#((Mr. ''That's right!!! Blood flows through the body!!''))

[spaced-out-muses]

(( Every day I have to remember that Kuroo is probably the smartest, most capable doctor there is. Like this man canonically has operated on five people at once SUCCESSFULLY.))

((But he is also the BIGGEST dumbass at times and I cannot get over it.))

[ponderingmoonlight]

Choso getting hopelessly seduced by another blood manipulator

Jaw-Dropping gorgeous pic from none other than @sanicsmut - go check out their work here and give a big LIKE

Pairing: Choso x fem!hemomancy!reader (=basically someone who is able to use blood manipulation without jujutsu and advanced, read more here

Word Count: 2,4k

Synopsis: It seemed so easy at first: find Itadori Yuji, kill him, take revenge. Only until you showed up and captivated Choso Kamo, only until you showed him what you can...

Warnings: this gets a little smutty and heated from time to time so be prepared, reader is pretty badass I love her in this one, since this took me quite some time I'd truly appreciate you guys liking, commenting or reblogging my work - thank you <3 Also, special thanks to @yukiotacon - I truly hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Also, special thank to @sanicsmut for allowing me to use that stunning piece of art as a cover - click here to leave a like, comment or reblog for my babe ♡

„How on earth did I get here?”, you mumble to yourself, humming while walking down the empty hallways of Shibuya’s train station.

You know damn well why you’re here, roaming around this area with a clear aim.

“We’re talking about a lot of money here. Money for someone who isn’t even able to use jujutsu at the moment”, the white-haired man sitting in front of you clarified amused.

You smiled to yourself, stalked him like a hunter stalks his prey until you trapped him between your arms, a lustful grin appearing on his face.

“The success of hemomancy is as guaranteed as the fact that you’re oh so excited right now, Mr. Gojo”, you purred.

Oh, how much you enjoyed the way his heart started to pump faster immediately, how his blood began to rush into his crotch area.  

“If you fail, I’ll be there to finish off what you started. And who knows, maybe even you.”

Why does it have to be so damn entertaining to play with men, to feel their blood rush through their veins? Well, what is even more exciting than that is making them kneel in front of you just before you turn their own blood against them.

Hemomancy, the magic of blood, the reason you are able to control both your own blood and the blood of others. No matter where, no matter when. Completely without their so-called jujutsu.

“Jujutsu…”

You huff in sheer amusement.

“Why on earth would you need something like that?”

“Who are you?”

Your eyes widen just the slightest bit, mind caught off guard while you search for the person who just spoke out of nowhere. How is it possible that didn’t detect the flow of this strangers’ blood earlier? Normally, you are able to catch every living being in the blink of an eye.

“Better question is who are you”, you reply dryly, eyes scanning the area in order to find this person.

His low voice tells you that he has to be a man, maybe a few metres away from you. But where? And who the fuck is he to not get caught by your powers?

“I’m not here to play games.”

Suddenly, he is near – way too near for your liking. And there it is, the presence of his blood, the way it pumps through his arm when he’s about to hit you with full force.

“I’m either.”

All it takes is a swift motion of your finger to stop his flying fist mid-air.

“There you are”, you announce provocative, turning around only to be greeted by his eyes.

You stop in your tracks. What a pair of gorgeous eyes he has, widen in utter disbelief by the fact that you have the control over his body. But not only that, you can tell that he’s well-trained underneath that cloak.

“Definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you naked”, you mutter, eyes roaming over every inch of him.

“Are you a witch?”, he presses out, arm visibly fighting against your force.

You can’t help but chuckle, the struggle written on his cute face being the most amusing thing you’ve seen in a long time. Elegantly, you kneel down next to him in order to meet him eye to eye, fingertips caressing his cheek gently.

“What are those?”

These lines decorating his face, engraved into his otherwise flawless skin. A tattoo, some strange birth mark by any chance?

“Slicing exorcism.”

It happens faster than you’re able to react. Before you even realize what’s going on, something pierces right through your shoulder, cuts through your tender flesh with ease.

No, not something.

“Blood manipulation, huh?”, you choke out, the floor underneath your feet instantly discoloured in crimson.

Choso creates distance between both of you, eyes examining every minor move you make. Who are you? You don’t seem to have any cursed energy. But how were you able to control his arm, to stop his powerful slash in the matter of milliseconds? It was almost as if…

As if you’re using a special form of blood manipulation yourself.

“Let me make this clear.”

He squints his eyes in confusion when you begin to walk towards him, your uninjured arm stretched out in front of you. A swift motion of your hand and he lands on the cold floor all over again, feeling as if an invisible weight pushes him into the earth. No matter how hard he tenses his muscles, no matter how desperately he fights against that force, he can’t escape you.

“There is no fucking way you’ll escape me, okay? Interesting, you have to be a member of the Kamo clan, am I right?”

“None of your business”, he spits into your face.

Your hand yanks towards his neck, squeezes ever so slightly while your face is only inches away from his. That dreadful gleam in your eyes, the fact that you wear a small smile on your face despite he just destroyed your shoulder forever.

“Let me tell you a secret, Mr. Kamo.”

Carefully, you drag your nail along his neck until blood spills, earning a low groan from him.

“Do you know anything about hemomancy?”

Hemomancy…No, this can’t be real. He thought the magic of blood disappeared from the surface of the earth with the new century, forgotten by the modern people. But you…He stares right into your confident face, watches in horror as you collect the trail of blood from his neck with your finger and lick it clean.

Oh, what a wonderful metallic taste, maybe one of the best droplets you ever enjoyed. Very fitting for a man like him.

“The magic of blood, the power to control both your blood and the blood of others, to create weapons of blood to use your own blood to poison, to use others to…”

“Heal”, you finish his sentence.

“You know quite a lot about hemomancy. I’m impressed.”

The weight on his shoulders disappears out of thin air, makes him yank up out of instinct. Choso watches carefully as you stretch both of your arms into the air, circle your injured shoulder…

That isn’t injured anymore.

“So you know you have absolutely no chance to defeat me, no matter how great your blood manipulation is, right?”

Choso wants to dash forward, to hit you with full force, to finally find Itadori and take revenge for the death of his brothers. But instead, he simply stands and stares at you with trembling hands. Despite every fiber of his being urges to fight against you, he knows you’re right.

“Good.”

Again, you walk towards him with your heels clicking against the hard floor. His eyes dart up and down, take in your appearance. You look absolutely threatful, maybe even more dangerous than Mahito or Geto will ever be. Why are you even here? Whose side are you on? There isn’t enough time to ask you these questions.

Your hand finds his chest, glides up onto his back ever so gently.

“What’s your name?”

“Choso Kamo”, he finally gives in.

“Choso, huh?”

You let your finger glide over his muscular chest, up to his traps made of gold until you reach his firm back. What a force of a man he is, maybe the best one you’ve seen so far.

His breath gets caught in his throat, your touch burning like a thousand fires against his skin. But no, not like pain. What is this strange feeling building up inside his body? What is this unknown urge that slowly but surely takes control over him? Choso looks down at you with flustered eyes, takes in your sight. Is this what people call attraction?

“Don’t”, he warns you half-heartedly, his hand grabbing your arm.

This is enough. He needs to get going, needs to find Yuji Itadori and kill him, he-

His arm moves around your waist on its own, pulls you closer to his aching body. Are you using your powers, are you forcing him onto you? No, his body moves freely, presses itself against you out of instinct. He was never this close to a woman before, let alone a jaw-dropping gorgeous one like you. So this is the reason why all those stupid humans hunt after each other, why unwise feelings like love even exist.

“Do you want me to leave?”

The way your thumb glides up and down his back threatens to drive him insane any minute, eyes captivated by your hypnotizing orbs.

“I don’t know”, he breathes out.

Oh, but you do. The way his blood pressure and heart rate shoot up, his blood flowing straight down. You can’t help but bite your lip, even your own breath now coming uneven and shaky. You’ve seduced countless men in your lifetime. Fuck, even Gojo himself would have nailed you right on the spot if you didn’t leave back then. But this time, the sensation of the game itself becomes incidental. This time, your own blood rushes through your body uncontrollably.

“You aren’t a human, are you? That body definitely isn’t from this world.”

You allow your needy touch to discover the valleys of his body even faster, to enjoy the sensation of his hot breath against your cheek.

“I am…incarnated.”

Incarnated? The world of jujutsu is far too complicated for you to grasp. But still, you know he has to be damn powerful, that this body holds a lot of potential. This body with all those firm muscles. This body, radiating a heat you’ve never felt before.

“Tell me, what are you doing here, Choso?”

It takes all his strength to not moan out loud, to stay focused when your hands stroke up and down his chest.

“I am here to kill Yuji Itadori”, he also reminds himself.

This is ridiculous, wrong in so many ways. Why is he out there, allowing a woman he never met before to touch him so casually when he swore to his brothers to seek revenge?

Something inside you clicks. Yuji Itadori. One of the names Gojo told you when you met.

“I see”, you purr.

“Let me ask you one more thing. Where you ever kissed before, Choso?”

Kissed. The act of caressing each other’s lips as a symbol for affection. He’s seen it countless times in many centuries and never understood the sensation of it. But now, staring at your perfect mouth, watching as your tongue wets your lips…

“No.”

You smile softly, siren eyes switching between his lips and eyes.

“What a shame when you have lips so kissable.”

With one quick movement, you put your hands on the back of his neck, pull him so close that your lips are only inches apart.

“Please.”

The innocent word escapes his lips before he’s able to stop himself, chest rising and falling so rapidly that Choso feels like fainting for a second. What is this strange feeling, the spell you put on him? It has to be the power you radiate, the way your face seems somehow appealing to him. Has he ever seen a stunning creature like you? No, you have the brightest eyes he’s ever seen, a body that makes his mind wander.

“Your plea is my command.”

When you press your lips against his, allow him to taste what kissing feels like for the very first time, something inside Choso snaps. His hand grabs your waist roughly, presses you even closer while his other hand desperately searches for hold in your hair. Screw if this is your magic, screw if it’s nothing but a foul trick. You feel so intoxicating, your lips moving so effortlessly against his own that he sees stars. You taste like mint with a tint of iron that drives him insane.

“Choso”, you whimper against his lips, your very own hands searching for hold on his tight biceps.

What a force of a man he is, a remarkable kisser despite the fact that he probably never touched a woman without killing her before. If you had known how good this feels, you wouldn’t have wasted your time on mere mortals. Not even Gojo Satoru caught your attention like he did.

Suddenly Choso feels like he can’t breathe anymore. But not from the sensation your lips have caused, not because you hold onto his neck. No, this is something different. This feels like death.

He lets go off you immediately and stumbles backwards only for you to casually follow him and catching him right before his gorgeous figure hits the ground.

“Don’t take this personal, Choso. But I can’t allow you to kill Itadori Yuji. Not when Gojo payed me a shit ton of money in order to protect his precious little students. I’m a woman who keeps her promises, y’know?”

“What…did…you…do…”

His tongue feels as heavy as concrete, the ability to control his own body slipping through his fingers with every passing second.

“You said it yourself.”

You wipe over your lips, revealing a tiny trail of blood.

“ ‘to use your own blood as poison’, wasn’t that what you just said? Don’t worry darling, I won’t kill you. But you won’t be able to kill Itadori Yuji either. Now sleep tight. I hope we meet again to continue what we started when you wake up.”

No, he needs to fight against it, he needs to get off the ground, fulfil his duty to kill Itadori Yuji. He…

The last thing he notices are your lips, gently pressed against his cheek.

And then everything went black.

Bonus:

“You have to be kidding me.”

“Why would I do that, Mr. Gojo?”

You continue casually filing your nails while none other than the one they call “the strongest” starts to have an emotional breakdown in front of you.

“I thought you felt the tension between both of us as well! You…You said to me that-“

“I needed this job”, you clarify dryly.

“And what about him!?”

He points towards Choso who is lost in his conversation with Yuji. You simply shrug your shoulders.

“He’s everything I ever wished for-“

“AND I’M NOT!? Is it because you share the same powers-“

“We don’t share the same powers-“

“Is it because he’s taller than me!?”

“He’s not taller than you.”

“Is it because he has dark hair!?”

“What the hell are you so worked up about man?”

“I need to get out of here”, he announces so dramatically that you’re convinced he’ll faint any given minute.

“Gojo-sensei, are you not feeling well?”, Yuji questions, lines of worry decorating his innocent face.

“I’m far away from feeling fine!”

“So dramatic”, you mumble to yourself.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

[chellestrash]

Please, Mr. Ghost Face

Frank Castle x F!Reader Halloween Special (18+)

Warnings: explicit language, explicit smut, semi-public, unprotected sex, roughy sex, brat! reader, frank being kinda bitchy, oral (f!receiving) knife play, mention of blood play, teasing.

Summary: look at the title, look at the warnings, you know what it is, enjoy!!

Word count: 7.2k

AN: Oh my god okay, thank you @chelseasdagger and @suitsofwo3 for getting me to actually finish writing this (i literally felt like i was loosing my god damn mind trying to push through). I dont know why it turned out so long I dont normaly write things that are over 3k so this...yeah I really hope at least some of you will enjoy. I love reading your thoughs and feedback on my fic so please, feel free to share them. Reblogs are very appriciated as always :) HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

You're not sure how Frank managed to get his entire Halloween costume ready before you finished the few quick fixes to your makeup. Even considering the fact that it took you around an hour to get the whole look together, and he repeatedly told you no matter when he started getting ready, he'd still be finished before you. He was right. Was it annoying? Slightly, yes, but for once, him being right was actually a good thing since you were already late to a house party one of your friends decided to throw at the end of the week once most of you were finally done with work.

You fix up your lipstick and try the fake fangs on one more time before messing with your hair a bit and taking a couple steps back to check the outfit out in the mirror. Nothing too creative, just a simple well-fitted black dress, slightly shorter than what you'd usually wear, a couple of bright red details and some silver jewelry. A last minute vampire, sure, it'll do.

You straighten up the fabric and look up and down at your reflection one more time.

“Right, I think I'm ready!”

You raise your voice, making sure he’d hear you, before grabbing the last few things and turning to the door.

“So, what did you decide to go as?”

You shout again, curious about how much effort he decided to put into the whole thing this year. Halloween wasn't necessarily a holiday Frank enjoyed, but he'd do this and that occasionally just to make you happy.

“Did you figure it out?”

Another question since he didn't answer the previous one. You step out of the room, digging through your small bag in search of your phone before you walk directly into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Shit, sorry.”

You mumble and Frank grabs your arm, helping you regain the balance before you end up with your ass on the wooden floor.

“Christ, easy, 'you okay?”

Frank’s deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body, and you take a moment to fix up the dress before finally tracing your eyes up his body. You bite the inside of your cheek and it feels like the words get stuck in your throat before you can answer him.

Frank stands in front of you with his usual outfit on. Combat boots, the ones you rarely see him out of, one of the dark gray, now slightly worn off jeans, and a black tank top, his heavy, deep navy blue jacket already in his hand. The reason for your reaction doesn't have anything to do with his exceptionally ordinary choice of clothing, but rather with a thing you're not used to seeing on him.

The basic Ghost Face mask from Scream covering his face makes it rather difficult to focus on… really anything else. The loose black cloth falls onto his exposed shoulders, covering part of his neck, and you catch yourself staring at him and his body for probably slightly longer than necessary.

“Oh, fuck.”

You finally manage to get out a couple of words, and Frank lets go of your arm.

“Think it'll do?”

You catch his question this time but keep your eyes fixed on the mask as his voice flows from underneath the fabric.

“Shit, yeah, yeah it’ll do alright.”

You lean back on the nearest wall, looking over his figure from head to toe once again.

“Shit, Frank, where did you even find that?”

“Corner shop.”

He shrugs and takes a step in your direction after a moment. You feel your back pushing against the door frame, a familiar warm feeling growing between your legs when his frame grows bigger in your field of view. His shoulders and chest, slightly exposed by the tight tank top, the fabric clearly struggling some right above his sternum. You catch the corner of your lips pulling up in a confident smirk once you finally take in the whole picture.

The dark, empty eyes of the mask pierce through your own for a moment and you cross your legs nonchalantly before Frank finally reaches up to get rid of the cheap Halloween costume.

Quickly grabbing his wrist, you stop him before he’s able to pull the mask off of his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, his sudden confusion expressed by the pose.

“What?”

The question, slightly muffled by the dark fabric, only amplifies the smirk already present on your face. You grin happily at the Ghost Face character right in front of you, somehow feeling like he already knows the answer to his question.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re into that.”

Shaking his head, he tries again but you interrupt the action one more time.

“Oh boohoo, and what if I was?”

You tease. Your impatient hands linger over his body, fingers rubbing over the fabric of both his shirt and jeans. Hooking your hand over the waistband of the jeans, you pull yourself up, pushing off of the wall and leaning forward towards him, rubbing your leg up his own slowly. The fabric of the dress slides off of you slightly, exposing a decent amount of skin. Guiding Frank's hand to the back of your body, you arch your back slightly, pushing your ass into his palm, humming satisfied once you feel his tight grip through the dress. Frank's chest expands with a loud sigh, the space between your bodies closing almost completely now. He watches you carefully; every move, every tease, every little movement you plan out carefully, seemingly only to get a desired reaction out of him.

“What if I was, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your purr, biting down on your lower lip, your hand now pressed against his chest as you gently drag your nails over the fabric. Frank grunts, the harsher touch clearly getting to him now, and you fight back some smart ass comment your brain so kindly decided to equip you with. Instead, you drop your hand to your thigh under the slit at the side of the skirt. Pulling the fabric back, you let a glimpse of the bright red underwear peek from underneath the costume. Frank finally breaks once you glare up at him suggestively.

“Mmmmm, fuck.”

He groans from behind the mask, gripping your ass firmly before pulling you onto himself, your leg hooked loosely behind his. Slipping his hand under the fabric of the dress, he digs his fingers into your flesh and you part your lips, letting out a satisfied moan in return.

“‘M not fucking you with the mask on, kid.”

Way to kill the mood. You think, but bite your tongue just in time, not willing to give up on the idea just yet. You can't help it. To be completely honest, it feels like his fault. You didn’t make him look this good in the costume, well, part of it, you never anticipated he’d pick out this exact one either. The fact that it was able to get these reactions from you and your body? Yeah, seems like you’re innocent. Gliding your hand between his legs, you drag your nails over the bulge before spreading your fingers apart, cupping the whole of it in your palm.

Frank grunts and the previously present smirk makes its way back onto your face, you don’t even try to act innocent anymore.

Listening to his now heavier breathing, despite his not so thrilled demeanor, his heart picks up the pace slightly, the blood rushing down between his legs.

A faint twitch under the jean fabric corresponding with his fingers digging deeper into your thigh and you know he's focused now. He's listening.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You push the weight of your body against his groin, and his hand finds its way up to your hair. Fingers tangle into your hair before he tugs on it firmly. Your head tilts up, and the Ghost Face mask finally comes off once you cannot delay the inevitable any longer.

He leans in closer, his warm breath brushes over your lips, and you fight back the cocky smirk, not entirely sure which one of you wanted to feel the other more at this moment.

His stern expression only strengthens once you reach your hand behind him. Your fingers brush over his ass and you watch how his jaw tightens, his eyes closing.

“Oh, there he is.”

You tease, and he almost snaps this time, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“You try that shit one more time-”

He starts. Leaning closer to your ear, his lips brushing over your neck.

“And we're gonna have a big problem, kid.”

“Oh.”

You whisper, grinding into his thigh slowly.

“Oh, are we? We gonna have a problem, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your lips almost brush over his now. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, ready to have you bent over and waiting for him, ready to make both of you feel good or, most importantly, ready to have you apologize for the whole god-damn mask thing.

You breathe out a quiet laugh at the frustrated expression on his face once the sound of your phone successfully distracts you from his attempts to intimidate you.

With his hand still under your dress, the other in your hair, his leg between yours and his body leaning down over you, you answer the phone. Speaking as if it was the most casual situation possible.

“Yeah? Oh, yeah, we're on our way, we'll be there in a bit. Yeah.”

Frank watches, flabbergasted, as you make up a little story about why the two haven't joined the rest yet. You smack his shoulder a couple of times, pushing away from him and taking a few steps into the direction of the front door.

“What?”

You ask once the phone call is over.

“You're the one who said it's not happening.”

***

You arrive at the party a good while after it began. The house feels pretty crowded, the music is way louder than necessary, and you're pretty certain you're able to pick up the smell of both alcohol and cigarettes from the other side of the street. It honestly feels like one of those weekend college parties that used to always leave you with a two day long hangover a couple of years back. You shiver from a gust of the cold night wind and look over at your boyfriend while pulling the jacket close around your body. Frank looks unimpressed with that really significant frown on his face, not looking forward to spending the rest of the night in a small, crowded place with a bunch of people he didn't want to have to deal with.

“Oh, you’ll be fineee.”

Your oh so encouraging words earn you a stern look from him before he shakes his head with a deep sigh.

“Just go.”

You laugh and with his hand resting against your lower back, he pushes you towards the door, slipping on the movie accurate mask with a look of disapproval as you climb up the steps together.

“I’m throwing this thing out tomorrow.”

The muffled sound of his voice humors you, but you bite your tongue.

“Whatever you say, Frankie.”

***

This wasn’t Frank's idea, of course it wasn’t. He agreed to go to the party knowing how much you’d enjoy yourself but that was the only reason. The costumes weren’t even in the picture when you first asked him to join you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around to different stores frantically trying to assemble a Halloween outfit. The mask was the first thing he saw after stepping into that corner store earlier in the day. He didn’t pay it much thought earlier, but now? After you made it blatantly obvious how much you enjoyed the whole thing, well… he struggled to get through one conversation without his thoughts slipping back to what happened before you two left your place.

You weren’t any better. Even when you split to catch up with different groups of friends after you stepped into the house, you found yourself constantly scanning the room in search of either his face, the mask, or his back. Catching his glance from across the room, you smile, raising the bottle of beer in your hand up. He does the same, but the gentle smile on his lips wears off the second you gesture for him to pull the mask back down. Frank rolls his eyes, shaking his head, before continuing his conversation with some guy you managed to interrupt.

You could try to focus on other things, on the drinks, the music, the stories shared between your friends. You could…but you can’t. There’s no use in trying when your eyes keep searching for Frank every other moment and your mind keeps slipping into places you’d rather not discuss in a room full of people.

With that in mind, you make it your mission to tease Frank through the evening and really see how hard you can make this get to him.

It starts slow: some gentle touches as you pass him by here and there, pushing your fingers through the hair on the back of his head as you two try to hold a conversation with another person, sitting in his lap when some of the people move to sit outside, and most importantly encouraging him to keep the mask on. It’s a costume party, after all.

He catches on when you two are in the kitchen and you obnoxiously brush your ass against his cock while squeezing past him to grab another beer from the fridge.

He grunts, his fingers quickly wrapping around your arm, and he glares into your eyes, silently warning you, possibly hoping it would somehow get you to behave. It doesn’t. You shoot him a quick smirk, waving at one of your friends wearing an angel costume when she walks into the kitchen.

“We’re doing a group photo in the living room!”

She announces excitedly, and you grin, immediately matching her energy.

“Are we showing our costumes off?”

Frank's fingers loosen the grip around you, and you step away from him without hesitation, taking your friend's hand while she answers your question.

“Yeah! We're trying to get everyone in!”

“Oh, fun!”

Walking by her side, you step out of the kitchen, turning back for just a moment.

“You heard that, Frankie? Costumes!!”

***

Back in the living room, you all gather together to attempt the impossible task of fitting every single person at the party into one photo together. Frank joins everyone a bit after you, walking in your direction as you all begin to take your somewhat assigned places.

“Hi.”

You start innocently, standing on your toes, to press a quick kiss to the side of his face. Frank nods in response, cautious of your tricks. Standing behind you to make you more visible in the photo, he wraps his arm around your chest, and you quickly grab onto his forearm. Glancing back over your shoulder, you quickly point out the obvious.

“You gotta put the mask on.”

“Mind your business, yeah?”

He murmurs, and you breathe out a quiet laugh, not looking away even for a second while he pulls the dark fabric and white mask over his face. You take a deep breath in, and the corner of your lips pull up in a satisfied smirk.

“Frankie-“

You start, the gentle heat between your legs returning since he put the mask on for the first time, now more prominent as he stares down at you once again.

“Leave it.”

He orders in a harsh whisper and with his hand on the back of your neck, he makes you face the camera. Your body takes over your brain and when everyone poses for the photo and his hand slides to your lower back, you push your ass out and press it against his bulge. His grunt, muffled by the mask and the constant noise of the party, slips from under the mask and his hands find your hips faster than you realize it was happening. His fingers dig into your thighs, so hard you know it'll leave bruises. He holds you still, knowing god-damn well if he lets go you'll repeat exactly what you just did.

There's a flash of the phone, and once the photo is taken he lets go of your body immediately. You make up your mind, deciding to risk it. Pushing past a few groups of people that begin to form around the living room, you excuse yourself, glancing back at Frank to make sure he's watching before you disappear behind the corner. You make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't lock it. You know he won't let that whole thing slip. No more than five minutes pass before he decides to join you.

“Took you long enough.”

You point out and push yourself off the edge of the bathtub, standing up before taking a couple steps in his direction. Frank shuts the door closed and turns back to face you.

“Oh, you wanted me to just walk after you, huh? Make it real obvious?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest almost rubbing against yours when he looks down.

“No one would give a shit, Frank, everyone's drunk. We could fuck with the door wide open and they wouldn't notice.”

“Stop.”

His voice harsh with the warning.

“Why?”

You push without hesitation or any intention of stopping.

“That get you too much, huh? Bet you'd like that, Frankie, hmm?”

Frank's body tenses up at your attempt to tease him. He stands up straighter, taller, and his shoulders stiffen, his chest rising when he breathes heavily under the mask. His hand balls up into a tight fist as he pushes back the frustration, trying not to hand you exactly what you want from him out on a plate.

“You just don't ever shut up, do you?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slowly before you stand up on your tiptoes. Staying at eye level with the mask now, you squint, trying to see through the sheer fabric in the eyeholes.

“Oh I do. I can shut up but you don't like that, do you?”

You whisper. The muscles in his neck tensing when his jaw tightens and he shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah, okay, how ‘bout you try for once. Might do you some good.”

“Yeah?”

You whisper again, your hand now rubbing over the center of his chest, feeling the heat under his shirt.

“Make me.”

The words slip past the big smirk on your face and you decide now is the time. Sliding your hand down his body, you brush over the bulge in his jeans. Not giving him time to react, you grip his cock tightly through the thick fabric. With that, you watch whatever was left of Frank's composure crumble away.

There's a moment of silence where his fingers wrap around your wrist. His grip is tight and he holds it in place. You glance down, watching his hand for a moment, before squeezing him once again.

“F-”

He grunts, yanking your hand away with so much force you couldn't possibly even try to fight it back.

“That's it.”

Immediately, you feel his body pushing into yours once he shoves you back against the bathroom counter. Your lips part but you keep the moan back, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting into his exposed shoulder once you feel the porcelain digging into your lower body.

Breathing heavier under the plastic mask, he reaches down to the high slit on the side of your dress. His fingers push into your skin and drag up your thigh. Your breath rushes and your chest rises and falls faster now, the only indication, besides the elaborate banter and the teasing, of how much you've been thinking of this since getting to the party.

You hum loudly once his fingers brush over the hem of your underwear. Your hips push forward slightly in need of his touch once he tugs on the fabric to pull it down. You reach towards him, hands working the buckle of his belt open once the lace of your panties brushes down your calf. Frank reaches up, hand gripping the mask to finally pull it off, but you grab his wrist, stooping him once again.

There's a moment of silence when you both wait for the other to talk, the heat of your bodies radiating through the small bathroom. The pure lust for one another allows this to last only a few seconds.

“Keep it on.”

You request, knowing deep down that you can push him enough to actually have him fuck you with it on.

“Jesus fucking-”

Frank scoffs, pulling the mask off and looking away from you. He shakes his head, disapproving of whatever the hell you've been trying to get him involved in since the night started. He turns back to face you, his eyebrows pulled together, face in a frustrated frown.

“Seriously, this shit again?”

You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, hand on his chest as you push against his body, creating some distance between both of you.

“Could you just do one fucking thing without bitching about it so much? Like, is that too hard or?”

You push one more time, both the tone of your voice and the choice of words a lot harsher than before. You keep your gaze on his eyes, confidently staring him down after your annoyed statement, not letting go of this whole thing, not now, not with knowing how close you were.

Frank stands tall in front of you, jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other, and his chest pushes out with the breath he's been holding in his lungs. His eye twitches slightly before he looks off to the side. The bridge of his nose scrunches up when he inhales quickly, nodding once he finally turns back to face you again.

“Alright.”

He slowly pulls the mask back on.

“Your fucking call, sweetheart.”

Before there's time to react, he grabs your arm and shoves you against the sink, turning your body around in one swift motion, bending you over the counter and wrapping his fingers around your upper thigh.

“Your fucking call.”

His words travel down your body and between your legs, the excitement of getting what you wanted, followed by the thrill of the entire situation. The warmth between your legs grows once Frank pulls your ass back, kicking your legs open with his foot. You glance up, focusing on his reflection in the mirror in front of you.

The man towers over you, his shoulders broad and heavy, his chest in the dark tank top, his arm flexing when he holds your lower back down against the wood. The mask, fuck, the mask exposing the tense muscles in his neck, the whole sight taking over your senses, your mind and body.

His heavy hand rubs over your back, up and down a couple of times, before he pushes his palm under the fabric of your dress. Bunching it up, he pulls it over your ass and you can't help but push it out some more in search of his touch.

There's a loud scoff, and you see him shaking his head in the mirror.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for how wet you are right now, sweetheart.”

He mocks you, pulling the black fabric up before pushing his fingers between your legs.

You whine out loud, closing your legs at the sudden touch but pull them apart again almost instantly.

“Yeah, s’ what I thought. You got a big mouth for-”

“Oh, shut up.”

You cut into his words and feel his fingers on the back of your neck. The grip tightens and he pulls you up, back into an upright position, your body now pressed against his chest. The reflection in the mirror makes your mouth part, but you bite into your lower lip, fighting back another moan. His figure looms over you, the mask ways up above your shoulder, his hand moving to the front of your neck. You feel yourself react to the sight in front of you, to the feeling of his fingers wrapping tighter around your neck, the warmth of his body so close behind you.

“What, you think I'm gonna say make me? Hmm?"

Pushing you back down on the counter, Frank steps closer to your body, his clearly hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Nah, that's your part. I don't do that shit.”

Taking your chance, you perk your ass up some, brushing over the warm spot between his legs. Frank grunts, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching down, pushing his pants open and then down slightly, pulling himself out of the black boxers.

Unable to win with your body this time, you slip up, letting out a moan once his cock springs out from under the dark fabric, stretched out over the large bulge up until this point.

There's a low chuckle from under the Ghost Face mask.

“That shit really gets you that bad?”

One of Frank's hands digs into your thigh, holding you close, the other wrapped tightly around his length.

You nod, making sure he catches the still confident expression on your face in the bathroom mirror.

“Oh, you've got no idea.”

You tease again and Frank moves his hand up to your shoulder blades. Pushing your body down against the counter, he clears his throat.

“Think I got some.”

He lines himself up, getting a few pumps in over his length before spreading you open with his free hand. He pushes inside slower than you'd have liked, pausing after the tip the second he feels how truly ready you are.

“You get off on these things, huh?”

He continues the questing, beginning to thrust into you, and you feel your body stretching to fit him in with every push. Your lips part as your mouth falls open before you bite into your lip, trying to muffle the sounds you're sure would otherwise fill the space of the small bathroom. You try to keep your head up, focusing on Frank's reflection. His body takes up most of your view. You focus on the mask, the low grunts coming from behind it, the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, out of you and then pushing right back inside, and the feeling of him stretching you out that never goes away entirely.

“You want it fucking scary? Hmm? That'll do it for you?”

He keeps up the teasing, quick to point out every single reaction your body presents him with, and you finally decide to bite back.

You reach behind your back, hand on the front of his hip, tapping your palm against his body to get his attention. Pausing his movements for a moment, Frank watches your face in the mirror, giving you space to talk.

“Yeah, you got me.”

You grunt, cursing under your breath, once he decides to move his palm between your legs.

“You got me but-”

“Gotta speak up, sweetheart.”

He thinks he has you now.

“The mask isn't scary, It's just hot. You should try harder to reeeally get me."

The feeling of his fingers rubbing over your clit disappears immediately after you finish the sentence. He starts up again from behind, and you feel yourself clench around his cock once he moves inside you. You hum loudly, and Frank wraps his big hands around the sides of your body. Panting loudly with his cock still inside you, he tries to focus on your words, knowing, and being almost completely sure, of what you were asking for.

“You know what would help?”

You purr quietly, watching him in the mirror. Your confidence flows back to you once you notice him slightly stunted. The mask moves in the reflection, his eyes focus on your face from underneath the fabric, and you know he's now thinking about it too.

“Yeeeaah, I know you have it, Frankie.”

His grip on you tightens with your words.

“You don't leave the house without it. ‘Just in case’? Your words.”

It takes a moment, but after that moment he reaches behind his body without a word. There's hesitation and he pauses. The bathroom falls quiet and the only sound between your panting is the muffled noise of the party outside the bathroom door.

Slowly, Frank pulls out his black, military grade knife you've seen on him so many times before. The one he always insists on carrying with him, the one you knew he didn't leave at the house tonight.

“Ohhh that's it, Frankie, look at that.”

You whisper in a condescending tone, bumping your odds of actually getting hurt up just a bit higher. He doesn't say a word, but the knuckles of his hand turning white with the strength of the grip speak volumes.

“This what you fucking want?”

He asks, pushing his hand into your hair before tugging to pull your head up. He pushes the blade harder against your skin. The sting of the sharp edge gliding over the inside of your thigh makes you push your hips back again. Once you make sure his eyes focus on your reflection, you smirk, bigger than before, and bite into your lower lip with a quiet whine. With a grunt, Frank holds you down in place, not allowing you to move further back on him,

“You're fucking sick, you know that?”

He points out, and you feel the win in your bones. Making yourself clench around him, you murmur quietly in the most innocent voice.

“Oh yeah, but you like it, Frankie.”

He breaks. His cock twitches inside you and he shoves your chest into the bathroom counter. Thrusting inside you, he follows his every move with a grunt. You grip onto the edge of the sink, now letting the sweet sounds of pleasure slip past your lips with no restrictions. Your breath hitches, the pounding in your head rushes once Frank leans over your body. With his chest pressed against your back, he presses the knife back into the inside of your thigh. You instinctively spread your legs open a bit more as he mumbles something about the knife again. The edge of the blade nicks your skin with the next thrust and you groan at the feeling. Rolling your eyes back, you let your head fall forward, fully aware of the fact Frank just felt how good that felt for you.

“God d-“

He starts in his raspy voice. His big hand holds your lower back in place once he pulls back, the drag of his cock slipping out of your body makes you curl your toes.

Lifting your head back up, you watch him in the mirror, seeing him kneel behind you quickly. You glance back at him confused, not sure of what to expect next.

You gasp, louder than you’ve liked it, but you can’t help it, it’s not your fault. You’d be lying if you said you were expecting him to do his. Kneeling on one knee, Frank pulls you closer by your thighs before pulling the mask up and he presses his tongue flat against the cut. It stings and you jump forward but he pulls you back to him before dropping his right hand to his cock, the knife still in his other hand while he strokes over his length a couple of times.

“So your cock’s fucking throbbing and I’m the sick one?”

You throw the question into the air and it’s like a slap across his face. He pauses, immediately standing up to shove you back down against the wood.

“You gonna act like you don’t like it?”

He spits out, not even expecting an answer, as he lines himself up with your entrance again. Adjusting his grip for a moment, he pulls you back on him instead of thrusting forward, and you struggle to regain balance for a moment as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you.

Out of your control at this point, your thighs press against each other, squeezing him tighter than before. He bends in half, grunting what seems like louder than the actual music playing outside the bathroom. You part your lips ready to deliver another smart ass comment but the force of his hips pushing against your ass, his dick hitting that stop deep inside right under your stomach? It knocks the wind out of you and turns your words into one loud moan.

“Fuck.”

You grunt, feeling your body dancing on the edge now. You prop yourself up, watching his body flex in the mirror as he fills you up, what feels like better than anyone has before.

You move on top of the counter, move with his body when he slips his hands between your bodies to finally push you over the edge. Making him drop the knife, you grab onto that hand and bring it up to cover your mouth with his big palm, muffling the sounds of your pleasured body as he works it even deeper inside you.

“Just needed it to hurt a bit, huh?”

Frank teases, pointing out how your body gives away how close you are now, how you’re unable to keep up the bratty demeanor anymore.

“The knife got you this close?”

You whine quietly through his fingers when he holds your back against his chest. His voice turns slightly softer when he fully takes in the state of you.

With your body shaking, your chest moving faster than he’s ever seen it before, your eyes watering and your hands clinging onto his arm, you let him make the call.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You grunt, frustrated with the slightly condescending tone, but still nodding your head quickly.

“Attagirl, you calmed down a bit?”

And another nod, his fingers roughing over your clit, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it, c’mon. C’mon you got it.”

He mumbles quietly, helping you lean over the counter one last time. His hands rest on your sides and as he pushes inside you again, you whine. Then again you cry out, pushing your legs together. He only manages half a thrust after pushing his fingers hard against your clit, rubbing over the most sensitive spot. You feel your body tensing up with both pain and pleasure as you reach back to hold onto his arm.

“Attagirl, you got it, that’s it”

Your nails dig into his skin while he works over you, letting your body squeeze around his cock once it finally hits you. The overwhelming pleasure floods your body, and you feel the heat from the top of your head down to the very tips of your toes. Winning out his name, you make it pretty obvious he managed it once again. With your muscles tense around him, Frank grunts loudly, pushing into you one more time before he follows with his own climax.

“Fuuuuuuuck-“

He groans, his cock aching for release once he finally reaches it. He gives a few final thrusts when he fills you up before taking a step back to pull his cock out.

Taking a deep breath in, he reaches up, pulling the mask off of his face while watching you attempt to collect yourself.

You try to catch your breath, pushing yourself up before you feel Frank's hand on your arm. He helps you up, turning you around to have you face him now and you notice his loud breathing slowly beginning to mirror your own.

You lean forward and so does he, both of you taking a moment to calm down. Your forehead rests against his as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your breathing.

“Shit.”

You glance down quickly, feeling his cum drip down the side of your leg. Frank's eyes follow, the mask tilts down when he watches the drop slide down over your skin. His hands move to your waist, and he helps you up onto the counter with a grunt. You sit right at the edge, getting comfortable and spreading your legs apart while he slowly gets on his knees right in front of you. You hold up the mask, resting it on top of his head, focusing on his face. You smile at the red hues in his skin.

“Oh, Frankie, I almost forgot how pretty you look.”

You tease and he follows up with a scoff.

“Yeah okay, c'mere.”

He pulls you forward, slightly closer to him, before helping you pull the dress up one more time. His warm breath fans your skin for a moment before he licks over his lips. They press against your skin now, right above the knee. Another kiss follows but higher up your leg and then once more. You push your legs apart more to make it easier for him.

“Attagirl.”

He mumbles against your skin, his hand rubbing over your calf softly while he works his lips over your skin for another moment.

“See? You can be nice sometimes.”

He whispers, and you hum impatiently, pushing your fingers through his exposed hair before tugging at them slightly. He scoffs, and you feel the quick breath on your center.

The second his tongue brushes over your folds, you shut your eyes completely. Still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you let your body lead this time and your head falls back, resting against the mirror while Frank takes care of you.

You moan out his name, not even attempting to fight it back, and he picks up the pace. The warm and wet sensation quickly works you up more than you're actually willing to admit. Relaxing into the feeling, you push your legs open further and Frank chuckles against your body. Your core rumbles with the sound and your thighs quickly press together, closing around his head. He groans, tongue slipping inside you while the pressure around his face tightens. Tilting his head up, he nudges the tip of his nose against your clit and your hips buck forward, a motion accompanied by another loud moan of his name.

You cover your mouth, but only for a second, failing to keep the sounds in once he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Frank successfully pushes you into an impatient state where you know if he won't get you to finish soon, you'll do it without his help. Your back arches and you mumble his name in an attempt to get his attention.

“Frank.”

You start and your body twitches. Feeling another long stroke of his tongue.

“Mhhh.”

He hums deep into you. Reaching for your legs, he throws them both over his shoulders and digs his fingers into your ass, quickly tugging you closer to him.

“Frank-”

Your breath hitches and you gasp quietly, whining his name out one more time. You feel yourself getting closer, the sounds of the party seem so distant now you almost forget where you are. Almost, because as you feel yourself getting close to your second climax, when his touch becomes so much more intense, when your legs tremble with the feeling, right at that very moment you realize. You never locked the door.

Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, you press your foot against Frank's shoulder in a desperate attempt to push him away, but before you can do it, with his head still between your legs, Frank leans to the side quickly. With a loud grunt, he shoves the door closed with his shoulder without pulling away from you. He reaches up blindly, feeling the door for the lock, before you reach your hand over his head and finish for him.

He hums into your body, satisfied, and you feel yourself relaxing back into the feeling.

“Shit, Frankie...”

You whisper, pushing your hips forward against his face slightly. There’s a low, raspy chuckle that leaves his chest and you close your eyes, titling your head back to rest it against the mirror while he works on the second round.

You come shortly after and with your body so severely overstimulated, the soft, warm sensation of his tongue works better than he’d expect. He makes sure to take a mental note of it as he looks up from between your legs, watching when the second wave finally pushes you over the edge.

You rest, leaning against the mirror as he stands up in front of you, hand rubbing over your legs gently, his eyes fixed on yours.

“You okay?”

He asks. His soft, quiet question contrasts with whatever the hell the two of you just did in the small space of the bathroom. You lift your hand up, gesturing for him to stop talking and he chuckles quietly.

“Fair.”

He mumbles before turning his attention to his reflection. You watch as he cleans himself up a bit, washing the wet shine off his face and drying himself with the hem of his shirt.

Reaching over to the other side of the counter, he leans down, grabbing his knife off the floor and putting it away before handing the plastic mask over to you.

“Imagine if I didn't go out and pick this shit up.”

You snort, exhausted, enjoying how he literally managed to fuck the frustration out of himself.

“I don’t wanna think about that.”

You whisper, and he scoffs loudly, looking down and shaking his head before glancing back up at you.

“Yeah I bet.”

He helps you collect yourself, staying close by when you clean yourself up and straighten the fabric of your dress before handing you the previously abandoned underwear as you both get ready to leave the bathroom.

He offers you his hand, helping you off of the counter, and you lean on him while stepping down from it.

“Can you walk?”

He asks, and you look up at him, unimpressed with the not-so-subtle tease.

“Shut up.”

You mumble, hoping and praying your legs wouldn't just give out on you and give him something else to tease you about.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

He grabs the mask and pulls it back on his face, then turns to you.

“Can you walk?”

He repeats the question, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I saw how hard you got.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out.”

He gestures to the door, pulling it open to let you out of the room. You hold onto his hand, letting him lead. You ditch your shoes and he carries them for you as you both make your way towards the front door, glancing back in the direction of the party before turning back to face each other again.

“You wanna get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah.”

You nod.

“We gotta get all the use out of that mask before you toss it tomorrow.”

You point out, pulling the door open, and hear his laugh over your shoulder.

“You don’t think maybe you’ve had enough now?”

His voice cuts through the night, and you turn around with a playful smirk, feeling the cold, crispy autumn air fill your lungs.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Besides...”

You slowly pull the mask onto your face staring him down.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough either.”

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! reader

master list

the conversation of the century finally happens, grab your tissues.

**edited to add as a content warning— the major character death I talked about in chapter 12— happens within this chapter, if we remember, Tooty experienced heavy trauma to her abdomen……… this story has never and will never be a pregnancy fix all trope. — sorry it wasn’t labeled correctly the first time. **

no minors 🔞, talk of trauma, another traumatic event, miscarriage

a/n: this is a shorter chapter the next one will be longer and not out as soon. Thank you again to @sweetsweetjellybean for beta reading for me and helped me tweak this chapter @blueywrites who helped me months ago come up with this plot. And @jo-harrington who helped also. This story would be nothing without all the people liking and reblogging it— so T H A N K Y O U for continuing to read it even when it got dark, when weeks went by and there wasn’t an update in sight, I appreciate each and every single one of you. Here’s to our two dumbasses, finally figuring it out 🥂

“Eddie.”

  Your throat was bruised and weak. The slow painful flick open of your swollen eyes have you paralyzed with doubt. 

  Deceiving sight of a beaten man sitting in front of you with a hard cast covering his right hand, the fingers are deeply swollen and bruised, the nails tinged with dried blood.

  This wasn’t a version of Eddie you had seen before.

  His normal pale skin is purpling and raised around his cheek and left eye. His top lip is split and agitatedly red against black stitches, probably from him picking at it. 

  He was handsome, even with his face twisting into relief and sorrow. Tears flow down the colorful sunset painting of healing and broken skin on Eddie’s face. He stands quickly, leaning over you carefully.

  Quivering, timid hands reach for your cheeks, realizing the cast would probably scratch or scrape you, he settles for one hand laid dainty on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin like a ghost.

  The dark pools of his eyes pull you in as his tears fall freely, and your heart begins to sew itself whole again. As his lips meet your hairline he whispers a cut off sob of his worries. Your tears flow with his. Merriment of grief and comfort as you cry into his shirt. Wishing you could live in this moment forever. 

  A dark wave full of emotions crash down on you  all at once. The joy of seeing Eddie mixing with shame and guilt over what he must have braved while defending you. Finally, confusion on what exactly had happened and how you both ended up here and alive? 

  “You’re here,” you choke, a tubing clustered hand strokes Eddie’s face, “I was so scared,” you mumble weakly, “I thought we were d—” your throat tightens on the word and won’t release it, lost on a sobbing gasp that is muffled into his shirt as he pulls you into him. 

  The soft cotton of his shirt envelops you in a calming light state, the same smoky essence of Eddie washes over you, settling your hiccuping cries. His hand is stroking your hair, careful around the stitches. And if you listened close you could hear his heart breaking. 

  Eddie would find a way to melt the galaxies for you if you asked, hearing you crumble about the thought of him being dead is almost too much for him to handle. 

  “You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he says, strongly, firm toned to get his point across in as few words as possible, no need to go into detail about how it was done, you and the baby were safe and that’s what mattered, “he’s gone.” 

  Gone? Did he get away? 

  “Wh—-” you try your best to make any sort of sense register and click in your brain, but it’s not connecting, “Eddie?” 

  He took a deep weighty breath, the final swing of the wooden bat playing behind his eyes like a film in class, he watched Chad’s lifeless body slump to the floor, the dirty and blood riddled nails wedged into his temple like a knife through soft butter. The horrified expression Mr. Derry gave as blood splattered on the walls, and coated Eddie’s face. 

  He lowered his head and shook the image from his mind, “I took care of it,” he whispered gravely, “he won’t be bothering you again.” 

  The muddied storm in his eyes thunders as you comprehend his words. Would you be afraid of him? The same hands that held you so tenderly were also capable of murdering a man who nearly took your life. The thought of you being terrified of him tingles his spine and makes his knees weak, he turns away from you before you can see him cry again.  

  Chad is dead. And you want to scream at yourself when you feel remorse. He was terrifying. A real life in the flesh monster. Quite literally tried to kill you. All he brought to you was pain. And he was dead at Eddie’s hand. The nightmare finally over.

  He tried to hide the distressed pain burrowed deep in his face. He was everything the town always said about him. Satanic. Future convict. White trash, just needed to stitch  ‘murderer’ to the long list of insults he’d worn his entire life, like a cloak to shield others away from him. 

  With your head held high you wipe the tears from your eyes and pull Eddie’s chin to face you, and you’re surprised when he jerks away slowly. 

  You forget the time spent away. Finding it easy to fall into sync with him again, your Eddie. Would he ever be yours again? He’s been left out in the cold, sick from the frigid heart you peacocked off to him, boundaries up and lies in your head. 

  He was the most important person in your life. And it was time you told him so. 

  “Look at me, Eddie,” you coax, trying to make your voice seem velvety instead of the scratchy crack of desperation you currently are pleading to him, “you saved my life.” 

  The brooding deepens and he presses his lips tight together before looking at you, guilt and shame riddle his features, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “I’m so fucking sorry,” the tears fall freely down his face, and he wipes them away hastily with the back of his leather covered arm, “I should have been there.” 

  The words stab like a knife into your soul. Everything happened because of your actions, your apprehensive heart. Eddie almost got himself killed and in turn had to kill your abuser, yet he was the one apologizing for not being there. 

  “It’s my fault,” you say weakly, reaching up to brush a tear away from his wet eyelashes, “I’m the one that pushed you away, and then… I’m sorry Eddie…I couldn’t..” 

  He pulls you into him, his lips skirting your hair line, kissing sweetly and soft like butterfly wings. He shushes you, and whispers that everything will be okay, and in that moment you realize you didn’t have to stroll the pearly gates to be his. 

  His eyes drop slightly to the blanket cozied up around you, flitting over your stomach. When his eyes find yours again, there are fresh tears, and a sad smile. It takes a nano second for the realization to hit you like a ton of bricks in the chest. A gasp breeches your lungs and guilt forms in the shape of tears in your eyes.  

  He knows. 

  Regret is billowing from your body and you try to cover your eyes, terrified of Eddie’s reaction to not only you being pregnant with his baby, but keeping it from him for months. 

  Outside of telling Eddie to leave and trying to convince him that you didn’t love him—- this was the hardest thing you’d ever done. But you told yourself he wouldn’t want to be a part of you with a baby in the mix. A baby that would ruin plans and put a halt to dreams. He didn’t need to be tethered to you because of one night. 

  One single night that you had been lying to yourself about— trying to ease away the pain of loving Eddie and pushing him away for his own good. People had been distancing themselves from you your whole life.. you were guarded and as hard as it was to let the barrier fall around your heart, it was just as easy to put it back up, barricaded in yellow caution tape of lies. 

  Unworthy 

  Before you can drift into a full fledged spiral Eddie’s warm hands find your cheeks and tilt your head upwards to look at him. 

  “I’m here,” his eyes search yours, and they flood with the warmth of the sun behind the black storm, “I’m not going anywhere,Tooty.” 

  The drop of an aluminum can and spray of carbonated soda fills the room behind a loud shriek, making Eddie jump and stand up, instinctively placing his body around yours, his back covering you in a leather shield, and you grab his hand between your fingers, an instant comfort to your panic.

  “STEVE!” Robin screams, her hands fly to her face like that little punk Kevin McCallister in Home Alone, mouth hung open in shock.

  Steve enters the room with a fancy company cell phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. A package of Oreos in his hands, “No, Jack— I don’t care how long it takes just fucking f—“ his eyes go wide in disbelief, and he slams the presses a button to end the call when you smile weakly and wave your fingers between Eddie’s at him.

  The next half hour is full of tears and hugs, calls to the Wheeler’s and the rest of your friends, letting them know you were awake. 

  The nurses flood in like a gaggle of cadets. Checking monitors and adjusting tubing. Letting you have your moment with your friends, explaining you were still going to be weak and the doctor would be by in a while to go over things with you.  

  Steve hasn’t stopped crying since seeing your eyes opened, blowing his nose every few mins. Robin talks enough for everyone, your throat still rubbing raw whenever you tried to say anything so you work with nodding along when asked questions. Eddie is unusually quiet, sniffing loud every now and then, offering you ice chips the nurses brought to you, a plastic spoon to your lips.

  “So what hap—” Robin starts and Eddie immediately glares at her, shaking his head and a firm “no” falls from his lips, and nobody tries to bring it up again. 

  Eddie didn’t want you getting upset, he’d protect you for the rest of his life if that’s what it would take. Fuck, he’d even be happy to sit in jail for a life sentence for killing that mother fucker. Pride swelling his chest knowing Chad was dead at his hand. Finally making his mother proud for protecting someone when he couldn’t do the same for her… and now there was someone else to protect. A tiny little someone. 

  The days you had been sedated he was beside himself. When he wasn’t in your room holding your hand and humming songs to you, he would be down in the gift shop. Thumbing through baby books, familiarizing himself with the favorite nursery rhymes of Mother Goose. His fingers traced the lace on a pair of tiny little white socks. Blue plastic baby toys that he found were called a rattle and made a clunky noise when shook. 

  He looked out of place. Torn jeans and chains hanging from his waist amongst the delicate pastels of the baby section, but he didn’t care. He made himself a promise. That when this was fall said and done and you were healed—he  would move you all into a new house. Out of Hawkins, away from this shithole of despair that only held bad memories. 

  And he intended to keep his word. 

  “Umm, I know it’s a little soon to figure this all out— but none of us want you staying… there, Tooty,” Steve says, blowing his nose one more time, hands on his hips in his typical mother hen style, “we didn’t know when you would… but eh…Leighanne already has the spare bedroom set up for you… and you can stay as long as you want.” 

  You hadn’t even thought about the house. But the thought of possibly having to go back there had you trembling. The smell of your own blood dripping onto the carpet filled your nose, Chad’s maniacal laugh…

  “Later,” Eddie says, shutting the conversation down by clearing his throat, his eyebrows pulled in and he tries to hide his worry again by wiping his hand down his face. 

  You’re thankful when visiting hours are through, your body aches and the bruises lining your stomach are tender, each movement making sharp bolts of pain shoot all over. Everyone says their goodbyes, you squeeze Eddie’s hand, a panic set lightning strikes in your eyes. You didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not anytime soon. 

  He doesn’t pause, doesn't recoil. He stands tall, squeezing your hand, his eyes finding yours, a silent comfort washing over you as he whispers so only you could hear, “I’m here, always.” 

  He needed you to know how serious he was taking this. You, the baby, everything. He wanted to be there for it all. 

  Small waves from your friends and powerful hugs with murmured conversations between Eddie and Steve, leaving them both nodding and agreeing on something out of earshot. 

  The room feels small without them there. The elephant in the room hovering over you and weighing heavy on your chest, bigger by the second and you can’t wait anymore.

  “Eddie?” you croak, barely audible, vocal cords rubbing raw trying to speak. 

  The tears are already brimming in his eyes, he looks up at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing small patterns on the back of your hand, “when?” 

  You remember the exact day and time you felt something off in your body. Tired and achy all the time you couldn’t catch believe the amount of hours you could sleep uninterrupted. 

  The same calendar that once held your schedule for you and Eddie also held when your period was supposed to begin, but since Nancy had crossed Eddie’s name off you hadn’t even thought about possibly being late. Flipping through the pages you realized you were 3 weeks late. And blamed it on the stress. When February came and you still hadn’t gotten your period, you made an appointment with the clinic, and on the black monitor the doctor pointed out the tiniest baby growing in your belly, almost eight weeks along. 

  “When what?” You answered feebly, throat aching with each word. 

  Taking a deep ragged breath, Eddie looks at you, concern shadowing his face, he looks haunted, and depleted, “when did you find out you were pregnant?” 

  “Last month,” you clear your throat and reach for the ice chips, but Eddie helps you spoon them into your mouth. The ice melting on your tongue, pooling slowly and sliding down your throat to ease the ache. 

  “Eddie, I—” tears fall as you look into the hurt man’s whiskey colored eyes, “I was scared to tell you.” 

  He's blinking back tears, dropping your hand to walk around the room, landing at the window and pretending to look at the sky, “Did you think I wouldn’t care?” 

  A long pause between you is more than enough of an answer for him, and he sniffs loudly, “I’m not my dad y’know?” His voice hurt and wavering the delivery , “If you thought for a second that I wouldn’t give a shit about you or the baby, you’re wrong.” 

  Words you never thought would be said flow so easily from him, and you’re embarrassed you ever doubted him, “We aren’t together, Eddie,” you explain, letting the tears free fall, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”  

  Eddie scoffs and pushes off from the window, pouring his heart into his words as he explains his hurt,  “hold me back? From what the band? Tooty, I’ve been trying to prove to you for months that all I’ve ever wanted was you,” he moves across the room, sitting next to your legs on the bed, reaching for your closed fist to thread his fingers with yours.

  “Every part sweetheart, the good and the bad. Don’t you see that?” 

  Of course you did, but it was never that easy. 

  “I just— ” you couldn’t find the words, even though he deserved them, it was too much,  “I can’t even say that…how could I tell you that I’m pregnant after what I did and how I treated you?” 

  That night with Eddie blurred in your mind. He was gentle and sweet, you had never experienced such passion in all your life. It was everything you could have hoped for and more, but your scared heart ruined it. 

  “I’m a bitch, Eddie. Look at what happened to you because of me!” yoj gesture to his bruised beautiful face, and the tears flow quick down your cheeks, “you deserve someone who doesn’t hurt you,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from him and looking at the ceiling tiles. 

  “Goddamnit Tooty, you are possibly the most stubborn person, biggest pain in my ass… but I have cared about you since you were 14. And I have loved you since the minute you opened up that front door and yelled at me.”

  You both laugh through the tears and he brings your chin to face him, his dark brown eyes swim with the glitter of fallen happiness, and he quickly blinks, “let me take care of you, sweetheart, both of you.” 

  It could be that simple. He loved you and you loved him. It wasn’t rocket science or poor willed fate. This was two people who cared about each other enough to look past all the ugly shit the world had to offer and chose to stick together. The epiphany sewed your heart closed and locked it tight, a branded “EM” on the lock and Eddie held the key.

  You grab him with more force than either of you were expecting and collide your lips with his. Tears and stitches fill the gaps where your tongue danced the last time these lips touched yours. But it was somehow sweeter than any kiss before. 

  “I love you, Eddie Munson…” you breathe, “but I swear I will cut that hair of yours down to the scalp if you try to name this baby ‘Ronnie Dio’, or ‘dragon slayer 86’ or whatever the hell you used to call yourself in your demon club in high school.” 

  For the first time in days, Eddie belly laughs, and kisses each of your cheeks, “ohh princess, don’t tell me your still jealous because Eyeball wouldn’t let you join?” 

  You cross your arms in a pout and Eddie laughs again, “there she is, that’s my girl.” 

  Pushing him away with a playful shove he comes back and kisses you again, both of you smiling and giggling, two idiots in love. With a wince, you scoot over in the bed and make room for him to sit with you, adjusting the wires and tubing around you both you snuggle into him, placing his hand on your belly where you assume the baby to be. 

  He snuggled into your neck and sniffs quietly. Content. 

  “Promise me something?” you whisper as your fingers thread through his curls, he nods into you, kissing your neck sweetly and humming a yes. It’s a big ask, and you’re new to this feeling, “please don’t ever stop loving me.” 

  Eddie’s grin is warm on your cheek as he sits up, looking so far into your eyes your souls reach out and hold hands, “I couldn’t even if I wanted too, baby.” 

  A knock on the door interrupts the moment and you both turn to see a doctor in a long white coat, and green scrubs. His face is jolly and caring, an instant comfort.

  “Ah yes, the nurses told me you were awake,” he says with a big smile, “it was pretty touch and go for awhile there but you look good considering what happened, how are you feeling?” 

  “Sore,” you answer, “everywhere.” 

  “That’ll be expected with the hellish ordeal you went through. Mr. Munson here gave us a brief rundown on what happened, and your injuries coincide that statement. We will be helping you both set up counseling appointments, usually with instances such as these, there will be panic and trauma that will develop from it. I urge you both to take them seriously.” 

  Eddie nods and answers for you, “yes sir.” 

  “Good. Now this soreness, is it generally all over or more localized in one spot?” 

  “I mean my head and face feel pretty awful, but mainly it’s my stomach.” 

  A small look of panic settles on the doctors face but is quickly replaced with a gentle smile, “we will schedule from scans for later today to make sure everything is okay, if you don’t mind— while I’m here,” he says, removing his stethoscope from his neck, “I’ll have a little check, alright?” 

  Eddie moves from the bed and settles by your shoulder,  briefly pressing his lips to your hairline, his warm hand rubbing your arm slowly. 

  “Just routine,” the doctor says, lifting your hospital gown to the top of your stomach, pulling the blankets down to the stop of your knees, “nothing to worr—” his broad smile fades and Eddie lets out a loud gasp. 

  The inside of your thighs and the sheet beneath you are soaked in claret colored blood. You don’t have time to register what is happening before the doctor crosses the room and begins yelling orders through the phone, “this is Dr. Newby, prep OR 2 for a D&E…possible c-section, I’ll need everyone available.” He hangs up with a loud click and turns to address you and Eddie. 

  “What’s going on?!” Eddie demands, fear stricken eyes almost onyx in color, his fingers gripping yours tight. 

  “She needs to be prepped for surgery,” he answers Eddie curtly but still politely. 

  You balk, “Surgery?! Why?!” 

  The doctor looks into your eyes with a sympathetic expression, “you’re having a miscarriage.” 

——

[ereardon]

More Than Enough [Bob Floyd x Reader]

A Single Dad Bob Fic

Summary: The first two times Bob Floyd ends up in your emergency room he’s a mess. You never expected him to return a third time. But when he does, it changes everything.

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC 

Warnings: Medical setting, blood and needles, cursing Word count: 4.4K 

Bob Floyd masterlist here

“We’ve got another one.” 

You sighed, lifting the hair from the back of your neck and fanning it before clipping your hair up and straightening your scrubs. “Be there in a second, Liz.” 

Your charge nurse nodded, waddling away from the desk and you pushed back from your chair, wandering down the hall, knocking lightly before walking through the door on the right. 

“Hi,” you said, grabbing the chart from the folder on the wall and stepping further into the room. “I’m Y/N, I’ll be your nurse today.” 

“Hi.” You looked up. His voice was deep and gravely and insanely sexy despite the fluorescent lights of the ER and the sterile aesthetics of the triage room. The patient on the bed had sandy blond hair that was combed back neatly and a pair of wire glasses that slid down his pert nose. His pink lips were curled up in a delicate, shy smile, large hands spread out on either side of his body. “How are you?” 

You laughed, skimming the clipboard chart one more time before setting it down near the sink. “Better than you, Mr. Floyd, by the looks of it. Says here you have a hook in your foot.” 

The man nodded, lifting his left leg and you saw it immediately: an old fishing hook sunken into the flesh toward his ankle. You grimaced while putting on a pair of gloves. 

“And how did this happen?” 

“Playing football on the beach,” he said as you poked at the skin around the hook. “Just stepped somewhere I shouldn’t have, apparently.” 

You nodded. “Well, Mr. Floyd–”

“Bob,” he said. 

You smiled. “Bob. I’m going to give you a shot for tetanus. We’re not sure where this hook has been, so better safe than sorry.” 

Bob winced as he watched you dip the syringe into the glass vial of medicine. 

You sat down on the rolling stool and reached out, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt from his upper arm, rubbing a circle spot with an alcohol swab. “So beach football. That sounds fun.” 

“I, um, I play with my team.” Bob closed his eyes as you slid the needle into his skin, pressing the depressor slowly. 

When you pulled it out, covering it with a fresh cotton ball, reaching for a band-aid, he kept his eyes closed. You patted his arm softly. “Mr. Floyd, you’re doing just fine.” 

His eyes shot open and he smiled, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m a major wuss when it comes to needles.” 

“Most people are,” you said, examining his foot. “What kind of team? Like a rec league?” 

“Oh, no,” Bob said as you cleaned around the entrance of the metal hook on his foot. “My squadron. I’m in the Navy.” 

“Really?” You pressed down on the top of his foot, looking up at Bob. He caught your eye.

He nodded. “Aviator, ma’am.” 

“What’s that like?” you asked. Just as Bob opened his mouth to reply, you yanked on the hook, eliciting a sharp grunt from him. You shook your head with a sad smile. “Sorry, better not to see it coming.” 

“Think you’re right about that,” Bob said, his voice a little higher than before. 

You smiled sweetly up at him, pressing against the wound with cotton to stop the bleeding. Bob laid back against the bed, looking a little more pale than before. “Mr. Floyd?” 

“Bob,” he gasped. 

“Bob,” you repeated. “Are you feeling dizzy?” 

“Not a fan of blood, either,” he muttered and you looked down to see that blood had soaked through the cotton you were holding. You quickly switched it out.  

“Lay back for me,” you said softly, “and close your eyes.” Bob did as he was told and you wrapped his foot gently once the blood had stopped flowing from the wound. You ran the sink with cold water, dampening a towel and folding it up, placing it gently on Bob’s forehead. He sighed audibly. “There. Just try to relax, OK?” 

He chuckled. “Not a very good first impression, huh?” 

You smiled even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ve had worse.” 

Just as you were about to open your mouth and ask about his personal life, the door swung open and a beautiful brunette entered the room with a little girl on her hip. Your heart sank in your chest as she set the toddler down and watched as the toddler rushed to the bed. “Daddy!” 

Bob’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled brightly. “Hi Sugar.” 

“She insisted we follow you,” the brunette said. She was gloriously tan and chiseled, wearing just a black sports bra and a pair of small athletic shorts. She turned to you with a grin. “How’s our boy doing?” 

“He’ll be just fine,” you said, trying your hardest not to be jealous of this perfectly kind stranger who just happened to be the wife of your patient. But you also wanted to claw her eyes out and claim him as your own. 

“Daddy, you fainted.” The little girl had her hands on the sheets where she could reach and Bob leaned over, trying to scoop her up, but couldn’t quite reach her. 

“Here.” You crouched down next to the little girl. “Want me to help you get on your daddy’s bed?” 

She nodded enthusiastically and you smiled, lifting under her arms, plopping her against the sheets and Bob’s waiting arms. You watched as Bob enveloped her in his embrace, veins and muscles on his arms rippling as he held her tight. 

The brunette cleared her throat. “Floyd, I can take Andie home, depending on how long you’ll be here?” 

Bob turned to you. “Y/N?” he asked and you liked the way he said your name instead of nurse or hey you or even ma’am. “How long do you think?” 

“I just want to keep you here another fifteen minutes or so, make sure you’re reacting OK to the vaccination and you’re no longer a fainting threat, and then we can get your discharge papers completed. Won’t be more than an hour.” 

Bob nodded. “I’ll take her home, Nix, don’t worry about it.” 

The brunette put one hand on her hip. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. You want to stay with me, Sugar? Or do you want Auntie Phoenix to take you home?” 

Andie clung to Bob’s side. “I want to stay with you, daddy!” 

You caught the auntie part of the conversation. As you swapped out his gauze for a bandage you looked quickly. 

No wedding ring. 

Things were looking up. You smiled as the brunette leaned over, kissing the top of Andie’s head. “OK sweetheart, you can stay with your daddy. Floyd, I’ll check on you later. Bradshaw will drive you home, OK? He’s in the waiting room.” 

Bob nodded. “Thanks. Tell him we’ll be out soon.” Bob turned to you as Andie settled in his arms, her gaze already on the TV in the corner. “Sorry, that’s my pilot, Natasha.” 

“She’s pretty.” 

Bob flushed. “I, um, I was going to say the same thing about you.” 

You loved that he was flustered. In his arms, Andie stirred. “Daddy? How much longer?” 

“Just a little bit, honey,” he said. “Do you want to wait with Uncle Bradley?” 

She shook her head. “No, daddy, want to be with you!” 

“OK Sugar,” he said, looking up at you sheepishly. “Sorry, she’s three and a little antsy.” 

You waved one hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. She’s adorable.” You finished your note on his chart. “Well, Mr. Floyd, you’re going to be just fine. In about fifteen minutes, the floor nurse will come in and get you the discharge papers and you two will be free to go.” 

Just as you were about to turn on your heel, Bob’s voice caught you. “Y/N?” 

You turned. “Yes?” 

He looked down at Andie’s blonde head and then back up at you and sighed. “Um, thanks. For everything.” 

You smiled but it was thin. “Of course, it’s my job.” You waved. “Bye sweetheart.” 

“Bye!” Andie’s sugary voice rang out in the sterile room. 

You turned on one heel, flattening yourself to the hallway after shutting the door, letting out a breath. For a moment, you had thought he was going to ask you out. But of course he wasn’t. Who were you kidding? A gorgeous pilot with a daughter? He was surely off the market, even if he wasn’t wearing a ring. 

You opened your eyes just in time to see an incredibly beefy guy slide down the hallway, his brown eyes landing on yours. He grinned, white teeth, slightly crooked smile. Fuck, he was beautiful, too. What was going on? 

“Hi,” he said, stopping in front of you. “I, uh, I’m looking for Bob Floyd’s room?” 

You hooked a thumb to your left. “Right there,” you said. 

He grinned. “Thanks.” He didn’t make a move to leave. 

You pushed yourself off of the wall and nodded. “Anytime.” 

The mustache man followed you with your eyes as you walked away from the room, as far as you could get from the tiny little corner of the hospital that was inhabited by the most beautiful people you had ever laid eyes on within a ten minute span. 

Back at the nurse’s station, you collapsed into your chair. 

“I know that look,” Liz said, eyebrow raised. 

“What look?” 

She shook her head, grabbing for her water bottle. “Watch out, sweetie. There’s only one reason you could possibly look like that?” 

“And how do I look?” 

“Fucked.” 

***

You hadn’t been able to get Bob Floyd out of your head. That’s why, two weeks later, when he rushed into the ER in the middle of the night, you blinked rapidly, convinced that the night shift was melding with your subconscious somehow. 

“Hello?” he called out into the hallway and you rushed forward, noticing that he had Andie in his arms, her face pink with anguish. “She won’t stop crying and throwing up and oh my God, I don’t know what’s happening.” 

“Put her down here,” you said, leading them to a bed and drawing the drapes tightly. Andie rolled onto her side, clutching her abdomen. “Hi honey. I’m just going to take a look at your belly, OK?” She nodded, but continued to cry as you lifted up the hem of her pajama top, touching her distended belly gently as she cried out. You looked up at Bob. “It’s most likely appendicitis but we’ll need a CT scan to confirm.” 

Bob ran a hand through his hair. He looked much more disheveled this time and you almost wanted to sling an arm around him, pull him into a hug. He looked like he needed it. 

“Let me call down to radiology, we should be able to get her in immediately.” 

You stepped toward the phone on the wall, speaking quickly, eyes on Bob as he hovered near Andie’s bed, whispering softly in her ear. 

“Another nurse will come and take her down in a minute,” you said gently. 

Bob looked up. “Can I go with?” 

You shook your head and his face fell. “I’m sorry. But you’ll get to see her before she goes into surgery.” 

“Is there anything you can give her for the pain?” he pleaded. “I just, I don't know what to do.”

You nodded. “We’ll give her some medicine before the procedure and after.” 

A knock on the door stole both of your attention. “Mr. Floyd? I’m here to take Andie down to radiology.” A short nurse with her hair tied back smiled at the door. “Are we all set?” 

“Yes.” You looked at Bob and Andie. “It’ll only be twenty minutes, I promise.” 

He nodded, leaning over and kissing Andie’s head. “I’ll be right here, baby, I promise. Be good for me, Sugar.” 

“Daddy!” she cried and you saw how it gutted him. 

He swallowed the pain. “It’s OK, honey. You’ll feel better soon.” 

And then they were wheeling Andie’s bed out of the room and Bob collapsed onto the chair near the wall, head in his hands. You waited a moment before walking over, squatting down and pressing one hand to his knee gently. “Hey. She’s going to be OK, I promise.” 

Bob looked up and you saw tears in his blue eyes. He wiped at them. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing scarier as a parent than rushing your kid to the ER in the middle of the night.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” you said softly. “I can’t even imagine.” 

“Do you have kids?”

You shook your head. “I don’t.” 

Bob sighed. “I never thought I wanted kids,” he whispered, like a confession. “And then Andie came along and she changed everything.” He paused. “She’s my entire world. I can’t explain how helpless I feel watching her in pain knowing it’s out of my control.” 

Your hand was still pressed against his knee. “She’s going to be alright,” you said. “I promise, nothing bad is going to happen.” 

“Thank you.” The two of you hovered there for a moment, eyes locked on each other. And then the door swung open and you stood up quickly. 

“It’s a ruptured appy,” the nurse said. “We’re taking her down to OR two.” 

“You have to let him talk to her first,” you said and Bob looked at you, surprised. “He has to tell her it’s going to be OK. She’s scared.” 

The nurse nodded hastily. “Fine, but do it quickly. Dr. Roberts is already scrubbing in.” 

The three of you trailed down the hallway to where Andie laid in a bed near the elevator, another nurse speaking with her quietly. Her eyes flicked to Bob immediately, widening with recognition and comfort. He reached out, stroking her hair. “Hi Sugar,” he whispered and you could hear in the pits of his voice how much he was holding back. “Listen, the doctors are going to make you better and when you’re done with your nap, I’ll be waiting for you.” 

“With a toy?” she asked, her voice light and soft.

Bob smiled. “Yeah, honey, with a toy.”

“Promise, daddy?” 

Bob nodded. “I promise. Be right here when you’re done, OK?” 

Andie smiled and Bob pressed a kiss to her forehead before she was wheeled down the corridor, through the double doors at the end of the hallway. He turned to you with sad, wide eyes. You were an ER nurse – technically, you needed to hand over Andie as your patient to the surgical team. You would go to the nurses station and finish the chart, have it signed off by the attendings who completed her surgery after it was done. But something about the frazzled way that Bob looked and how his leg had felt beneath your palm made you throw everything else to the side.   

“Come on,” you said, putting one hand on his arm gently. “Let’s get a coffee. It’ll be an hour or two.” 

He frowned. “You don’t need to see more patients?” 

You shrugged. It was three in the morning on a Tuesday. Only one bed was filled. “It’s quiet. They’ll cover for me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

You nodded. You didn’t want him to be alone. “Besides, I know where the good coffee is.” 

That’s how you and Bob ended up on the third floor doctor’s lounge sipping out of mismatched mugs, the sun still asleep beneath the blanket of the horizon. 

“So a pilot, huh?” you asked. “That must be exciting.” 

Bob smiled but it was quick. Tight. “Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee and looked up. “Actually, can I tell you the truth?” 

“Of course.” 

“People always say that and I always respond the same. Yeah, it’s exciting. Yeah, it’s cool. But the truth is, it’s fucking terrifying. Going up in jets every day not knowing if I’m going to be able to pick my daughter up from daycare later or not.” 

“So why do you do it?”

“Only thing I’ve ever been good at,” he replied. 

“That can’t be true.” Your eyes wandered over Bob’s strong hands, the way the coffee mug was engulfed by them. The wire glasses slipping down his nose. The way he carried himself. Like he was too much of a burden to compete for space in the room, even though there was no one in there besides the two of you. 

“Being a dad,” he said softly. “I’m good at that. I think.” 

“You are.” He lit up. “The way Andie looks at you? You’re her hero.” 

Bob put his coffee cup down. “You’re just saying that.” 

“You don’t know me,” you said, “but I don’t really make a habit of lying just to make people feel good about themselves.” 

He laughed. “So that’s why you became a nurse, huh?” 

“That and an oppressive need for academic validation. Plus I look cute in the uniform.” 

Bob smiled at you. “True.”

You blushed. In the dim light of the lounge, you could see Bob’s profile and he was even more beautiful than you had made him to be in your head. “So, Andie’s mom?” 

He shook his head. “She’s not in the picture.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

“I am, too,” he said quietly. “For Andie, not for me. We were never good together. Right now, I’m just trying to be enough. I’m doing everything I can, but I know that one day she’s going to grow up. And I am going to be useless when she comes home asking me to buy her a miniskirt or what dress to wear to prom or how to put her hair in French braids for some costume party.” He smiled at you sadly. “I just know that I won’t be enough.” 

“The fact that you’re already thinking of that tells me you’re more than enough,” you replied. “She’s lucky. And I’m not just saying that.” 

Bob chuckled lightly. His voice was deep and silky. “Do you give all your patient’s parents the VIP treatment?” 

“Nope,” you said, setting down your coffee cup and turning to where he sat in the leather chair next to you. “You’re special.” 

“Oh yeah?” Bob murmured, leaning forward over the arm of his chair, his face dangerously close to yours. “Why is that?” 

“Because–” Just then, your pager beeped. You leaned back and pulled it off your waistband. “It’s Andie’s surgery. She’s in recovery.” 

Bob jumped up, cheeks flushed. “And?” 

You smiled. “No warnings. It must have gone perfectly.” 

“Oh, thank God.” The relief coming from his voice could sooth a thousand wounds. 

You grinned. “I’ll take you down to her room.” 

As you turned to head out toward the hallway, Bob stopped you, his hand on your wrist, fingers circling yours. “Y/N, I–”

“I know,” you said softly, letting his hand slide into your own. “We should go, Andie’s waiting.” 

You understood what people meant when they said their ovaries were going to explode the second you saw Andie and Bob reunite in the post-op room. Her tiny face lit up as she watched Bob walk through the door, her little arms reaching for him instinctively. The way he cradled her head to his chest, patting her back softly, kissing her temple. There was a warmth spilling out into the room, radiating off of the two of them like an aura. You stood in the doorway as the sun crawled over the horizon and watched father and daughter reunite. 

After a while, you stepped up to the bed. “Hi sweetheart, heard you did great in there,” you said softly and Andie beamed. “I’m going to let you and your daddy get some rest, OK? Someone will be back in a bit to check on you.” 

“Bye!” Her small voice was like a thousand little violins. 

Bob turned to you, one hand still touching Andie, making sure she was there. She was safe. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said quietly. “Is this the end of your shift?” 

You checked your watch. It was six thirty. You had been off for thirty minutes. “Yeah, it is.” 

“I, um.” He looked down at Andie, her baby blue eyes tracking him. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow if we’re still here.” 

You smiled. “You two will be released by then, I’m sure.” 

“Oh.” There was something dejected about the way he said it. You shuffled from foot to foot. “It was nice seeing you again. Bob.” The way his name felt on your tongue. It was fuzzy and soft and you wanted to hold onto it for as long as you could. 

“You too, Y/N,” he said softly. 

You turned, heading for the door, before spinning back around, digging in your pocket, pulling out a tiny stuffed penguin on a keychain. Your niece had given it to you a few months ago for your thirty-first birthday and you had almost forgotten it was still in your pocket from where you had scooped it up earlier after it fell out of your bag onto the locker room floor as you were rushing for a code. “Bob,” you said quietly and he turned, eyes bright. You slipped the toy into his hand quietly so Andie wouldn’t see. He looked down then back up in surprise. You grinned. “You promised her a toy, remember?” 

His fingers lingered over yours before finally you pulled away, the heat of Bob’s stare warming you from your core like lava. “Thank you.” 

You smiled. “Bye again.” 

This time you did leave, your chest tight as you shut the door softly, turning down the hallway, putting as much space between you and Bob Floyd as you could. Because you knew that if you didn’t, you’d embarrass yourself. You’d run back into the room and beg him to take you out. To kiss you. To talk to you with a fraction of the love that he spoke to Andie with. That would be enough. 

It would be more than enough. 

***

It was the end of a long day. You sat down at the nurse’s station with a sigh, kicking your feet up on the desk, closing your eyes. Only a few seconds passed before someone was tapping your shoulder incessantly. 

Your eyes snapped open and you groaned. “What?” 

“You’re going to want to see this,” Kirsten said. She had one hand on her hip, head tipped toward the lobby area. 

“Bloody?” you asked excitedly. 

She shook her head. “You’re nasty. No, it’s better.” 

“If it’s not a bloody accident I don’t want it.” 

Kirsten rolled her eyes. “It’s better so just shut up, put a smile on that face and maybe puff out your boobs a little, you’re looking saggy.” 

“What?” 

She laughed as you stood up, fiddling with your scrub top, frowning as Kirsten pushed you around the corner toward the lobby doors. You stopped dead in your tracks. 

Bob Floyd stood in the atrium of the hospital, still wearing his green flight suit, blond hair perfectly combed back, wire glasses slightly askew. He had a bouquet of pink roses in his hands and a brilliant white smile when he spotted you. 

“Hi.” His voice wobbled a bit as you approached. 

“Hi back,” you said quietly. “I hope those are for me,” you said, gesturing to the flowers, “because you really need to stop showing up with emergencies, Bob Floyd.” 

He laughed, a throaty sound that eclipsed all other laughs in your memory. Now, anytime you ever thought of a laugh it would be like what Bob Floyd sounded like on a random Thursday evening. “Well it is the ER. Besides, how else would I be able to see you?” 

“You'd see me if you ever asked me on a date.” 

Bob flushed. “Well, that’s why I’m here.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

He nodded, thrusting the flowers out to you. “I, um, I wanted to ask you out the first time we met. But that didn’t really turn out like I planned. Practically fainting in front of you wasn’t what I had in mind.” 

You smelled the flowers. They were clean and crisp and you couldn’t remember the last time a man bought you flowers, let alone went out of his way to see you. You stepped closer. “It was kind of charming,” you admitted. 

Bob laughed again, that sweet chuckle that was quickly imprinting itself in your mind. “I’ll take it. So what do you say, will you go on a date with me?” 

“I don’t know, what can beat stale coffee in a doctor’s break room?” 

“What if I cook you dinner?” Bob offered and your eyebrows shot up. “What’s your favorite dish?” 

“Eggplant parmesan,” you said automatically. It tumbled out of your mouth. 

“Done.”

“So you can cook?” 

“No,” he said and you laughed. “But I can Google it.” 

“You’d go to all that trouble just for me?” 

Bob stepped in closer, reaching out one hand, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear. His touch was warm and it practically electrocuted you with the fervor that started to course through your veins as his skin brushed against yours. Bob let his hand linger on the side of your neck, cupping you gently. “It’s no trouble,” he murmured. “Besides, Andie keeps asking about the pretty nurse who gave her the penguin doll.” 

You grinned. “Did she like it?” 

“She sleeps with it every night. But apparently, Mr. Penguin has requested that you come by the house to read him a bedtime story. So what do you say? Dinner and a book reading?” he asked. 

You locked eyes with Bob, nodding. “Is it weird to say I’m glad you got a hook in your foot and ended up in my ER?” 

Bob chuckled. “Is it weird to say I’d do it again every day if it meant I got to see you?” 

“Honey,” you whispered. “No need to stab your foot again. I’ll be at dinner any night of the week. Just say the word.” 

He held out one hand. You slipped your fingers into his. It was enough. It was more than enough.

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[m0nsterqzzz]

Pretty and Smart

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

summary: Wanda has a fear of the dentist, but what about when she wants to start dating one?

warnings: mentions of drugs (anesthesia), swearing, injurys (tooth injurys), such a shitty ending cuz i'm terrible at writing endings, needles

a/n: completely inspired by the fact that i got three teeth removed yesterday and flirted with my 20 year older nurse lol. literally everything that Wanda says while waking up is from videos my sister took of me.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Wanda's eyes almost start glowing red as Natasha forces her through the medical room door. This part of the medical wing is filled with all types of necessities for a dentist to perform regular check ups, surjurys, or any other type of appointment that an Avenger would need. 

Tony hired the best dentist he could find and that worries Wanda a bit as usually that means they’re pretty with no brain. That’s not the only thing that worries her though. Her long lasting fear of being put under anesthesia is coming out quite quickly as the time for her appointment to get two teeth pulled from inside her gums approaches. She locked herself in her room a bit ago, but she should have remembered that her best friend is a retired spy.

“Please just help me out here Wanda! I don’t want to be late to my date with Maria!” Natasha complains, practically shoving her friend through the door. “I thought it was bros before hoes Nat?! What happened to that?!” “We graduated from middle school Wanda! That's what happened!”

You’re filling out some paperwork when Natasha finally gets Wanda into the room, and the way you smile at her doesn’t help with the butterflies in her stomach. “This is my friend Wanda. She’s here for her appointment. Bye.” Natasha says before leaving, and Wanda is about to send a ball of red energy her way before the door closes. 

Your eyes widen at her magic and she smiles nervously as it fades. “Sorry.” You chuckle, standing up from the desk and holding a hand out for her to shake. “You’re fine. What’s your name sweetie?” You ask, subtly leading her to sit on the chair. “I’m Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. And your…..you're the dentist Tony hired?” “Well yes. I work at a dentist office in the city and Mr. Stark came in looking for someone. I need the extra work. Sorry….I’m rambling.”

She shakes her head, sitting down in the chair as she smiles at you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s making me feel better.” Her nerves are slowly fading the more you flash your bright smile at her, but their right back when you pick up something from the side tray.

Your smile slightly falters when her fingertips start glowing red, but it stays in order to help comfort her. “You’re alright dear. It's just a pulse oximeter. I’m going to put it on your pointer finger in order to help me keep track of the absorbed oxygen into your red blood cells.” She doesn’t understand what that means, but she begins to slowly relax as you explain every machine you're connecting to her body. A blood pressure cuff, an ankle monitor to track her heart rate, a wrist monitor to do the same, and then you wheel over the IV rod with a type of liquid anesthesia that will go from the rod, through a plastic tube, and into her bloodstream in order to sedate her while you work on her teeth. The moment she sees the needle, her eyes flash red. 

You scoot your chair back a little, a nervous smile overtaking you as you remove the needle from her eyesight. “Okay honey, calm down. It’s just a needle. It’s gonna be a gentle little poke and then a very tiny plastic tube is going to go in your arm which will let the liquid anesthesia flow to your blood and sedate you. That way, it only feels like you're asleep for one second and you won’t feel the pain.” She shakes her head, beginning to sit up until you place a gentle hand on her arm. “Miss Maximoff, would you like me to get one of your friends?” She takes a deep breath, forcing the red to fade from her eyes as she lays back down. “I’m a grown woman. I can handle this.” 

You sigh, placing the needle down on the tray as you look at her. “It’s okay to be scared Wanda. In fact, I have many patients that come in here and get scared. It’s natural and you’re allowed to feel scared. Even superheroes don't have to be strong all the time.” This brings a small smile to her face, and she nods.

“Hold my hand? I’m kind of nervous.” You ask and she holds your hand that won’t be holding the needle. She knows you're nowhere near scared of piercing her with a needle, but she’s glad you didn’t exactly call her out. You call in a nurse that was around in case you couldn't perform one of your duties to put in the IV so that you can continue to hold her hand as the nurse does so.

Before you instruct the nurse to pick up the needle,  you grab a mask that connects to some sort of machine and hold it in front of her face. “This is laughing gas. I’m sorry I forgot about it. It’ll make you less nervous.” This seems to completely relax her, and you place the mask over her nose. She can still talk through her mouth, but you instruct her to close it and take deep breaths through her nose. “It smells like syrup. Maple syrup.” She notes, and you can tell that’s not a bad thing by the way she grins at you. While you wait a few minutes for that to take effect, you talk to her about anything and everything. What you had for breakfast that morning, the weather outside, the way your car broke down on the side of the road on your way here, a book you’ve been reading the past few days, or how cocky Tony is.

“Wow. Pretty and smart.” She mumbles, and you look at her with a confused smile. “Pardon?” “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Eventually, she looks at the needle and nods. “I’m ready.” You smile, nodding for the nurse to put in the IV as you continue to stroke the back of her hand with your thumb.

A few minutes later, you have the IV in her arm with a very minimal amount of tears. “Very good job sweetie. You did great.” You could have swore a blush coats her face, but that must just be the laughing gas.

It's only a few minutes later that her eyes close and her breathing evens out, and you take a moment to admire her before grabbing the first tool from the tray. When you go to tell the nurse she can leave, she's smirking at you. “What? What's wrong?” 

“You think your patient’s cute.” She laughs, and you shake your head quickly. “No. That's unprofessional.” “Okay “sweetie"” She mocks the nickname you just used on the Avenger. “The last time a patient asked to hold your hand, you panicked and forced me to do it.” You glare at her, pointing one hand to the door as you start working on extracting the teeth. “Out Vanessa. I'll call you when I need you.” “Alright Dr. Love.” “That is the stupidest nickname you've ever had for me V. Get out.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

About an hour later, you've finished extracting the teeth and sewed her gums back together. They were all on the left side of her mouth, so she'll be able to eat a lot easier if she just uses the other side.

You clean up as you wait for her to wake up, and you sit back down next to her when she begins stirring. The first thing she does is send you a dopey smile and then hang her head to the side so it's falling off the headrest. “No. Don’t do that sweetie. Don’t wanna hurt your neck.” You reposition her head to gently lay it back down, but she just lets it fall again making you chuckle. “Fine. I’ll be right back.” You leave for a few seconds, coming back with a wheelchair and kneeling at her side. “Okay Wanda. I’m gonna help get you in this wheelchair so when your friend comes she can easily get you back to your room okay?” She nods, but makes no attempt to move as she asks, “Do you have balloons?” You giggle, looking around the room before giving her a sympathetic smile. “No. I’m sorry but we do not have any balloons.” The frown on her face is a little sad and the tears that form make you want to go buy her a balloon from the store.

“How about this….” You grab a glove from the counter, then hold it up to your mouth as you blow as hard as you can into it. It’s not easy and it doesn’t get very big, but the smile on her face is worth it as you tie it up and hand it to her. 

While you're grabbing something from the desk, she drops it on the side of her bed, and tears fill her eyes again as she tries to get up- which is more like her flopping her body to the side. You look at her, rushing to her side and gently pushing her to lay back down with a chuckle. “And where do you think you’re going missy?” She groans, pointing to the floor. A tear falls down her face, but they stop the moment you pick it up and hand it back to her. 

“Alright honey, let's get you into the wheelchair.” You begin helping her sit up and then stand up fully, but she shoves your arms off and gives you a lazy scoff as she mumbles, “I’m a big girl. I can do it myself.” You giggle, watching for a second as she wobbles and then looks back to you. “Why aren’t you helping me?” “You told me not to!” “You’re a mean doctor!” You laugh even harder, placing one of her arms over your shoulders as you help her sit in the chair.

When you go to put her feet in the stirrups, she mumbles something incoherent before tapping your shoulder. “Why are you taking my legs doctor lady?” You snigger. “I’m not stealing them, I'm putting them in the stirrups so they don’t drag on the floor and hurt you honey.” She doesn’t seem to understand you as she groans once again and taps your shoulder again. “I need those! I’m a superhero! I need those to save the world!” You finish putting her feet up correctly and then nod. “You’re right. My bad sweetie.” She huffs and nods like you finally said something correct and then grins at you. “What are you grinning at?” “You’re pretty. Are you single doctor lady?” 

Her words take you by surprise, and you look to the window to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Yes. I am single. Why do you ask honey?” “Because I wanna take you out to dinner obviously!” “Obviously.”

You're cleaning some of the tools when she suddenly says, "I like woman and men. Women are pretty don't you think?" You chuckle. "Yes I think women are pretty."

She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and you're sure it's because she’s fallen back asleep until she speaks with a giggle, “Look!”

You look away from the file you were reading to look at her, and you watch with wide eyes as she sends a ball of red magic crashing through the window. “Wanda!” Her eyes also widen, and tears fill her eyes as she pouts. “I…..I’m sorry sweetie. I didn’t mean to yell okay? But that’s dangerous. Don’t do it again.” The smile is immediately back and she forms another red blast which you quickly place your hands over to stop. “No.” She nods. “No.” She repeats which makes you instantly melt.

A few minutes later, her friend reappears and asks Wanda, “So did you ask?” The younger girl frowns in confusion as do you, and the redhead woman smirks at you. “She told me with her mind while I was on a date that she wanted to ask you out. Did she do it?” You feel a warm blush coating your cheeks as you shake your head. “Kind of. She’s very high. I didn’t think she meant it. And besides, I don’t date patients.” 

She nods, taking the handles of the wheelchair and beginning to wheel the young girl out of the office. Before they reach the door, Wanda calls out quite loudly, “Send me your maple syrup recipe, pretty doctor lady!”

They continue walking out of the medical wing, and you're left with a permanent blush on your face as you think about Wanda Maximoff.

That night, you’re laying in bed when you get a text from an unknown number. It’s three videos of Wanda, two of them her rambling about how pretty you are, and one crying because her friend refused to stop at the Mexican restaurant and get her a taco to blend into a shake. You laugh, looking at the last text that reads, “She literally cried in the gas station because she couldn’t find the toilet and didn’t want my help. Next time I’ll leave her with you until the anesthesia wears off - Natasha”

You chuckle, sending back a quick laughing emoji and asking how the young girl is doing. “She’s okay. She refuses to get rid of the balloon you gave her and will not stfu about you.” This brings a smile to your face and you text back and forth with the Avenger for a while before falling asleep with your phone in hand.

A week passes, and you text back and forth with Natasha at least once a day to check on Wanda. You have to admit that you miss the funny girl, but you're standing by the rule you made that you cannot date patients. 

You’re leading a ten year old patient to his mothers car after his oral surgery when you see something that makes you smile in confusion. Wanda is standing up against a in the parking lot, seemingly aggressively texting someone. You help the boy into the car and watch the car leave the parking lot before going back inside. If Wanda needs something, she’ll come in and ask for it.

It’s only about three minutes before she does, and the cold air of winter enters the building as she walks through the main door. You’re standing at the front desk looking through a file with one of the nurses when she walks up to the desk with hesitant steps. “Wanda. How are you, dear?” She nods, babbling on for a second before she clears her throat and mutters, “I’m alright.”

You don’t have any more patients for a few minutes, so you walk around the desk so you're standing in front of her. “That’s good. So…..I’m not saying it’s not nice to see you but why are you here? Did something happen with your stitches?” She shakes her head, gently lifting up her lip to show you the still intact stitches that are allowing her gums to heal back together. “I’m here because well…..I chipped my tooth.” She holds a hand behind her back as she opens her mouth to show you that on the other side of her mouth is in fact a chipped tooth. You sigh, thinking over your schedule before you tell her. “Maybe I can give you a filling this afternoon. Come back at 1pm Miss. Maximoff.” She smiles brightly at you and nods, waving you off as she leaves the office. For someone who's afraid of anything to do with the dentist, she seems quite excited to have another procedure.

Wanda goes back to the compound to wait the next few hours, and when her best friend comes in to ask why she went to the doctors she casually states, “Because I chipped my tooth.” “What? No you didn’t. You would have told me and then I would have had to force you to go to the dentist.” Natasha laughs as she eats from her bowl of ice cream. When Wanda doesn’t respond, she laughs even harder and questions, “Wanda Maximoff, tell me you did not purposely chip your tooth so you can have more time with that doctor.” The witch groans, turning around to face her friend. “I used magic to do it so i didn’t really hurt!” She says it as if that's any better. “Wanda! You used your magic to give that poor doctor even more work to do?! Why can’t you just grow some balls and ask them out?” “Okay first of all, “grow some balls”? What are we, in middle school? And second of all, I will. Once I get my chipped tooth fixed.” “The one you chipped on purpose!”

Later that day, you finish filling Wanda's chipped tooth and then tell her, “The numbing gel will take a bit to wear off and then you may feel a bit of pain but not as much as you feel on your stitches okay?” She nods, sitting up in the chair and sending you an awkward smile. You lead her to the front desk, and leave for a few moments before coming back with a blown up glove. The child-like grin that shows up on her face is priceless. “Thank you!” “Anytime Miss Maximoff. Now, I hope you have a great day and watch that tooth!”

Now, when you said “anytime”, you didn’t mean anytime. Apparently, Wanda didn’t get this memo as she was back three weeks later. “Wanda! What a surprise! What brings you to my office today?” She smiles nervously, opening her mouth to show you the chipped tooth on the top row of her teeth this time. You sigh, already looking in the computer to schedule her an appointment for the next day. “That's two chipped teeth in one month. What happened honey?” She shrugs, thinking for a few seconds before she tells you, “I was eating a bagel this morning and it just suddenly broke!” “Right. Well, you can come back at 11am tomorrow and I’ll fill it. But you have to be more careful alright sweetie?” She nods, smiling at you before practically running out the door.

Over the next few months, you had Wanda Maximoff in your office a total of 13 times. You literally started keeping track. Whether it was toothaches, her habit of grinding her teeth, a chipped tooth, or to bring you lunch at one point, you talked to the Avenger at least every two weeks.

Today, it’s been about a week since you saw Wanda when she came in complaining about a pain in her jaw. You begin to wonder how she pays for this many dentist appointments, but that thought is quickly resolved when she wrote you a check with a whole lot of 0’s without hesitation a few months ago.

Today, you’re eating lunch in the break room after giving a screaming 12 year old oral surgery and Vanessa comes in with a smirk. “Your girlfriends here.” “My girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend V.” She shrugs, pointing to the hallway which leads to the front as she teases, “The woman that comes in with a different tooth problem every few weeks- which is much more than anyone should have to go to the dentist by the way- isn’t your girlfriend?” You roll your eyes and stand up, but you can’t help the blush that grows on your face as you think about the Maximoff girl. “Shut up V.” 

You walk to the front of the office building with your salad in hand, smiling brightly as the back of the redhead who's sitting in a chair reading a magazine. “Hey witchy. What brings you here today?” She stumbles off the chair and grins at you. “Hi! I’m here because……because…..because my friend chipped a tooth!” A man with blond hair and big strong arms looks up from his book and gives the girl a confused look. “No I didn’t-” He cuts himself off with a loud groan and brings a hand up to hold his cheek. “What the hell Wanda?” You stare at the pair for a few seconds before he suddenly narrows his eyes as Wanda and states. “No way. I’m not letting you do this anymore.”

Her eyes widen, but it’s too late to do anything as he tells you, quite loudly might I add, “Wanda has a crush on you but has been too baby to say anything so she's been using her magic to fake tooth injuries!” You're silent for a few minutes, and Wanda seems to be getting more nervous by the seconds as she won't make eye contact with you. 

Suddenly, you begin to giggle, which turns into a chuckle which turns into a full on laugh. There's only one patient other than them here and he looks up at you weirdly as you practically stop breathing with laughter. Wanda begins to nervously chuckle, still not making eye contact with you as she asks, “Wha- um…what's funny?”

You stop laughing, taking a bite of your salad as you tell her, “Well Wanda Maximoff, I’ve been flirted with a lot of times by patients, but never once has a patient faked an injury and actually gotten away with it. Props to you honey.” You hold your hand up for a high five, and she awkwardly high fives you. “Along with that, never once has it worked. Their flirting I mean.” “And mine didn’t either?” You sigh, looking to the front desk where all the nurses and doctors are watching you. “Go back to work!” you mouth (not that any of them listen though). “Wanda….sweetie…..I don’t date patients.” She sighs, nodding her head as her friend rubs her back reassuringly. A pen is thrown at your head from one of the other doctors making you silently groan and rub your head. “But….”

Her head snaps up and a hopeful grin takes over her face. “But?” “But if you wait 6 months for our doctor patient relationship to be terminated, I’ll let you take me out on a date.” If possible, her smile gets bigger and she nods, sticking out her hand for you to shake. “Deal?” “Deal.” You shake her hand, but you're quickly pulled into a bone crushing hug.

Wanda Maximoff is an interesting girl. You knew that when she came in for her first appointment a blew a hole through the office window, or when she kept breaking tooth after tooth. There's nothing wrong with being interesting though, as it just gives you a million other things to learn about the girl. Which you did over time when her patient doctor relationship with you finally terminated and she took you on a total of six dates in one month. You learned she's a romance girl, which only continued the longer you guys dated. You learned she cries over dog movies even if they have a happy ending, you learned about her brother Pietro and that every year on the night before their birthday, she sits outside with two plates of cake- one for her, and one for him- as the clock strikes twelve. You learned she loves cooking and baking, and that she can’t paint to save her life. She has flaws, and she's not afraid to admit them as long as you're not afraid to admit yours. And that's only a few reasons why you love her.

[fanfictionalraven]

Dream Warriors Chapter 8

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 8

Summary: Sam and Dean continue to work as the reader's condition worsens but help may come from an unexpected source.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, other SPN characters, other original characters

Word Count: 2,807

Warnings: Canon typical violence, discussions of life support

Read Chapter 7 here.

Sam manages to find the book and brings it back to the hospital only to discover it’s written in some strange language. He calls Cas who agrees to get there as quick as he can, a couple days drive without his grace. The two brothers stay at the hospital with you, both refusing to go back to the bunker.  

They’re sitting in the room, Dean next to your bed, and Sam across the room. He has the book and his laptop open on the table in front of him. Dean’s phone starts to ring and he picks it up, putting it to his ear. 

“Dean,” he says, voice flat. “Hey Jody. – No, nothing new. She’s still out. – We’re holding up. Sammy’s still trying to crack the book. – Yea, thanks. You too,” he says before hanging up. “Just checking in,” he tells Sam. Suddenly, your heart rate sky rockets. Dean and Sam both look at you as a nurse comes running in. 

“Did something happen?” She asks. Dean shakes his head, rising to his feet. 

“No. We were just sitting here,” he tells her. She nods and starts to check the various machines before you. She pulls your sleeve back and frowns. Going to the edge of the bed quickly, she grabs the chart and flips through it. “What is it?” Dean asks. She runs to the door. 

“Doctor!” She calls out. Another woman comes to the door quickly and the nurse leads her over. “Her heart rate spiked, and I was just checking her. Look,” she says, pulling your hand up to reveal a fresh burn. The doctor stares at it then looks at Dean. 

“Any idea how she got that?” She asks. Dean shakes his head. 

“We were just sitting here,” he says. She frowns and looks back at the hand before checking your other, a similar wound on it.  

“That doesn’t just happen, Mr. Winchester,” she says. Dean frowns. 

“Are you implying I burned her on purpose?” He asks. She watches him for a moment before turning to the nurse. 

“Dress them, mark it in her chart,” she tells her before leaving the room. Dean sits back in his chair and watches as the nurse quickly dresses the wounds on your hands. She leaves and Sam looks up at his older brother. 

“That’s not normal,” he says. 

“Nope.” 

“The spell?” Sam asks. Dean nods once. 

“Makes sense. You got anything?” He asks. Sam sighs and shakes his head. 

“I’m having to translate each spell individually. It’s just gonna be luck at this point,” he tells him. Dean nods again and leans forward. 

“Work fast. Who knows what’s going on inside her right now,” he says. 

The rest of the afternoon and night pass uneventfully following the burn. Dean insists that Sam get a few hours of sleep, fresh eyes making the work a little easier in the morning. The younger brother argues but eventually relents and dozes off in his chair. Dean sits, watching you breathe the entire night.  

The doctor comes in the next morning and frowns as she looks at Dean.  

“If you don’t get some sleep, we’ll end up having to admit you too,” she tells him as she checks your chart. He shrugs his shoulders.  

Once again, your heart rate spikes, higher than last time, and your body thrashes in the bed. Sam jolts awake and rushes over as Dean jumps to his feet.  

“What’s going on?!” He asks, frantic. 

“Nurse!!” The doctor calls out, attempting to restrain you. The thrashing stops as soon as it started and your body returns to its limp state. Dean reaches out and grasps your hand in his own. 

“Y/N?” He asks. Sam watches and frowns quickly. 

“She’s bleeding!!” He points to your head as blood inexplicably flows down your temple.  

“What the hell?” The doctor mumbles as the nurse rushes into the room. “We need to get her down for an MRI and x-rays. Now.” Disconnecting a few of the wires and tubes, they roll you from the room quickly, leaving Dean and Sam behind, stunned.  

After a couple of hours of various testing, they bring you back up and reconnect you to the machines. The nurses refuse to say anything and Dean storms from the room, down the hall. He finds the doctor as she comes out of another patient’s room. She frowns when she sees him. 

“The hell is going on with my wife?!” Dean demands. A security guard takes a step towards him but the doctor waves him off quickly. 

“I don’t know,” she tells him. Dean stares at her and shakes his head slowly. 

“You have to have something.” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester but…” She pauses, trying to come up with the right words. “It’s like she was hit by a car. She has a concussion, some broken ribs, and there’s a significant cut on her leg. There is absolutely nothing that can cause that sort of damage, both internal and external, while she’s lying in a bed, unconscious. I…I have no idea what to tell you.” Dean runs his hands over his face. “We’ve stabilized her, taken care of those injuries, and that’s the best we can do. There’s no way to predict what’s going to happen next.” 

“Is that all?” He asks. She sighs and pulls him out of the main hallway and into an empty room. 

“Have a seat,” she tells him. He frowns and shakes his head. 

“What is it?” He asks, crossing his arms as he stands firmly. 

A little bit later, Dean steps back into your room. Sam looks up from the book and watches as his older brother falls back into the chair, running his hands over his face. 

“Dean,” Sam says. He looks over. “She’s on a ventilator now.” Dean nods slightly. 

“She, ummm…she’s struggling to breathe on her own now. Doc said that it was…like she got hit by a car. Concussion, broken ribs…” He trails off and Sam looks away. 

“She’s dying,” he says. Dean nods once again. 

“Asked if she had a living will or if we had discussed what she would want,” he says. Sam looks back at him quickly.  

“Dean, you aren’t really her husband. You two aren’t even a thing. You don’t have that authority,” he says. Dean shakes his head and sighs heavily. 

“I know that, Sam. But you and me, we’re the only family she’s got,” he tells him. Sam frowns and looks at your body.  

“So, we have to decide if she stays on life support or not,” Sam says. Dean shakes his head. 

“There’s nothing to decide. We’re gonna crack the spell and she’ll be fine,” he says. Sam looks at his brother in disbelief. 

“You know, Dean, I’m working as fast as I can but…this book is huge. It takes me hours to figure out one spell and we don’t even remember what the one she used was. The longer we sit around waiting, the worse she gets. Next time, it may not be her ribs,” he says. Dean looks at him and frowns. 

“Are you saying we let her die?!” He asks. 

“This isn’t living, Dean,” he says, pointing to your lifeless body. “She’s just…a shell.” 

“She’s still in there. I know she is and she’s fighting whatever this is,” he tells him. Sam sighs and looks back at the book. “We keep working.” 

A few more days pass, and Dean remains steady by your side. Cas arrives and starts to help Sam with the translation. The doctor checks on you constantly, examining your body for new injuries. A few scrapes and bruises show up but nothing too serious; however, your breathing continues to deteriorate.  

One evening, the three are all together in the room. Dean is in the chair next to you where he always sits. Sam has his laptop in front of him and Cas is flipping through the spell book. A knock on the door draws their attention. Dean rises and walks over, pulling it open to find a man in a suit with a briefcase standing there. 

“Can I help you?” Dean asks. The man glances into the room and sees you in the bed before looking back at Dean. 

“Are you Sam or Dean?” He asks. Dean stares at him and the man smiles. “My name is Arnold Freidman, I’m Y/N’s attorney.” 

“Attor…she has a lawyer?” Dean asks. Arnold nods and holds his hand out. Dean glances at it and reaches to shake it. “I’m Dean. That’s Sam, Cas.” He points to each of them as he takes a step from the door. Arnold steps into the room and smiles over at them, nodding a greeting. He walks over to your bedside and sets his briefcase down before touching your arm gently. 

“I hoped this day would never come,” he says, mournful. Dean, Sam, and Cas all exchange curious looks before Dean walks over to the lawyer. 

“What day?” He asks. Arnold looks at Dean and sighs. 

“There’s a lot to explain. Can we sit?” He asks. Dean nods and returns to his seat next to your bed. Arnold moves to the other side of the room and sits as well. He pulls his briefcase into his lap and folds his hands over it. “Y/N and I met about six years ago. She saved my family from a vampire. It was all a bit of a shock as I’m sure you can imagine.” Dean nods slightly. “As a thank you, I offered her my services.” 

“What did Y/N need a lawyer for?” He asks. He smiles fondly.  

“She assured me she didn’t. But after we talked, there was something she said she may need someday,” he says as he opens his briefcase. He pulls a file folder out and sets the case aside. “This is her living will. Her requests if something were to incapacitate her to the point where she wouldn’t be able to make her own choices.” Dean stares at him before looking at Sam. The younger brother shakes his head slightly.  

“Wait, how did you even find her?” He asks. Arnold smiles at him, patiently.  

“She checks in with me once a week. Every Wednesday evening she calls to check on my family and to let me know she’s still alive. When I didn’t hear from her, I started checking hospitals for her name and her aliases. Y/N Winchester was the first on that list,” he says. Dean shakes his head. 

“She’s never used that name,” he says. Arnold lets out a small laugh. He pulls out a sheet of paper from the file and hands it out for Dean. Taking it, he looks over it quickly. About twenty different names are scrawled out across it in your handwriting and sure enough Y/N Winchester was at the top. 

“So, what does her will say?” Sam asks. Dean frowns as he looks back up. Arnold folds his hands over the file and looks at Dean. 

“She puts her life in your hands,” he says. Dean stares at him.  

“What?” He asks. Arnold nods and opens the file, shifting some papers. 

“She trusts you completely and totally to make the right call,” he tells him. “Ahhh! Here it is.” The lawyer holds an envelope out.  

“What is that?” Dean asks.  

“A letter she wrote you,” he says. Dean takes it with a shaking hand. “You’ll probably want to read it on your own.” 

“You read it?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow. Arnold shakes his head.  

“No. But she cried writing it,” he tells him. Dean frowns and looks at the envelop in his hands. He turns it over and runs a thumb along the seal, contemplating, but shakes his head and slips it into his pocket.  

“Ummm…so it’s my call how long she stays on life support?” He asks. Arnold nods his head once. “The, ugh, the doctor thinks it is already.” 

“Husband?” He asks. Dean runs a hand over the back of his neck and nods. “She said you would probably do that. There’s a lot more in here but it will depend on your decision.” 

“This is a lot,” Dean says. Arnold nods, understanding. 

“Take your time,” he tells him. Dean takes a deep breath as he looks back at your body. 

“Need some air,” he mumbles, rising to his feet quickly. He leaves the room and Sam and Cas exchange looks. Sam leaves the room and finds his brother outside in a small courtyard, running his hands over his face. 

“Dean,” he says. Dean looks up and shakes his head. 

“Ya know when we were just talking about what to do, it was easier. Now, knowing she actually trusts me with this…” He trails off and Sam nods, frowning. 

“It’s real,” he says. Dean nods. “She picked you for a reason, Dean. You’ll make the right call for Y/N.” Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls the envelope back out. He runs his fingers over his name across the front written in your easily recognizable handwriting. 

“I’m gonna…” He stops and holds it up. Sam nods and pats his brother’s shoulder before going back into the hospital. Sighing heavily, Dean falls onto a nearby bench. He carefully unseals the envelope and pulls out a folded piece of paper. Hesitating for a brief moment, he unfolds the letter. 

Dean, 

If you’re reading this then things are bad for me. I’m either already dead or pretty damn close. You’ve met Arnold by now and know what I’m asking of you. If you have to make the choice, there’s a few things I want to say to you first. 

Trust Arnold. He’s a good man with a great family. He knows what he’s doing and will get everything handled as quickly as possible. 

I know this isn’t going to be an easy choice for you. It wouldn’t be easy for me if the roles were reversed. I’ll make this as straightforward as I can even though there’s no such thing as straightforward in our lives. 

If I’m not coming back as me, I don’t want to come back. If me coming back means someone else has to die, I don’t want to come back. If I’m being kept alive by machines, let me go. That’s not the “life” I want, Dean.  

He squeezes his eyes closed, forcing the tears away. After calming himself, he continues to read. 

If any of those apply or if I’m already dead, then give me the usual. Salt and burn. Have a few drinks with the family. You can spread my ashes off that pier where we sat and watched the sunrise after spending the night clearing that vamp nest.  

Whatever happened, don’t beat yourself up about it. I’m sure you’ll try and make it your fault but we both know I’m too damn stubborn for that to be true.

I can’t put into words what you mean to me. I’ve tried. This is the third time I’ve tried to write this letter. Thank you for taking me in all those years ago and nursing me back to health. Thank you for teaching me everything you know and saving my ass more times than I can count. You’ve been the best part of my life since my family died. 

Tell Sam and Cas that I love them. Give Jody and the girls a big hug for me. 

Keep fighting.

I love you, Dean.

Y/N

Dean wipes at his eyes quickly before folding the letter back up. He pockets it and leans forward, resting on his knees and squeezing his eyes closed. He knew what he had to do, what you wanted him to do.

Pull the plug. 

“Ya know, some women like it when a man cries. I don’t see it though,” a Scottish-accented voice says from the entrance to the courtyard. Dean rises quickly and glares over at the red-headed witch. 

“The hell are you doing here, Rowena?” He asks. She smiles at him as she walks over. 

“A little birdie told me a certain someone wasn’t feeling very well. I came to help,” she says. Dean shakes his head as he watches her. 

“What do you want? The book?” He asks. She rolls her eyes. 

“Simpleton,” she mumbles. “Actually, I owe Y/N a favor. And I always pay my debts.” 

“You owe her?” He asks. She nods her head once but doesn’t offer any explanations. Dean hesitates for a moment. He didn’t trust Rowena. Any time they’d tried to before, she’d screwed them over. But he was willing to try anything to get you back. Besides, your letter didn’t say anything about seeking a little extra help. “If you screw us…” 

“Oh, I know. Same old story. Come on,” she says, turning for the entrance to the hospital. 

Read Chapter 9 here.

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @call-me-mrs-winchester

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @alisyacsa @lailawinchesterr @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl @kr804573 @thej2report @just-levyy @snowayumi @deans-baby-momma @demons-eats-pie-too @brightlilith @kazsrm67 @onlyangel444

[pedge-page]

just cut my hand and i’m losing my mind thinking about joel licking up my blood. i need blood kink!joel like i need air

Anon: I do hope your hand is better!!! Im sorry this has been in my inbox forever but here's my drabble for it.

Warnings: blood kink!Joel, blood, toxic controlling Joel

- - - -

You're slicing vegetables for your homemade soup when you knick your pointer finger with the blade, hissing loudly.

It didn't feel like much aside from a sharp sting, but the blood flowing down your palm and to your wrist screamed otherwise.

"Shit," you curse, searching for a towel to wrap your hand in.

Your movements are haulted when you feel a calloused grip hold your arm out, firmly, almost painfully so. His body pins your hips to the counters edge, his hot breath sending goosebumps over the shell of your ear.

You close your eyes. Prayers fill your mind that he can't feel your heartbeat through your back, doesn't know the fear youre feeling right now under his presence, against his sturdy powerful body, knowing it'd end badly if you even tried to resist him.

He doesn't say anything. Your wrist trembles in his grasp, the blood shining darkly against your skin, thick and oozing down to your forearm now. You both watch as a drop begins to form, threatening to spill past your elbow.

But it quickly finds safety—or perhaps greater danger—when Joel's lips enclose around it. He hums as the bitter metallic taste overwhelms his taste buds. You gasp at the nudge of his hardened cock still pressed against your ass.

He swallows, then trail his tongue over the crimson path, lips ghosting over the clean areas he's engulfed. You feel hot kisses bruning into your skin, tongue flat, lapping up every microbe of your blood until he's taking your hand in his mouth, eyes meeting yours as he sucks more and more of it, drawing closer till he's suckling straight from the source of your cut.

He groans, heavy lidded eyes narrowed on your wide ones. You see his apple bob in his throat as he cleans your wound with his saliva before he kisses the wound one last time.

"Th-thank you, Joel—"

He roughly grips the back of your neck and clashes his lips on yours. Devouring, nipping, skinning you alive if could in this kiss that is anything but loving. Anything but reassuring. It's a threat, and so clearly when you gasp as his teeth sink into your lower lip.

You pull away instinctively, feeling a swell in your mouth.  he licks your fresh blood from his own lips, savoring it, relishing in swallowing something sacred of yours.

His thumb glides along the puffy cut he'd given you, pushing down slightly with a threatening grip around your jaw "Be careful, birdie. Ain't nobody, not even you, allowed to hurt this body—nobody—"

He tilts his head and stares into your soul with a growl. "—'cept me."

- - - -

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[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Thriller

@wolfstarmicrofic July 2, word count 989

CW- Blood, guns, gunshot, open wound

Sirius darted down side streets and into alleyways. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving as it dragged oxygen into his exhausted body. Pounding footsteps approached. He ducked down behind the small rubbish bins, clamping his hand over his mouth, so his rapid breathing didn’t give him away. 

Multiple footsteps ran past his hiding place, but one set lingered, turning into the alleyway. Sirius took a few steadying breaths and tensed his muscles, ready for action. The person came closer, kicking the bins out of his way. There was only one bin left between them. With all his remaining strength, Sirius kicked the bin, knocking his pursuer to the ground. He launched himself over him, catching a glimpse of his face on his way past. The man’s mask had slipped. It was Regulus. Fuck! Sirius took off running the way he’d come, the others long gone. A shot rang out behind him as he sped around a corner. It just missed him, ricocheting off the wall right where his head had been a second before. Regulus never missed. What was he playing at? Sirius didn’t hang around to find out.

He laid low until he could get to the safe house. When he finally felt it was safe, he made his way there, making sure she wasn’t followed. A grizzled man was waiting for him. He held a gun to Sirius’s temple while he searched him and took the flash drive from his pocket. 

“Congratulations, Black. You managed to not fuck up an assignment or get killed doing so,” Moody grunted at him. 

“Regulus was there,” He told him. Moody took a deep breath and growled. 

“Did he make you?” He spat through his teeth. 

“I don’t know. I threw a bin at him and ran. He took a shot, but he missed and you know he never misses his target.” Moody grumbled something under his breath that Sirius didn’t catch. 

“We’re going to get you a partner for your next mission. Ah, no, I don’t want to hear it, Black,” He said when Sirius tried to protest. “If Regulus is caught up in this then it’s too dangerous to send you out alone. He knows how you think, how you move and how you fight. You’ll be a liability we can’t afford to have.” Sirius gritted his teeth, but he knew it was for the best. 

“Who do you have in mind?” He blew out. Resigned to his fate. 

“New lad. Ridiculously smart. Calm in a crisis. Perfect balance for you and your chaos.” Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“Has Mr Perfect got a name then?” 

“Remus Lupin,” Moody grinned a toothy smile. Sirius felt a chill wash over him. 

Remus Lupin turned out to be a tall, skinny, well-spoken man who shouldn't have been anywhere near all this.

 Moody had them train together. “I want you to know each other inside and out. Shut up Black, that is not what I meant and you know it.” Sirius bit his tongue to keep from smiling. “You need to work together or no assignments. Do I make myself clear?” They both nodded.

They trained together for weeks, learning how the other moved and thought until they flowed around each other, predicting what the other was going to do before they’d even thought about it. 

The other side had a plan for something terrible and it was their job to infiltrate and find out what was going to happen. 

Sirius watched in awe as Remus expertly picked the locks on a small side door and they slipped into the dark building. 

It was freezing inside. Sirius shook it off, getting his head in the zone. 

They made slow progress up the levels. Riddle would be on the top floor, with his second-in-command on the floor below. That’s where the information would be. 

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was too easy. Why hadn’t they met any of the grunts lower down? 

He gingerly pushed open the door to the floor they needed and crept into the large-decadently-styled open room. Remus sped across the room to the computer and began trying to find the information. It was taking too long, and Sirius felt the panic setting in. 

“Hurry up, Remus,” He hissed, his gun trained on the only door in or out of the room. A hidden door on the far wall opened silently. 

“Tut tut, brother of mine. I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, are you?” Regulus drawled, his gun pointing at Remus. “Call off your man and I might let you out of this building,” Sirius froze and turned to Remus in horror. 

“Come on, Reggie, you know it’s me you want.”  

“I’ve been watching you, Sirius. I know exactly how you feel about him,” Sirius swallowed. Remus typed furiously on the computer. He gasped and met Sirius’s eyes. He’d found something. Remus suddenly jumped up, a flash drive in his hand.

Regulus cocked his gun.

“You don’t think you’re going anywhere with that, do you?” Regulus held out his hand. “Give it here, Lupin.” He swung his gun to Sirius, who’d started inching towards Remus. “Ah, ah, Sirius, no sneaking now. Hand it over, Lupin!” He repeated, pulling back the hammer on the gun. “Final warning, give it to me!” 

The gun went off and Sirius dove in front of Remus. 

He felt a strange pressure, he looked down and saw a small hole just below his heart, red liquid dribbling out. 

“Oh, shit,” He breathed out. Remus rushed to his side and grabbed his hand, pressing it into the wound. He screamed. 

“Keep your hand there and don’t move it,” Remus grunted as he threw Sirius over his shoulder and fled the building. 

He woke up in the hospital, somehow alive, Remus holding onto his hand and all he could think was Regulus never missed. So why had he for a second time?

[hairmetal666]

A continuation of the childhood sweethearts first kiss fic...

Eddie is 10 when he get his first kiss. A lot of people wouldn't consider it a real first, It's a dry press of chapped lips, chaste and sweet, but it remains the best kiss he's ever had, the one that means the most.

It's the summer before he moves to Hawkins--spending the school break with his Uncle Wayne--before he's known to the town as a loser weirdo freak, and he makes a friend. A boy golden bright as the sun, who steals Eddie's heart at first glance and keeps taking it again and again and again--not by force, but by his pure kindness, by his surprisingly wicked sense of humor, by the joyful way he experiences the world.

They run through the woods of Hawkins, ride bikes until the streetlights glow, swim until they fall asleep on a pool lounger, spend their nights in a tent in the wide Harrington backyard. He's not known around town yet, so the parents don't hate him, call him trash, fear for their child's reputation. He's just a boy still, his faded clothes and worn tennis shoes can be blamed on northing more than the consequences of a summer spent outdoors. Though, maybe it's just that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington aren't around enough to notice.

On his last night before he returns home to his parents, they make a fort in Steve's bedroom, find all the blankets and pillows in the house, create a cozy structure just big enough for two. They share all their secrets, their hopes and dreams, and as night becomes morning, Steve whispers, "Eddie...can I kiss you?"

Yes is the only possible answer he can give, and as Steve's mouth touches his, Eddie knows he will never love anyone else, not for as long as he lives, not if they never even see each other again.

He belongs to Steve Harrington, body and soul.

---

Eddie moves to Hawkins a year later. His first day of school, two months into the semester, he sees Steve in the hallway. Eddie's whole face lights up as he sees his friend, but--Steve's eyes slide right past him. He sees Eddie, no doubt about it, but there's no light of recognition, no excitement, no joyful reunion.

After a few years he accepts that Steve will never acknowledge him. He almost succeeds in not letting it bother him, and it's for that reason that it doesn't break his heart when Steve falls for Nancy Wheeler. It doesn't kill him to see Steve's beaten face after his fight with Jonathan Byers. It doesn't keep him up at night, watching Steve lose all his other friends. He doesn't hate jocks and rant on cafeteria tabletops just in the hope that Steve will look his way.

Everything changes after Nancy and Steve break-up and Hargrove beats the shit out of him. Whatever high school social cachet Steve still has disappears overnight, but dethroned King Steve still doesn't notice Eddie. He's made his peace with it. Moved on. He's an adult now, basically. He's going to graduate high school and move to the big city and he'll meet so many guys and never ever think about Steve Harrington ever again.

---

He's smoking a cigarette in the little-used bathroom up by the auditorium. His eyes are half-closed, imagining shapes in the tendrils of smoke.

The door bangs open, shocking him upright, the cigarette falling to the floor.

Steve Harrington stumbles inside, hands covering his face, blood pouring through his fingers.

"Steve!" Eddie yelps, can't help it when there's blood, when Steve is hurt.

Like always, he doesn't even bother to look at Eddie. It shouldn't shred his heart to pieces but Eddie's always been weak for Steve.

"What happened?" He asks, even though he knows he shouldn't care.

"Doesn't matter," Steve answers. He's standing at the sink, blood splattering the white porcelain red.

Acting against each one of his sharply honed instincts, Eddie rushes to the nearest paper towel dispenser, ripping half the roll off.

"Move your hands. Relax your head." He's surprised when Steve does as he says.

Eddie uses the paper towels to staunch the flow, pinches at the bridge of Steve's nose with his thumb and index finger. "How do you not know how to fix a bloody nose?" he mutters.

"I know how," Steve argues. "I just--" he pauses, swallows hard. "Why are you helping me?"

He doesn't know how to answer this question. He shouldn't be helping Steve.

"I don't know."

They don't talk again, not until the bleeding stops, and then Steve says, "It was Hagan, the motherfucker. He shoved me into a locker and I didn't have time to get my hands up."

"He's a dick," Eddie agrees. "It's not broken, though."

Steve shrugs. They fall silent again, neither moving. "Thanks," he says. He doesn't look at Eddie.

"Would have done it for anyone."

Those hazel eyes stay fixed to the linoleum as Steve nods. Eddie doesn't know what to do next. If he should leave or press for more that he shouldn't want.

But then Steve lets out a gulping kind of sob, is falling against Eddie's chest, and Eddie wraps his arms around him, holds him so tight even he can't breathe.

"Oh, Stevie," he whispers, and without really thinking, he pulls them into the nearest stall, shutting the door behind him.

Between his cries Steve repeats, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Eddie can't tell him that it's okay, so he combs his fingers through Steve's hair and holds him, fighting off his own tears.

Eventually the sobs stop and the tears dry up, but Steve doesn't break their embrace.

"I shouldn't have ignored you, Eddie," Steve says into the quiet. "You didn't deserve it."

"Why did you?" Thinks it's his right to an explanation, after everything.

"I wrote to you. After you left. Was gonna visit Wayne and get your address, but then my dad found them. He said, 'boys don't write letters,' and ripped them up. He told me if you ever showed up in Hawkins again we weren't allowed to be friends. The next week he'd signed me up for every available sports league in town.

"I was so excited when I saw you at school, Eds. I couldn't believe you were here. I panicked, though, and decided to pretend like I didn't recognize you. It was easy, not having to decide what to do, so I just...kept doing it. I wanted my dad to be proud of me."

"I'm sorry he did that to you, Stevie. For what it's worth, I would've loved to get those letters. I would've written back."

Steve laughs a little. "I know. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I've regretted it every day, but I had no idea how to make it right."

Eddie shouldn't want more. He knows that he's lucky they've even had this moment, but he always needs to push.

"You could try now," he says.

"Hmm?"

"To make it right. You could try now."

A smile illuminates Steve's perfect face. "You mean it?"

Steve's hand slips against Eddie's cheek, moving up to card through his hair. His thoughts scatter like fractures of light, as Steve touches him in a way he only imagined in the midnight depths of his wildest fantasies.

Their second kiss is just as soft and sweet as the first, their lips coming together in a gentle press.

They separate, and his fingers immediately go to his mouth. "You--did you--" He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a few deep breaths. "You can't kiss me like that unless you mean it, Steve. You can't just--"

"I meant it. I meant every second. I never stopped missing you. I hated that I made it impossible to be your friend. It's been eating me up for years. I want to make it right."

"I need time," he says. His voice trembles. " I want that too, Steve, but after everything, I need to know I can trust you."

Steve nods and gives him a small smile. "I'll do anything, Eds."

---

They hangout almost everyday, and Eddie finds that, underneath all that King Steve bullshit, he's still the boy Eddie fell head over heels for at 10, golden and bright and so lovely. Still mean, still funny, still owns Eddie's heart.

Steve doesn't kiss him again, and that's for the best no matter how much Eddie longs for it.

A little over a month later, Steve invites Eddie to his house again.

He follows Steve up to his bedroom--just as terribly plaid, just as empty of things that made it Steve's--except there's a pillow fort built against the bed.

"What's this?" Eddie raises an eyebrow and stifles a smile.

Steve rolls his eyes. "You know what. C'mon, get in."

They're a little too big for a fort now, but they squish inside, limbs tangling until they end up in a giggling heap.

"A fort, Stevie?" Eddie asks once he can talk again.

Steve's smile is soft. "These last few weeks have been the best of my life. You're my best friend. And I was just wondering--" he falters here for the first time, breath stuttering. "Can I kiss you?"

Sparks erupt in Eddie's chest, his smile so big that it hurts. What a fool he was, to think he would ever stop loving Steve Harrington.

"Please," he answers.

[mrsshabana]

Patient!Gyutaro x Nurse!Reader - CHAPTER 3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

✦ CW: 18+ MDNI, female reader. Dead dove: do not eat. Extreme violence, mentions of self harm, mentions of non-con, mental illness, torture, physical and mental harm, abuse, altered mental state.

✦ AN: This chapter is very very disturbing. Please read all of the content warnings and proceed with caution.

✦ WC: 1,983

It took hours for you to get up from the floor. 

Hours for your tears to stop flowing from your eyes. And days for the pain to recede enough for you to be able to function properly. Not that you did. 

Things were never the same after that.

You couldn’t bear seeing him again. But you do. Even though you haven’t stepped foot in that asylum for a week, you still see him every day. Remnants of him on your body every time you look in the mirror. And his face appears every night in your dreams. 

You took a leave of absence for a week after the incident. You had planned to search for a new job in the meantime, but instead you stayed in bed all week and cried. Every time you looked into the mirror it’d trigger a panic attack, ending with you huddled in on  yourself on the bathroom floor. Breath staggered, eyes wide, and skin under your nails because you can’t stop scratching. You can feel him inside of you. You tried everything to get him out… but it’s like he’s a part of you now. 

Maybe that’s why you came back. 

Came back to the asylum… back to him. Even though you hate him, you feel like a part of you is missing when he’s not around. Like you had to get back to him to fill some kind of void. A void that he created, a place in your heart that only he could fit into. 

The marks aren’t gone, the ones that he left for you as a symbol of his ownership. You have to wear a scarf now to cover the bruises. So deep that even after a week they haven’t subsided. And the new ones on your wrists. Though not from him, you made them because of him. Hopefully no one will notice.

.・゜゜・　♰　・゜゜・．

Walking into the asylum for the first time in seven days, it feels strangely inviting, like this is where you belong. It’s early in the morning so you figure that Gyutaro will still be asleep.

The fluorescent lights flicker down the hallway as you make your way to his dimly lit room. Your heart pounds in your chest. Approaching his door feels like signing your soul away to the devil, but at the same time it feels like being embraced by an angel. 

Peeking inside you see that his room is empty. This isn’t right. Why is his room empty? His room is still filled with his stuff so you know they haven’t moved him. 

Going back to the nurses station in this wing, you look through the patient records for today to try and figure out where they took Gyutaro. They always keep track of all of the patient’s information here, like when they are given meals, therapy sessions, family visits, etc. Everything is kept track of.

“Here we go,” you mumble to yourself, finally finding Gyutaro’s file for this week. He was taken to room 44B. You don’t bother reading what for, all that matters is that you get to your patient. 

The room isn’t far, just through the door on the left and at the end of the hallway. 

Leisurely walking through the hall, enjoying the sunlight warming your skin as it shines through the barred windows. 

“HELP ME!!” 

A blood curdling, raspy scream interrupts the pleasant moment. It sends shivers down your spine, and for some reason causes your eyes to well up with tears. 

“GET MY NURSE!! PLEASE!!”

The voice screams in desperation from the end of the hall. You know that voice but you refuse to believe it’s him. He’s never sounded so, so helpless. It’s so jarring that you feel frozen. 

“NURSE Y/N!! HELP ME!! PLEASE!!” 

The voice gets more desperate.

“NO!! NO!! I’M SORRY! PLEASE GET NURSE Y/N!!”

The room rumbles and the lights flicker as your body moves on its own, desperately trying to get to him. 

“Mr. Shabana!” You shout, tears rolling down your cheeks as you open the heavy metal doors at the end of the hall.

The sight before you is straight out of a horror film. 

Lights flickering violently. A high pitched electric ping ringing through your ears.

Gyutaro lays on his back, wrists and ankles strapped to the bed sitting in the middle of the room. Two nurses stand beside him, one to his left, another to his right. And a doctor stands behind his head, holding some strange device to Gyutaro’s temples. 

His eyes stay wide and his body convulses violently as he’s electrocuted. 

A disturbing whine rumbling in his chest, muffled by the cloth in his mouth. 

The sight is so overwhelming that you feel as though you are being electrocuted in place as well. Seeing him in a position of weakness and pain should bring a smile to your face. He does deserve it for what he’s done to you, doesn’t he? That’s how you should feel. 

When the doctor sees you, he removes the device from Gyutaro’s temples. 

“Ah nurse Y/N,” he smiles calmly, “You’re back from your leave I see. Would you like to assist me?”

He narrows his red eyes, and motions for you to come forward. His long black hair held neatly behind him in a ponytail. You’ve seen this doctor around before but you’ve never spoken to him, only heard rumors about his short temper. 

“Oh um… y-yes sir,” mindlessly agreeing and moving beside him. Looking down at Gyutaro, his body is in a state of shock and it seems as though he is in no state to register what’s going on. 

“One more round should be enough to do the trick,” the doctor grins and hands you the metal device, “Just place these pads on his temples and I’ll turn on the switch.” His voice is low as he speaks. 

You nod and hesitantly move the device to Gyutaro’s head. Looking down at him, he looks so pathetic and weak. Just like you had. But you’re the one in control now, and he’s at your mercy. 

Gyutaro’s eyes slowly roll back to look at you, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he whimpers. As if he’s begging to be shown mercy. 

But where was your mercy when he violently assaulted you?

The doctor ups the voltage and flips the switch, sending a powerful electric shock straight through the device and into Gyutaro’s body. 

This should bring you pleasure. It should make you happy! He deserves this doesn’t he? After what he’s done! Feeling sympathy for such a monster would only mean you are just as bad as him. 

The restraints clack against the metal bed frame as his muscles contract from the second electric shock sent through his body. The shock is so strong that even after the doctor ceases his ministrations and you remove the device, Gyutaro’s body is left trembling in place. Contorted and petrified,  eyes wide open, teeth clenched tightly around the gag that muffles the inhuman wail that continues to come from him. It’s eerie how the sound doesn’t falter, continuously leaving him as if his soul is trying to escape the prison of his body. 

“There,” the doctor takes the device from you and pats your back, “Well done Miss Y/N! Mr. Shabana will be on his way to recovery with your help.”

Staring down at Gyutaro’s pained body, you can’t take your eyes off of him. “Y-yes… he will,” your voice cracks as tears roll down your cheeks in unison with the ones rolling down Gyutaro’s.

After the electroshock therapy, Gyutaro is left a lifeless husk. Unable to do anything, move his body, or even speak, you and the doctor have to pick up his body after removing his restraints and put him into a wheelchair.

You cry all the way back to his room. The other nurses give you confused glances as you push the most violent patient through the halls. His body sits limp in the chair, barely able to hold himself up as a continual low moan escapes his lips.

Getting back to his room you quickly close the door, not caring that it’s against protocol, and assist Gyutaro onto the bed. 

He’s heavier than he looks. Propping him up on your shoulder in an attempt to hold him up, but you’re too weak. He falls back into the chair. 

“Mr. Shabana? Can you hear me?” kneeling down in front of him, you hold his cheek in your palm. 

He doesn’t even move his eyes to look at you, his head moves heavily in your hand. Able to maneuver him as if he’s a life sized doll.

“Please Mr. Shabana,” you whimper as you start to break down, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him, you bring him forward in a warm embrace. You sob on your knees, resting your forehead on his chest. He doesn’t react at all, just sits there and lets you use his body for comfort. 

You lose track of time as you cry into his shirt and spew incoherent apologies he doesn’t deserve. 

“Gyutaro,” you look up at him and wipe your eyes. This time his irises move slowly in your direction.

“Y…Y/N,” he groans. You can barely make out the word as drool slips from his mouth and down his chin.

“Yes! That’s it Gyutaro, it’s me,” you smile through your tears, “I’m here, don’t worry.”

Pulling a tissue out of your pocket and using it to wipe his face. You caress his cheek and move his face to look at you, “How are you feeling?”

He stares at you with an unchanging, lifeless expression. It’s terrifying seeing him this way, you rather he be his usual cruel self than be a hollow shell. 

You don’t know what to do. His brain is so fried that he can’t even manage to speak, let alone comprehend the words coming out of your mouth. Occasional spasms tremor through his body, causing his limbs to twitch. 

Deciding that the best thing for him right now would be rest, you put your arms under his armpits and attempt to move him onto the bed again.

“I’m going to move you to the bed, ok? Can you stand for me, sweetie?”

You do most of the work, but he barely holds himself up with trembling legs. This time you’re able to get him onto the bed. Gently laying down his body and sitting beside him.

“I’m going to let you rest now, I’ll come back to check on you in an hour,” you say as you move his hair away from his eyes. 

As soon as you look away and start getting up to leave, you hear a faint whimper. A shaky hand weakly trying to grab your arm.

“D-don’t… leave me…” he croaks, watery eyes spilling tears onto his cheeks, “Please.”

Seeing this man crumble before you should feel good. It was only last week that he had assaulted you, mercilessly taking advantage of your body, showing no mercy. He was so strong back then, and look at him now.

But seeing him in this state doesn’t feel good. The pain you feel is excruciating, almost worse than what he had put you through that day. 

“Oh Gyutaro,” you can’t stop your tears from flowing, “I’ll never leave you.” Sobbing as you crawl into the bed beside him. He latches onto you like a child holding onto its mother. 

Gyutaro wraps his arms and legs around you, clutching onto you like if you left it’d mean he’d die. His only comfort would be gone and he’d lose it. Nuzzling his head into your chest, he soaks in your warmth as he rides out the painful spasms that shake through his body.

“You’re safe with me,” you whisper to him, stroking his hair to comfort him, “I will never abandon you.”

Taglist: @gyusimp @sterzin @sassysaxsolo @cry-baby-stuff @hutchilli @rasshu-benaio @pastelbluecloudy3 @idekwhyihavethisl @migueloharaslovingwife

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

1. The Beginning

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader / The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Series Masterlist

Strangers, friends, lovers. Isn’t that the natural flow of things? The instinctive humane magnet that pulls two souls together; wasn’t that just the way of life? I often wonder if I had never laid eyes on him would the word still be intact? If I had never said yes to the role, if I had just moved on to another project, maybe my world would still be turning. I could still have a real body, real blood flowing through my veins. I almost remember what it felt like to bleed. Is it strange that I missed it? The pain? In this sorry excuse of a world, I guess anything can be normalized. Sadly I can’t recall what happiness used to feel like. I assume amazing and warm.

I stare into the cracked mirror, dusting the powder over my face, touching up the tattooed perfection. "Ready in 5," Conor speaks from the curtain. "Thank you," I take one last look into the remains of myself. I press my hand to my chest, feeling the light thump of my heart, one of the remaining parts of who this woman used to be. I stand, the black shawl dragging the ground behind me, the edges ripped and frayed. I pass Conor, grabbing the glass of water and drowning it down. "You've got a big crowd tonight." I smile at him, the facade growing. "Why wouldn't I? Even in this wasteland, I'm still the best singer the world has ever seen." A light centers onto the stage in the back of the venue. I step out beginning the set.

~

217 YEARS AGO

The crowd applause rings through the venue. I raise both my arms taking a bow, soaking in their appreciation. I blow a kiss before sauntering off the stage and behind the curtains where my assistant waits with refreshments. "Honey, I've got someone I want you to meet.” I roll my eyes knowing exactly what that means. “I’m not taking the time today, Louis.” He proceeds to grab my elbow and guide me to the dressing room. “Yes, you are. Especially when it’s a director.” My ears peek at the mention. “A director?”

The door swings open and I see a man sitting on my sofa. Expensive suit and tie, most definitely involved in the business. “There she is!” He extends his arm, grasping my hands, “Our Nation's sweetheart. Boy, my wife is going to be upset at this one.” I smile at him. “Well, the pleasure is all mine. I hope you enjoyed the show.” He beams at me, “the show? Oh, I could’ve watched for hours.”

Louis steps in, tossing my robe over my shoulders and taking my jewelry off my limbs. “Mr. Vander is here to discuss an opportunity for you.”

Mr. Vander nods with excitement brewing. “I certainly am! I’m casting a new film, Under the Covers, and I want you to be our leading lady.” I open my mouth, eyes widening “You know I’m a singer, not an actress, right?” Mr. Vander waves his hands in protest. “That's just the thing! I've had some written songs for the film. It's not a full-blown musical, but I'm widening my wings. I guarantee you will do just peachy!” I twiddle my fingers. “I don’t know, Mr. Vander. The big screen? Me? I just can’t see it.” Mr. Vander slides a script across the table. “Take a look, give me a call. No pressure, Sweetie.” He leaves without another word.

As soon as the door closes Louis is flipping through the pages. “You’re doing this.” I sigh at his words. “Can’t I take a break? It’s been show after show, and now I finally have some time off and you want me to go out to California and embarrass myself? I’ve got a lucky set of cords, that’s all.” I begin to wipe away my makeup.

Louis chuckles as he reads a line from the page. “You would kill this role. She’s a sassy badass. Look! Just read this line right here.” He pushes the paper into my face as I sit. I look over the words with a light giggle before turning to gaze at myself in the mirror. Louis begins, “I made a bad call.” I roll my eyes, “you think? Just sit there and let me do all the work. You men are sure good at causing trouble, but you ain’t too good at getting out of it. That’s where you need me.” I bite my lip as I finish reading. It would be fun to star in a film. Different and unique. I would still be able to sing. Not many singers get the chance to branch out like this. I wave my hand with confidence. “Oh, what the hell? Why not. I’m in.” Louis jumps up in celebration.

The following week I was on the set of a real movie. Trailers lined the lot, makeup bags and racks of clothes in every corner, and people buzzed around in their madness. Louis stands behind me, hands on my shoulders, “You got this.”

“Excuse me? Hi there, I'm Mr. Vander's executive assistant.” A woman asked directly. “If you would follow me. Mr. Vander wanted to make sure of your arrival.” Louis hauls my bag behind him as we follow the woman through the busy lot.

“Mr. Vander? Your star is here.” He flies out of his seat and grabs my hands, kissing my knuckles. “Ah! My leading lady! My Songbird! I am so happy you decided to say yes. We are going to make this such a special film. Now if you please follow me, I’d like to introduce you to your costar.” Walking a short way, we stop at a scenic backdrop where a man is walking down the street. He dips down an alleyway silently. He tips his hat slightly, before walking towards a building in question. Loud bells ring out, and the buzz of people continues, as their tasks have switched.

“Cooper,” Vander waves the man over once the scene has been cut. “This is our leading lady. She’ll be portraying Mary.” The man takes the hat off and shakes my hand lightly. “Cooper Howard. It’s a great privilege. My daughter adores your records.” His cheery smile and soft eyes struck me. His skin is smooth and warm to the touch. I had to kick myself just to speak. “Hello, Mr. Howard.” "Oh please, call me, Cooper."

And from then on, from that one moment, I was in trouble.

We would rehearse together, have our lunch together, and have dinner together when the day rolled around too late to go home. It became a natural routine. He made me feel special. By 4 weeks in I was in deep shit. I couldn't wait to see him. He started to invade my mind at all hours of the night. I started to question if he would like certain outfits as I put them on each day.

He told me about his life. He shared little details that seemed intimate. I sit in my makeup chair as he enters my trailer with a coffee. "Your ears must've been burning. I was just going to ask for one." I tease as I take the cup into my hands. He smiles that dumb smile, and I can feel myself sink into the chair. My makeup artist twists a tube of liner and groans upon seeing the state of said liner. "Ugh, I need to get another lip liner, don't move." I sit very still with wide eyes making her laugh. "I didn't mean it literally!" I smile as the door shuts. It doesn't take Cooper but a second to be standing over my chair, hands on my shoulders, exchanging glances in the mirror. It was now 9 weeks into filming, and I was fucked. I was completely infatuated with this man.

I feel the exposed skin on my shoulders burns as his fingertips brush over it. I feel my head lean into his touch ever so slightly. "You look beautiful." Why the fuck was he doing this to me? It's on purpose, it has to be. He certainly didn't act like this to any other female on set. Was it just a method to make sure we had that connection when we filmed?

Cooper's light squeeze on my shoulders brings me back. I smile at him in the mirror. He tilts his head, "You alright, darlin'?" I nod silently. Cooper leans down, his lips trailing up my ear as he whispers, “You nervous about the kiss?” I stare into his eyes, mine widening. “I thought we weren’t filming that scene until a few weeks.” His smirk only grows. I unknowingly provided my answer. I knew I was going to say it if he didn’t leave my trailer. I couldn't help myself. His fingers burned my skin. My lungs filled but wouldn't release. I was surely going to burst. "I-" "FOUND IT!" My makeup artist walks in victorious. "Cooper, they need you on set." I avert my eyes from him, trying to control my breathing. He nods and releases my shoulders before exiting. I felt my body exhale the large sigh I was holding in. I shake my head lightly trying to push my inner thoughts away.

~

The detective watches the passing car. He begins to trail the group on foot as they turn down a street. "Well, if it isn't my big tipper." He looks up to see Mary Jones, the singer from the club the men in question were just seen leaving. She makes her way across the street, meeting him under the lamplight. He was losing his chance, but he would get shot if he was promised she'd be the last thing his eyes set upon. "Just leaving, Mary?" He narrows his eyes at her. She knew something. She was the boss's favorite girl after all. The detective points down the road. "Those men, did they mention anything interesting?" She narrows her eyes, "Are you asking me to go against my boss? Where else would I sing?" Her sly smile cuts him deep. He wishes no harm to come to his beauty. He could let them get a head start. He lays his hand on her waist, pulling her in, their faces inches apart. "Now, you listen, doll. Those men, they could hurt you." Mary runs a gloved finger over his bottom lip. "And I can handle myself, sugar." She stares at his lips, her tongue darting to wet her own. “But if you’re so concerned, why don’t you walk me home? Make sure I get there safe and sound.” They move swiftly down the streets sharing cigarettes and longing gazes.

He leans on her door, drinking her in. “Don’t go to the club tomorrow.” He says in a whisper. She picked his chin up, “You understand I have to. But you can come visit and return this for me.” She leans up pressing her body against him, attaching their lips in harmony. His hands moved to grip her waist, pulling a small moan from her mouth.

“CUT!”

I blink quickly, suddenly becoming very aware of my closeness to Cooper. Hell, I just kissed the man. Well, Mary technically kissed the detective. I beg my bones to stay professional, but the heat growing in my core causes me to shutter.

"Beautiful! Just stunning. I could swear you LOVE this man! Singer my ass, you picked the wrong path Sweets." Mr. Vander cries as he takes off the headset. He spins me around dramatically. "My little songbird!"

"Whoa, now, bud. Don't go breaking her," Cooper's voice peels out in a firm tone. Mr. Vander sets me down, holding me at arm's length. "Now, this Friday we will be filming your solo. So, drink some tea or whatever the fuck you do." I laugh trying to sway back and forth to gather friction between my legs. I can feel his body heat next to me. He lays an arm on the small of my back, drawing circles. I jump lightly at his trailing fingers. I need to get away from him before my internal flames ignite this entire lot.

"Cooper, I need you to rehearse as much as you can. Love you, buddy, but you have two left feet and your chops are going to need some tuning. So, with that being said, please spend every waking moment together." Fucking great. Vander walks away but turns back quickly. "And Cooper, I want you both in the dance studio tomorrow morning. Jessica wants to rework the choreography."

I am so fucked. I can barely stand close to this man now without wanting to pounce on him. I take the larger shawl off my shoulders and toss it on the chair. I begin to walk away to my trailer, but Cooper catches my elbow. "Hey." I smile lightly, I take a second glance at his lips, missing the warmth. I register his lips moving, sound coming from his mouth, but I can't hear a word he says. I grab the collar of his shirt, bringing his lips down to meet mine in a rushed kiss.

The echo of my name and his fingers snap in front of my face. I shake my head, running away from the thoughts. "Yeah?" I stare anywhere but his eyes, I stare at his hair, his eyebrows, lips... fuck, I'm looking at his lips again. I turn away from him and make my way to the trailer door. "I'm sorry, Cooper. I am just so tired." I open the door, but his hand pushes it shut before I can escape. He leans down with furrowed brows. "You seem frazzled." He runs a single digit up my arm causing goosebumps to run along my skin. I bite the inside of my cheek to hold the shutter inside. I shake my head, "No, I just didn't sleep well, and today ran long. Just tired."

He hums softly. His finger traced the strap of my dress. “You look so beautiful.” I shutter at his touch, and he knows it.

He opens the trailer door for me, "Then you better get some rest. I'll have you worn out tomorrow." WHAT? He must be fucking with me.

I feel the smirk creep on my lips. Unable to hold it in, I allow myself to surrender just a little. I reach out, straightening his shirt collar, and adding a subtle tug. "I think you'll be surprised how tired I can make you." I watch as his eyes search mine. Seeming to dig into my soul. Finding me and my true desires. He leans down ever so slightly, like a magnet forcing us together. Inches between us, so so close, but I pat his chest with a smirk. I watch as Cooper opens his eyes with stardust lining his lashes. I whisper to him, "Goodnight, Cooper." And I close the trailer door. Just an inch before it shut, Cooper caught it with his hand.

He peals the door open, stepping inside, making me back away into the small counter. He stares into my soul, communicating silently. He dips down quickly capturing my lips. His hands guided me to the small couch. Clothes were torn, and only the essential items were removed for our intimate skin to brush against each other. Cooper rushed to tear my panties away, and I was right behind him, pulling his rock-solid cock from his pants.

He fucks my body deep into the couch, the repeated grinding against my clit causing sparks to ignite. I clasp at the wide planes of his back, my fingernails skidding down the fabric of his dress shirt, threatening to rip the material. "Cooper, fuck!" I moan out as I watch where our bodies meet. Cooper took my wrist, pinning my arms above my head, sinking into me deeper. He watches me with knitted brows, completely lost in the actions. He dives down to my neck, teeth grazing a spot on my neck that stimulates the blissful warmth.

It's rolling through me, I can feel the tightness building in my core, the cord tightening. I toss my head back, closing my eyes. He pushes deeper. The trailer gives a slight rock, as our moans fill the vicinity. If anyone was near there would be no hiding our actions.

"Oh my God, I'm coming." I pant, the coil popping and my release begins flowing. I arch up into his chest. Cooper pulls out, finishing on the crumpled costume. I breathe deeply for what feels like hours. I open my eyes to see Cooper smirking above me, soft kisses peppering my cheeks as his hands glide down my arms, releasing where he's had them pinned above my head. Unable to move I just stare at him as I catch my breath.

“Oh my god.” He breathes out, readjusting himself before sitting by my feet. A smirk builds its way to his mouth. He runs a thumb over my legs.

I stay silent. I feel like I should pinch myself. I could swear I was dreaming if it wasn't for his fingertips trailing up my leg.

Oh, fuck, this was a mistake. This is so wrong. Maybe this was just a moment of weakness. He has a wonderful family...

He calls my name softly, continuing his soft touches. "You're thinking too loud, darlin'." I sit up, jitters still running through my body. "How could I not? That was-" "Amazing." He leans in catching my lips again, softly this time around. He pulls away, just enough to whisper. "Let me walk you to your car." I nod wordlessly, quickly changing into my regular clothing. Just as we are about to walk out the door, I tug his arm. "Wait." I press my lips down on his, meeting perfectly.

He walks me to the car, only passing a few stragglers, but paid them no mind, his hand still glued to my waist. He opens the door to my car, allowing me to get seated. He leans down with a smile, "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, beautiful."

As I drive away down the road, my smile slowly fades. "Oh, my god." I just slept with someone's husband, and I loved it! I stare at myself in the rearview mirror. I let myself fall limply against the headrest. I curse his name lowly as I fall into the shame of the actions I am committing behind closed doors.

~

Her car door shuts, and I am left staring at her vehicle slowly disappearing. my eyes in a daze, cheeks perking the color of a rose. Hell, I'm acting like a damn teenager. She makes me feel things again. Certain feelings of the warmth a good woman like her can spread. I am fucked. She was so warm, so tight. She fit so perfectly around my cock. I wanted to go slow, I was trying to beg myself to pace myself, but she was too irresistible.

I chuckle, running a finger over my lips. I had kissed costars before. It was never a problem. It certainly never leads to scandalous acts, but when it comes to her it seems everything is out of the ordinary for me. I shake my head lightly as I am whisked to my car. Floating on the memory of her eyes, laugh, kissable plump lips, and skin that smelt of strawberry jam. It was those thoughts that got me home. It was those thoughts that invaded my mind as poured myself a drink upon entry. They were also the thoughts that broke the thread as I pumped my shaft in my hand, once again overcome with the need for her. Concealed in the master bathroom, in the shower, allowing myself to fantasize about another woman. "Fuck," Her name left my mouth in a breathless moan.

I looked into the mirror at the man before me. He was a shameful mess. The present visions of her supplying my imagination didn't trouble me. The constant pressing of my cock threatening to twitch at the sound of her voice on the radio didn't trouble me. What troubled me was the fact that I enjoyed every second of it. I yearned for the morning sun each night, the fact of knowing I would be able to see her the next day was enough to close my eyes each night. I would get to hold her, brush her hair behind her ears, and smell the sweetness of her skin. A shameful mess I was indeed. The want grew each hour I spent thinking of her.

~

The bright sun in the sky barely kissed the hills as I opened the door to the studio. I was more in my element. Acting was fun, but I had been missing the feeling of confidently knowing what to do. In here, I could sing and sway to my plans and no one would correct me. I stretch on the ground freely, humming as I do. The door opens and I look back, silently hoping Cooper walks through. But it's just, Louis.

"Well, you seem to be in a good mood this morning," Louis calls out from the door. I smile at him, continuing to stretch. "I just caught up on some much-needed rest." Yes... Rest...

Louis eyes me up and down, not convinced. "I'm not buying that shit. What happened? You look... different. Did you curl your hair for rehearsal?" I slap his hand away from my hair. "So what if I did? I have appearances to keep up."

Louis rolls his eyes, "Yeah fucking right." He lies down on the floor with me as I stretch. "Who was it?" I look at him in confusion, "What?" Louis cackles, "Who did you fuck? Come on I want details." "No one. My god, Louis. Make yourself useful and go put my bag up." Louis tosses the bag over his shoulder with a smirk. "I'm just saying, you've never been this perky in the morning unless you've been riding a dick all night." I cover my eyes in embarrassment. Several of the crew were on set now and heard what Louis blared out. "Shut the fuck up." I snide at him.

I look around in hopes that Cooper wasn't around to see or hear the exchange, but I am never so lucky. He stands at the back of the room, tying his shoes, a small smirk littering his lips. If he did hear, then he is acting like he didn't.

He waltzes over looking awkward. Fuck, I knew this was going to be weird. I narrow my eyes at him as he sways from one foot to the other. "You okay?" I ask with a small smile. He was finally on my rank. These were my stomping grounds and he was completely lost. A light confidence perks in my veins. "Not much of a dancer, or a singer for that matter." He watches as I spin, the black leotard hugging my body. I catch his eyes burning into my frame. "I'm sure you're better than you think." "Oh, I don't know. Never been good at dancing with pretty women."

Jessica stands in front of us and the few extras needed. "I want to run the solo with the choreography from the first take. I know we talked about it, and I know you said you weren't all for the sexy moves, but-"

"No, let's do it." I want to run it." I interrupt her quickly, her eyes lighting up. She claps her hands with a smile. "Everyone else, take your position. We're going to run it."

Jessica gives me the floor as she begins the music. I feel the chords flowing, the music taking over. I begin the rehearsed song and choreography. Swaying lightly to begin, but slowly making out into the crowd. I sing and turn around the tables, captivating the eyes of everyone in the room. One in particular looked as if he was fighting his own will to stay seated. I sing as I sit at the table he's at. His eyes dive into mine and suddenly it is just the two of us, and I am singing directly to him.

I rest my hand on his chest. I can feel the rapid thump of his heart. Cooper stands placing his hands on either side of my face as I sing. He allows his hand to feel down the side of my body. Memorizing the curves of my waist. I turn his head to look back into my eyes, finishing the melody. He brings my face in, passionately pressing his lips down onto mine. Applause erupts from the studio, but he doesn't pull away. Cooper grips my waist tightly, dragging me to the edge of the table, pushing his hardened cock into my thigh. I gasp feeling his length against my leg.

Unknowing to others, but I know. By the look on his face, he knows that I know. A smirk grew on his lips. “I’d say that scene will be perfect, darlin’.” Cooper pulls away from my body, the warmth disappearing. He sits in the seat watching my every move such as a predator stalking their prey.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Flufftober Day 29 | I'll always be by your side

Pairing | Boyfriend!Tony Stark x Avenger!Girlfriend!Female!Reader

Word count | 1.4K

Summary | What was supposed to be a comfortable, easy Sunday turned into one of the worst as you're caught off guard by your period and in horrible pain. Luckily, your boyfriend, Tony, is by your side the entire time to make you feel better and spoil you absolutely rotten.

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Light angst, lots of fluff, extreme menstrual cramps, mentions of a period, descriptions of period blood on sheets/clothing, and Tony is the best boyfriend ever.

Prompt(s) | 29. “Hey, wake up!” | @flufftober

A/n | Thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for inspiring this sugary sweet Tony fic now that I am going through my monthly hell! I appreciate the thought you put into this fic along with me, and it wouldn't be this perfect without you 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | GIF credit goes to @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

Tony left early in the morning to work in his lab, seeing how it was a rainy Sunday at the beginning of October. You didn't have any plans for the day, so he let you sleep in, seeing how you'd returned from a month-long mission a few days ago.

As always, he'd leave you with some small kisses on your forehead, and even in your sleep, you always smiled when you got them, and it is one of the many things Tony finds endearing about you.

However, your peaceful state was rudely interrupted when you were pulled from your sleep with a horrific case of cramping from your uterus, notifying you that your period had begun.

"Are you okay, Ms Y/L/N? Should I call Mr Stark up here?" Jarvis asks, and all you can let out is a whimper of pain as you're doubled over, clutching your stomach in the hopes it'll go away soon, but if your past has taught you anything, this won't be the case.

Meanwhile, Tony gets a very concerning message from his AI in the lab. "Sir? It appears that Mrs Y/L/N is very distressed-" is all he hears before he practically flies out of the lab and up to where you are.

Taking the stairs instead of the elevator so he will reach you sooner, he almost breaks down the door when he hears your sobs tear through the entire bedroom.

"Gorgeous?! Are you okay? What's going on?!" Tony asks frantically, but you can't speak as you're already struggling to breathe from the sobbing, and the pain only worsens everything.

He gets onto the bed and pulls the comforter away, but he doesn't need to ask what's wrong because there's a lot of blood on the sheets and the mattress since you always have an extremely heavy flow.

"Oh, Gorgeous, I'm so sorry," Tony sighs worriedly, knowing just how bad your pain must be by now. You can't look at him as he comes over because you're embarrassed about the state you're in right now.

"Shall I run a bath for you? You can take some painkillers before, and I will climb in with you for extra cuddles; maybe I can massage your lower belly if you want to relieve some of your cramping and pain," he asks.

You can't answer as your entire body shakes and shocks through your tears and sobs as the pain worsens, and you're only curling in further.

Tony takes the hint and runs you a nice hot bath with a calming scent and extra bubbles before he comes to fetch you out of bed and ready for the bath he just ran.

"C'mere Gorgeous, you're going to be okay; I'm with you, okay? I'll always be here with you," he whispers in your ear as he carries you to the bathroom, where he sits you down on the counter, blood be damned.

Your eyes are tightly shut as you try to breathe deeply in and out between the sobs rocking through your body with more significant intervals, trying to pick yourself together.

You don't know that Tony has ordered Happy to buy you a couple of things as a care package for when you get out of the bath, with many things to help you feel better.

"C'mon, Gorgeous, let's get some medicine into you, and then we're getting into the warm, relaxing water," he says, and you nod before taking the medicine. Tony hands you together with some water.

When that's gone, you slowly open your eyes again and look up at Tony with a watery smile as if you're still on the verge of crying. You look into Tony's comforting dark brown eyes of your boyfriend.

"Hi, Gorgeous," he whispers as he places his big, warm hands on your cheeks, pulling you towards him as he meets you halfway with a kiss on your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and lastly, a small kiss on your lips, which you melt into.

"Shall we get you out of these clothes and into the bath? I promise it'll make you feel better," he reassures you, and you let him undress you, your shirt and bra gone first, before standing up and taking your pants and underwear off.

Both of them are completely ruined, and you look at them with disgust as you sigh, clutching your lower belly as you lean into Tony's touch, letting his big, strong arms envelop you into a warm hug.

"Let's get you into the warm water first, and I'll be right with you, okay?" he asks, and you nod before he guides you in and makes sure you get into the water safely.

"I'll be here in a few minutes; I'm just going to change the sheets so they will be nice and clean when we get in, okay?" he asks as he sits on his haunches, and you nod. Before he walks away, he puts on your favorite music, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of the water, hands splayed on your lower abdomen.

Tony takes the clothes you were with him before stripping the bed and putting new sheets on, right when Happy knocks on the door with the basket he bought.

Inside is a huge, thick blanket with hearts, a mint green fuzzy pajama with matching fuzzy socks, a new hot water bottle, your favorite tea flavor, some snacks including your favorite chocolate, and a book from your wishlist.

After a quick thanks, he puts it on the bed so it'll be front and center when you return. He quickly undresses and walks back into the bathroom, where he finds you lying contently in the bath, softly singing along to the music.

"How's everything feeling, Gorgeous?" he asks as you sit up, ready for him to slide in behind you. When he's seated, you let yourself melt into his touch, and his hands slide over your stomach and to your lower abdomen to massage softly.

You let out soft groans as he digs his fingers softly into your flesh to relax you, your head against his shoulder as you feel the pain slowly fade underneath his touch, combined with the painkillers he gave you.

"Just relax for me, Gorgeous; you're okay; I got you," he says between soft kisses on your cheek, leaving you utterly speechless from the sweetness he's putting into every little touch and word.

The warmth of the water and the relaxing scent of lavender is seeping into your skin, relaxing you entirely until you manage to sleep a little, and Tony can't help but smile at the soft snores leaving you.

He keeps his hands on your belly in a protective manner before the water gets too cold and he has to wake you up, much to your dismay.

"Hey, it's time to wake up, Gorgeous," Tony says as he softly nudges you, and with a groan, you open your eyes and sit forward, though you don't want to leave his warm and strong embrace.

"It'll be worth it, I promise," he says as he stands up and wraps a towel around his waist before helping you up too. When you're out, he wraps you in the fluffiest and biggest towel, and you're wrapped up like a burrito.

"How're you feeling after your nap? Ready to eat something?" Tony asks, and you nod, finally able to walk normally without cramping, though you're still uncomfortable.

When you're dry and wearing clean underwear with a pad, you're making your way to the bedroom with Tony plastered to your back as he's functioning as a human hot water bottle with his hands.

When you see the basket on the bed, you stop as you see the sight before you and want to turn around to thank him for arranging it.

"Thank you for caring for me, but can I wear the pajamas now? Because they look very comfortable," you say in almost a whisper, and he nods with a big smile before letting you go and rummage through the package.

"Shall we watch a movie on the couch today? You can pick the movie and bring as many snacks as you want," he offers, and you gladly accept before putting on the pajamas and fuzzy socks, getting ready for your movie to watch together.

When Tony comes back with a bowl of your favorite caramel popcorn and a big mug filled with tea, your heart skips a beat from pure love, and when he sits down, you can't keep it to yourself, and it will be the first time you tell him these special words.

"I love you, Tony."

[lex-the-flex]

Infectious Defenses

Las Plagas! Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Summary: Trapped by Lord Saddler, the man believes he has the best weapon at his fingertips. Unbeknownst to him, nothing can break the alliance between two of the greatest D.S.O Agents.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, brief action and violence, descriptions of injuries, Las Plagas nearly takes control of Leon, mentions of brainwashing, the reader being a badass, and MEGA FLUFF!

A/N: I’M SO HYPED FOR THIS GAME!! And the new trailer made me loose my mind!! I hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated!

The heavy rainfall made seeing the pathway to the cathedral nearly impossible in the dead of night. Hoisting Leon closer to you, there was no room to breathe, and your muscles started to ache from carrying his weight against your tired body.

Coughing more frequently, Leon tried his best to cover his mouth, but he couldn't. Letting his left arm dangle, the only thing he could do was trudge his feet along the gravel trail to the church's entrance.

"Come on, Leon. It's just a little further." You shouted against the rain, hoping he'd hear you.

"I'm trying, Y/N..." Leon mumbled in between another coughing fit.

Reaching the cathedral's front steps, you pushed the door open with your hip, hoping the barrel of your submachine gun tied to your back would provide a little help. With the large wooden doors swinging open, the force alone made you and Leon fall to the floor.

Breaking your fall, Leon held you in his muscular arms, not wanting you to collide with the stone flooring. Heaving past your shoulder, Leon gasped for a rush of cold air, begging for anything to enter his collapsing lungs.

Even when he's dying, Leon is ever the gentleman.

Moving to your knees, you carefully held a hand on Leon's chest, hoping to keep him still. Grabbing your wrist, the young man wheezed for any kind of saving grace. Taking a few herbs from your hip pouch, you held the medicinal mixture to Leon's chapped lips, he swallowed the remedy with a few sips of water out of a spare canteen from Luis.

Laying back, Leon slowly released his grip on your wrist, the agent's breathing returned to normal. Focusing on continuing the flow from in through his nose and out the mouth, Leon balances on his elbows.

"Y/N? You okay?" Leon asked and a crease formed in between his dark brows.

Motioning for your barely bleeding shoulder, a small quiet giggle escapes from your lips, and a quick smile fills the corners of Leon's dull pinkish lips.

"What?" He asks, returning to his normal self.

But before you can respond, an echo of vile laughter fills the cathedral's empty hall, and your face drops. Turning to the altar, Leon subconsciously clutched your arm in his hand as he rose from his spot on the ground.

"So the lambs decided to return to their Shepard after all. But don't worry, you'll soon become one of us, Mr. Kennedy. Then your partner shall fall in line right behind you." Lord Saddler explained as the two of you stood to your feet.

“You're wrong. I don't carry the same blood as you and your men." Leon said, pacing to the foot of the altar.

“Ah but you do, my boy. Once the egg hatches, you will see the true path.” Saddler snickered, waving his hand towards his infested staff.

"Leon, what's he talking about?" You ask, standing at his side.

"Ah, so you don't know, Ms. L/N. You were more than fortunate enough to escape my grasp. It'll be a miracle once you accept this wondrous gift!" Saddler projects, with a smirk lighting up his eerie face.

The Lord's spine-tingling eyes try to break your spirit, but you stand strong beside Leon. Unclipping your own modified handgun, you aim the barrel toward the sadistic leader.

"Nah ah ah. I wouldn't do that if I were you." Saddler mocks you, wagging his finger in your direction.

Your pointer finger barely begins to squeeze the trigger just as Leon begins to heavily wheeze. Reaching for the base of his neck, Leon descends to his knees, as if he can no longer stand up straight.

"Leon, are you alright? Here, take my hand." You instruct never letting go of your gun.

Rejecting your hand, Leon pushes you back causing you to stumble towards a pillar.

"Don't come near me, Y/N! I can't... I can't--" Leon replies, staggering in place.

Beneath his olive skin, a series of dark crimson veins begin to emerge on top of his own. Clasping his hands on his chest, Leon takes in a few uneven gasps out of desperation, hoping, praying for this to just be a bad dream.

"Ah yes, the time has come!" Saddler praises, praising the power before him.

Switching targets, you can't decide whether to aim at Saddler or Leon, you choose the latter. With a firm stance, you begin to march toward Saddler with your gun held high. But before you can reach the foot of the altar, the sight of Leon taking hold of your gun startles you.

Swiping the gun from your hands, the D.S.O. Agent tosses your piece of artillery across the room. Your hands start to shake uncontrollably as you try to cover the gasp that sneaks from your mouth. Gazing over the man who now stood before you, it was as if Leon became a different person in a matter of seconds.

"Exult all! And let it be so!!" Saddler shouts, witnessing the true marvel before him.

Sinking to the very mold of the pillar, your fingers grip the old stone, hoping the cold will soothe your sweaty palms. Watching the dark mass inch its way up Leon's neck, he faces the ceiling. Gritting his teeth together, a terrifying scream escapes Leon's lips, and it shakes you to your very core.

You've never heard Leon scream. Let alone in pain. This man was not your partner, friend, or the man who shared the same infatuation with.

This was not your Leon.

Making eye contact with your gun, you bolt towards it, ducking under Leon's attack. Switching the safety off, you aim the gun at Saddler and shoot. The bullet makes contact with Saddler's shoulder and he falls through a hidden trap door behind the waist-high flat table.

The moment Saddler disappears, Leon collapses to the ground, and the terror that once controlled him is gone. Rushing to his side, the crimson colored veins vanished.

"Leon?" You question, nudging his exposed skin with the butt of your gun.

Jerking awake, Leon held up his hand to see the sight of your gun aimed at him. Wiping his sweaty face, he looks around the cathedral.

"What happened?" He innocently asks, trying to process what had just occurred.

Just like that, it was like a dam opened, and a rush of tears flowed down your face. Standing before you, Leon takes your shoulders in his hands, and leans his forehead against yours.

"You, you lost control, Leon. It's like you... became a different person." You tried to explain through a series of sobs.

"But I didn't, Y/N. I won't let that virus take me. I'm here and I don't plan on going anywhere." Leon whispered to ease your sobs, taking you closer in his arms.

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[first-edition]

Love

Mafia boss!Bucky x singer!reader

Sum- you and Bucky had been together for 3 years before he left, he had even put a ring on your finger. You never knew why he left but it broke you to peices. When you finally forgave him you were shot and dying in his arms.

Cw- hospital, doctor talk, guns, kissing heavy petting, smut, shower sex, unprotected, pinv sex, fingering, recovery, size kink (if you squint)

Part 1 ‘lyrics’

Part 2 ‘letter’

This is part 3

Flashing lights of red and blue shoot through the the city. The screeching of tires as Bucky followed close behind the ambulance. He just got you back he knew this would happen but regardless he needs you.

“FUCK! Fuck fuck fuck!” He curses hitting the steering wheel of the car as he speeds through stops signs and lights. Screeching into the hospital parking lot he parks and rushes out of the car just barley missing you on the stretcher as they rush you to the back.

“Baby!!?” He calls running after you. A nurse sitting on the bed if you giving you cpr.

“BABY!”

“Sir.” A nurse says holding Bucky back.

“NO FUCK- GET OFF ME!” He yells.

“Sir Calm down!”

“NO DONT FUCKING TELL ME CALM DOWN DONT-“

“Mr Barnes! Sir!” Rumlow walks to him pushing him back.

“Your covers In blood sir are you hurt anywhere?” The nurse asks.

“No. No I’m fine just- she can’t die okay I can’t-…..she…fuck.” Bucky turns away.

“The waiting room is down the hall to your left I’ll go find some clothes for you.” She kindly directs him and rumlow before walking off.

———

“Bucky sits in the waiting room sam and rumlow on either side of him. He’s changed into a black tshirt and jeans the blood washed off.

“Mr Barnes?” A doctor calls he stands up faster than ever the guards following.

“Is she okay?” He asks

“She’s stable but needs to be closely monitored she lost a lot of blood and flat lined…” the doctor trails off.

“Well?” He says

“The bullet has hit a blood vessel causing damage to her internal organs on the lower half of her body…including cutting off blood flow to the uterus. We…we had to perform and emergency hysterectomy….if at all you and her were planning..” She says

Bucky looks at the doctor taking in all of the things she had just said.

“Can I see her?” He asks. She nods gestures to follow which he does.

“She’s on high pain meds and should be waking up soon” she says.

Following the doctor down the hall his mind rushes about what he’s going to tell you when you wake up. Did you know? We’re you planning to tell him at some point?

Arriving at the room he sees you asleep in the bed an oxygen mask on your nose and mouth.

“No. Wait out here I don’t want anyone except me and that doctor coming in or out so you understand me.” Bucky says hardly to the guards they nod taking place on either side of the door.

Bucky walks up to you sitting next to you taking your hand your pale and a bit cold. Despite the heated blanket you have.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never should’ve dragged you into my fucked up life. I-I never should’ve left you alone. I promise that I will stay by yourself forever and always.” He says kissing your hand resting it against his cheek.

Your fingers move as he sits up straight leaning to you.

“Hey doll?” He says your eyes open weakly as they adjust to the light in the bright pale room.

You frown as tour eyes focus.

“Baby.” He says look to him. Bucky smiles seeing you looking at him.

He lets out a pained sigh kissing your hand thanking whatever deity that your alive.

“Bucky…..” you say weakly.

“I’m here I’m right here.” He says holding you Mr hand to his face.

“Hey baby…I-I gotta tell you something.” He says. You look up at him frowning a bit.

“When you got shot you lost a lot of blood. Remember on the beach in pairs..you were talking about having kinds mm?” He says. You nod looking up at him as he shakes his head.

“Wh-..what..” you say weakly.

“Its okay.” He says tears well up in your eyes as you understand what he’s trying to telling you. You begin to cry as he pulls you into his arms.

———

You stand in front of the bedrooms floor length mirror, nude. You finger tracing over the scar left on your lower abdomen. Its long and ugly. You sigh turning away going to the shower Turing it on and letting the water heat up to steam. The entire bathroom coating the glass and mirror is a fog.

Opening the door you step in feelign the water warmth you body.

Its been 4 months since you were shot. Bucky has barley left your side. They found the person who did it and Bucky, “brought him to Justice” which you know means he killed him. Put a bullet through his skull like he did with the first man who tried you in a club some many nights ago when you first met.

The healing was easily but the depression from not being able to go out was another thing. Bucky helped with bringing the outside to you as much as he could even starting a plant garden of the roof of the penthouse.

Lost in your thoughts you dont notice your husband has opened the door and stepped into the shower with you. His hands, both cold one colder than the other, make contact with waist pulling you gently against his front.

You inhale smiling as you realize.

“You’re home.” You say turning around wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him into you in a kiss. He kisses you back but with a pained expression pulls away. His hands still holding you on your waist.

“Whats wrong?” you ask looking him.

“I was just thinking.” He says trailing off.

“Mm?” You ask

“It shouldn’t worry you hmm.” He says pecking your lips.

“Turn ‘round.” He says. You obey and turn to his command. He snakes his arms around your waist you stiffen a bit as his skin makes sudden contact with the scar drawing your front.

“I love you. You know that right?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say giggling at your own response to not saying it back one of buckys pet peeves.

“Hmm? what was that.” He says

“I said yes, i know you love me.” You say, giggling.

“Mmhmm and what else.” He says.

“I dont know what you mean?” You act dumb he chuckles. Lifting your chin to him kissing you. Whats supposed to be a short peck turns into a make out.

he walks you back. Your back hitting the cold wall of the tile making you gasp giving him perfect leeway into your mouth with his tounge.

His flesh hand moves up your side to your breast his thumb brushing over the hardened bud. The minute you’d realized he was in the shower with you, clothed or nude to which he is in fact just a naked as you are, it turned you on deeply.

A small moan is left from your mouth as bucky squeezes your breast in his hand. His metal once easily finds your core brushing his fingers up and down the slit.

“F-fuck..” you gasp out inserting a thick digit he chuckles into your neck at you reaction. Pumping his finger and rubbing you with his thumb gives you almost everything you need.

He wraps his arm around you and picks you up pinning you against the wall taking the opportunity to shove a second finger into you making your mouth drop open as he thrusts his fingers to you brushing the upwards to the spot in you his thumb plays with your clit.

You clench around his fingers feeling the knot in your stomach. He pulls his fingers out of you. Before you can complain about the absence of pleausre you feel the familiar stretch in your cunt of bucky’s cock.

Your mouth drops open once again as he thrusts up into you his metal hand against the tile behind you and his flesh hand grips your waist.

“F-fuck..i missed you.” He says kissing your jaw line and neck.

You smile moaning out as the overwhelming pleausre surges through you. Clenching down around him the knot he made from his fingers explodes as you cum against him.

Your walls flutter as he continues to fuck you. He picks you up your legs wrapping around his waist allowing him to fuck you deeper in the position you are.

“B-buck..ah!” You moan out your arms around him your fingers gripping his hair and skin.

“Such a pretty girl.” He grunts. Making you almost fold to his will.

“F-f..fu..im gonna c-cum again..ah” your voice breaks as he recklessly thrusts into you.

He pants his thrusts getting sloppier as you feel his throb in you.

“You gonna cum for me doll. Hmm?” He asks his lips attaching to your neck. With a rough thrust up into you cum clenching around him. He releases his own orgasam chasing it with deep movements in you filling you.

You cling to him your nails making marks to his shoulders and back as you pant.

“L-look at me.” He says his blue eyes taking you in you look at him.

“I love you..you’re perfect, you’re everything to me I will never leave you. Ever.” He says placing his hands against your cheek. You smile nodding your nose brushing against his before sharing a kiss.

THE END.

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

The Jade Viper #2

Pairing: John Wick x !F!Reader

Summary: Loyalty goes far for Y/n, she proves over and over again to John that she'll do anything for him and his honor. Even rescuing him from a kidnapping; she's always going to be right behind him through thick and thin. But John begins to catch feelings for his loyal ninja assassin.

Warnings: adult language, blood, guns, beatings, wounds, torture, abuse, character past history, child death, nightmare, sexual tension, mutual pining, flirting, fluff.

Minors DNI 🔞

Part I, Part III

--

John could taste the copper inside his mouth, his sides aching from the growing bruises. His hands being cut into by zip ties around the arms of the chair; two men standing close by as the leader cleaned his knuckles of blood with a rag. He started to speak about how great John was supposed to be, but the leader just grew more agitated.

"You are no Bogeyman, the Baba Yaga I've once heard of is nothing but a weak man." He growled, he pulled back his fist to punch John once more. "Speak your last words, Mr. Wick." John grunted as he clenched his fists.

"Have you ever heard of the Jade Viper?" asked John as he closed his eyes to take in a heavy breath. The leader held back his laugh as he let John's tie go, "Are you really trying to spook me with a fake story to avoid your death?" He chuckled. John shook his head as he looked at the man again.

"It's real. . . I've seen it, I've seen her." John then snapped his fingers; the man rolled his eyes and attempted to grab John's throat, only to suddenly choke—John saw the silver thin yet long needle pierce through the leader's neck—sending him into a paralyzed state and collapsing onto the ground. John heard the two men in a scuffle behind him—a bone was heard being snapped as one of them was thrown beside John before being quickly dragged backwards into the shadows and one of them screamed with agony until a sound of a knife being pierced through someone's body was heard.

John listened to the clicking heels coming towards him, gentle hands being placed atop his wrist as her kunai sliced through the zip tie. "Y'know, when you said you'd find the Blood Dragons yourself, I didn't think you'd let them catch you in a way." Y/n sighed, "It pained me seeing them hurt you. I'm glad I knocked the main one out for now."

John winced as he rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing to his fingers. He looked at the dead man's body as she picked up a clean rag—tilting his face to look at her while she gently cleaned around his bruises and cuts on his cheek and head. "He's dead." He commented.

"Awh, John, you doubt me so much. He isn't dead. Not yet anyways. These are metal needles with a point at both ends. . . They're often used for medical purposes in my clan, being used to strike acupuncture points. Anyone with great proper medical knowledge can effectively use these in battle to incapacitate or even kill their target should you aim for vital spots. I aimed to incapacitate him." She smirked, "He's just asleep for now."

"You know a lot of techniques." He said, "How were you able to learn all of this?" That made her grow a smile on her face as she let go of his head. "I'll tell you once we get out of here." The incapacitated man was stuffed into the trunk, hands and feet were tied. Y/n was driving and John was resting in his seat as Bones jumped into the backseat, "Good girl." She cooed while tossing her pet a treat.

She had started to drive and watch the view of lights being blurred by the raindrops. John sighed as he relaxed, "So. . . are you going to tell me?" Y/n nodded with a grin. Her fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel.

"You already know that I'm not just an assassin, but, also a ninja, John. Something you'd hear in one of those dumb movies. But it's true. Even I want to laugh at it myself. When I was born, the Grandmaster took his pick of the litter. Each son and daughter in his clan wasn't there by choice, only by force. I was chosen by him and dragged into his training. I remember how ruthless his training was, he trained us in many ways. Those scars you saw my chest, my legs, the bottoms of my feet were all from him." She said.

John was listening while he watched her, her eyes glistening with pain as she remembered her childhood. "He beat the martial arts into us, branded it in our brains, burned it into our bodies, and carved it into our souls. To test who truly were the strongest out of the weakest, he'd match us against each other. A fight to the death. I remember beating one of my sister's, his eyes were on me and I knew what I had to do to prove that I was worthy to keep living. . . So I broke her neck."

John's eyes grew wide with sorrow and shock as he looked at her. "Her death was quick, and full of mercy. I released her from years of torment, John. I didn't want to, but I had to. We had these death tournaments once a year until we turned eighteen, the year we mastered everything. When I was twelve, he had me wear blindfold for an entire year. He said that we must fight no matter what, even without our gift of sight." John saw her hands beginning to tremble as she pulled into his garage.

"What he told us during our punishment has always stuck in my mind. . . Pain breeds weakness. Suffering exists because weakness exists." She muttered, "I had to practice to walk and run in silence. If I made a noise, he strike my feet with a bamboo rod, that's why I have permanent scars on them. . . I have scars on my body from his punishments. You must understand, John, I now do this to protect you. You only. You gave me a chance to change, and I plan to only use my skills to do whatever it takes to protect you."

John felt his heart break at her promise. He'd gone through his own training to become an assassin, it was cruel, and it was painful. But hearing just a tiny tale from her own experience sounded like hell compared to his own. He found her hand and held it in his own, her head slowly turned to look at their connection as John glanced at her.

"I'm sorry for what you've gone through, Y/n." She shook her head and placed her other hand on top his. "Don't be sorry for me, John. . ." Her eyes flickered to his and remained there for a minute. Time seemed to have slowed down, both their hands grew warmer. She shut her eyes and shook her head lightly before releasing her hand from his.

"Let's head inside, I need to take care of your wounds." With that, she exited the car and helped John inside of the house. Once settled in, she removed his shirt and coat. Seeing the bruises and scars on his body, it made her smile warmly before she attended to his cuts. "Why are you smiling?" John questioned, he heard her giggle to herself as she shook her head.

"It's just funny to see you injured like this, I've seen worse but, it's just funny when it's you." He grunted feeling the rubbing alcohol brush against his open cut, "Does it hurt?" "Not as bad as before." He replied. Y/n finished her work and handed him a glass of water, "Is he still alive?" John questioned. "He's settled in the garage for now. I'll move him to the basement after-"

"Not him. . . Your Grandmaster." John corrected. Y/n paused while washing her hands—she turned off the water and turned to look at John who was sitting on the couch. "John. . . Why do you want to know?" She asked.

"Just tell me." He said, a sigh left her as she walked back to the couch to sit down beside him. "I don't know anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I escaped. . . I left my clan, attacked the Grandmaster, and they've been after me ever since." Y/n said, "When you asked me where I lived, I said nowhere. . . Because I'm always running from them, I kill threats to keep them distracted."

"Your siblings?" John asked.

"The ones who still remain by his side. . . But, now with you. I get to stop running, now I have a purpose to stay where I am and fight for something that matters. The Grandmaster told us that we are his blood, no more than that. "Wherever you are, wherever you may. go, you must never forget who you are. You are part of me, as I am part of you. This is the truth of your lives, and it will remain true after death." Weakness compels strength. Betrayal begets blood. This is the law of the Seven Clans. . ." Y/n lifted her head and looked at John with guilty eyes.

Her foot lightly tapping on the ground as she spoke, "I betrayed my clan, scarred the Grandmaster's face so bad, I believe he lost an eye. . . It's been years since I've last saw him, but I've seen many of my siblings come and go." John saw the tears beginning to grow in her eyes as she looked down. "You took a shower when you first got here. . . Who's blood was it?" John inquired.

". . . One of my brothers, we seemed to have crossed paths when we were hunting you down for fun. . . I just overwhelmed him and got the upper hand."

"Why am I such a big target?"

"Come on, the Bogeyman? Sounds like a scary name, scary name equals scary threat." She smirked. John couldn't help but grin at her words, Y/n laid back on the couch and stretched her arms and legs. "How far does your loyalty go?"

Y/n smiled again as she sighed, "As far as it needs to go, John. You go anywhere, I'll be there making sure you're safe. Unless you need privacy with a lady." She answered—standing up and beginning to walk to the garage. "I'm gonna fetch our friend in the car, I'll have him tied and prepared for your questioning."

He nodded his head and Y/n disappeared into the garage. John gently traced the back of his hand with his other, Bubba approached and rested his head on his thigh. "I don't know what I'm thinking. . ." He muttered to his dog.

Later at night, after dealing with the leader's body and interrogation—John had dinner with Y/n, she cooked spaghetti, garlic bread, and made a fresh salad for them to eat; John took a shower and gotten dressed for bed. He got in bed and Bubba was in his dog bed with Bones in the living room, Y/n was elsewhere.

John didn't know where she had went, but he knew she was close by. He fell asleep and started to drift off into his dreams—when he did, he expected to see Daisy, or his wife, anything but woman wearing a large sunhat. She was kneeling by a row of potted flowers, she wore gloves and a beautiful green and white flower dress, her hair blew with elegance in the wind while the sun shined on her.

John felt his heart pick up speed when she turned to smile at him, Y/n was smiling at him. Her eyes were bright and innocent, full of life and glee; three puppies tumbled over her feet, Bubba and Bones both sniffing them and pushing them onwards. Y/n slid off her gloves and giggled as she lifted the large sunhat to peek at whoever was behind him. John froze when he heard, "Daddy!"

A child's voice piped up with happiness, John looked behind him to see a young girl with short black hair, similar to his own. Her eyes full of adoration for him as she smiled, she held his hand and dragged him forward towards Y/n. It was only then that had John saw Y/n's body. Her dress perfectly brought out her baby bump: she was pregnant. Beautiful, and pregnant?!

John then saw his entire fantasy become a nightmare when thunder had struck, lighting had blinded him for only a minute. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw blood everywhere. Bubba and Bones were gone, the little girl was gone, Y/n wasn't. She was there. . .

Only. . . She was standing in a pool of blood, and the little girl lying right beside her feet. Bleeding out with empty eyes. Y/n's face and hands coated with blood, behind her, shadows began to emerge from the depths of the garden. Carrying katanas, blades, and even the heads of John's old enemies.

Y/n lifted her face and stared at John with an empty expression. As if she wasn't there anymore, just a shell of her remained. The shadows then leapt at John and he had woken up in a cold sweat. His heart thumping harder and faster than ever before, he looked at his window to see the night sky still there.

He lifted his hand and held his head to calm himself down, taking in slow and deep breaths. "John?" Y/n whispered from somewhere in the room, he looked around in the dark and looked towards the closed door.

"Y/n?" He mumbled—the floor slightly creaked and he looked to the left side of the room, the corner that was filled with nothing but shadows—Y/n slowly emerged from the darkness with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a soft voice. He leaned against the headboard and sighed. ". . . Where you here the entire time?" He wondered. She let out a halfhearted giggle as she sat on the edge of his bed.

"No, I wasn't actually. I heard you shuffling around in here, I thought you were being attacked at first so I came in. . . Then I saw that you were being attacked by yourself. . . And I wasn't sure to wake you up or not, until you did five seconds later." She explained, "Are you okay?"

He nodded his head and glanced at the clock instead of Y/n, still unsure of what his dream had really meant. His eyes found her again as she stood up and walked to the door, "I'll be out here." She added. "Don't you sleep?" said John. "Not until you have proper rest, once you're taken care of and healed up, only then can I sleep."

With that, she shut the door and left John alone. He ran his fingers through his raven locks as he rethought of the dream again. Why did he think of that? Better yet, why was she pregnant? Why was that little girl there? . . . Why was Y/n covered in all that blood? . . .

John could only wonder as he laid back in his bed, feeling cold and unsure but most definitely, alone. As if he somewhat wanted Y/n to stay in the same room with him, but also didn't. What was this feeling he was sensing? He could only shut his eyes and sleep on it.

From afar, outside hidden within the trees—watching as Y/n walked down the stairs and freeze in place as she felt a pair of eyes piercing at her. She snapped her eyes towards the shadows of the forest, seeing nothing there but a squirrel scurry up the tree. She clenched her fists as she smelled the pine trees.

"Run, run, little sister." whispered the shadow from the darkness.

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Pt. 3 is coming soon!!