels to be right here in the moment, wrapped up in Rick’s all-encompassing embrace.

But if Rick thinks he's solely in control here, he's very much mistaken. Catching his bottom lip between your teeth, you tug playfully. It earns you a deep growl, the sound vibrating through your chest as dampness continues to pool between your thighs.

"Touch me, Rick."

Rick proves himself just as capable of following orders as he is at dishing them out. His hand slides between your two bodies and when he finally reaches your centre, deft fingers glide along your wetness. The intensity of the pleasure catches you by surprise and you cry out desperately, legs buckling as you clutch at his shoulders.

He repeats the action, over and over, gathering up your slick until suddenly he pushes a finger inside you and lets out a string of filthy curses that makes your head spin. "Oh fuck, darlin'. Think this pussy's gonna destroy me."

If he carries on like this, he might just destroy you first.

In true Rick-fashion, he's diligent and methodical in his actions, carefully working you open until you can take two of his fingers, then three. He curls them up inside you, hitting that sweet, sweet spot over and over again, until the sounds of your desperate pants and moans rapidly fill the locker room.

Rick brushes his lips over your jaw. His breath is hot and his words are laced with a molten desire that surely matches your own. "If I knew it was this easy to get you to quit bitchin' at me, I wouldn't have waited so long."

Prickling at such a comment despite your building pleasure, you drop your hand and wrap your fingers around his shaft, squeezing tightly. Rick curses again, and when you run your thumb along his weeping tip he bucks his hips into your hand, shuddering beneath your touch.

"I think I like you better like this too," you smirk against his lips.

Deciding you're ready, that he's prepared you just enough, Rick spins you around roughly, pushing your chest into the lockers. Your nipples pebble against the cool metal and a surprised yelp bursts from your lips.

Rick doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy squeezing your waist with a bruising grip whilst his other hand forces your legs apart. Despite the forceful nature of his actions, he pauses for a moment to press a wet kiss between your shoulder blades. "Say you want me, darlin'," he rasps against your skin. "Say you want me and I'm yours."

Your palms hit the lockers, readying yourself for what's to come. "I want you."

Rick guides his cock between your folds once, twice, three times before he breaches you, filling you with a single stroke. The pressure is almost overwhelming but you take everything he gives you. In that respect, he has you well trained.

"Perfect," he grunts, buried to the hilt inside your pussy. "How could you not be?"

You bite down on your lip as he drags his hips back slowly before slamming into you again. The lockers rattle from the force.

"Don't go easy on me, Flag," you tease breathlessly, feeling your walls flutter around his throbbing length. "I'm a big girl. I can take it."

"I know you can, darlin'. You're gonna take it so fuckin' well."

The hand not gripping your waist traces the curve of your spine, rising higher until his fingers wrap around the delicate column of your throat. He applies just the whisper of pressure as his hips snap into you again, but it's enough to have you crying out for more.

In credit to Rick, he doesn't hold back. As he plunges into you at a relentless pace, you’re reduced to strangled sobs and moans, your fragile relationship with him breaking and reforming with every drag of his cock through your soaked channel.

You're not too far gone to understand that this might simply be an outlet for Rick's anger. A way to disperse whatever fear he felt towards your reckless behaviour on the mission. You are, however, too far gone to worry about that for now. You tuck the thought away, saving it for examination much later, focusing instead on the way he stretches and fills you so exquisitely.

"You're doin' so well, baby." Usually, Rick’s compliments are tinged with condescension, but not today. With each stroke of his cock he offers soothing praise that causes your cunt to convulse around him. "You look so fuckin' good like this."

You've always believed it a weakness to show emotion on the battlefield, but any thoughts about saving face in front of Rick are swiftly dissolved as he chases after your relief and his own. You cry out loudly when he tightens his grip on your throat, his other hand reaching down to strum your clit.

"Need you to come for me now, darlin'. I know you can do it. You're so good. So perfect."

He continues to coax you towards your climax, never faltering with his rhythm or his praise. Just like the countless missions he's led you on over the years, he's singularly focused on the outcome. You should have guessed he would make an attentive lover.

"Never gonna get over how fuckin' amazin' this pussy feels, baby. You've ruined me."

The band inside you suddenly snaps and your hands fly from the locker, fingernails digging into the flesh of his forearms as you ride the wave of your release. "Oh god, Rick."

As his name leaves your lips, his hips stutter violently and you feel him spill inside you, coating your walls with his spend. As he falls forward, his head tips against the curve of your neck and he presses another open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

"Darlin'..."

All at once, it's a promise and a plea. A prayer and a curse. There's so much to unpack in that one little word. But maybe it doesn't matter. At least not right now.

Maybe, like the kerosene and cloth of Harley’s beloved Molotov cocktails, you and Rick were always destined to ignite.

Joel Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @sociiallydiisoriiented @yespolkadotkitty @weallhaveadestiny @bewitchedignition @lavenderluna10 @lacontroller1991 @ed-baldwin @phoenixhalliwell @immyownlittlebitch @mayhem24-7forever @s-u-t @littlefreakingfangirl @katjnordstrom96 @kirsteng42 @heresathreebee @christinasyellowflowers @xoxabs88xox @fairchildflag

#rick flag #joel kinnaman #rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #the suicide squad #colonel rick flag #rick flag smut #dceu fanfic

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jtl-fics · 6 months

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You never go wrong with some (not so classy) (new) kings

WIP Wednesday: 11-8-23 (Closed) | New Kings AU

Neil wrapped his fingers around Andrew's wrist and brought his hand under Neil's shirt. Andrew remembers when Neil had done something similar to get him to go to rehab and-

His fingers find the rough skin of Neil's chest. Road rash from jumping out of a moving car and protecting Mary with his own body. A bullet wound he got in France that had him wearing a vest for weeks afterwards. A slice from Nathan for laughing too loud. A slice from Nathan for crying. A slice from Lola for flinching. The unnaturally smooth skin from the clothing iron.

Andrew hates how his shoulders relax as his fingers rediscover each and every hurt paid upon Neil's skin. Hates that he is both furious that they're still too late to have stopped these hurts and relieved that the memory of them is etched once again into Neil's skin.

#New Kings AU #AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #New Kings - Rest - 16 #11-8-23 WIP Wednesday #WIP Wednesday Ask Game #19

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f4iryyuiirz · 2 months

Text

༊*·˚ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ᵗʷᵒ ⁻ ᴰᵉᵃᵈ ᴰᵒᵛᵉ: ᴰᵒ ᴺᵒᵗ ᴱᵃᵗ .ೃ࿐

masterlist

Word Count: 2.6k

Date Written: 26/02/24

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of the acts that happen in the story in real life. Please do not romanticize any behaviors or actions described in this story in the real world.

Warnings: Death, Minimal gore, Symptoms of panic attack, Mentions of temporary paralysis.

— — — — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — — — —

: ̗̀➛You wake up to your phone ringing. You quickly lifted your body as you realized where you were. Then you saw who was calling. The name that was on display was ‘emoboy’. You quickly pick up the phone and answer. “Hey..” You would say it anxiously. “‘Hey.’ Is that seriously all you have to say after you ditched us at that party?” Michael would say dryly. “Us?” You repeated, “Yes, us. You’re the speaker, and everyone is listening. You know what? We’ll talk at school.” He said this before he hung up the phone. You were about to answer before you realized he hung up. After a few seconds of trying to calm the banging in your head, you looked at the time.

: ̗̀➛It was 09:34AM; you were late again. It was clear your mom wasn’t home, or she would have woken you up. After letting out a sigh, you stood from your bed and put on your slippers before drinking the water left on your bedside. It was still cold. It just came out of the fridge. Which was weird; it couldn’t be your mom because she was on night shift; same for your dad. Maybe you left it for yourself when you came back home from the party. You just shrugged it off before you went to the bathroom, not bothering to make your bed today.

: ̗̀➛You went to the sink and rinsed your face before wiping it with a towel. You then applied sunscreen and eucerin before you brushed your teeth. Then you opened the medicine cabinet to get your pills. You took the isotretinoin, loratadine, fluoxetine, and antihistamine bottles before drinking two of each. You quickly got into the shower, rinsing away any proof that you were outside with the special brand of soap your mom buys you. Your skin, surprisingly, didn’t get a rash from last night. You just shook it off before you left the shower to wipe yourself with a towel.

: ̗̀➛You went to your bedroom again before you picked something out. Since you didn’t really have time to choose, you picked out the outfit set your aunt got you for Christmas. Even though you don’t celebrate it, The outfit itself was alright. A bit too preppy for your liking, though. At least it was black, mostly. The outfit consisted of a white long-sleeved button-up with loose cuffs, a black sleeveless vest button-up, and a black mini-skirt. But your mom made it longer. Now it was to your knees. It also came with black and white boots that you wore with socks.

: ̗̀➛You looked… pretty. Like stereotypically pretty. Weirdly, you actually looked like one of ‘the popular girls’. Not that you wanted to be like them or that you actually listened to what Red said You quickly put your hair into a low ponytail and went downstairs. Quickly, you went to get an energy bar before leaving the house. As you took a bite out of the bar, you felt your stomach ache, as if it were being hit with a baseball bat. Maybe you should have eaten before you swallowed those pills.

: ̗̀➛You just decided to feed it to Lilo. As you walked up to her cage, you eyed her movements, making sure she wasn’t angry. You then realized that she was just asleep. You opened the glass container to leave the energy bar so she could eat it later. As you were about to close the cage, you saw that she had finally woken up as she slithered around with her scaly body. A snake was the only exotic pet your mom would let you get. Well, one that had no poison. A python. Before you left, you locked the door and got your driver to take you to school.

: ̗̀➛You got inside the car and listened to the radio as your chauffeur kept driving. Halfway through your trip, you began to feel lightheaded. Your vision was almost hazy, but you just ignored it since it was probably just a hangover. But as you leaned onto the window, you realized just how much you were sweating; you felt that same feeling about your stomach as before. Before you know it, you’re blacked out as your driver stops the car to try to wake you up. But you don’t, at least not for another twenty minutes. As you lay in the back of your mother’s car, a scene starts to form in your mind.

You used your chair to get onto the railing, and Red took the chair from under you while still helping you balance until you were okay. Red would ask you to let go as she backed away slightly. You just whimpered an ‘Okay.’ as you removed your hands from the railing. You stayed still, barely moving an inch. Red would then leave to get some more beer. You just stayed there, relaxing at the edge of a 4-story building. You didn’t feel scared anymore. You were at peace. For the most part, anyway. You were finally alone with your thoughts. Until you felt your jeans slip on the sliver rod. You were about to fall, but you caught yourself with your hand just in time. You climbed up to the rod again, but this time, your platforms would slip and…

SPLAT!

: ̗̀➛You felt as if you had died all over again. But when you finally came to reality, you were paralyzed; you couldn’t even move your mouth to say that you were okay. All you could do was sit there helplessly as you watched your driver try to wake you; he even brought out an allergy needle, thinking it was an allergy attack. Could you even get those anymore? Probably not; you are dead. Once he stabbed you with the needle, you were able to move again. You thanked him for trying so hard to help, even in your unfocused state.

: ̗̀➛As you were about to stand up, he stopped you. “Please, (Y/N). Your father told me what to do in situations like these. You just need to relax until we get to your school. If you still feel unwell, then you are allowed to go home.” He would say as he patched up where he stabbed the needle before he went back to the front seat to drive again. You just laid there, still trying to process what just happened. You were dead? You were only sixteen.

: ̗̀➛You barely had any friends. And at the first party you go to, you die. Just great. God, you didn’t even have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. You didn’t even sleep wit- The rant that went on in your head was interrupted by your driver playing the radio station you liked. You just sighed as you went back to thinking. You were still trying to understand how you were still here if you were dead. Are you a ghost? But if you were, how are you still able to touch and feel things? Because you definitely felt that needle, almost popped a blood vessel.

: ̗̀➛You took out your phone to try and look up ‘ghost who can still feel things, but nothing came up. You groaned as you hoped no one knew about this. But then you realized the only way someone could know about this was Your corpse. You remember your body being crushed; all of your insides came out. So, that was definitely a clue that someone died. You just prayed to God that the Testaburgers wouldn’t check on their backyard. You had to find a way to get rid of the body. Or at least hide it till you figure this whole thing out. You doubted whether or not to tell anyone about this before your driver stopped the car. You made it to school safely. Your driver would take your bookbag from the trunk if he saw that you were too unwell to do it by yourself.

: ̗̀➛You were about to shoo him away but then realized he had to walk with you to the nurse’s office to get checked out first. There had to be some form of guardian there, or they wouldn’t believe you. As you walked into the halls, it was almost as if everyone stared at you, whispering on top of whispers about ‘who the new student was’ and ‘if it was (Y/N)', you just pretended to not hear. As soon as he left, they would go back to ignoring you. As you were about to reach the office, you saw Wendy and Red speaking about the cheerleading team.

: ̗̀➛Wendy would notice you staring and scan you before giving the fakest wave you have ever seen. You were stereotypically cute now, and because of that, she knew your popularity would skyrocket, so it was better to claim you as one of her minions now before you got cocky. Unfortunately for her, you didn’t wave back as you kept walking. Wendy’s left eye would twitch slightly before she shook it off and went back to talking with Red again. Once you finally got inside, your driver would tell you to sit on one of the empty beds as he handed you a silk blanket to sit on in case the bed wasn’t clean. You didn’t want to get a rash, so you took it.

: ̗̀➛As you sat on the bed waiting for something to happen, your driver spoke to the nurse and told her that you’ve been having panic attacks, allergy attacks, and how you even started to get temporary paralysis even though you’ve been taking all your pills. “Is she feeling better now?” The nurse would as in a dry manner as she sorted her cabinet. You would just nod as your driver answered for you. “Yes, she is.” “Then there is nothing to worry about. If it happens again on school grounds, we will send her home as soon as possible. Okay? Now, go to class. You’re already late.” She said as she shooed you two away.

: ̗̀➛Your driver would leave the office before waving you goodbye as he walked away to the car and drove back to your house. You then went to meet up with your ‘friends’ before lunch was over. When you went to the stairs that you normally sit on, Firkle just eyed your outfit. “Guess money can’t buy good taste.” The younger boy would say this as he kept smoking. Pete would then take the cigarette out of his hand and crush it. “Just use a vape, dude; you’re like five years old.” He said as he kept smoking his. “I’m eleven.” He scoffs before pulling out his vape and smoking that instead.

: ̗̀➛You love Firkle dearly, but sometimes you just want to strangle him. “Look, little boy. I didn’t have time to pick out something to wear because you guys were buzzing up my phone, so I came here asap.” You said as you sat next to Pete that he would just scoot to the other side of the stairstep. “What’s up with you?” You asked. “Nothing; he's just moody.” Henrietta would state as she just strolled through her MySpace. “Fine, what’s up with the rest of you? You all acted really pissy about last night.” You said as you looked, but no one even batted an eye to your question.

: ̗̀➛You just groaned as you pulled out your phone. You went through BuzzFeed looking for something entertaining. “Why was Wendy waving at you?” Pete asked before he blew his smoke into the air. “I don’t know. I don’t speak to that bitch.” You almost hissed out, “Well, it seemed like you did speak to her best friend.” Henri scoffed as she rolled her eyes slightly. You just sighed, but then realized she might have seen everything else that happened. But then you doubted it. If she knew, she would have locked you in a closet or shit like that.

: ̗̀➛Then, as you were about to speak again, you felt someone pull you to the side. Since everybody was too busy, they didn’t notice you practically getting kidnapped. Once you turned to see who it was, you grimaced. Damien Thorn. All you wondered was how he just appeared out of thin air. Before you could ask, though, he interrupted. “You’re dead.” Damien would say, as it wasn’t really a question. He would just look at his phone; he didn’t even give you a chance to explain. “How’d you find out?” You would whisper, hoping to God that the people right next to you didn’t hear. “Put your earbuds on; you look crazy.” He would say this before suddenly disappearing just as fast as he appeared, leaving you alone with Michael and the rest of the goth kids.

: ̗̀➛You would turn to see if any of the others saw, but you just ended up groaning because they weren’t even paying attention. You then left, taking your bookbag with you. You would walk down the halls to go to the other side of the school. It was the quieter side, where you could just think in peace. There was also a cat there—one that somehow you weren’t allergic to. Hopefully you could find him; maybe he could calm you down a bit. But as you approached the corner, you saw a blue hat that you could recognize anywhere.

: ̗̀➛“Craig, what are you doing?” You asked as you saw him sitting on one of the steps while he petted the cat you were looking for. His eyes would look to the floor, almost distraught, before he looked up at you. “I came to check on the cat.” He said as he placed the cat next to him before he pulled out a can of cat food from his jersey jacket and opened it. “He hasn’t been feeling well," “Why are you here?” He spoke up again while he placed the now-opened can of food in front of the black cat for him to eat.

: ̗̀➛“I was looking for the cat too. I can leav-", “You can stay.” He’d say, with a monotone voice, not even looking in your direction, as he petted the cat while it was eating. You then move to sit next to the cat on the same step as Craig while thinking of some conversation topic because the silence is slowly killing you. Well, as much since you were already dead. “Um, how’s the baseball team?” You asked as you watched the cat eat slowly. “Nothing much. We made it to regionals.” He answered dryly.

: ̗̀➛“How come you came looking for him? The cat, I mean.” He asked before he stopped petting the cat to check the time on his phone. It was 12:27PM. “I come out here to just... Think. Sometimes, I just want a form of comfort. God, that sounded sappy. Sorry.” You apologized. He would just hum in response. “You okay?” You asked as you turned to him. He looked at you back, his eyes softening. Even just a little, he said, “Yeah. Thanks.” Before he stood up. “I should get going. I have a math test. See you.” That was all he said before he left. Just like that.

: ̗̀➛You would just roll your eyes before you petted the cat’s head before you left too. Since it was already almost the end of classes, you just chose to power through the rest of the day. You end up walking home, which took around two hours. Before just plopping down to bed without even changing your clothes, only removing your shoes. You just lay there for the next five seconds before you hear a familiar voice say, “Boo.”

─── ⋆⋅☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆⋅⋆ ───

A/N: First, just wanna say sorry that it was so short. I have just been hella stressed trying to study and finish at least the second chapter so I had to make it a bit shorter. I also wanted to make it clear that the reader is part-Jewish ethnically on her father’s side and her mother is a Christian, but their race or nationality is up to you to decide. The reader’s religion is also the second thing that has a canon idea in mind. The only reason I decided to make her Jewish was for one, it is a plot device and will be further discussed later in the story, and two, I am part-Jewish myself and I feel there isn’t enough Jewish representation in writing, especially in South Park. Anyway, we finally have some Craig content!!!

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