#I DIDN’T REALISE MY FOLLOWER COUNT CREEPED UP

[ceruleancattail]

In the Wise words of The Cater of Diamonds,

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR, IS THAT MY BLOG????

THANK YOU VICTIMS FOR 700+ FOLLOWERS!

Gods I’ll need more birdcages now, huh?

[astermath]

“So? Whatever.”

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader 

summary: The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless.

word count: 2K

♡ LANDING PAGE♡

notes: I haven’t written something like this in a good while, so please bear with me if I’m rusty or there are some mistakes here and there. Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, I tried to be as non descriptive as possible about her appearance. I do love writing a bit of a mean reader like this, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up to him. This fic takes place in senior year for age purposes, I’m pretty much fully ignoring the timeline of the film. Comments and/or requests are super welcome btw!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

(ps this will get a part two don’t worry xx)

To Dave, girls like you were unreachable. You could hear about them, you could listen to them talk in the hallways, sneak a glance their way… But talk to them? Any single one of their group would consider that social suicide. The only reason any of them even looked in his direction was to ask him to do their homework. So why in god’s name were you at his locker? Why were you acknowledging his existence at all?

“What’s that?” You leaned against the locker next to his, pointing at the piece of a comic book panel he’d taped to the door. It pictured Spider-man putting on his mask for the first time, something Dave looked to when he needed some motivation for the day. 

He struggled to get basically any words out, still not fully registering that you’re within such close range. He could smell you… God that was really weird to think about, he felt like a creep already, but you just… Smelled really nice. Like vanilla, mixed with something sweet. He realized he hadn’t answered your question yet and was just staring in front of him like a weirdo. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s uh… That’s Spider-man. It’s this… This superhero I like.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack to keep his hands busy.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Duh, I know who Spider-man is, please.” You couldn’t help but think he was doing anything to avoid looking into your eyes, as if you’d turn him to stone if he dared to do so. Which, yes, was exactly how he felt.

“I wanted to know which comic that was from. The art style looks a lot different than the ones I’ve seen.” Now this part was pretty much making his teenage brain short circuit. He probably didn’t hear that right, there’s no way a popular girl like you read comics, right? This had to be some kind of elaborate joke, like you were trying to pull a prank on him by making him ramble about his favorite superheroes. However, he wasn’t close minded. Even if this was a prank, at least you were talking to him, right?

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… Forget he’s a pretty popular character sometimes. This one’s from a collector’s edition. One of the pages was kinda falling apart so I just… Taped my favorite panel to my locker.” Again, he tried to look anywhere else, but it felt rude not to be making eye contact with the person who’s trying to give you a chance at a conversation. His eyes met yours and he realised he hadn’t ever actually seen you up close like this. You were really pretty, he knew that, but he never noticed these particular things about you before. The way your hair framed your features so nicely, the little beauty mark that seemed to be somehow perfectly placed, or the way a dimple appeared on your right cheek when you smiled.

“Hopefully you didn’t pay too much for it, those things cost like, a fortune.” You followed, snapping him out of his haze as you twirled a piece of hair between your index and middle finger. Dave was much taller than you, so you had to look up to match his gaze, which was already hard since he kept avoiding your eyes. You never realized how much he’d matured since freshman year. He looked pretty cute… Really cute, actually. 

“S-So, uhm, I really don‘t wanna be rude, but…” He closed his locker before looking at you with a rather awkward expression. “Why are you here? Why are you… talking to me?” Honestly, not an unjustified question. Dave was often the subject of bullying, and the popular girls clique made no exception to that rule. He doesn’t remember you specifically doing anything, although... He has a vague memory of you being in the car with those jocks when they threw spoiled milk at him.

“What? A girl can’t talk to her fellow classmate? This is a free country, you know.” You pretended to be a little hurt by his assumption that you were probably just here to make fun of him. In all honesty he was still a little dumbfounded by this whole ordeal, and the fact that half the people that passed you were giving you two weird looks really wasn’t helping. “You know I sit behind you in English, right?” He responds by nodding. He is painfully aware of this fact, as your friends had expressed their empathy for you when your seat was assigned behind him, though you honestly didn’t mind. And also the fact that he got a fair share of gossip from you and your best friend always whispering to each other. “Well,” you flipped a bit of hair over your shoulder. “I saw you had a copy of Birth of Venom in your backpack, and I... Wanted to ask if I could borrow it...” You looked to the side, muttering the last part. As much as you tried not to care what people thought, you did have a bit of a reputation that you were stuck to. Liking comics wasn’t for you, you were a cheerleader, you went to parties, you liked shopping. Okay, you secretly liked comics.

Dave looked at you with a puzzled expression. “I-I’m sorry, can you repeat tha--”

“Can I borrow your stupid comic or what?” You interrupted him, clearly looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Oh!” His face was getting hot, this conversation was lasting way longer than he imagined it would. Usually he’d have his face shoved into his locker by now. “U-Uhm, sure! It’s a bit expensive, but... Well, just don’t damage it, please.” He took his backpack off his shoulder and was about to pull it out before you grabbed his arm. 

“Not here you dumbass! Just, like... Ugh, meet me at my car after school’s over, you can hand it to me then.” You were acting like this was some kind of illegal drug deal, but this truly was something important to you. Your dad had already made it very clear that he didn’t want his little girl becoming some kind of tomboy and have her mind run rampant with superhero stories. Especially with this Kickass guy running around...

The bell rang and you silently thanked it for doing so. “Look, I gotta go. White Corvette, by the vending machines.” You walked past him, and a waft of that lovely vanilla scent hit his nose. He damn near melted into the floor when your arm brushed against his. “Later, Lizewksi.”

You leaned against the hood of your car, scrolling on your phone as you waited for the brunette to show up. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you were just meeting him in secret like this. It’s not like you were embarrassed to be seen with him, or that you didn’t like him, it’s just that liking comics and superheroes was just about the dorkiest thing anyone could be into. Especially with Kickass running around, and, well, kicking ass, people would probably be thinking you’d be into this whole vigilante business yourself. Sure, you thought it was cool that people were doing something about all the crime, but you’d rather die than mess up your hair beating some thug’s ass. 

You noticed someone approaching and noticed that Dave wasn’t alone. With a bit of a disgusted expression, you gestured to his two sidekicks. “I don’t remember inviting the entire geek entourage to come see me. This isn’t some kinda meet and greet, you know.” Todd and Marty seemed, just like Dave before, a little shocked that you were talking to them. 

“S-Sorry, they just uh...” Dave began.

“We didn’t believe him.” Todd followed.

“...believe what?” You questioned, crossing your arms.

“That a chick like you was into comics.” Marty said, before Todd smacked him on the back of the head. “Dude! Don’t say it like that!”

You got a bit flustered, and looked at Dave. “You told them!? What the fuck, Lizewski?”

“I-I’m sorry!” He held up his hands. “They were asking me what we were talking about, and... I panicked.” They were more so insinuating that he was flirting with her, and he didn’t want that rumor going around, in case your jock brother caught wind of that and beat his ass for flirting with his sister.

You sighed, looking down and pinching the bridge of your nose before waving your hand out in a dismissive manner. “It’s... whatever, just leave. Before I change my mind and throw a bitch fit.” His two friends gave him a suggestive look before heading out. “Those two better not snitch or I’ll cut off their shrimps.” He nodded, just a little intimidated by the threat.

He got out his backpack and handed you the comic. “I’m still surprised I uh... I never knew you were into this stuff.” His breath hitched in his throat when your finger brushed over his as you took it from him. You flipped through it, keeping your eyes on the pages.

“Yeah, well... There’s a lot you don’t know about me, as much as I’m sure you guys love to assume.” You realized you hadn’t even told him your name, so you looked up at him and held out your hand, introducing yourself. You know, out of courtesy. 

“I-I know your name, but uhm... I’m Dave.” Your hand felt so soft, your beautifully manicured fingers being a real juxtaposition to his. His hand was much bigger and rougher than yours. You wondered why his hand was so calloused anyways... He didn’t look like he did many sports.

“Wait... Your name isn’t Lizewski?” You chuckled. “Christ, my bad... I always thought that was just your first name.” Your feeling of guilt for the boy before you flared up a bit again. He was being really nice to you, offering you something personal of his that he probably spent a pretty penny on. And you didn’t even know his actual name before. No wonder some people thought you were a bit of a bitch, you thought to yourself. 

“Hey, uhm... I know you got a bunch of these, and my dad would kill me if he knew I was reading them. He hates vigilantes, and he thinks reading comics will get me into the whole thing. Stupid, I know, but... He takes it surprisingly seriously.” You put the comic away carefully. “So I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows rose a little. A proposition, alright. No big deal. Could be literally anything though. 

“Come to my house this Saturday, bring a bunch of these, and I’ll tell my dad you’re coming to tutor me for physics or something.” You tilted your head a little, your locks falling gently over your shoulders. “I’ll pay you. Money’s not a problem. It’ll be like I’m renting them from you.”

He thought for a second, but in all honesty... How was this not a total win/win situation? He got to be in a pretty girl’s room, read comics with her, talk about them and make money. What kind of idiot would say no to that? “Yeah! Sounds good to me, uh... What do you want me to...” His words trailed off as you pulled out a pen and reached for his hand, writing a string of numbers on the back of it. 

“I’ll text you the address, and which series I like. I’ll let you do the picking. Oh, and Dave?”

“Y-Yeah?” He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. This is the closest you’ve ever stood to him. 

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you look up at him with a death stare. “Not a word to anyone about this.” You followed with a cutesy smile. “Alrighty?” You let go of his hand and put your stuff away before pulling out your car keys. 

Dave stands frozen in place, a faint blush already spread across his cheeks. He swore you were going to be the death of him. He looked down for a second and realized that what you wrote down wasn’t just some random numbers. It was your phone number. It all just suddenly felt very real to him, he’d never gotten a girl’s number before. And you were just about the last person he’d expect it from too.

You got in your car and turned on your engine. “See ya on Saturday, Lizewski! Don’t be late or I’ll kill you!” You smile, before driving off at a totally normal and acceptable speed. 

He gave a nervous wave before he looked back down at his hand. There was a little heart scribbled behind the phone number. It probably meant nothing.

But boy did it make his heart flutter. 

[aklaustaleteller]

Might Fancy You

Y/n went from fearing Klaus, to studying in his studio, to then throwing Shakespeare insults at him while chasing after him to put paint on him; he'd started it. But what happens when she ignores his one warning and he has her cornered in a flash?

Warnings - few mentions of blood and some kissing.

Word Count - 1.8k

I told you I'll have part two out in two days and here it is! You can read part one here, and well, I hope you enjoy both the parts!

“And you are?” Elijah asked the girl standing in the doorway of the mansion, clutching onto so many things that he worried all of it was going to fall out of her trembling hands any time now. 

“Um, I’m here to meet Klaus?” She said, an awkward smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “He’s helping me with an art project,” she continued when the original didn’t say anything.

But he did raise an eyebrow at that, making her even more nervous and bunch up her shoulders in a defensive shrug. “You know what? I’ll just leave,” her voice made a few tumbles as she turned around and began walking out the door she’d just come in. Her guard was high up because she had no reason to believe that this vampire wasn’t going to drain her of blood then and there for stepping onto his property without any permission. 

“Y/n!” She heard a voice call out and she flinched, her heart trying to make up for the missed beat and speeding up as a result. 

“Y- yes?” She stuttered, slowly turning to face him, fearing what’s to come. How stupid had she been to ask a goddamn original to help her out with some- some school work! 

“What did you say to her, Elijah?” Klaus glared at his brother on seeing his new friend so shaken up.

Elijah only turned towards him in a slight confused daze. “I simply asked her who she was,” he said, walking away from the scene to probably his reading chair, leaving as nonchalantly as he could’ve killed her. 

A smile creeped up on Klaus’ mouth, a chuckle rumbling inside his chest at how easily she’d been frightened. It was almost bordering on endearing. 

“C’mon love, follow me,” he urged her as he walked up the stairs, coming to halt when he didn’t hear her move. “Y/n?” he called her, looking back at her from midway up the stairs. and coming to a realisation that she might genuinely be scared of him. 

“I think I’ll go,” she said, looking very close to passing out. “Forget I asked you for anything.” She didn’t even look him in the eyes and turned back around to leave and get away from this mansion as fast as she could.

But of course, Klaus stood in front of her just as she turned, almost sending her heart flying out of her mouth. It was strange, to witness this completely new side of the girl who ferociously bit right back at him the most creative insults he’d ever heard in his long life.

“Why are you so suddenly terrified of me?” Klaus asked, his face creasing in confusion as his eyes showed her specks of hurt that could very well just be the mossy-green of his eyes deceiving her. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know maybe the sense that you’re an original who could rip me to shreds or drain me of all my blood right here,” she stopped herself like she’d done something insanely stupid and – ”finally knocked at my brain,” she trailed off very softly, almost as if cautious of making him angry.

“Y/n- love, you know I’d never do that,” he mumbled, cupping her face and almost flinching when she went stiff. “I mean I could do that but I never would!” he reframed his sentence when she narrowed her eyes, for some reason, desperate that she understood him.  

“What do I have to believe you wouldn’t?” 

“Because I do not have any reason to,” Klaus reassured her, not saying that maybe because he fancied her a little, just because this wasn’t the ideal moment for a confession like that. 

Y/n didn’t say anything at that. Standing still and looking into his eyes, searching his face for any signs of underlying betrayal but she didn’t find any – not that she expected to, he is a thousand years old after all, surely he’d know how to disguise his motives.

And yet, when Klaus grasped her arm and led her up the stairs, she let him. 

“I see you brought all of your stuff,” Klaus chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood as he took a million things out of her hold, placing it all on the rug and smiling when he saw her setting up the canvas for him. He could get used to this very easily. 

“I did, it’s my work you are doing after all,” she said softly, slowly coming out of her shell. “I didn’t want you to waste your supplies on it,” she continued. 

“I wouldn’t say this is wasting anything,” Klaus proposed, thinking that maybe this would be the topic for their discussion today, slight banter even? 

“I wouldn’t either,” she agreed with him, catching him a little off guard. “But the school people will tear this apart and throw it in the trash before I could ever get to it.”

Klaus shook his head at that, preparing the paints and the brushes. “And why would you want to get to it?”

Y/n had managed to make herself comfortable on the floor a couple feet away from him, her papers already scattered on the floor of his studio,  and Klaus only hoped that they could do this more often after this day.

“Well, I wouldn’t want it go to waste… you see? Maybe hang it somewhere in my house when it’s purpose in school is served,” she shrugged nonchalantly, taking the cap off of a pen by her mouth and Klaus wanted nothing more than to rush over to her and cup her face to kiss her. 

Which reminded him that she was quite fastly transitioning back to her usual self around him. He smiled at that, the scary thrill in his heart that had come at the thought of her fearing him slowly fading away. 

Neither of them said anything after that, getting to their individual works in silence. The soft sounds of Klaus’ brush against the canvas, mixing colours on his palette and rinsing the brush rid of the previous colours filled the room along with sounds of Y/n flipping her book, turning the pages in notebooks and changing pens. 

The sun peeked in through the windows, the lighting constantly changing as the clouds drifted calmly through the sky. 

While painting, Klaus began to worry about this girl who was so engrossed in her homework that she hadn’t moved once. He worried that she’d gotten so serious and quaint that she might just tumble into sadness. All that to say, he missed her laugh a little as well.

He tuned to just look at her while he was sure that she was unaware. Her hair was tied up, circular glasses that had a coppery rim slipping lower and lower on the bridge of her nose until she had to fix them. She looked cute, Klaus caught himself thinking.

Her lips were resting in a faint pout as she focused, her fingers picking at them while she jottled down something in her notebook with her free hand. His hand ached to trace its fingers over the highs and the lows of her face. The little frown that had formed inbetween her eyebrows made her look all the more cute and Klaus found himself walking over to her, his feet functioning on a mind of their own. 

He bent down to come face-to-face with her as she was sitting, and he almost cooed at the fact that she still hadn't quite registered the close proximity at which he was in front of her. Raising up his hand, he booped her nose – getting the very reaction he was hoping for.

She looked up at that, slightly startled, only to catch Klaus’ eyes widening a little themselves. 

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh, because there was something…” he panicked, his eyes frozen on the spot he had gotten yellow paint on her nose. “I removed it though, don’t you fret,” he smiled, brushing over his pants as he began to stand up straight. 

But she passed him a glare then, clutching the bottom of his henley to stop him. “Klaus,” she began. “Did you remove something or put something there?”

He shrugged at that, focusing back on the canvas and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her getting up. 

“Klaus.” She said his name with an underlying warning. She brushed her own finger over the very spot he had touched, and saw the paint.

“Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once a while, but you really abuse the privilege,” she was walking closer to him and Klaus knew exactly what was about to commence, making him cover his head with his arms when she pressed her hand against the paint on the palette. 

He howled with laughter when she dragged her hands across his neck, twisting and turning to get away from her. Still laughing at the insult she threw at him because it was a bloody good one, Klaus swiped his finger across her collarbone, earning a whine from her as she began chasing him around the studio. 

Stopping to catch her breath, she began shouting at him – “thou crusty batch of nature!” But laughter slipped past both of their mouths before they could even contemplate what she’d just said. 

“No way you just threw a Shakespearree insult at me,” Klaus laughed, standing on the complete other side of the room, opposite to her.

He feigned a growl when she began walking towards him, red paint almost drying on her palms. “Take another step, and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Klaus whispered loud enough for her to hear. 

And she ignored his warning, just like he was hoping she would. Watching her creep up closer and closer to him, Klaus felt a smirk pull up a corner of his lips. 

In a flash, Klaus had her pinned against a wall, her wrists held above her head in his hands. His face tilted to the side lightly, his eyes focused on her mouth as he felt her gaze on him heating up her skin. She tipped her chin forward, her lips not quite meeting his’, making him close the gap between them and connect their lips. 

Lips moving in a perfect sync, Klaus brought one of his hands down to snake it around her waist, her mouth opening with a gasp at the sensation and giving him the chance to kiss her further. The back of her head met with the wall behind her as they kissed with a passion that felt too heated. 

Detaching their mouths, both of them took in heaves of breath, Klaus pecking her lips once more before releasing her wrists. She was looking into his eyes, searching them for something and Klaus couldn’t help but smile at her, her lips very lightly swollen, looking like they’d just been kissed. 

“Think I might fancy you a tad,” he grinned, laughing out loud when she grabbed his face to kiss him again, making him lose his balance only for a second before he was cupping her face ever so gently.

"Never realised I wanted to hear you say it so much,” she let slip a breathy chuckle, looking into his eyes before kissing his lips once more. Lord, it was addictive – he was addictive. 

[nochukoo97]

bad idea - from the start

pairing: bodyguard!jungkook x richdaughter! reader

summary: jungkook’s introduced as your new bodyguard, no matter how much you try to get rid of him, you can’t seem to do so, but he doesn’t seem too bad when he takes care of you after your hangover anyways.

word count: 2k+

taglist open!: @littlestarstinyseven @bbtsficrecs @marvelbun @olimpiiaa @moonchild1 @sparklingocean @jaylinsteyn @kissyfacekoo @gukiebaby @sureconfused @vminkookgf @caro134340lina

masterlist

“I swear I won’t go over my budget again, just please, I don’t need one!” You raise your voice a little in frustration, as your father sitting across the table from you gives you a warning look.

You sink back into the uncomfortably hard dining chair in response. You truly believed you didn’t need a whole bodyguard to watch over you, after all, you weren’t a child anymore. So why was your father so persistent in getting you one?

“Look, it isn’t about your budget or your spendings sweetheart,” He sighs, placing down the fork in his hand onto the designer plate in front of him. “It’s also going to be convenient for you, I wouldn’t have to pay the driver to send you places, since the bodyguard I’ll get for you would be able to drive you anywhere, anytime, and it’s a little company in this huge house! He’ll be able to hold the million shopping bags you bring home each time too,”

You roll your eyes at your dad’s joke, a smile slowly creeping onto your face in response.

“And it’s for your own safety too ___, you know what happened to me before I got my own guards,” he tells you.

You nod in response, even though you still felt as though it was not necessary for you to have someone watching over you.

You’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of the bodyguard.

-

That’s how you find yourself standing in front of Jungkook, as you study his figure up and down while your dad rambles on about the stuff Jungkook has to do.

His boots are unnecessarily chunky, you feel. The cologne he was wearing hits your nose as you studied his face, tall nose, huge eyes, lip piercing, tattooed arm, veins tracing his arms.

“___, are you listening?” You snap out of your daze, head whipping towards your father who was currently sitting in his office chair, frowning at your distracted state.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You send him an apologetic smile, as he shakes his head, repeating himself.

“I was saying, Jungkook here has a car, so he’ll be able to take you shopping later since you had mentioned that earlier,”

“What? I can take the driver, I don’t need him to follow me,”

“I’m banning you from the driver, I need him to commute me to my office and home so he’s off limits,” Your father only laughs as he watches your jaw drop.

“Dad, you can’t do that!”

“Yes I can, I just did, so now Jungkook will be your driver, go on,” He points towards the door, signaling for you to get out of his office.

You can only huff as you trudge out of his office, hearing Jungkook’s boots thud against the floor loudly as he follows you from behind.

Walking towards the other end of the hallway into your bedroom, you halt in your steps as you realise the thudding of a certain someone’s boots has stopped.

You turn around to see Jungkook, standing stiffly outside the door frame, watching you with his big eyes.

“Fine, come in,” You sigh, as Jungkook smiles at you, entering your room.

He scans the place, the walls are white, there’s some polaroid pictures of you and your friends, he presumes, stuck on the wall. There’s a vanity placed in the corner of your room and you have a whole walk-in closet at the other end of your room. There’s a desk next to your vanity, a small portrait of a young girl, probably you, framed up on it. Your bed is pretty big for one person, but he isn’t surprise, considering your dad was the CEO of a top company, you for sure had been spoiled by him.

Jungkook watches as you walk to your vanity, turning on the lights that surround the mirror as you sit on the chair. You look up and make eye contact with him through the mirror, as Jungkook stiffens up.

“You can like- I don’t know, sit somewhere you know? You don’t have to be like at full attention as if there’s going to be someone kidnapping me or something,” You tell him with a straight face, but Jungkook only smiles at that, taking a seat at the chair next to your desk.

It’s still awkward for the both of you, Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he only stares at his hands, fingers tracing over the tattoos on his hand. His legs shake as if he’s extremely nervous, contrasting to his bold demeanor.

You turn on your music, connecting your phone to the speaker in the ceiling of your room. Jungkook watches as you put on your makeup, and you feel his gaze from behind.

“I’m gonna do a lot of shopping today, just warning you,” You look back at him through the mirror as he sends you an amused smile.

“I’ll have a ton of bags to bring home, are you sure you can carry them?” Hopefully he chickens out from not wanting to carry the millions of bags you mentioned and maybe Jungkook will not follow you to the mall.

“Yep,” He pops the last sound, “I’ll carry all the bags you want,”

You slump in your chair in defeat, it was worth the try.

-

“What kind of song is this,” You grumble as Jungkook laughs, turning up the volume of the Arctic Monkeys song.

“Hey, don’t be mean, it’s my favourite band,” He looks over to you when the car stops at the traffic light.

You’re currently sitting in the passenger seat of Jungkook’s Mercedes, as he drives you to the mall. The lavender scent is strong, probably from the million scent packets Jungkook has hidden in the car.

“Well, I have better taste in music than you for sure,” You tell him, grabbing the phone connected to the aux as you switch songs.

“Pfft, Taylor Swift? Come on,” He rolls his eyes before averting his gaze back to the road once the light turns green.

You gasp, “What are you implying? I’m planning to go to her concert next month and since you don’t like her music, frankly I think you can skip out,”

Jungkook only chuckles at your attempt, “Nice attempt there, I’m still following you,”

Second attempt failed. Nice one, ___.

“Then you better get used to liking her music, I’m gonna play it everywhere now, maybe you’ll get sick of it,” You taunt him, but it has barely any effect on the man.

“Sure, maybe I’ll even become her superfan after hearing her music a thousand times, then I’ll be so eager to go to her concert with you,” He raises his eyebrow playfully at you as you roll your eyes.

This was going to be a hard one.

-

Jungkook has at least ten shopping bags in his hands, yet he doesn’t seem like he needs a break. He looks like he can hold ten more and still be able to hold another ten.

“You sure you’re not just shopping to try and get me to hold all these bags and eventually give up?” Jungkook calls out from behind, as you whip around, sending him a glare.

Your actual reaction would be, ‘How are you reading through my plans so easily?’ But obviously you don’t tell him that.

“No, it’s because retail therapy is my thing, I need to get as many things as possible to unbox when I get home,”

Okay, if you were being honest, you were only doing it to spite him, in hopes he would give up. But the further you shop, the more you realise Jungkook is not giving up easily.

That’s why you aren’t at designer stores to shop, but rather at the cheapest shops you could possibly find to buy the most random and unnecessary things possible.

Perhaps Jungkook could see right through your plans, but you weren’t giving up either.

-

As you begin to lay out all the items from your shopping trip on the floor of your room, Jungkook is commenting on your purchases a little too much for your liking.

“A bird figure? You’re afraid of birds aren’t you?” He laughs, picking up the ceramic bird as he scans its face, the eyes of the bird slightly misplaced.

“How do you know that?” You look up in surprise at him,

“Your father told me everything you were scared of, but birds? Really?” He laughs further, making you scowl at him.

“You can have that, I don’t want it anymore,” You look back at the shopping bags, grabbing another item as you tell him.

“Thanks, I’ll put it on my bedside table as a reminder that every time a bird flies our way, I’ll make sure to protect you and take cover,” He jokes, placing the bird on the desk in front of him.

Jungkook notices the picture of you when you were a toddler, framed on your desk, picking it up, he looks at the picture.

You’re squatting in a puddle, a raincoat that was far too big for you covered your small body, there’s a huge smile on your face as you hold up a finger to pose for the picture, probably wanting to hold up a peace sign but you couldn’t, so you resorted to your index finger alone.

Jungkook chuckles at the picture, catching your attention, as you walk up to him and snatch the frame away.

“Hey!” The picture is now placed facing the wall, so that Jungkook can no longer stare at it. You send him a glare as you trudge back to your original position on the floor, unpacking more of your stuff.

“You know there was a pigeon in the corner of the picture?” He taunts, and it was true, he had noticed the small bird hidden in the grass behind you.

“Shut up,” You laugh, rolling your eyes at him.

You don’t think much of the interaction between you and Jungkook, but he does. You finally laughed for the first time in front of him, the smile on your face replicating that in the picture. He thinks it’s cute.

-

“Where are we going tonight?” Jungkook questions, noticing your outfit, as you sit yourself in front of the vanity.

“Dinner with my friends, we booked an extra seat for you but if you really really don’t want to go, you’re free to stay home,” You smile sweetly at him through the mirror, and Jungkook doesn’t take your bait.

“Hah, nice try, I’m going,” He tells you, heading out of your room to change into nicer clothes.

“It was worth the try,” You whisper to yourself, leaning closer to put on mascara.

-

“Are you sure he’s just your bodyguard?” Yeji taunts you, gesturing to Jungkook who’s currently sitting next to you at the table.

“Yes, stop stirring up stuff, let’s talk about other stuff,” You groan, rolling your eyes at her. Jungkook doesn’t participate in the conversation, he only sits and listens attentively as you converse with your friends.

“I’m just saying, if he’s up for grabs-“ She starts, but you immediately cut her off.

“He’s not. Don’t you dare,” You scowl at her, a frown forming on your face. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at your reaction, he holds back his laugh.

“Yeji, that’s her man, stay away,” Chaeyong laughs next to Yeji, patting her on the back. She only shakes her head and sighs dramatically.

“Let’s order more soju,” You tell them, raising your hand to catch a waiter’s attention.

“___, you’ve drunk enough, I’m pretty sure you don’t need more,” He tells you, pulling your hand down.

“I wanna have fun Kook, please,” You’re definitely drunk by how you don’t spit back at him, the nickname and the whine you give him takes Jungkook by surprise. But how can he say no when you’re practically giving the biggest puppy eyes to him?

-

He regrets letting you order more alcohol, right now you’re slumped against his chest, intoxicated and unable to even balance on the chair.

“I’m bringing Yeji home, you can take care of her right?” Chaeyong tells Jungkook, as he quickly nods, bowing as she leaves.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jungkook isn’t even sure if you’re conscious, by the way your body is practically limped against his.

“Mm,” You hum against his chest, not budging.

With a sigh, he wraps his arm below your knees, lifting you up and carrying you into the car, and you stir slightly when he clicks the seatbelt over you in the passenger seat.

You’re passed out fully, even when Jungkook brings you up to your room and tucks you under your blanket. He can only sigh and hope for the best for the hangover coming to you tomorrow.

-

Jungkook isn’t surprised when he enters your room the next morning, seeing your curled up figure under the blankets as you shuffle uncomfortably.

“___? Want me to bring your breakfast here?” He softly asks, as you peek up from the blankets.

“No, not hungry,” Your voice is croaky, and it’s evident that you aren’t handling the hangover too well.

Jungkook only sighs, making his way to sit on the edge of your bed. “I told you to not drink so much-“

“Stop nagging,” You groan, pulling back the covers to cover the bottom half of your face.

Jungkook reaches to touch your forehead using the back of his hand, making you hiss at the cold contact. “Shit, you’re definitely having a fever,”

“I’m fine, I’ll be better in like an hour,” You croak out, as Jungkook frowns.

“I’ll bring medicine and hot soup, eat it and you’ll feel better,” He doesn’t give you time to reject his offer, making his way out of the room and to the kitchen.

Why was he being so nice to you? To be fair he was a bodyguard, he didn’t have to do all these to make you feel better. Although you definitely weren’t complaining about the princess treatment from him.

It takes a little effort from Jungkook to persuade you to swallow down the medicine and soup, but you end up giving into him, it was nice being spoiled by him anyways.

You watch as Jungkook brings in a bowl of water and a towel, setting it beside your bed. You peer over the covers, watching him soak the towel in the water and fold it into a rectangle, before looking back at you.

“Lay back down,” He instructs, gently wringing the towel so that the water would not drip from it.

You comply, plopping your head back onto your pillow as you wait for his next move.

“That’s cold!” You whine when the towel makes contact with your forehead, as Jungkook pushes the hairs away from your face, gazing down at you in sympathy.

“It’ll make you better quicker, trust me,” He tells you, setting the bowl of water on your bedside table. You simply close your eyes, nodding your head slightly as Jungkook smiles at you being so compliant.

-

“Wanna take a walk outside? Maybe it’ll make you feel better,” Jungkook suggests, his weight sinking one side of your bed as he sits down on your mattress.

“It’s like 10pm,” You tell him, “But sure,”

He smiles at your response, reaching out his hand as an offer to help you get out of your lying position on your bed.

It’s quiet and dark as both you and Jungkook walk in silence, only the occasional crickets sounding out fill the air.

“This is my usual spot to sit, when I come out at night to sit by myself,” You tell him, settling down on the rocks near the beach.

“It’s peaceful here,” He sighs, settling down next to you as you hum in response.

“I used to sneak out of the house when I was younger to come here and play on the beach,” You laugh, reminiscing the old memories.

“So you were a rebel?” He teases, looking at you.

You roll your eyes at him, nudging his shoulder. “I wasn’t that bad, I’m pretty sure you’ve done worse,” He raises an eyebrow at that, laughing.

“You think?” He laughs, “The worst I’ve done is probably steal my dad’s car,”

“That’s bad!” You gasp, turning to face him as he stares at you in amusement.

“You should smile more, it’s much prettier than you scowling at me,” He smiles at you, as your breath hitches in surprise.

You can’t even look into his eyes anymore by how flustered you’ve become, as you simply stare at your lap.

“You can’t just say things like that so suddenly,” You whisper, still not looking up at him.

“Why?” He teases you more, leaning closer to you. “Can’t take it?”

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop - Part 3

Summary: Tav knew she was falling for him in some ways but she didn't realise just how bad it had become until she got shot in the leg while killing a vampire hunter for him.

Meanwhile, Astarion really doesn't understand Tav and her strange solutions to problems and ignoring it really isn't working well.

I've already planned a part 4 because I'm addicted. Tav is not mentioned by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 3k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Though she tried her utmost to appreciate every environment they explored (if only because she would otherwise go crazy), she couldn’t find much she liked about the swamp. Not even with its sweetened flowers, warm sunlight, and strange sheep.

She was almost a thousand percent sure those were polymorphed humans but she refused to worry about them yet. Whatever had created them surely would reveal itself and for now, she focused on the bigger problem before her.

A monster hunter standing before her with a friendly smile on his face and a laugh echoing across the swamp as though he hadn’t threated one of her companions.

He may not know what he’d done but it put her on edge regardless.

She made sure not to look at Astarion, a subliminal concern in her. She refused to give too much attention in case it drew his gaze over to those glinting red eyes or faded but very obvious scars nestled against pale skin.

Instead, she stepped forward and demanded all the attention she could with a loud voice and a smile. “Sounds awfully boring,” she said. “To hunt one creature for so long and not make any progress. Hardly even a challenge or thrill to just slowly camp somewhere and wait.”

The hunter chuckled and she seethed. “The first thing you learn in my line of work is never underestimate your opponent. This spawn has been eluding me for quite some time.”

She tried to keep her expression neutral but struggled. Even in her best moods, she couldn’t hide what she thought and the anxiety in her chest was stronger than ever. Maybe he would think the worry in her face showcased a fear of the creature rather than of him.

“Only a spawn?” she asked. “Pity. Not like it’s a real vampire. There’s little glory to be had in such a hunt.”

He frowned at the accusation in her tone and raised an eyebrow, perhaps confused by the hostility in her voice.

Before he could answer though, Astarion drawled, “I don’t know. I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip your throat out if he felt like it.”

She couldn’t help a slight smile. Though perhaps not happy, he didn’t sound nervous which meant they fight should be easy. Lae’zel, bored as she was, never complained about further bloodshed and undoubtedly this hunter had no experience facing a gith sword.

Her own bloodthirstiness surprised her. Rarely did she feel the desire to spill blood quite as intensely as she did now and no guilt followed. This man dared to threaten somebody she cared for and she immediately moved to murder.

She really needed to be careful of the strange hold Astarion had on her.

“He is right, unfortunately. They’re only weak when compared to their masters. During the day we have the advantage but when night falls, you will not find a more dangerous quarry.”

She pretended to wince. “Awful for somebody like you to hunt something so fierce when you appear barely able to fight one of these sheep. Should I not worry about one of these spawn creeping up on you when you least expect it?”

The hunter appeared thoroughly offended and Lae’zel snorted in what she had started to learn may be a laugh.

“Well, we’ve stayed alive so far so perhaps we can focus on that.” Astarion reminded her of a cat playing with a mouse. But the cat also hovered far away from the potential battle, uncertain.

“It’ll be safer for you to keep patrols at night,” the hunter warned. “Just in case it tries anything.”

“I don’t think I will.”

He tried to be friendly and helpful but now he simply frowned. She almost felt bad for turning rude and abrasive, noticed how her response made him a little more uncomfortable but not enough to reach for a weapon. Her hand however drifted closer to her blade.

Morals said she should provide him a false lead and send him on a wild chase far away from her party.

Her brain said he may be a threat. If he doubled back or found out about her deception, he could sneak into their camp and take Astarion before she noticed.

And her heart told her if she let him go, Astarion wouldn’t relax again. He may not even stay in the area if he thought the hunter lurked nearby – too jumpy and flighty to stick around their group.

Her morals would need to keep quiet until she dealt with this.

“Maybe we should take him up on his recommendation,” Astarion suggested. “Or deal with this threat now.”

“Take him out before he hurts anybody,” she said and it was an agreement.

The hunter waved his hands quickly. “Oh, I wouldn’t recommend hunting a vampire spawn if you have no experience. You may be a strong fighter but I doubt you’d be able to challenge one.”

“I wasn’t speaking about Astarion,” she said. “If he wanted me dead, he’s had ample opportunities so far.”

Astarion hummed, almost chuckling. “You’re not wrong. It’s lucky that you’ve proven yourself far more useful alive.”

The hunter’s gaze slowly drifted between her and Astarion and her grip tightened on her blade. “That’s impossible,” he said as he reached for his crossbow. “There’s no way you’re –“

She stepped forward and slipped the blade free. Steel sunk deep into flesh and he choked out a garbled, surprised sound as his throat split open. Disgusting.

Blood sprouted from his neck and down his chest as he fell backwards, eyes wide with shock. But she had been too confident and she didn’t notice how he’d managed to get his crossbow out; how he pulled the trigger even as the last of the dark red pulsed from his throat.

The bolt stabbed directly through her thigh. It drove straight through the leather and pierced the flesh beneath even as the others drew their weapons to assist in a battle she’d already won.

She collapsed to one knee as his body thumped against the ground with a few ragged gasps. This was scarcely her first time being shot by a crossbow bolt but something must have coated the weapon. Poison or enchantment, she didn’t know but the pain and the weakness spread fast through her body and her blade fell onto the soft grass below.

“Are you alright?” Wyll arrived at her side first, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him through gritted teeth. “He’s dead right?”

“From what I could see,” Astarion said with a dramatic sigh. “Well, that’s a pity. I wanted to kill him myself.”

She ignored him and put a bit of pressure on the site of the injury. Her muscles burned fiercely as she decided to leave the bolt in for now. Rather not pull it out when she didn’t know what clung to it.

She slowly stood and blood pulsed down her leg in thick rivers. It slicked the area between her armour and left awful, sticky trails.

No visiting the strange old woman it would appear. She refused to explore a swamp when her leg felt like this.

She stepped forward and hissed in pain, just about collapsing once more if it hadn’t been for Wyll’s support on her back. Definitely something strange about this one.

“We do have spare health potions,” he said as he looked at the bolt. “But this has some magic on it. We should get back to the camp to make sure it isn’t going to deal any long-term damage.”

“I like that idea,” she admitted with a strained and uncomfortable laugh. “It’s a little sore.”

Over the past few days, she’d had many close calls with many weapons but this wooziness… she hated it. The air around her swam as she limped her way along the ridiculously long road back to their camp, reassuring her companions with soft words which held no purchase. Even they could see the way the energy drained from her body with each step.

She accepted only the occasional of assistance from Wyll and tried to make it appear as though the injury didn’t bother her.

Honestly, it had been her fault entirely. She should have noticed the crossbow and been more aware of when he pulled it free. Anger clouded her vision then and still did as they walked back.

The audacity of such a man who dared to threaten her friends… he agitated her even now when he lay on the floor, destined to be anything more than food for the various animals in the area.

Astarion didn’t return her occasional glances nor did he offer help.

She hoped he hadn’t become upset at her actions. Though he may have wanted to kill the hunter himself, she had seen an opportunity and taken it before anybody got hurt.

Well, aside from her.

The enchantment on the bold got removed swiftly but her body needed time to recover and the evening passed uncomfortably. Every muscle burned and her breaths came in soft, quick succession. She tried to keep her complaints quiet and not bother any companions. She had the antidote; she had a bandage. Now all she had to do was wait.

And wait.

The night’s hours stretched long as she lay in her tent. She prayed for sleep to find her but the ache in her bones and the burning pain refused to allow her an opportunity forward.

The footsteps distracted her from her twisting and turning. For somebody so akin to sneaking around, Astarion had stopped doing it after he’d given her a heart attack and she ended up headbutting him. He’d complained non-stop over it for at least an hour but now he didn’t sneak around anymore.

He stepped through the entrance of her tent, his hair haloed in moonlight. The night suited him as well as the day did. He looked practically ethereal as he drifted into her tent, every bit the predator she’d been warned about.

“Well, don’t you look like an absolute mess.”

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head away from him. “And it’s all because of you.”

“Me? It’s hardly my fault the man had a poisoned crossbow. You could have dodged it, you know. I’ve seen you twist your way out of worse hits than that.”

Almost always because of luck but she wouldn’t tell him as much. Instead, she offered him a small smile and tried to stop the tremble in her limbs. At least the pain felt lighter than before.

“Aren’t you meant to be cured or whatever by now?” he asked.

“Shadowheart said it’ll heal up by the morning at latest. I just have to last until then.” Exhausted of lying down, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, leaning against her travelling chest with her legs stretched out. “I’m surprised you came to visit. Are you worried?”

He put his hand to his heart and smiled. “You wound me. Of course, I’m worried. It’s not every day I find somebody dedicated enough to slice a man’s throat in my name.”

“The others would have done the same to keep you safe.”

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t trust any of them with catching a spider.”

She laughed. Though he complained, they were growing on him and she didn’t even need to prompt him to join their impromptu gatherings anymore.

“They like you.”

He ignored her comment and instead spoke of something else. “I believe my old master sent the hunter. He wants me back under his thumb, as I expected. This won’t be the only person he sends and not all will go down so easily.”

“I won’t get distracted next time then,” she laughed.

“Distracted?”

She gestured at him, knowing better than to voice the protectiveness for what it was. She didn’t understand it much either. “I’ve always told you how pretty you are. Now look what those sharp eyes have done. I couldn’t stop looking at them.”

She could play his game too. Offer him compliments and flattery instead of truth when he felt vulnerable.

“You can’t distract me with compliments,” he scoffed.

“Oh, I absolutely can.”

If she had the energy to do so, she would have continued but the wound pulsed in pain and she turned her attention to it, pressing against the soft skin to try and make it stop. The red bandage twisted her stomach into knots but it had stopped bleeding after a while.

Astarion appeared close to her unexpectedly, close enough to kiss with the smallest smirk on his face.

“You must try to stop yourself from getting hurt like this,” he said, trailing the faintest brush over her thigh. “It’s a waste of perfectly good blood. I almost couldn’t contain myself when I saw it running over your skin.”

She tried to laugh but it came out more exhausted than anything. “I’ll try but I make you no promises. My blood isn’t only yours.”

“Not yet. Perhaps the next time you give me the opportunity, I’ll drain it all so you can’t waste it.”

She tilted her head to the side to bear her throat, an exhausted but teasing smile in place. “I did say you could feed off me this morning, right? You’re welcome to take a bite now if you’re hungry.”

He appeared to not be able to tell if she joked or not. She smiled to tell him she was. Even if she had the blood to spare right now (and honestly, she didn’t), she doubted Astarion planned on feeding from her when he already felt as though he owed her some strange debt.

She’d noticed that about him. He only propositioned her when he felt as though he had to give her something in exchange.

It made her concerned.

He scoffed. “You couldn’t pay me enough. I can smell that rancid poison in your veins and it’s awful.”

She groaned and rolled her head back. “I hate this. It’s worse than that stupid apple I ate when we first entered the swamp and just as awful as when the goblin managed to sink its axe into my arm the other day. I thought I caught something from that at least.”

He chuckled. “Well, whatever magic was, it was likely intended for me so it probably won’t kill you.”

“If it’s going to kill me, I’d like it to get it over with. This pain is horrific.”

She expected him to leave soon but she took the opportunity to tap the spot beside her, asking him to sit down. What better company could she ask for? Elves didn’t sleep and despite pretending, Astarion certainly never allowed himself to meditate for very long at all.

“You’re very demanding, aren’t you?” Regardless, he took a seat and they lapsed into silence, punctuated only by her soft and somewhat shaky breaths.

She wanted to ask about the hunter. Wanted to know more about his old master and why he would be so desperate to claim a spawn back. Vampires could create as many spawn as they wanted to and he didn’t need to keep one at all times. It felt like a great deal of energy.

But as the silence stretched out, only one really bothered her enough to make her speak.

“Are you alright?”

“Obviously,” he laughed. “I’m not the one who got shot, was I?”

“No but I wouldn’t want to know a hunter is after me. I don’t want you to feel like you’re unsafe here.”

His smile turned bitter and unhappy as he answered that, his mouth twisted into a scowl. “Safe? Nowhere’s going to be safe as long as Cazador remains alive. The reach of a vampire lord goes far beyond what you may think.”

She may be a little light-headed for a proper conversation but she kept conscious, if unable to stop herself from leaning against his side. He was so cool. It felt amazing against the feverish nature of her skin and she wanted to hug him so badly.

“If he tries anything, I’ll make sure he doesn’t take you.”

He frowned at her and shifted his weight, not quite moving away from her but also not wholly embracing it. She hoped he would move away if he felt uncomfortable, as he did to a few of her other casual touches.

“You’re greatly misunderstanding the power he wields,” Astarion warned, his voice soft. “It would never be as simple as what we’ve seen so far. If he wanted to, he could stroll into this camp and whisk me away before you even noticed what had happened.”

Her solutions were a little scattered so she went for the easy one, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together before she could think about it.

“There,” she murmured. “If he tried to take you away now, I’ll notice immediately.”

Astarion’s muscles turned strangely tense and he made a small coughing sound, muttering something about how she would lose a hand then. She didn’t really hear it. Sleep crept up on her fast with the relaxing touch of his cool body and she lowered her head to his shoulder, eyes drifting closed.

When she woke in the morning, she lay alone in her tent beneath almost every blanket she owned and feeling brilliantly better. The pain faded and she felt ready to take on a hag.

Which incidentally is what they ended up doing. She spent the longest time afterwards wondering if she’d dreamed the previous night or not, distracted enough to nearly spill a bottle of unknown potion all over Gale. After a multitude of apologies, they made their way out and if Astarion’s hand brushed against the back of hers for a second, she didn’t mention it further.

Taglist: @venus-wrts @stephmundo @cassiopeia-adaar @escapistoftherealworld @scarletrosesposts @mavix

[writing-for-marvel]

"I dream of you. all i do, is dream of you."

If I Can’t Have Everything, Then Let Me Just Have You

Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Andy gets jealous of you talking with his colleague, you reassure him he’s everything you’ll ever need.

Warnings: age gap and although exact ages are never mentioned everyone is well and truly of age, jealous Andy

Word count: 700

A/N: this is for @nickfowlerrr’s the seven writing challenge - I spun the wheel for the seven deadly sins and got envy. A big thank you my darling friend @flordeamatista, queen of Andy fics, for not only providing the inspiration for this fic, but helping me with writing Andy for the first time and being my constant cheerleader 🩷 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Andy hated attending after work functions with his colleagues. He could barely stand dealing with them during the working week, but then to also be forced to give up his Saturday night so his boss could show off the house his old family money had bought him was another level of torture.

You were his saving grace. Part of him felt guilty for dragging the woman he loved along to these grandstanding cocktail parties where you were forced to make small talk with people you didn’t enjoy the company of, but you were also the only person who stopped him from going completely insane.

But at this moment, while he was stuck hearing about how his boss’s fantasy football team was performing, as if he didn’t hear enough about it at the office, Andy saw red as he was subjected to watch Dylan, the office womaniser, chatting you up.

In the back of his mind he knew with absolute certainty that you wouldn’t cheat on him, but the reason his heart clenched and acidic jealousy bubbled in his stomach was because of what Dylan represented: everything Andy couldn’t offer you.

He wasn’t young anymore, he was well aware the prime of his life was past him at this point in time. He had settled into a comfortable routine which didn’t involve a thriving social life which he remembered having with Laurie when they were your age. He was surely not as flexible or had as much energy as a young man fifteen years his junior.

He wanted to be able to give you the world, but all he had to offer was the trauma developed from his tarnished past, which was still following him around like a shadow, his back problems, wonky knee and the remainder of his life which would be distinctly shorter than Dylan, or someone of his age, could promise to spend with you.

The root of his envy was insecurity.

And he was green with envy.

Excusing himself from the one-sided conversation his boss was having, Andy set off with purpose, making a beeline to you, only to find you were already making your way over to him. Relief eased the tension in his shoulders as your gaze found his and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Your colleague, the guy behind me, is a creep.” You commented, hooking your fingers through his belt loops and pulling him protectively into you. Andy leaned down and placed a small, sweet kiss to your forehead, not needing to look behind you to know exactly who you were referring to. A sense of satisfaction filled his chest with the notion that you were clearly averse to Dylan’s pursuits.

“That’s not what most young women around the office think.”

“Well he is.” You stated firmly, a look of disgust flashing over your features. “Why does it take me telling him I have a boyfriend to respect that I’m not interested. Why would I want a boy like him, when I already have a man like you?”

Andy smiled, coming to the realisation that he had no reason to be jealous. Perhaps he couldn’t offer you his callow youth, but he did have maturity and experience, which would surely be much more valuable in a devoted relationship.

“You are a dream come true, you know that?” In response to this you scrunched your nose and smiled in a way that made Andy’s heart fill with pure adoration and devotion.

You truly were all he would ever need for the remainder of his life.

“You’re my dream come true too, Andy.” Standing on your tiptoes, arms sling around his neck, you placed a delicate kiss against his lips, neither of you paying any mind to his colleagues who could be watching on. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Taking a beat to commit the moment to memory, Andy made a promise to himself that he would never take his second chance at love for granted.

“Let’s go home, handsome.” You suggested, tugging gently on his tie with that mischievous grin which always promised a sinfully pleasurable time. “I have plans for us that definitely don’t involve the rest of you colleagues.”

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

"He is half of my soul, as the poets say"

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader sees something on a job which got her realising life is too short

Warnings: angst, trauma, description of dead, english is not my native language

Word Count: 4.3k

The cold was slowly creeping up on you, and the sight before you could only mean one thing, you were dreaming, dreaming a nightmare.

The day started like every other, you all slept till noon and then George went to the Archive to collect information for your new case while Lucy, Lockwood and you prepared everything else.

The sun was already slowly setting and was turning everything around you into a dim light when you all met up with George. “Around sixty years ago, the house was owned by a young couple, Andrew and Mary Hoffman. They were brutally murdered by robbers.” George told the team as you entered said house.

The new owners had no connection to the killed couple, they weren’t even sure if it was one or two ghosts. They only reported that the living room and the second bedroom upstairs were colder than the rest of the house; two weeks ago at night, the rooms became so cold that the windows were freezing and they could see their own breath. This, plus a dreadful feeling, had brought the owners to Lockwood & Co. to get rid of their ghost problem.

You joined Lockwood & Co. half a year ago. Since then, your team had become your best friends, and you trusted them with your life. Of course, with Lockwood & Co. often times things took a turn that really nobody expected, but they had your back and you had theirs, so you knew that it didn’t matter what the night had in store, Lockwood & Co. would ace it.

With this in mind, you followed your team inside the kitchen. Like every good team, you knew your ins and outs, so you didn’t need to talk to know that it was your job to make tea while Lockwood searched for biscuits. You had like fifteen minutes before the darkness would settle upon East London, which was also enough time for a cup of tea and one or maybe two biscuits.

While you were busy preparing each cup of tea the way each member of Lockwood& Co. liked it, Lockwood found what he was looking for. And when he happily declared that the new owners had the good kind of biscuit, you couldn’t help but smile. Lockwood’s happiness always got you beaming, when he was happy, you were happy, probably because you were such good friends. At least that’s what you tell yourself when you were lying at night in your bed and couldn’t sleep because you were too busy thinking about how the laugh of your boss sounded or how his skin felt on yours when you accidentally touched at the kitchen table when you both were reaching for the same item. Maybe if you would stop for a moment and think about it, you would realise that you were head over heels in love with your boss and landlord, but for you denial was not just a river in Egypt.

“The police suspected Mary was killed first, they found her body in the living room. Andrew was found upstairs in the open door of the bedroom. They assumed, he heard the gunshot which killed Mary and wanted to see what happened”, George shared his grim research, and you pushed his cup over the counter to him. As thanks, he gave you a quick nod.

“So, we should split up”, Lockwood appeared next to you and cool like always he leaned against the kitchen counter. This was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It felt like every minute, it would just jump out of your ribcage.

“George and I, and you and Y/N, like always?”, asked Lucy sipping her tea.

Lucy was the best listener you ever met; Lockwood’s talent was great sight. You were like George; you got a bit of everything. You could see ghost, but no death-glow. You could hear the voices of visitors, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. Only your touch was better than average and saved you from the fate of a night watch kid. Sometimes when you touch something ghost infected, you could see, hear, and feel important moments of the ghost’s life. For you, these visions often felt like minutes, but it was only a few seconds.

But in Lockwood’s humble opinion, a few second were enough for you to get ghost-touched. For someone so reckless, he was terribly worried about your safety. Therefore, you got into more than one argument about this issue. If Lockwood had his way, you would sit back home, while your team was fighting ghost without you. But that was no life you wanted to live, and you made this clear. If Lockwood would ever force you to stay back at Portland Row, you would leave Lockwood and Co. This was the argument, which always won you the fight. When he couldn’t keep you safe by leaving you back home, Lockwood insisted, that on missions you always stayed by his side. He was the best swordsman of you four, so he was the best fit to protect you and himself from getting ghost-touched. You didn’t mind. It was nice to work close with Lockwood, when he wasn’t plunging himself head first into danger. But Lucy once claimed, with knowing smirk in her face, that he was doing it less, since you joined the agency.   

It was no surprise to everyone, that he agreed with Lucy, and before you knew it, you were standing in the living room. One look at your watch confirmed what you already felt, every minute the last light of the sun would disappear, and the night would begin. Unconsciously wrapping your jacket tighter around your frame, your fingers fiddled with your belt, trying to remove the thermometer.

You weren’t nervous-no- you weren’t more nervous than on any other mission. Of course, you didn’t know which kind of ghost you would encounter this night, but you were positive that you could handle it. To fail in front of Lockwood wasn’t an option.

Finally freeing the thermometer from your belt, you began to start tracking the temperature. This was your job, while Lockwood was kneeing in the middle of the room, probably examining the death-glow.

The closer you got to the fireplace, where the remains of a long-forgotten fire lay, the colder it became. When you came to a stop in front of the fireplace, your hair stood up, and you couldn’t help but tremble. Closing your eyes, you put your hand on the old stones of the fireplace, expecting them to be cold, but they were nicely warm.

“How odd”, you muttered, before you were hit by a vision.

The first you picked up was the warm, it was a stark contrast to the cold, you were feeling just seconds ago. You were still standing in the same spot in the same room, but beside the fireplace everything was different. The furniture and décor were an older style, bright sunlight shone through the window, and everything screamed home.

In the middle of the room, a couple were slow dancing to “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” from The Shirelles, they were laughing and the happiness they were emitting was luring you in. You couldn’t help but also smile, and for a moment you forget that this wasn’t real. As if you were under a spell, you watched the couple in awe and as he spun her around, you saw his face for the first time.

You inhaled sharp. This face in front of you, you would recognize everywhere. The man looked exactly like how you imagine Lockwood would look in maybe four or five years. He was dressed in the fashion of the 60s, and his eyes shined full of love. You could watch him like this forever.

Narrowing your eyes, you tried to get a better look at his dance partner. She had light brown hair and wore a pretty yellow dress. The pair did another turn, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. The woman in Lockwood’s arm were you. She was exactly looking like you. Maybe a few years older and a lot happier.

Lockwood was gazing at her like she was his world, and you would have given everything that your Lockwood would looking at you like he was looking at her. You would kill for it. As this thought plopped up in your head, the world around you shifted.

In one moment, everything around you were bright and warm in the next moment you stood in the dark lifeless living room and the cold rushed over you, like somebody emptied a bucket full of ice water over your head.

A bad taste in your mouth and a creeping feeling of dread was all the warning you got, but it was also all the warning you needed. Pulling out your rapier, you spun around to come face to face with the ghost of Mary Hoffmann. But what you saw let you freeze like a stone statue. You weren’t ghost-locked, you just couldn’t believe it. It was like looking into a mirror, just that the own reflection was dead.

Shortly the thought, that the ghost was playing with you, crossed your mind, but that was not how your visions worked. Mary looked exactly like she had in the vision; she was your Doppelgänger.

Tearing your eyes from the sight, you never wanted to see in your life, you looked to Lockwood. Normally Lockwood tried to look cool, calm, collected, but right now his eyes darted between you and the ghost, not believing what he saw.

Nobody of you were moving, the ghost looked at you and when your eyes locked you couldn’t even lift a finger. You could feel her sadness and her grieve. But under all there was anger, an anger you could understand all too well. Maybe you didn’t know how it felt to lose your own life, but you already felt the grieve and anger after you lost a loved one.

“Darling, please step back slowly”, Lockwood tried to sound calm, but you could see right through it. But his voice had always the same effect on you, it brought you back.

Removing your gaze from the ghost in front of you, your eyes met Lockwood’s. That was enough to stop the growing panic. He was here with you, nothing too bad would happen.

Clutching your rapier like your life depended on it, you followed Lockwood’s order. Slowly you took a step back, then another till your back hit the wooden shelf of the fireplace. All the time you watched the ghost cautious, waiting for it to attack you. But Mary only followed curious your movement until you touched the wood.

It was like you flipped a switch. In one moment, she was peaceful, in the next she wasn’t any more. With a high wail she lunged for you, and before you could react Lockwood was there, his rapier slicing through her. Ectoplasm splattered around, and a few drops hit your boots. And the ghost? She vanished but both of you were agents and knew that it was only a matter of time, that she would reappear. Time you could use to search for the source.

“Are you OK?”, Lockwood sounded concerned.

Like the liar you were, you sent him a small smile, “Sure.”

Of course, you weren’t OK, not after seeing this. But you were too professional, to let it affect your work. Therefore, you took a deep breath and tried to slow your thoughts. First came the work and when you survived the night, you could handle your feelings.

You weren’t new to this field, your experience told you, that it wasn’t a coincidence that Mary acted up as you touched the wood. Her source had to be close. A short look at Lockwood confirmed your suspicion.

“We should lay out the chains”, Lockwood suggested, and you nodded. Both of you knew, that there was no guarantee what would happen, if you touched the source and to find it you had to touch it. Also, there was the possibility, that the ghost was out to get you. Maybe it also realized that you both were a lookalike and now wanted to kill you for it.

“I grab them and Darling, remember no matter what happens, I have your back.”

While Lockwood laid out the chains, he insisted on doing it, you stood with raised rapier next to him, ready to fight off the ghost, if it would appear. But you both were lucky; Mary didn’t show up.

Now you stood inside the iron chains, slowly reaching out to touch the wood a second time. You could feel it, you were so close. Closing your eyes for better concentrating, you carefully let your hands wander over the shelf. When you touched to deep cuts in the wood, which awfully resembled the letters A and M, you knew, that you found it. But before you could inform Lockwood, another vision came crashing over you like a wave and pulled you under.

You were in the same room as in the last vision. But now it was night, and you were looking down the barrel of a gun. Her angst, your angst, was all consuming. Your whole body was shacking.

“Please”, her and at the same time also your voice, was not more than a whisper.

That was all you needed to realize, that in this vision you weren’t just watching her, you were her. And now you would learn how it felt like to die. A small tear ran down your cheek, and you didn’t know if it was Mary or you, who was crying.

Before you could beg again, the robber pulled the trigger. The pain you felt as the bullet priced your flesh was worse than anything you had experienced before. Falling to the floor, you wanted to scream, but the only sound which left your mouth was a quit whimper.

You could feel the warm blood rushing out of your body and starting to form a puddle beneath you. You were too young to die. You had so much you wanted to do, you had so many people you had so say goodbye to. You just couldn’t leave George, Lucy and him- oh you would miss him so much.

With the last of your strength, you tried pressing down on your wound. Burning hot pain shot through your body. But still your warm blood was running through your finger, and you were running out of time. Any breath could be your last one. Everything was cold and you were so tired. You would love nothing more, than to just close your eyes, so you did. Your lungs took their last breath, and then you died.

Just to suddenly standing next to Marys/ your dead body. There was only one thing worse than seeing your own ghost, and that was seeing your own lifeless body. By the sight in front of you, your blood was running cold, and you felt like throwing up.

“Darling, everything alright? What was this noise?”, you heard Lockwood’s voice from above. The robber exchanged looks before they followed his voice upstairs.

Knowing what was to come, your whole body went stiff.

No-no-no-no, that could not happen. You couldn’t let him die. Panicking, you searched for something, that could be used as a weapon, but when you tried to reach for the poker, your hand just went through. In this vision, you were the ghost, you couldn’t change anything.

You jumped when two shots rang out, another tear was running down your cheek. Damn, you knew that you didn’t want to see it, but you couldn’t help it.

Rushing up the stairs, there he was lying. His lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling; all sparks long gone from them. Your legs gave up under you and with a loud wail you felt to the floor. You were wrong earlier; the worst sight of your life was Lockwood’s dead body here in front of you. And you would never fully recover from it.

You were still crying ugly when you came back. When you said yes to this job, you really didn’t expect to get so traumatised. Your heart was beating so fast like you just ran a marathon. Trembling all over, you allowed yourself a quick look over your shoulder.

There he stood, with his back to you, he was facing the room. His rapier was resting in his hands, while he tried to look less tense than he was feeling. Relief flooded through you at the sight of him. It hasn’t been real, he was alive. You suppressed a loud sob and forced yourself to appear calm on the outside, even if there was a storm raging inside.

“I found the source, do you have a crowbar?”, hearing the sound of your voice, Lockwood turned around, which was a bad mistake.

Of course your luck just ran out and Mary decided, that this was the best moment to reappear again. Would it be a typical mission for Lockwood and Co. if something like this wouldn’t happen? You guessed not.

Seeing her appear right behind Lockwood, her arm outstretched, gave you a heart attack.       

They say when something terrible happens, you witness it in slow motion. But that wasn’t true for you. It always happened so fast.

“Watch out”, you yelled, while your hands worked hastily to pull out a salt bombe out of your jacket pocket. While Lockwood spun around and only escaped the ghost-touched by jumping back, you threw the bomb. It hit Mary right in the chest, and with a high-pitched wail she backed off.

“I will fend her off”, without warning, Lockwood threw with his free hand his crowbar to you. Luckily for you, you caught it.

To be completely honest, this was a shitty job. You hated it with all your bones. If it were up to you, this night couldn’t end fast enough.

So you took Lockwood’s crowbar and bought it down onto the shelf with all your anger bundled and a roar of frustration. Two hits were enough to cause the part of the wood with the initials to splinter.

Behind you, you heard Lockwood taunting the ghost to distract her from you. Because one thing for sure, Mary hated what you were doing to her source.

There was no reason for you to drag this out any longer. Therefore, you took your silver net and threw it over the little piece of wood, you broke off. In an instance, the chaos stopped.  

“Are you alri-”, Lockwood never got to finish his sentence, he got too distracted from the loud pounding footsteps, which were running down the stairs.

The next moment, Lucy appeared in the doorway.

“Thank god, you are alive”, with a relived sigh, she threw her arms around Lockwood. Confused, his eyebrows raised.

Would it be any other day, you might have become jealous at the sight in front of you- you could never hug Lockwood light this- but this job had been hell. You only felt tired, so tired.

“We were fighting against a ghost, which looked exactly like you”, Lucy added when she realised how confused Lockwood looked. You already put two and two together, thanks to your visions.

“And suddenly he just vanished, did you found both sources by any chance?”, George chimed in as he entered the room.

“Quite possible”, picking up the silver net, you were careful not expose the source.

“Here”, without further ado, you handed the net into George’s unexpected hand. You wanted nothing more to do with it.

Not waiting for his response, you pushed past him and rushed out of the house. You knew that it wasn’t your smartest move to just run out of a house in the middle of the night. But you still had your rapier and you needed fresh air.

Trembling all over, you took a deep breath. What the hell had been this shit show? And why had they looked exactly like Lockwood and you? You wanted to cry, but you hadn’t any tears left. Wiping your cheeks to remove the salty remains, you crumbled a little. You could still feel the warm blood on your hands, you could still see Lockwood lying dead in front of you.

But before you could collapse, you heard steps behind you. Turning your head, you saw Lockwood hurrying to you. Without saying anything, he pulled you in his warm embrace, and you melted under his touch. Laying your head against his chest, your hands griped his coat, like you were afraid he would leave you. You could hear his hearth racing, and you were sure, that your heart was beating even faster.

Like this, you stayed for what felt like forever. It seemed like both of you wanted to make sure, that what happened inside the house wasn’t more than a bad dream. As if you stayed long enough like this, you could undo what you had seen insight.

After a moment Lockwood broke the silence, “For a second I thought you were her and that you-”, right in the middle he stopped, and you looked up into his pained face.

This was the moment, that you realised, how close you were. You would just have to stand on your tiptoes and your lips would be brushing his. But you didn’t dare. What if he didn’t like you as much as you like him? Then you try to kiss him, ruining everything.

“I never felt such relief in my life when I saw you standing there”, pausing, Lockwood also seemed to realise in which position you both were. Blushing, he took a step back, and you wanted to scream.

“Darling, will you be OK after tonight?” Certainly not. Maybe you put a stop to the haunting, but for sure her memories will haunt you.           

To 85.66% you were sure, that after this night Lockwood told the rest of the team, that you both had fought against your lookalikes. You could see it in the pitiful glances they gave you.

The first days after the job, you mainly spend in your room. At the latest, when you didn’t protest when Lockwood suggested that you stay home for the next job, everyone knew that something was wrong with you.

Every night in your dreams, you and Lockwood died again and again. Every night you woke up heavily panting, and your bed was soaked with sweat. Rational, you knew that neither you nor Lockwood had died, but it had felt so real.

Even when the light was shining through your window, you felt the adrenalin pumping through your veins, ready to fight or flight. The worst part was, that you knew your fear wasn’t so wrong. As an agent, every job could be your last. A little slip up and you could be dead.

To distract yourself, you tried to think of reasons why Mary and Andrew Hoffman looked exactly like you and Lockwood.

One time you read, that every person had seven doppelgängers, but the probability that your lookalike married Lockwood’s was so low. There must be another explanation, you just knew it.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the knock on your door. Only when Lockwood entered your room, you got brought back.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”, you asked the first thing, that came into your mind, before he could say anything.

Taken by surprise, he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of your room.

“I-I- I mean”, he stuttered, and slowly a blush began creeping up his face. From the eloquent Lockwood you often watched was no sign to see.

“Are you thinking about them?”, he asked instead of answering your question. He didn’t even have to say their names for you to know who he was talking about.

“Yes, they got me thinking. How odd it is that both were our lookalikes?”

“And they married each other.” Lockwood’s brown eyes met yours and your heart stopped.

“Yes, and they married each other”, you repeated breathless, while Lockwood came closer.

“May I?”, before you knew it, he was sitting next to you on the bed. Only now did you realize he had swapped his fine suit for a simple grey jumper. If it was even possible, your heart started to beat even faster. Discreetly, you tried to wipe off your sweaty hands on your leggings.

Hoping to gain control over your own body again, you took a deep breath. “You didn’t answer my first question, do you believe in reincarnation?”

Nervously, you bit on your lips, and Lockwood’s eyes followed the movement before his eyes lingered.

While fidgeting with his hands, Lockwood cleared his throat. Never before you saw him so nervous.

“I would like to believe that my soul will always find yours, no matter when and where we are.”

He was looking anywhere but at you. Which was fine, totally fine, because you looked like an idiot.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Or was it just wishful thinking?

The last job has showed you, that the life could be awfully short, you could die any time. Sometime love was worth taking a risk on and if you knew one thing it was, that you loved the reckless idiot in front of you.

Gripping his jumper, you brought his lips down to yours. First, he wasn’t kissing back, and you were scared, that you did a big mistake. But then he returned the kiss, and you felt like flying.

Far too quickly you separated and breathless you gazed into each other eyes.

“I would also like to believe that my soul will always find yours.”    

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

No One Touches My Girl

Gif credit to @buchanans

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female Reader

Summary || Bucky shows some creep that you’re his girl.

Word Count || 808

Contents & Warnings || Angst, Light Fluff/Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, unwanted attention/touching, angry and possessive Bucky, a happy ending with some implied smut.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

TFATWS!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

“Are you just gonna let him push up on your girl like that, Bucky?” Sam questioned as he pointed the beer bottle in your direction.

Bucky peeked to his side where you were sitting at the bar, waiting for drinks for yourself, him and Sam, when another man came up to you and started talking.

Bucky felt himself grow with jealousy and anger as his jaw clenched, and he gripped the beer bottle hard with his vibranium hand, hearing the cracks of the glass as he put pressure on it. He saw red for a moment before coming back to his senses and inspecting the situation further before making a rash decision.

The guy wasn't actually doing anything wrong. He was just striking up a friendly conversation while he waited for his drink, totally harmless, so Bucky let it be. He didn’t want to be a controlling boyfriend and not let you speak with other humans, but he kept his eyes on the situation, ready to swoop in if needed.

“She’s just talking and being nice,” Bucky said as he lessened the harsh grip on the bottle.

“You know, talking can lead to other things, right?” Sam hinted, making Bucky feel slightly insecure.

Maybe he should go over after all and introduce himself, so the guy knows you have a boyfriend and won’t try anything. But he kept to his initial thoughts—not wanting to be a controlling asshole.

“She’s a big girl; she can take care of herself when she needs to, you know that, Sam.” Bucky smiled at his friend before taking a sip of the beer.

“She sure can.” Sam chuckled.

You’d shown on several occasions that you weren’t easily intimidated and could stand your ground. Even knock someone out if need be.

Bucky checked in with you again before returning his attention to Sam as they started talking about nothing of importance.

After a minute, Bucky turned his attention back to you at the bar. This time, the man placed his hand on your lower back, and Bucky could see how uncomfortable you were with the unwanted touch, retracting further from him. The man had a smirk on his face. His intentions were clearly not of the friendly kind.

Bucky saw red again, and for a good reason this time. His blood boiled over when he saw you push his hand away, but he returned his disgustful touch on your lower back.

He emptied the rest of his drink before he stormed over with his vibranium hand clenched in a tight fist, ready to start punching if the guy wouldn’t back off once he told him.

Bucky delicately placed his flesh hand on your shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. The touch made you jump, but you instantly relaxed and sighed in relief when you realised it was him.

“I don’t think she likes you putting your filthy hands on her, bud,” Bucky growled in anger as he gave the creep death eyes and got all up in his face.

The man laughed. “And you are, bud?”

“I’m her boyfriend, so I suggest you move along before I put you in the fucking hospital.” Bucky spat at him.

“Or, I beat you the fuck up and then show the pretty lady what a real man is.”

Bucky grinned and chuckled at his threat. You thought he would knock him out cold, but instead, he grabbed the back of your neck in a possessive grip with his vibranium hand and turned your face to him. He pressed his lips to yours in a passionate and determined kiss—claiming his territory.

When Bucky was done kissing you, leaving you all stunned and breathless, he turned his attention back to the creep who’d caught sight of the deadly metal that was Bucky’s arm and quickly connected the dots of who your boyfriend was. His previous confident demeanour turned that into a scared little lamb as he trembled where he stood.

“I suggest you leave, NOW!” Bucky spoke through gritted teeth.

“Y-yes, I-I’m so sorry.” He quickly turned around and got the fuck out of there before Bucky messed him up.

Once he was gone, Bucky turned all his attention to you as he cradled your face and pulled you close.

“Doll, are you ok?”

“Yes. Thank God you came over, Bucky. If not, I would have knocked the guy to the ground if he had kept going.”

“I know you would, baby.” He chuckled amusingly. “No one touches my girl.” He laid his hands on your hips and poked his tongue out to wet his bottom lip.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your toes as you pushed yourself to his face. “No one but you, Sergeant.” You muttered seductively. “Take me home and show me who I belong to, Sir.”

“Oh, it’s my duty, doll.”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Seventeen: Don't Forget Me

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: mentions of death, violence, claustrophobia, lotsssssss of angst - i am the real monster, gun use,

steve is adorable as usual and y/n is... she needs help, my girl is going through it

[A/N: It's 3am and I thought it was a great time to rewrite the ending so if it's bad, that's why. In all seriousness, I am so thankful to everyone who has an insane amount of patience. I am currently on my last few months of uni so it's been hectic but I do still love writing this fic, I just haven't had time :( I hope the weeks of waiting were worth it?

To sum up this chapter... I have officially decided I am incapable of happiness... anyways, enjoy!]

Don't Forget Me

The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me.

Ever since those words slipped from your mouth, the realisation was striking the remaining tethers to your sanity.

The radio had cut out a while ago, leaving a long strand of frustrating static in the air. You couldn’t find yourself to care about that right now. Something wants you here. Why?

As it turns out, you weren’t the only one wondering.

“This monster is running around making gates, and following you? Why you?” Steve had attempted to reclaim the radio signal once it had blared incomprehensible static, but he had no such luck. Instead, he turned back to you, feeling sick at the haunted look on your face.

“I don’t know.” You say quietly, staring down at the damp map lying on the rocky floor in front of you.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Steve states, squinting at the small building your finger currently rested on.

“I’m aware of that.” You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“But you still think you’re the pattern we can’t quite figure out?”

“I don’t know, Steve!” You suddenly snap before the colour drains from your face. You didn't mean to do that. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s too specific to only be a coincidence. I just don’t know why.”

Steve slowly nods, cautious of the way you were tucking your hands into your sleeves, obviously trying to hide their uncontrollable shaking.

“Is it to do with the virus?” He asks, the question tasting like poison on his tongue.

The virus is almost covering you now, creeping up your jaw. You couldn’t hide it if you tried, and Steve had already seen it. Already the venom was influencing you more than you had expected.

“I don’t think so.” You shake your head, mindlessly flexing your fingers.

“Then what’s different?” He looks at you with a soft frown, a look you’ve seen more in the past few days. “If not the virus, what else could it possibly want with you?”

You start to shrug, conditioned to feel like you were in the dark. Since finding the others in the lab, it had become increasingly clear that you were an outsider to their heroic group. You weren’t there when El was first discovered, completely unaware that the small girl adopted into your family was a superhero in her own right. You didn’t fight a demogorgon, or protect the kids from danger, and you especially didn’t save the world.

But this wasn’t about them anymore. This was about you. Your connection. And with all you’ve been through in the last month, you’re the only one who could solve this mystery.

Your breath catches in your throat and Steve finds your eyes, questioning.

“The dust…”

The giant shadow of a monster you had seen before was looming over what used to be the police station. It didn’t have eyes, nor even a face, but you knew it was looking directly at you.

And you felt paralysed.

You watched as it held out an arm… or was it a leg? Whichever, it pointed at you, something fluttered around its shape. Some kind of dust. Black dust.

Everything in you told you to run, but you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. The dust approached closer, slithering along the ground like vines. And you stared, heart jumping into your throat…

Wisps of wind trailed past your ears, unheard from the heartbeat thrumming against your eardrums until it became louder. It wasn’t just wind… it was voices. Incomprehensible murmurs swirling around you.

Until it wasn’t so incomprehensible any more.

“Tell her”

“Dust?” Steve frowns, tensing his shoulders. “You mean the Mind Flayer?”

“That night the shapeshifter separated us.” You start nodding, absent-mindedly moving closer to him. “I remember escaping the arcade and then…”

“Then?” He prompts, a hushed tone to both of your voices despite the privacy of the rocky ledge.

“I saw the Mind Flayer.” You say and he feels a chill run down his spine. “It- I couldn’t move. And these, like, scary images were in my head before I had this really intense nightmare. The next thing I knew, you were there and I wasn’t stuck anymore.”

“You were in some kind of trance. It took me a while to get you out of it.” He recalls, nodding slowly. Even the memory made his stomach clench. “What did you see? The images?”

“Hawkins.” You lower your eyes, slumping back against the hard rock, “It was… it was like it was on fire. Nothing looked the same. There was this giant gap and-and so many monsters. People… bodies.”

“An apocalypse.” Steve finishes for you and you nod your head, eyes squeezed shut.

“If we don't stop whatever it is opening these gates, Hawkins is going to burn.”

Your words struck a chill down his spine, the fear in your eyes evident even as you try and avoid looking towards him. There was a scared determination in the way you started down at the map. It was almost as if Steve could feel the waves in your brain radiating with an idea.

That's cute, Steve thought as you bit your lip in concentration. Adoring you felt better than the dread of an apocalypse.

“I'm going to the motel.”

Steve’s head almost snapped off his neck in the miniscule amount of time it took him to react, staring at you like you were crazy. You are crazy.

“Are you crazy?!”

He expected some sort of retort, or an ounce of an amused grin on your lips. But you only nodded.

“We know this thing is there. If I can catch it, kill it, whatever, I can save whoever is left. This is my chance to stop it.”

You were being reasonable, offering a calm take on the situation with a decision you were ready to face. Steve, on the other hand, took your proclamation as an act of war.

“If you think for one second I’m gonna let you get yourself killed, you’re outta your mind.” He says with a stern face, prompting your brows to scrunch together.

“Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” You shot back and he shakes head in disbelief.

“Y/n, this isn’t just some fun little holiday where you can do whatever you want. You’re gonna walk into a literal death trap!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the panic was already settling in and taking control.

“There is something there that’s been following me, following us! Don’t you want to figure it out? End all of this?!”

“Whatever it is has been managing to rip a gap between worlds with its mind! It’s mind, Y/n!” He stressed, expressing himself with his hands, “I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that and neither do you!”

“What does it matter? I’m dead either way!”

You can see him pale in front of you, sucking in a breath.

“Don’t say that.” He whispers out, a quiver in his bottom lip and you hate yourself. Why did you have to hurt the people you loved?

“It’s true, Steve. I’m already out of time.” You tilt your head, a clash of lightning above illuminating the veins that slithered along your jaw. “I want to find whatever it is poisoning our town and I want to destroy it before…”

“Before what? It spreads to other towns?” He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “It’s made it pretty clear it only wants Hawkins-”

“Before it gets you.” You finish, staring up at him. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would see your reflection, a reminder of what he was scared to lose, but that you were willing to sacrifice.

“We know there’s a pattern. And now we know it’s me. And… and I don’t know why, but it wants me. This virus is barely hours away from reaching my brain and honestly now is the perfect time to finally figure all this shit out and face it.”

“And if you get killed?” His voice cracks and you bite your lip, pretending like you didn’t know the answer when all you could think about for the past three weeks was the inevitable.

“Like I said,” You gulp, forcing yourself to hold eye contact. “I’m already out of time.”

“What about your dad? Robin? All of those little shitheads who clearly adore you-”

“They don’t need me, Steve.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”

“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”

“Steve-”

“No, I wouldn’t have survived this thing without you here. Neither of us would have survived...”

When his voice trails off, you watch him scrunch his face and take a deep breath. He walks away from you, running a hand through his hair. He was thinking, struggling to make a decision. But he always did, and it was always the right one.

“You’re not going to listen to a word I say, are you?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder. You silently shake your head, seeing no reason to prolong this fight. “Fine.”

“Fine?” You repeat, unsure you heard him right.

“I can’t stop you.” He shrugs, sniffing back the emotions lingering at the back of his throat. If he couldn’t convince you, he would just have to make sure you knew you weren’t alone. “But I can help.”

“Wait, no-”

“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”

A flash of surprise hits your face as Steve breathes heavy, not giving you another second to try and convince him to let you go. You had to understand that he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go. No matter how many times he lived through that scenario in his head, replaying the scene as if you disappearing would leave his heart intact, he just couldn’t do it. Steve knew it was foolish to expect a different ending, but surely he was allowed to have hope.

Was it hope?

Or was it something he refused to see for what it truly was?

A delusion.

“If this thing is really opening the gates, why don’t we, like, make it open another one?”

Steve’s question hangs in the air when he shakes the thought away, realising the obvious answer before the last word even left his lips.

The ground coughed out a soft crunch beneath your footsteps, trailing beside Steve through the twisted crops of Merril’s farm. Even in the Upside Down, the field didn’t differ visually from the real thing. You remember when the crops started to degrade, Merrill grumbling about his neighbour poisoning them. The dispute had been entertaining to you. But now you knew the truth, it didn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Shit.” You curse under your breath as you trip over a vine, managing to regain your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Steve is by your side at an instant, brown eyes laced with worry scanning you.

“Nothing, just tripped.” You dismiss, frowning at the vine behind you. A shudder rolls down your back when you think you can see it moving, but the clash of lightning above was probably playing tricks with the light.

As you go to take another step, your vision blurs. You try and blink it away, rubbing at your eyes. There’s an unsettling rush of heat beneath your skin, scorching your nerves. It should be cause for panic. But you’ve been through this before. Your only fear was knowing you weren’t hiding it anymore.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve quickly grabs onto your shoulders and you blink as he catches you before gravity took you victim. You didn’t even realise you were falling. “Hey, you okay?”

No. Steve already knew that. How could you possibly be okay when the virus was slowly closing in on you?

“Just… give me a minute.” You catch your breath, trying every technique to stabilise your heart rate as you fall into a squatted position. You hated that this thing was slowing you down, and you hated being out in the open like this, knowing that because of you, the both of you were going to be in more danger than necessary.

Steve stands by your side, slowly sliding the bag from his shoulder to fish out his bat, hand wavering over the metal weapon resting below. No. That was for emergencies. This was just his paranoia setting in.

“Nice day, huh?” Steve offers when the silence became unbearable, making you laugh. He smiles. He loved making you laugh.

“I’ve seen worse.” You reply, standing back up and taking another breath, slow and easy. “Okay, I think I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“M-hm.” You nod, a small smile gracing your face as you adjusted your bag and found rhythm between your footsteps once again.

It was getting scarier, the time between your virus lapses decreasing more and more. You weren’t ready to turn into one of those things. No one could be.

How would I stop myself from killing?

Your eyes drift over to the boy next to you, his admirable determination guiding you both through the farm like it was his life’s mission.

What if you took his life?

You snap your head away, focusing on your breaths. One breath in. Hold. One breath out.

Will I have to watch myself murder innocent people?

One breath in. One breath out. One breath in-

“Y/n?”

Sometimes the dim light of the Upside Down was a blessing. The low exposure shielded you from seeing the way he looked at you; with concern, sadness, pity. You found it hard to be so vulnerable like this. You didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. You barely allowed yourself to be perceived unless it was for all the wrong reasons.

It was a stupid stupid habit to bear such hatred towards yourself for feeling. But this is how you been for years now. You weren’t sure how to be any other way.

“You’re suspiciously quiet.” Steve comments, attempting to lighten the dreary mood. “Not that I’m complaining. Finally, some peace.”

“Rude.” You reply almost instantly, unable to resist the smile pulling at your lips.

Steve hated how dark it was in the Upside Down. Without much light, he was unable to study your features in times like this, to watch the joy return to your eyes after weeks of torment.

But even in the dark, he knew exactly how much hurt you were hiding beneath that worn-out mask of yours.

“Seriously. What’s on your mind?” Steve asks you as he scrunches his face in disgust as the tip of his shoe brushes against the pile of inedible black mush that once was a pumpkin.

“Other than monsters, the apocalypse, and my general state of being?” You smirk at him, but he already sensed your hesitancy.

“Yeah, the important stuff.” He shrugs with a chuckle.

I’m scared if you don’t run away, I might hurt you.

You shake your head free of intruding thoughts, focusing on the ones that sparked unusual butterflies in your stomach.

“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”

“Um, you said something earlier. Back at the quarry.” You force yourself to keep walking, trying to hide the smile in your voice.

“Like what?” He blinks innocently. A jolt of anxiety rushes through your brain.

Oh god, what if he didn’t mean it? He could have just gotten confused, or caught up in the intensity of it all and you were about to embarrass yourself for ever thinking differently.

As painful as it is, that option was probably the best one. Maybe then it’ll make it easier when the virus destroys you.

“You, um… you called me your… girlfriend.” You almost cringe trying to finish what you started.

Steve almost trips, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Oh. That.” Steve lets out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I, uh… you know, it was just, uh…”

“Heat of the moment?” You offer quietly and he clears his throat.

“Yeah, right. Heat of the moment.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s- that’s what I thought it was.” You shake your head, wanting to move on from this subject as quickly as you could. “Just wanted to be sure.”

“Would it… would it be so bad if it wasn’t just the, uh, heat of the moment?” Steve suddenly asks.

You go quiet. Too quiet. And Steve clicks his tongue.

“Oh.”

“No, I didn’t mean-” You scrunch your eyes shut, footsteps slowing to a complete stop. “It just doesn’t feel right to say it.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Of course it does. Nothing has ever felt more right in my entire life, you want to scream, seal it in stained ink. But you had to look at the reality. You were going to die. You just wanted to make it as emotionally painless as you could.

“We’re not… we aren’t meant to be together, Steve.” You lie straight through your teeth, avoiding his eyes.

Steve scoffs, a hand on his hips as he looks at you in disbelief. “Yes, we are.”

“No. We’re not.” You say with a little more conviction, shaking your head. “This. Us. It’s not… how do we even know it’s real?”

When you avoided his eyes for a little too long, his hands find your face, cupping your cheeks to gently tilt your head to look at him. You just softly take them away, but he never lets go of your hands.

“If the gates hadn’t opened that day in detention… we never would have even looked at each other again.” You say, sadness coating your voice.

“But it did happen. And I’m looking at you right now. We got through it. Together.”

“We survived together. We- we relied on each other because we literally had no one else to.” You frown, shrugging it away as if your own words weren’t hurting you. “We went through literal hell and that’s what we bonded over. We don’t- How can you say this is real when we’ve been faking it all since day one? Let’s just be honest, it’s not gonna go any further so let’s save us both some time-”

“You’re doing it again.” He interrupts, his gaze on you unwavering.

“I’m not doing anything-”

“You’re pretending like you don’t care.”

You don’t respond.

“I care. A lot. Probably too much for it to just be a- a survival bond or whatever you said. And it’s definitely not fake.” He lets out a soft laugh, heart racing faster. “Actually… I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt something so real with someone before. It’s like- like breathing. You know? I can’t breathe without your stupid cute little face in my head or your annoying voice making me feel calm, or-or even this right here, your delusional belief that someone can’t possibly be in love with you which makes me want to just shake it out of you because it’s true, Y/n. It’s real. I’m in love with you, okay?”

Your mouth parts in silence, just looking at him, stunned. You were only trying to convince some excuses, to try and make it easier when it all inevitably ends. But you hadn’t really taken into account how much you both felt. And now everything was going to be so much harder.

“So, uh, yeah.” He clears his throat, releasing you from his hold and shrugging. “Just accept it.”

You both stand there for a moment, reliving his words. I’m in love with you. Steve doesn’t regret it, but he starts to feel nervous the longer you don’t say something.

“Can you… can you promise me something?”

Steve holds his breath. He knows what you’re going to ask. And he knows that no matter how many times he runs through that scenario in his head, he never pulls the trigger. He won’t take your-

“Don’t forget me.”

It wasn’t the promise he was expecting, brows furrowing with the intention of your words. He just wants to hold you, yell at you until you understood he couldn’t leave you behind, he wouldn’t let the virus take you. He’d find a cure, make one if he had to.

But he didn’t have time to figure out where to start because he was suddenly very aware you were both out in the open. And something was rustling the leaves, watching.

He quickly raises his bat, eyes focused. He can just make out a shadow, making him squint. Probably just another demodog, nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

Except it’s taller. Almost… human?

And then he sees the glowing eyes, the gaping mouth. It was the screaming monster from the Radio Shack.

“Steve?” You frown once you catch it too, looking at him, waiting for his call.

“Once it screams, we run. Every monster and their mother is gonna hear it, and we need to get out of the open, fast.” He hisses between his teeth as he watches the creature weave its way through the trees, drawing closer.

“And lead them all straight to the motel?” You whisper back at him, and his face pales. There goes that plan.

“Shit.”

“What about that house?” You suddenly ask, tilting your head to your left. “The huge one on that hill? It’s the opposite direction from the motel and the closest thing-”

“Oh, god, no.” Steve breathes out, shaking his head with determination. “Remember what Robin called it? You do not enter a house called the murder house. Especially when you’re being chased by murderous flesh-eating monsters!”

“It’s pretty much our only choice right now.” You stress, the small hairs on your arm prickling the closer the creature gets. “We run through, slip out the back, and tail it to the motel before it’s-”

If Steve had any objections, you never heard them. All you heard was the terrifying scream rippling from the unhinged jaw of a ghostly woman.

“Run, run!” You yell, already feeling the effects of an ear-splitting pitch.

Steve immediately grabs your hand and you run, blindly trusting the boy you had assumed your enemy for 4 years of your life.

He wasn’t sure if you’d both be able to get inside in time, fully away of the hoard of monsters emerging from the shadows and chasing you down. It was a risky bet, this house. But you were right. It was the only option.

If Steve wasn’t so adamant on moving fast, he might have felt the soft tug of your arm as your body struggles to keep up, the stretch of the hill proving the laws of physics were never your friend. As long as your hand was in his, you were going to be fine.

The harsh creak of rotten floorboards as Steve barrelled into the room echoed menacingly in his ear. He quickly dropped your hand, pulling you behind him and making haste of tugging a tall and heavy cabinet down so it blocked the entrance. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would give you both enough time to slip out unnoticed.

“That should keep them back, we gotta-”

Steve expected to find your hand as he reached back for you, but the space was bare. He spins around, stomach lurching when he finds you’re already sat against the wall, looking worse every second.

“No.” He drops to his knees and cups your head in his hands when you struggle to keep it up, swallowing his anxiety, “No, hey, sweetheart, hey. Look at me.”

Your weary eyes meet his and his breath hitches. The black veins were now creeping up your cheeks, spreading quicker in the past few hours than they ever had before.

A sudden chorus of thumping snapped his attention, the barricade against the front door almost shattering under the weight of its attackers. It wouldn’t hold much longer. He knew you weren’t in any state to run to the motel, and he had to think fast.

Steve loops his arm around you and pulls you to your feet, muttering a string of apologies as you wince. His eyes catch the bleeding moonlight from above, enticing an idea.

It felt like your whole body was on fire, any movement contracting your muscles to pain until you could nearly faint. But you had to try, you had to move. For him.

He could sense your determination as he moved you both up the staircase, your legs wobbling but making it to the top in a timely fashion. His admiration would have to come later. Right now, he needed you both safe.

The hallway was long and dusty, Steve’s eyes barely adjusting to the darkness. He’s unsure where to go next, a lengthy display of doors scattered either side of him as he helps you walk further into the house. Maybe there was another-

A giant crash echoed out in splintered waves, dread flooding his body.

They were here.

Picking the closest door, he drags you both inside and takes care to shut it as quietly as possible, knowing one loud sound could be the end. His nerves were on high alert, struggling to make the life-saving decisions his friends usually expected from him. But the stakes were different this time. There was no one to bail him out if he makes the wrong move, no Nancy or Jonathan to come save the day. It was just him, protecting you.

The door had apparently led to a bedroom, his eyes scanning for a chair or a dresser to block- No. No. That would just make more noise- But what if they got in?

Hide. You need to hide.

Pulling you close to him, he spots a large closet on the other side of the bedroom. That would have to do.

It omitted a soft creak, making him grimace. He carefully lowers you down, noting how you were forcing yourself to breathe in even intervals. You were fighting it as best as you could, and that was all he could ask for.

As he joins you, he manoeuvres you so you were situated between his legs, knowing this would be the only way to ensure you both fit in the small space. His bat is digging into his side as his arms are wrapped around you, his back pressed against the side of the closet as he watches the bedroom door through the crack of light, holding his breath.

He couldn’t hear anything, but that was the scary part. He had hoped to hear the creatures crash through the ground floor and somehow be tricked back outside, relieving his mind with the knowledge he made the right decision.

The space was becoming all too small, even with the door cracked open. And that’s when the fear came creeping in.

What if a demogorgon found you?

What if it tracks your scent, follows the trail up the staircase, opens the third door on the left?

What if it stalks into the room and starts listening closely, hearing his quickened breaths of panic?

What if the last thing Steve saw was the thing ripping open the closet doors, a set of giant claws caging you in, knowing there was no escape?

What if you both died in here?

He exhales a long breath, fading back into reality when he feels something gently squeeze his hand. Your hand. You had intertwined your fingers with his, head laying back against hisshoulder, sensing his anxiety.

Steve had known he was claustrophobic for a while now. As a little kid, he remembers when he and his friends would play in the woods, a hollowed tree trunk on the ground marking the final destination of their adventure. That was the first time he felt fear, he thinks, curled up halfway through the tight space as his shirt was caught on protruding bark. He remembers his friends laughing and leaving to go find his parents when it became all too serious, assuming they had abandoned him there.

The tunnels were far worse than his 7 year old self’s nightmares. When the demodogs came barrelling towards them, his sudden realisation that he would be dragged back into those tunnels and left for dead, he had never felt so hopeless. He couldn’t even fight, not really. He could only attempt to shield Dustin with his body, and pray they made his death quick.

He never really knew how to get himself out of these situations. His parents had enticed him out with harsh words and false promises, eventually dragging him out by his arms when his mind couldn’t stop imagining the tree collapsing in on him. The demodogs hadn’t attacked in the end, sparing them with pure luck and giving him no time to reflect on his darker thoughts, the kids needing him more than he needed closure from himself.

But one single touch of your hand changed everything. No words, no rush. Just a reminder he was still here. And you were here with him.

He felt your body tense the moment the floorboards out on the hallway creak, just quiet enough to let him know the creature was trying to be silent. Something was looking for you.

The virus had taken its toll on you, the past few minutes of your life flashing by in a blur. You don’t even remember climbing into the closet, waiting in suspenseful agony for a sign that the coast was clear. But all of a sudden, you had finally returned to reality, feeling Steve’s erratic heartbeat on your back.

You almost flinched when you heard something bang against the bedroom door. It was sudden, ricocheting an echo of vibration through the floor. And then it was complete and utter silence.

You must have been shaking because Steve holds you closer, forcing you to take a few quiet breaths. You’d be okay. It will be okay.

Another sharp crash blares out, but it’s further this time. Whatever it was outside of that door was leaving, finally. But that didn’t stop you both from sitting there for a little while longer, afraid to move from the safety of the wooden walls.

It was you who made the first move to leave, shifting in his arms and pointing to the door. You had caught your breath now, shaking away the virus’ side effects with strength Steve could only respect.

Steve pushes the closet door open and you are finally back on your feet, offering a hand to pull him up with you.

“That was close.” He breathes out with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair. He retrieves his bat from the wardrobe and turns around to see you’re stood still with a guilty expression on your face.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper out, shaking your head. “We could’ve- it’s my fault.”

“What? No.” He crosses the room and pulls you into a hug, one you definitely needed. “No, it’s not your fault. None of this is.”

After a moment, he pulls away, sucking in a breath. “Now let’s get the hell out of here because this place is giving me the creeps.”

You nodded to his words, shivering as you observed the room you stood in. It looked like a master bedroom, possibly decorated for a couple to reside in. Everything was either covered in dust or cobwebs, a pang of sadness hitting your chest.

You knew the rumours of this place; a man going crazy and killing his entire family, their ghosts now haunting the place ready to collect more victims. But right now, you didn’t feel haunted.

A family had died here, the home clearly decorated with care and love from the people who never got a chance to live in it. And it has just been left like this, to wither and rot away.

Steve poked his head out of the door and listened out, making sure you weren’t just walking into a trap. He did the same as he leaned over the banister, clocking the wide open front door, now adorned in malicious claw marks.

“Fastest route?” He asks as you join him at the back of the house, squinting into the horizon.

There were only two options; along the road and out in the open, or through the woods with little to no light. You tried to think back to when you originally thought of the plan, retracing your steps.

“I’m thinking, uh…” Your voice suddenly cuts off and you turn to stare at him, a hint of a smirk on your lips. Steve frowns. “Do I remember you calling me sweetheart earlier?”

Heat rushes to Steve’s cheeks. “What? No. That would be weird. I don’t have a pet name for you. Or any name, actually. Other than your actual name. Maybe ‘asshole’. Not- not sweetheart- right, we’re cutting through the woods this way.”

He marches off before he becomes any more of a mess than he already is, hearing your laughter as it trails behind him.

“So… where the hell is this mysterious gate maker gonna be?”

You were both stood in the parking lot of Motel 6, eyes scanning each room as if a source of light would illuminate the monster you were hunting. If your theory was right, and it was all originating from here… how long has it been right under your noses?

“Maybe it’s like the gates.” You offer, shrugging. “What did Dustin say? In the heart, or something. The middle.”

“I hope not.” Steve states and you turn to where he was suggesting.

The heart of the hotel wouldn’t be one of the rooms, nor the office. And you had a suspicion Steve had thought correctly.

The basement.

Staring down at those two daunting metal doors, you feel your skin prickle. You take a glance over your shoulder, frowning.

In all three weeks you’ve been down here, you’ve never encountered a single monster at the motel. It had been a last minute resort for safety, ensuring you weren’t followed, picking room 303 as if it mattered. You were pretty good at sneaking around the place, but you never realised how truly odd it was that no monster ever followed you.

Maybe that answer was waiting for you behind those basement doors.

“Wait,” Steve gently places a hand on your waist as you move towards it, staring down with brown eyes of deep concern. “Are we sure we really wanna do this?”

“There isn’t another choice.” You say, yet you were still hesitant as you walked up to the doors, forcing each step you took.

No locks, no obstacles. Just a pair of metallic blocks on hinges. That felt worse somehow.

“If I had a nickel for every time I had to go down into a cellar to look for a monster…” Steve sighs to himself, catching your curious look. “Uh, I’d only have, like, two. But still. That’s two more than I should have.”

You can only nod in agreement, your breath caught in your throat.

Are we sure we really wanna do this?

The unsatisfying creak of metal echoes across the parking lot, Steve letting out a low whistle as he stares down into darkness.

“I’m sure this won’t be creepy at all.” He comments, taking the first step down before you had the chance. You’ve noticed that about him, always the first to enter an unknown room. A protector.

Light bleeds through a small window on the other side of the cellar. There was more space than you were expecting, but the strangest part was the fact there was nothing in here. Like it had never been used to store anything.

“It’s empty.” You announce, stood dumbfounded in the middle of the room.

“Maybe the landlord kicked it out.” Steve shrugs, silently relieved. He catches your fallen expression and places a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’ll find another way.”

And then the basement doors swing shut, the sound rattling through the dark cellar at an alarming pitch.

“Shit!”

Steve drops his bat and rushes back up the steps to push against the metal doors. Nothing. He drives his shoulder into it. It doesn’t budge.

“How is it locked?!” He grunts, giving it one last try before backing away, shaking his head. “There wasn’t any lock on it!”

Your stomach drops.

You both freeze, turning once again to the singular door at the end of the hallway, a snarl vibrating through the wood of it.

The door you had walked through swung itself closed with a loud bang.

Spinning around with no intention of being here any longer, you reach out and pull the handle towards you.

It didn’t budge.

You grab the other handle in your spare hand and pull harder, the doors rattling under your force, but never opening.

“Billy!” You yell, but he’s already pushing against the doors, eyes wide. “It’s locked! How is it locked?!”

“Shit!” He hisses, turning to ram his shoulder against it for extra strength, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.

It was all happening again.

You had just walked into another trap.

“It’s here.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Steve is on high alert, frantically looking around the basement. But it’s still empty.

“Nothing is here, Y/n.” He frowns.

“Not on this side.” You gasp when something suddenly echoes in your ear. You look at Steve, startled, but he doesn’t share the same expression.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear that?”

“Hear what?”

You start moving around, trying to find a spot to make the incomprehensible whispers clearer. Steve’s heart is pounding louder.

“It’s that voice again.” You mutter to yourself.

“Voice? Y/n, you’re scaring me.” Steve manages to catch you for a split second, and you meet his eyes. His face drops.

The veins were creeping up your face, laying just beneath your eyes. He places a hand on your forehead. You’re burning up.

“Y/n, you don’t look so good.”

“It has to be here.” You shake your head out of his hold, stepping back. “The map- it has to be here!”

And then you hear it again, the voice. Except, this time, it’s so much clearer.

“Tell her”

You suddenly stop, letting out a gasp and Steve’s anxiety is sky-rocketing. You were both trapped inside this basement with something he couldn’t see.

He tries the doors again, thumping his fist against it like it would dislodge something. Nothing. Glancing over his shoulder, he clocks the window. Maybe…

Steve sprints over, dropping the bag off his shoulder and onto the floor beside him as he fumbles around for some kind of latch. Something rattles and he smiles. Bingo.

“Hey, we can get out through the window. Wasn’t rocket science, but I’m still a genius.”

He turns back to look at you over his shoulder, smiling. You’re currently near the far corner, your back facing him. You don’t seem to have heard him, breathing in odd intervals as you stare down at your hands.

“Y/n.” He tries again, louder. Your head twitches. Steve releases the latch on the window, fear flooding his entire body.

That same familiar feeling starts twisting in his gut, the same he always had when something is really really wrong. He never ignored it, never wanted to, because it was always right. But he didn’t want to believe it this time.

He slowly steps away from the window, his eyes permanently glued to the back of your head, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Trying again, his voice cracks under the pressure of speaking your name like it would warp the vicious reality he was living in.

“Y/n?”

You snap your head to him, and the colour drains from his face.

“No…”

He lost you.

The world bled to grey as tears start trailing from his eyes, staring into yours. Except, they weren’t yours. They were darker, soulless. Black blood was dripping from your chin, staining your lips.

Lips he had once kissed.

Lips he would never kiss again.

“Don’t do this.” He begs, unable to find the force to speak louder than a whisper. “Y/n, please. It’s not- I can’t hurt you. You know I can’t hurt you. Y/n...”

You snarled at him this time, your mannerisms unnerving. It wasn’t you anymore.

His eyes slowly drift to his bat, making him clench his jaw. It was closer to you than it was to him. He wouldn’t be able to reach it in time.

But he knew he wasn’t completely defenceless. He just wasn’t sure if he had the strength to use it.

You suddenly lunge at him and he instinctively dives for his bag, rolling away from your attack in the last second. He unzips it, staring down. He couldn’t do this.

Snarls and hisses spit from your mouth as you scramble up from the floor, blinking rapidly as you search in the dark.

Click.

Your whole body snaps to him in one sharp movement.

With a shaking hand, he stares directly into your eyes.

“Y/n, please.” He sobs, “Please, you have to be in there.”

Not even the mournful pressure against his chest felt as heavy as the gun in his hand, tears rolling down his face.

It was your idea to take a pistol from the cabin, knowing you couldn’t use it unless it was in moments of emergency, afraid the rippling sound of the bullet would alert every monster in the town. You both swore you’d never have to use it.

And here he was, pointing it directly at your head.

“Steve?” Your small voice prickles his hearing and he moves his gaze from your hands to your eyes, darting between the pupils in silent study. “If I… if it-”

“No.” He immediately shakes his head and you could almost sob. For what felt like days, you’ve been trying to have this conversation with him, but he always shuts it down, pretending like it wasn’t needed.

“You need to listen-”

“I am not killing you.” He says with conviction, and he feels your fingers slip out of his reach. “That’s not happening, Y/n, you can’t expect me to-”

“And what then?” You cry, standing taller, making his head crane to look up at you as you wrap your arms around your torso. “You’re just gonna watch me turn into a monster and let me stay that way?!”

“This isn’t just some sort of favour you’re asking for!” He frowns, shaking his head. “You want me to kill you. To end your life!”

He knew this was coming. You knew this was coming. You’ve been trying to warn him for weeks now, pleading to him. And he never listened. He never wanted to.

Three weeks ago, Steve would have shot you in that school hallway if you had turned after the bite, the memory bitter but his heart still intact.

Three weeks later, Steve would rather shoot himself then live with the memory of putting a bullet between the eyes of the girl he was in love with.

It can’t end like this. It can’t.

“It’s me.” He tries again, hoping his voice could break you free from the virus. “It’s me. Steve. Remember?”

He should have known hope was never his friend.

A voice completely alien to you rips out a screech from your throat, and hell comes to bludgeon him with the worst it had to offer.

Steve watches in horror as the skin starts peeling from your face, tearing it into pieces like a flower and its petals.

Like a demogorgon.

It was too late. You weren’t coming back to him.

You run at him, sharp teeth bared, mind forever gone.

Steve’s eyes shut…

… and he pulls the trigger.

“STEVE!”

Your throat was sore from relentless screaming, sobbing with your entire chest.

Steve had rushed over to the window just after you heard that voice. You had turned your back on him, distracted by what you thought was a shadow hiding in the walls.

You heard him call your name. But when you turned around…

His eyes were rolled back, stood deathly still.

“Steve! Wake up!” You keep trying to shake him out of his trance, watching as a trail of red bleeds from his nose. “No! No, wake up! Steve!”

More and more whispers echo around you, building up until all you heard were the same repeated words.

“What do you want?!” You scream into the dark, cheeks stained with relentless tears. Steve was dying, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

In a desperate attempt for help, you crouch down by the window and start rifling through his bag, batting the gun to the side to grab the radio.

“Hello?! Is anyone there?! Please!!”

You cry out in frustration when all that responds is the piercing static.

“That won’t help you.”

The radio slips from your hand in shock, clattering against the concrete as your wide eyes fixate on the image in the corner.

Something was forming from the shadows, pulling together pieces of the dark like it was dust. Your body floods with ice. The basement had never been dark. You were just surrounded by the same black dust that haunted every single nightmare.

Your shaking hands swipe the bat from the ground and grip it tight, shielding Steve’s body with your own. You hear his breaths become shallower.

“You were never meant to find me.” It spoke in a dark voice, fading in and out like a weak connection.

A gasp slips from your mouth when the particles build its final form. A silhouette of a man, featureless yet distinctive. Of all the creations you had envisioned, you didn’t expect the monster to be so… human.

A man.

“What do you want?!” You yell at it, raising the bat like it would scare it away.

“I tried time and time again to get you to understand.” He spoke, drifting closer to you. “I gave you the future. Visions. A simple task.”

Something like a sob escapes Steve’s lips and you whip your head to him, feeling completely and utterly helpless. You weren’t going to defeat the monster like you said you would. And now you were going to watch him die, knowing you were the only reason he was down here with you.

“It was the only way to make sure you listened.”

You turn back to the monster, a scowl twisting onto your face.

“Let him go.” You warn, but you knew your threat was meaningless.

“You have no power here.” He states, and you could almost feel the shadow smiling at you with malicious intent. “I make the rules.”

Goosebumps return to their path along your skin, trailing up your arms and prickling at your neck, making you shiver.

“I will let him go… Once you carry out one important task.” He nods, closer once again. You shift your body protectively in front of Steve, holding your breath.

“What…” You blink away tears, feeling suffocated by his presence.

You understood why the other monsters were so afraid of the dark.

Your arms didn’t feel attached to your body when they suddenly start to lower themselves, a shadowed hand reaching for your face.

“Bring me the girl.”

You frown, shaking your head. Girl?

As if he heard your thoughts, he leans close to you, speaking one word.

“Eleven.”

“El?” You gasp, and he steps away from you, observing. “Why- what do you want with her?”

“Bring her to me, and I will let him go.” The figure doesn’t answer your question, tilting its head. “Once you leave this place, you’ll find her, and you’ll bring her to me. That is all I want.”

“And if I don’t?” You raise your chin, regaining the feeling in your arms.

He slowly raises his hand, pointing it to the boy behind you. At first, nothing happened. And then you watch in despair as Steve’s body starts to slowly lift from the ground, a strained yell of pain.

“Stop!” You beg, and the shadow obeys, Steve’s feet touching the ground.

One little action and it was so simple it was terrifying. If you don’t bring El to him, he’ll kill Steve.

This monster knew you. It had been following you around since the dust you encountered, observing the things that made you tick, the things you loved, hated, needed. He knew exactly what would make you listen to him.

He was the Voice that had been haunting you for weeks.

You look back at Steve, almost crying out when you notice he’s lost more blood in the time you’ve taken to decide. You couldn’t do that to El.

But you also couldn’t watch Steve die.

“Fine.” You sob, nodding. “Just let him go.”

“You’ll know where to find me”

And then the shadow is thrown back into the darkness, hitting a wall and sinking back into it, dispersing the dust in scattered patterns on the surface.

Steve gasps behind you, and you spin around to catch him as he stumbles forward.

“Steve!” You cry in relief, wrapping your arms around him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Y/n?” He sounds surprised, almost sad, observing every little detail of you as if he couldn’t decide if you were real. “Wait, you’re… what happened?”

“I-”

You try to reply when a loud hum starts building behind you, your attention needed elsewhere.

The middle of the wall starts to burn away, splitting apart and blackening at the edges. The humming only became louder, a dark red hue casting your shadows.

The Voice was creating a gate. For you. To pawn your sister’s life for Steve’s. Once you stepped through it, you’d be signing a death warrant.

If you stepped through it.

“What the fuck is happening…” Steve blinks at the gate, aware of the tightened grip your hand had on his.

In his vision, he had shot you. He had committed the most unspeakable act he had time and time again refused. The worst part of it, was he thought it was real. He made that decision.

But it was all a lie, and you were here, holding his hand with a look on your face he couldn’t decipher.

“You have to go.” You say to him, your words hazy to his ears. He still wasn’t entirely sure he was back in reality, struggling to make sense of the walls around him. “Steve, listen to me. You have to go.”

“No.” He shakes his head, trying to focus. “What about… what about you?”

A booming chorus of thumps against metal suddenly arose from the basement doors. Your stomach dropped.

The creatures weren’t afraid of the dark anymore.

When the gate had spread into a human-sized portal, you start pushing Steve towards it. His sneakers were just touching the edge before he realised what was happening.

“Hey, hey! No!” He stops, and you’re not strong enough to overpower him.

“Steve, you have to go! They’re gonna break through any minute!” You cry, watching the ever-growing dents in the metal above the staircase. “Please, you have to go!”

“I’m not leaving you, Y/n!”

“It’s already too late.” You sob, wiping away your tears. Tears that felt hot, burning against your skin.

The skin littered with black veins.

“I’m gonna turn any minute now.” You place your hands on his cheeks, making sure he was listening to your every word. “And I don’t want my last memory to be crossing back into our home knowing I won’t make it 5 steps before the virus kills me. Okay? So, you’re gonna go through the gate and you’re not ever gonna look back. Please. Don’t come back for me.”

“I can’t-” He cries and you bring his forehead down to rest on yours, nodding.

“I know.” You whisper, leaning forward to leave a feather-light kiss on his lips.

His eyes are still closed when you pull back, studying him one last time.

“Which is why I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes snap open just in time to watch your hands find his chest and shove him as hard as you can, his body ripping through the gate faster than he can experience.

His back hits solid concrete, making him groan. It takes a second for him to blink away the dots in his vision, slowly sitting up. He can see your figure clearly, your sad eyes, the smile gracing your lips.

And then the gate starts to sew itself shut.

Steve scrambles to his feet, tugging at the dangling pieces of membrane to try and stop the process.

“Y/n!” He yells at you, the unwelcome fear striking his nerves when he hears a loud crash from the other side.

Judging by the look on your face, it was exactly what he thought it was.

“No! No! Y/n!”

The gate is getting smaller, but his screams are only getting louder, fingers desperately trying to pry it open like a set of doors. But it was useless.

He can just make out a rush of silhouettes, your retreating form.

And then he was clawing at a concrete wall, body shaking with the intensity of his tears.

“No, no, no, no!” He yells in rage, his fingers scraped and bloodied.

For the last three weeks, all he wanted was to be on the other side. And now he was here, without you, it felt worse than hell.

He barely heard the creak of metal doors open behind him, or even saw his shadow suddenly cast onto the space he lost you forever.

Steve didn’t notice anything until a voice calls out behind him, causing him to turn and squint against the beaming light.

“Steve?” Hopper frowns, squinting. “Steve.”

He rushes down those steps and drops the flashlight, both hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Hey, kid, you alright?” He asks, but Steve can barely speak. “Kid, look at me.”

Steve looked at him, a torn and broken version of the boy Hopper had seen last. He can feel Hopper’s hands tighten, a look of horror clouding his eyes.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Don’t forget me, you had said to him. A bittersweet promise of a memory.

Steve wasn’t ready to make you a memory.

“She’s still back there.” He finally said, swallowing the bitter lie that was about to coat his tongue. “We got separated.”

He lowered his eyes, unable to look at him, trying to ignore the guilt eating away at his chest. It was cruel, to lie to a father so desperate to get his daughter back. But he was afraid the truth would show you were like your father in more ways than one.

Steve needed to do this. No matter the consequences.

“She wants us to find her.” He finally says, nodding. “She wants us to bring her back.”

To be continued...

[A/N: GOH will return for yet another installment! I'm separating the story into parts so I can trick my stupid brain that only gives me writers block into thinking it's only a short story. I honestly plan for this to last forever. Or at least until I run out of ideas lmao.]

taglist:

@toomanyfandomsimfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

“I don’t care about you like you think I do” - Loki x reader imagine

Notes: this is my first ever proper written smutty thing so please be kind and I hope people like it 🥺

Summary: Loki wants to dominate you but doesn’t really care about you or so he thinks. You make him realise what he really needs

Word count: 2,000+

Loki watched you from his spot on an unused balcony of Starks party, looking at you like a lion at prey, seeing the way your body swayed to the music was breath taking.

‘She’s just another midguardian’ he’s been telling himself over and over the past few weeks he’s been here, but some how his body says otherwise.

The way his face goes red every time you ride the elevator together and he can see down your shirt or how his dick goes hard every time he watches you bend over to lift weights of spar at the gym, just proves you’re more than that. Maybe it proves that he thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous and he wants you to be all his.

On the other hand he’s also noticed the way his heart flutters every time you’ve helped him when he gets lost in the labyrinth that is the avengers compound, or how he painfully hides his smile every time you ask him how he’s going. All of that is obviously ridiculous though as you’re just a regular and weak midguardian; his feelings for you are purely sexual.

He continued to watch you as you leave the dance floor to get a drink at the bar. Sweat clinging your hair to your forehead and a tipsy smile plastered on your face as you smirk at Natasha who was preparing you another cocktail.

“You know lover boys been watching you like crazy since you arrived.” Natasha smirked at you.

“Oh trust me, I know. Why do you think I wore this dress? Dark green and a size too small? I know he likes the colour and my ass and tits look amazing.” You laugh along with her.

As soon as he saw you make your way to the public toilets on this floor, he was on the move, following swiftly behind you as you went through the toilet doors. Loki closing the door behind you and locking it as he walked in behind you.

He expected your head to whip around or for you to gasp but you just casually watched him in the mirror as you reapplied your lipstick.

“Hello, Loki.” You said calmly looking at his eyes in the mirror.

Your calmness shocked him but he managed to keep his composure and didn’t say a word, instead creeping his way up behind you until your back and ass were flush against his front and crotch as a hand wrapped around your throat and a tight grip was on your hip.

Again he was surprised as you leant back onto his shoulder and smiled with your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You know Loki if you wanted me this badly you could have just asked.” You tell him moaning slightly as you grind down onto his hardening member.

‘Stupid midguardian! Thinking I’d ask her. She’s mine to take not to ask and beg!’ He thinks to himself, slightly annoyed but also slightly aroused at your confidence.

“Why would I ask when I can just take what I want!” He says harshly as he roughly pushes your face down onto the bathroom counter, expecting a whimper but instead receiving and moan and a laugh.

“Why are you laughing?! You think you’re stronger or better than me, midguardian? You thi-.” His ramblings were cut short as you push him off of you and onto the ground as you sit on the counter.

You smirked as you watched him struggle to stand to his feet, stuck on his knees and hand behind his back. Before he could question how he was stuck he felt the water on his wrists and ankles and saw your hand moving slightly.

“You have water abilities?” Loki looked at you smirking.

“All four elements, but yeh. Look Loki I’ll let you go but if you really want me that badly.” You tell him as you stand right in from of him, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back, leaning down and whispering in his ear.

“You can just ask me, little prince. If you need me I’m sure you’ll work out how to find me, baby.” You whisper hotly in his ear, making breath hitch quietly.

With this you smirk and walk towards the door.

“How dare you? I don’t care about you like you think I do! You a harmless pathetic midguardian whore!” He yells at you with his voice weaker this time, confidence weaving.

“Okay, darling.” You tell him gently as you smirk, releasing him and opening the door again.

For the past week Loki couldn’t get the image of you standing above him out of his head. He didn’t want to admit it but he needed you to take control of him and make him do whatever you wanted him to.

You knew this too.

The last week you’d been doing anything you can to both tease and avoid Loki. No matter how hard he stared at you or how much he went out of the way to be near you, you just walked away or purposely ignored him.

One night you left your room to get a drink of water but were quickly stopped in your tracks as you heard your name being moaned from Lokis room.

“Uuuhh, y/n, mmmmhh mistress, aaahh.” You heard as you stood right outside his door.

This caused you to smirk as you swung the door open and saw Loki spread out with his cock in his hand, precum leaking all over this hand. As soon as he saw you his hand quickly left his cock and his eyes went wide.

“No, no, y/n.. I-I.” You giggled at you saw him fight for dominance or maybe he was trying to apologise, it was hard to tell. Before he could finish however you’d taken the soil and rocks from his plant in the corner, using it to tie his hands above his head, his legs to the corner of the bed and a gag in his mouth and around his head.

“Oh, my soft, sweet, darling, little prince.” You cooed as you crawled between his legs, your flat palm running from his balls, over cock, his stomach, chest and up to his neck, simply placing his palm over his throat and your other hand beside his head.

“What was it that you said, darling? ‘I don’t care about you like you think I do’? You just wanted control? You didn’t want me to hold you down and make you beg? You don’t think I can’t take care of my little prince? Well I’m offended, sweet boy.” You tell him as your grip gets tighter and tighter around his throat as small whimpers escape him.

You slowly begin to strip out of your clothes as you stare at him intensely.

Looking at him with a smirk you slowly lean down to kiss his gag covered mouth before quickly pulling back fully to sit on your knees.

“You know, Loki, I really did love it when I heard your sweet little moans and I especially loved it when you called me mistress.” You smirk as you took a hold of his cock and began lightly stroking.

You could hear his moans through the gag and see his head fall back as his eyes closed. You wanted so badly to hear more of his pretty moans. As you took your hand away his eyes shot open and stared at you worried and pleading.

“Now, sweet boy, I’m gonna take your gag off but when I do I want you to beg. I want you to beg for forgiveness; if mistress is happy then she’ll give you whatever pleasure you desire, but if she’s not happy, then I’ll leave you wanting and begging for hours and I’ll leave this room and I won’t allow you to cum. Do you understand, my little prince?” You ask him as he vigorously nods his head.

“-es -issess.” He begs you through the gag.

“Good boy.” You smirk as you lightly tap his nose and make the gag disappear.

“Please mistress! Please! I’m so sorry! I need you badly! Please give me whatever pleasure you wish to give me! My the 9 realms, please I’m so sorry mistress.” He begs you with worry in his eyes and his voice, worried that you’ll never touch him again.

“Okay, my sweet prince. Mistress forgives you. Now what would my sweet prince like? That was such a lovely apology and mistress is feeling kind tonight. What would you like me to do?” You ask as you run your nails lightly down his chest.

“Ride me! Please mistress! Please ride my cock! Please!” He begged as a looked at your body hungrily.

“Okay, my prince, I will.” You say to him sweetly rising to line up your pussy.

“Wait! One last thing!” Loki says quickly.

“What is it darling?” You ask him gently stroking his face as he nuzzled into your palm.

“Please let me touch you, mistress, please let me feel you. I want to touch your hips and your waist and your breasts please. Please let me taste you, please.” Loki pleads with you with both fear and excitement in his eyes.

“Alright, my darling, I’ll give you your hands but your feet stay bound. You also won’t touch me until i give you permission. Do you understand me?” You ask him sternly as you grab his face tightly with your hand, while I other rests on his chest.

“Yes, mistress.” He replies quickly.

You nod and smile proudly as you realise his face and unbound his hand. Like the good boy he is he kept his promise and his hands gently fell to his sides. You gave him one last kiss and you slowly sank down onto his cock.

As you sank down a guttural moan left Loki and you almost screamed with pleasure.

“Can I touch you now mistress.” Loki asked between moans and gasps.

“Not yet, sweet prince, wait until I tell you. You’ve been such a good boy so far, keep being my good boy for me.” You pant as you hold onto his chest riding him harder and harder.

Loki looked like he was about to burst, all he wanted was to touch you but without your words he wouldn’t move a muscle. After mere moments of teasing him however you knew you needed to feel his hands on you just as badly as he needed to touch you.

“Okay, darling, touch me.” You sighed with pleasure.

As soon as the words left your lips Loki sprung up and began kissing your neck and squeezing your breasts, as if kissing you and touching you was what gave him life.

“Can I fuck into you mistress? You’re- a-aahh- mmh- fucking me so well but please, as-ah, please let me fuck you.” He weakly pleaded as his kisses became more rough.

“Do it, my prince, worship me, fuck me. I want you to rub my clit and make me cum too. Okay, baby?” You ask him holding his face and forcing him to look you in the eyes.

He only nodded as he grabbed your hip with one hand and started meeting your thrusts with such power and force it made your head spin. With the other he played with your clit, making your head fall back and your mouth fall open.

Loki held his face into your breasts as he chanted ‘thank yous’ and ‘I’m yours mistress’ like they were a sacred prayer.

You both felt yourselves getting closer but before you could cum you took Lokis hands off of you and slammed him into the bed with his hands held above his head as you looked him straight in the eye.

“Now, my darling, you don’t have to ask me to cum but when you do I want you to say thank you, but you do not cum before me.” You tell him as you roughly hold his hands down with one hand and play with your clit with the other.

Only seconds later you felt great pressure explode through your body as you screamed out in pleasure. Coming down from your high you continued to ride Loki as you allowed his hands to return to your hips. Just after a few more thrusts his head threw back.

“Aa-aaah! Thank you! Thank you! Thank, mistress! Thank you!” He scream over and over as he came inside you.

You both rocked into each other looking at each others eyes for a moment more before you collapsed on top of him his softening cock still inside you. His arms carefully held you as you looked at each other and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

You slowly began to get up as Loki made sounds of protest.

“Loki I have to get up to clean you up.” You chuckle as you slowly walk to his bathroom, untying his legs as you went by.

Loki watched you with adoring eyes as you left and promptly returned with 2 wet cloths. You came and laid back beside him first cleaning the sweat off his face and then the mixed cum off of him then you took the second cloth and cleaned yourself up.

Scooping him into your arms you held his body against you as you gently stroked his hair, the both of you drifting off to sleep.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 16 - Embarrass

@jegulus-microfic April 16, Word count 854

Previous part First part

James actually ran as soon as he got out of Regulus and Sirius’s suite. He was so stupid throwing himself at a stranger without even asking if they were single. He thought Regulus would have told him, but clearly not. Then again, he thought, he did tell me to go away repeatedly, and I wouldn’t go. Barty was right to be angry at me. 

His feet had led him back to his own room. Clumsily, he scanned the door card and let himself in. Maybe he’d go out onto the slopes and have a ski. He hadn’t done that for a few days. Not since he ran into Regulus. He could hardly embarrass himself more than he’d already done today.

He had just hauled himself off the bed and started to look for his skiing clothes when the room phone rang. He picked it up in case it was his parents, but they had his mobile number, so it would be odd if it were them. 

“Hello?” He said into the receiver. 

“James? James, is that you? Please don’t hang up. Can you come back, and I’ll explain.” Regulus’s panicked voice buzzed down the phone line. James sunk onto his bed. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Reg. My intentions aren’t exactly platonic, and you have a boyfriend—”

“I DO NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!!” Regulus shouted, clearly aggravated. “Sorry. Barty is not my boyfriend. I broke up with him, and he refuses to accept it. But I swear, James, I would have told you if he were. Please come back.” James ran his hand through his hair as he debated. “Please, James.”

“Ugh,” He grunted. “Okay, fine. Is Sirius there to let me back in?” He’d already stood up and walked towards the door but was suddenly yanked backwards by the corded phone. “Ouch!” He cried as he landed heavily on his arse. 

“You just tried to walk away with the hotel’s phone, didn’t you?” Regulus said, trying to hold back a snicker. 

“Shut up, or I’m not coming.” He hung the phone up and, rubbing his rump, left his room. 

It wasn’t until he was approaching Regulus’s room that he realised he’d never gotten an answer if Sirius was there to let him in. He really didn’t want Regulus to have to hop all the way through to open the door.

As luck would have it, Dr Lupin had just raised his hand to knock on the door. “Dr Lupin,” James called out, waving at the man and jogging the last few steps to get to him. “You here to check on Regulus’s ankle?” He asked with a big smile breaking across his face. 

“Oh, er—I mean—Yes, yes. That’s right. Regulus’s ankle—Yep—Exactly.” The young doctor seemed flustered, with a pink flush creeping over his face. He was saved from further explanation when the door suddenly opened. 

“Remus!” Sirius beamed at him. His face dropped when he saw James standing next to him. 

“Hello, Mr Black. I’m here to check on Regulus’s ankle.” Remus stared straight at Sirius. 

“Huh? Oh—Yeah, brilliant. Thank you, Dr Lupin.” Sirius moved aside and let him in. James flicked his head between the two men but couldn’t figure out what he was missing. He shrugged his shoulders and followed them in. 

They crowded into Regulus’s room, much to Regulus’s surprise. 

“Hello, Regulus. How are you today? I’ve come to check your ankle.” Remus got Regulus to stand and move a few steps as he observed and nodded at his progress. “Excellent. It’s healing well. You can probably do some light exercise with it now. Walk around the suite at least today and try a bit further tomorrow. You should be almost back to normal by the time you go home, though I’m afraid I can’t recommend any more skiing while you’re here.” Remus told him in his doctor’s voice. 

“Thank you, Dr Lupin,” Regulus said as he lowered himself back onto the bed. 

“You’re welcome,” Remus said, straightening his jumper. “I’ve taken enough of your time. If you want a final check before you leave, let me know.” He turned towards the door.

“I’ll see you out,” Sirius told him, following him through the door.

“Hi,” Regulus murmured once they were alone. 

“Hi,” James sighed and sunk onto the end of the bed. 

“I’m sorry if he said anything to upset you. I’ve blocked his number now. Hopefully, he’ll get the message.” They sat there in awkward silence. 

Regulus shuffled himself up the bed so he was propped up by his pillows. “Can we just forget that moron spoke to you and just go back to how we were this morning?” He asked hopefully. “I found a film I think you might like. It’s all romantic, and there’s sword fighting and pirates and Rodents of unusual size.” He smiled shyly at James as he flicked the TV on. 

With very little encouragement, James flopped backwards next to Regulus. 

Regulus immediately snuggled into his side and nudged James’s arm until he wrapped it around him. Regulus sighed contentedly as he put the film on.    

Next part

[kookygranger]

Is This Desire?

Firefighter!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

A confession, a premonition, and a reality check for your inexperienced heart.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, fire injury, Steve gets hurt, witchcraft, reader is a town outcast, fem!reader, no upside down/no hawkins au

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter Four: Rub 'Til It Bleeds

I… Lie Steady Rest your head on me I’ll smooth it nicely Rub it better, ‘til it bleeds

The steady patter of rain on the roof fills your front room. Steve sits patiently on your velvet forest green couch, arms resting along the back, knees spread and eyes following your pacing form.

The petrichor that wafts through the open window along with the scent of your Palo Santo incense burning in the corner seeps through his muscles in a relaxing wave. Despite the solemn look on your face when you’d gotten up off the couch, leaving his fingers hovering for a moment instead of rubbing your temples, he wasn’t fazed. His heart rate didn’t spike when you’d blurted out that you had something to tell him. Because you were here standing in front of him, and you were safe. Right here in your space.

“I am a witch.”

Steve’s confused by the look you give him. Like you’re expecting him to react.

“And?”

Your shoulders fall from their heightened state, and he wants to rub the tension right out of them. “What do you mean and?”

“You said you had something to tell me.”

“That was it.”

“Oh, well I know that.” He shrugs.

“Excuse me?!”

“Baby,” he laughs, leaning forward, “You’ve got spell books and weird dried flowers all over the place. Doors close by themselves around you. The flowers in the front yard bloom better than any in this town, no matter the weather. No one can step a foot past the front porch unless you invite them in. I’m slow but not that slow.”

You tsk, “You’re not slow. But you realise I’m not just talking about practicing witchcraft? I have real powers Steve.” You place your hands palms up in front of you as if to demonstrate an invisible force.

He nods.

Your shoulders fall even further and now he knows he has to get in there with his hands. “Why haven’t you ever said anything about it?”

Steve shrugs, “What’s there to say.”

“It doesn’t freak you out?”

“Why would it freak me out? If anything, it’s pretty cool.”

You stare at him, mouth parted slightly in disbelief. “You’re kind of a freak yourself Steve Harrington.”

He beams. “Really? I always thought I was boring.”

You shake your head, sinking into the couch beside him and Steve grabs your leg to pull you in closer immediately. You rub over the white cotton covering his side, tracing circles as he leans his forehead against yours. “I would never use that word to describe something that constantly takes my breath away.”

His brows raise, as he laughs softly through his nose, “Cheesy.”

You nod, “That’s a better word for you.” You feel his smile against your lips as your eyes close.

***

It’s the feeling of heaviness that wakes you.

An invisible force sitting on your chest that slowly brings you around from a disturbing dream. Of what, you have no recollection, but you know it was something bad. It had to be.

Because the softness of the freshly washed pillowcase under your cheek and the strong arm holding you in place against a warm chest breathing steady did nothing to dissolve it. The feeling that something bad was going to happen.

When Steve finds you in the kitchen a few hours later, you hold onto him a little tighter than usual as he wraps his half-naked form around you.

The sun creeps through the stained-glass window over the sink, orange patterns painting the tiled floor and his bare skin. Your mug of tea sits on the counter, abandoned in search of him, hands finding heat-flushed skin instead of cooling ceramic. You breathe in his scent, face tucked into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

“Don’t go.”

He almost doesn’t hear your whispered plea over the quiet hum of morning rituals.

His arms tighten around you, lips placing a placating kiss into your hair. “What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

He notices the lines under your eyes as you emerge from his embrace.

“Your shift later. Don’t go to work. Stay here today.”

He smiles, all sleep-mussed hair and pink cheeks, but your pulling away as he leans in for a kiss makes him frown.

“Steve, I’m serious. Please don’t go to work.”

He shakes his head, arms still wrapped around your back as you cling to his bare shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I–I don’t know. I just have this bad feeling, I don’t want you going anywhere I can’t get to you. Where I can’t protect you.”

The smile returns to his face. “Baby, I’m okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to me. You probably just had a bad dream or somethin’. I trust those guys with my life, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

You shake your head, willing him to understand as you grip him tighter.

“I’ve been doin’ this job for years. I know it can be kinda scary but nothing’s ever happened to me.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

He doesn’t listen, shushing you with kisses instead. The creased lines of frustration on your face and worry over his well-being only stirred up the feeling he’d woken up with this morning. The cold empty bed that met his half-asleep wandering hand, was what prompted his journey downstairs in the first place.

You know that he’s not listening. That there are limits to the belief he has in your abilities because of his basic knowledge. He doesn’t understand that to you a feeling can truly be premonition.

So, you lean into the distraction and try and give him a reason to stay.

You let his hands find their way under your oversized shirt. Rough fingertips tickling your stomach, causing a rolling heat under your skin as they slide past the waistband of your sleep shorts, cotton pooling on the floor and protecting his knees as he gets down in front of you. Your lower back presses into the kitchen benchtop, quiet pops of bone as you arch at the feeling of his lips pressing soft touches.

He takes his time getting you worked up, leaving teasing trails of heat as your leg wraps around his shoulder and his hands dig into your hips – painting fresh blots of lilac over the fading petals previously left by him.

A high-pitched keen of his name, and he makes his way slowly up your trembling body, nose grazing along your soft curves and healed scars, trailing wet kisses in his wake. You feel him kick up at the moan you gift him with when you taste yourself on his tongue, his black boxer briefs quickly joining the growing pile on the floor after a soft graze of your hand sends his head spinning.

When you feel him begin to lose control, his hips stuttering and breath hot on the side of your neck, you distract him further. Pulling the hem of your shirt up around your neck and leading his hands to explore his second favourite feature on your body.

You lead with this trick when you find your way back to bed later, hoping he’ll lose time mapping your skin with his teeth.

When that doesn’t work, and his sweaty body disappears into the shower only slightly later than he'd intended, you tuck a handkerchief filled with dried Angelica root and blessed thistle in the pocket of his pants. Kissing him deeply at the door, mumbling Latin into his mouth while he, oblivious, promises you he’ll come straight back over after his shift.

***

There’s nothing you can do to distract yourself from the worry. The heaviness in your chest grows by the hour as you fruitlessly try reading, going on a walk and even baking cinnamon rolls – Steve’s favourite.

They’re perfectly fluffy. Spiced just right with the icing set in a sticky translucent layer. But the sweetness tastes bitter on your tongue, and you can’t manage more than one bite.

When night finally falls, you’re a mess.

Cup of tea now cold in your hands as you watch the minutes tick by on the old mahogany framed clock on the wall. When the big hand lines up in opposition with the little, creeping over the four, a sharp pain strikes you across the left side of your chest and you cry out in surprise, hand clutching over your heart. You knew it.

Your feet find the first pair of worn boots abandoned by the door, the cardigan over your night dress sufficient enough coverage on this still summer’s night as you race out of the door. Intuition leads you into the centre of town, following a trail of sirens and ignoring the burn in your lungs as you run.

The blaze is noticeable from two streets away, golden embers floating up high in signal. You’re not the only underdressed panic-stricken person on the street by the time you make it to the apartment complex, easily lost in the crowd of evacuees and curious neighbours. The top floor, three stories up is ablaze with a ferocious fire. Yellow flames licking up the side of the windows despite the steady stream of water blasting from the parked fire engine.

The sheriff pulls up with two patrol cars in tow, ready for crowd management but your attention is focused solely on the men in fire-resistant navy uniforms. Desperately searching faces for a familiar smile but all you see are foreign frowns on sweat-drenched brows.

Something’s not right. It isn’t under control.

You hear yells from inside the building, men rushing in to help clear a path for a limp body being carried under the arms and by the legs. Everything stops, the noise muffled like you’re underwater when you see a helmetless mop of golden brown hair.

“STEVE!”

Your body is stopped by the arms of a stranger, keeping you from him as he’s placed on the front lawn and paramedics rush to his side. Eventually, you thrash and wriggle enough to slip free, crumpling into a heap next to him as he splutters awake, taking ragged breaths through the oxygen mask strapped to his face. Somebody tries to tell you, you don’t belong here but as soon as Steve notices your presence he’s clutching your arm with a soot-stained hand.

He never lets go, even as he’s transferred onto a gurney and you follow alongside him while he’s wheeled to the ambulance, cheeks soaked with tears and breaths leaving you in hiccups, you hold on to his hand.

Another person tries to stop you from getting into the back of the bus, but Steve groans. Eyes shut tightly in pain his free hand pulls the mask away from him.

“She’s mine.”

Maybe normally you’d scoff. Maybe even give the boy a lecture about male possession and women's autonomy. But right now all you do is nod, letting his grip on you extend to your heart that feels his squeeze.

Once the back doors shut you lean over him, pushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead to place a soft kiss there. His eyes flutter open, the fluorescent light above you casting a glow around your form that he swears is there every day.

“I should’ve listened baby, I’m sorry.” He coughs harshly and a fresh wave of tears falls onto your puffy face. He clutches you tighter still when you bury your face in his neck, never wanting to be the cause of your heartache ever again.

“Please don’t leave me Steve.”

***

A fractured rib and smoke inhalation.

That’s what the older man in a white coat told Steve as you stood by his hospital bed. Rest, a night on the oxygen tank and constant monitoring. It could’ve been worse he said. Much worse if his unconscious body spent any longer laying on those stairs with the smoke curling around him.

Steve couldn’t remember what happened. Said his own oxygen tank might’ve caught on something or been pushed off his body in a rush to move through the burning building when the blaze worsened quicker than they were anticipating. All he remembers is smoke, not being able to catch his breath then you, weeping above him, embers floating around your head.

Nurses come by often during the night. A pitying smile on their faces when you refuse to leave his side, chair dragged over to his bed so he could hold your hand and you could watch his chest rise and fall steadily as he sleeps.

The pain in your own hasn’t left.

All you can think when you see his peaceful face twitch in his sleep is that you should've known. Good things never last around you.

[psychovigilantewrites]

It's Been Awhile

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Word Count: 5,500

Rating: Explicit, there is sex, R18

Summary: Reader visits Jason after some time.

Masterlist | Ao3

A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile, hasn't it. Sorry it's not a Red Who update, but I promise I have not abandoned it yet.

I am extremely rusty, because I haven't been reading nor writing much lately. I have a full time job now, and I'm on my way to paving my career. I still think of you guys a lot, though. So thank you so much for sticking with me till now. To the new followers, you won't see much activity here, but I will return from time to time to post or scroll or check up on things.

I'm so rusty that a 5000 word count felt so long to me. I remember when I was churning like, 12k word count within a week. Lol, I would love to try that out again. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope you all enjoy! This is the most I've written in a while.

You kicked an empty beer can aside and heard its metallic clink against the brick wall as you walked down the narrow alley.

From all the years you spent in alleyways, you got used to the smell and the suspicious puddles. It was dimly lit, the only light source coming from the apartment windows above you. You stopped below the fire escape and jumped, hands grasping the end of the metal ladder to pull it down so you could climb up.

You counted the floors. Four, seven… twelfth. You stopped a floor below your target so you could carefully creep up to the thirteenth. You peeked through your target’s opened window carefully. His apartment was brightly lit and clean. You noticed all the surfaces like the coffee table at the centre of the living room, and the small dining table at the far side of the apartment near the main entrance, were clear of any clutter or stains. The light grey sofa near the window where you were at looked new, with fluffed cushions arranged on the seats along with a beige throw blanket.

Your target had his bare back facing you, standing at the kitchen where he was putting away the dishes in the overhead cabinet. He was shirtless, so you could see the muscles of his back ripple and flex when he reached above his head. You climbed through the window silently and entered his apartment.

“Hello there-” you started, but immediately ducked to avoid the flying mug aimed at you but missing and crashed into pieces behind you. “Wow, rude.”

“Christ,” Jason swore when he realised who you were. “What the fuck? You scared the shit outta me.”

You grinned at him. “Not my fault you’re losing your touch. You really didn’t hear me?”

“I was never able to hear you, you know that,” he scowled and crossed his arms while walking towards you. “Take off your shoes, you’re dragging dirt all over my house.”

“Not until you clean up the glass.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing a broom to sweep away the shards.

You sat down on his sofa. An awkward silence passed.

“So,” you looked around his apartment. It was familiar because you’ve been there so many times before, but he had obviously done some rearranging and bought new furniture. There were definitely more books on his shelf now. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Around… six months?”

“Without any messages or phone calls,” he frowned, looking at the floor that was now clean and clear.

“Jason,” you groaned, “You know I couldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, putting aside the dustpan. “It’s just- it was hard not knowing whether you were safe or not.”

“You think undercover has been easy for me too?” you demanded.

“I know it hasn’t- look, I don’t want to argue,” he admitted. He sat down on the sofa next to you. You felt the sofa dip at his weight. “I’ve been undercover too. I know how hard it is. I was just worried.”

You looked at him. His thick eyebrows were pulled down in a frown, his icy blue eyes staring at you intensely. He had a bruise that was healing on the upper corner of his left cheekbone, and a fresh new cut on his lower lip.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the only one I’ve known the longest. Not knowing whether you were dead or alive does things to a person,” he stressed.

“Well, I’m here now. Alive. And demanding you get me some liquor,” you winked.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but complied. “Since when did you start drinking casually?”

You hesitated. “Since Elisa.”

“I have whiskey, bourbon, gin, tequila and beer,” he listed the contents of his liquor cabinet.

“Gin, soda and lime, please,” you ordered. Jason immediately got to work, making you your cocktail. “Bring the bottle here as well. I might want a top up.”

He raised an eyebrow as he served you and put the bottle of gin down on the coffee table.

“Aww, you even put a little lime wedge. Cute,” you teased and sipped. “Yep, I was right. Did you always used to make your drinks this weak?”

“You never complained before,” he replied, watching you pour a little more gin in your glass. “The drinks in Cuba must be strong.”

You paused, lips still on the rim of the cup. Silence fell again, before you shrugged. “I’ve taken quite a liking to rum.”

You dug through the sling bag pouch you had across your body and took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason protested.

“Uh, I’m lightshing a shigarette,” you answered with the cigarette already on your lips.

“One, no smoking in my house,” he snatched the cigarette from you and threw it on the table, “ Two, did Elisa smoke too?”

“She didn’t and then she did,” you scowled, “How long have you quit?”

“Four months,” he said, “I use these now. It’s helped a lot. I suggest you do the same.”

He took out a bright pink cylindrical metal tube with a straw-like tip from the pocket of his sweatpants and sucked the end. He exhaled a thick cloud of white mist that smelled of-

You burst into laughter.

“What?” he huffed.

“I’m sorry, but right now I’m just imagining bumping into you in a dark alleyway, all big and muscly, with your leather jacket and combat boots, and suddenly you smell like- what’s that, watermelon?”

“Yeah, so what?” he pouted, “I don’t even have the urge to smoke anymore.”

“You’re right, that’s good,” you smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “So, what are you doing here? You back for good?”

“Officially, my role in the mission has ended,” you explained, “But I might have to go back from time to time… And…”

“You’re leaving again?” he guessed solemnly.

You pursed his lips and looked at him. “How much do you know about what I was doing?”

“Not much,” he began, “Just that you were undercover in Cuba, leading some sort of coup?”

“Not exactly leading a coup,” you corrected, “I was hired by a private organisation to infiltrate and, uh, get rid of corrupted leaders internally, and replace them with clean people so that the citizens can have a chance at improving the country.”

“So… American intervention to reestablish democracy and change regimes?” Jason smirked, “Like Cuba in the sixties? Bolivia, Ghana, Angola, and my personal favourite, Iraq?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended, “And not American. Not CIA. Not United Nations. Jason, these people are real. They have no other agenda but to give people freedom. We’re made of many countries and nationalities- mostly third world whose countries have been ravished by colonialism and intervention. Think Che Guevara, but bigger. Richer. Way richer. More organized. They’ve been recruiting ex-agents and spies, people who can’t be blackmailed or bribed with money. People who care about change.”

“So that’s what you’ve been doing?” he realised, “Been playing Spy Kids with communists.”

“We’re not calling ourselves that,” you argued, “And we’re not going for the communist revolution. We want to go for a more organic change.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” he sighed in defeat.

“Because… I want you to come with me next,” you positioned your body to fully face him, crossing your legs on the sofa.

“What?” he asked incredulously, “And what, abandon Gotham?”

“Gotham doesn’t need people like you and me, Jay,” you whispered, “It needs Batman, and Nightwing, and Robin, and all of them. Gotham needs hope. People like us don’t belong here.”

“People like us?”

“You know what I mean,” you said sternly, “Our skills are needed and appreciated elsewhere.”

Another moment of silence of you and Jason just glaring at each other. You saw the way Jason’s eyes examined your expression, your body language. He knew you were completely serious about this.

You broke eye contact and took a few sips of your drink, feeling the contradictory refreshment and burn.

“Just think about it. You have time. I’m on a decently long break before going to the next mission,” you leaned back against the cushion and closed your eyes, “Mmm, I want to go to a nice spa. Get some new clothes. Watch movies. Source for some cool gadgets from Bruce. Spend some time with the family.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of months.”

You heard Jason sigh again. That’s how it was with Jason. Just constant sighing.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. “Really?”

He was looking down into his own cocktail. “I don’t think I can go another six months not knowing what the fuck you’re doing, where you are, whether you’re dead or alive. So, yes. I’ll fuckin’ think about it.”

You felt bad. From the moment you told him you were leaving to go undercover, from the moment you went silent, you felt immensely guilty for leaving him. It was your first time without contact with him, and hell, it was difficult for you too. He was your first friend, your first family. Your life would not have been your life without Jason Todd.

“Hey,” you said softly, reaching out to his face to make him look at you. “I missed you.”

He simply stared. He looked like he was struggling to say something, or struggling to stop himself from saying something.

Then, he looked away. “So, how was it?”

“Pretty fucking cool,” you admitted, relaxing back into your usual self. “I felt like I was in a movie. Being undercover without anyone knowing sucks ass, though. Couldn’t be myself. Couldn’t do whatever I wanted to do, say whatever I wanted to say. Fuck, it was so hard. That’s when the drinking started.”

He chuckled. “Liar.”

“Excuse me?” you turned to him.

“Liar,” he stated, “That’s not how the drinking started. Something happened.”

“A lot of things happen when you’re undercover, Jason,” you snapped.

“I’m just saying,” he smirked, “You may have gotten used to lying to everyone around you. But you can’t lie to me.”

You hated how right he was.

“Put on some tunes,” you demanded, “Like I said, I couldn’t be myself. So tonight, I am going to drink and I am going to do whatever I want, and say whatever I want.”

“And as always, I’m the victim,” he groaned.

“Hush, you love it,” you giggled.

Jason stood up, grumbling. “Just take off your damn shoes.”

You complied, kicking off your boots and placed them away against a wall. Jason had always been so neat and tidy, so you respected that whenever you were in his space. He was extremely particular about hygiene as well. You were used to having your shoes off in his house, to him sanitizing his hands whenever he took off his gloves, to him always wiping surfaces with isopropyl alcohol.

He was always so well groomed too, and you never needed to worry about toiletries whenever you stayed at his. Whatever you needed, or hell, didn’t need, he had them. You remembered when you were teens and you were complaining about acne. He taught you all about skincare, haircare. About shaving versus waxing. About scrubbing between your toes and behind your ears when you shower.

And Jason showered every single day, since he was always engaged in physical activities.

And because of that, Jason always smelled so fucking good.

You caught a whiff of the scent you were so familiar with when he sat back down next to you after turning on the speakers and grabbing two bags of chips. He smelled like the cologne he wore, which was a deep pine scent with undertones of chocolate and sage. It mixed well with the refreshing raspberry of his shampoo.

“You met Grayson yet?” he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mmm?” you mumbled, still lost in his scent. “No. You’re the first.”

“Good,” he grumbled back.

“Didn’t want to make you jealous or anything,” you giggled, poking his cheek.

He swatted away your hand, but a small smile played on his lips. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

You wanted to retort, but let it go and took another big gulp from your glass. You topped the ice with some more gin and squeezed the lime in. Talking about Jason’s weird competitive streak with Dick would always end up with Jason sulking. You felt a little tipsy already.

“Hmm,” you hummed. And then, you had a brilliant idea. You stood up and you took your tight black t-shirt off, leaving you in your black bra.

“Why are you stripping?” Jason raised his voice.

“It’s summer, and it’s hot,” you shrugged, sitting back down closer to him. He was also shirtless, and you felt the heat radiating off his skin. “And it’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

“It’s different when you’re bleeding from a stab wound and I’m pouring vodka on it,” he retorted.

“Whatever,” you scoffed, “ And you know what? This place was a smoking area before I left. And I told you that tonight, I’m going to be doing whatever I want. So.”

You reached forward to your pack of cigarettes Jason threw on the coffee table, but he grabbed your hand.

“Nuh-uh. No.”

You glanced at his grip on your wrist and back up at him. “You really want to do this, Todd?”

His expression changed to some sort of smug look that he always had when presented with a challenge. “Let’s see whether Cuba made you rusty, then.”

You smirked at him. And then, you swung your other fist towards his face, but he blocked your punch with the palm of his free hand.

You lifted yourself off the couch and used your body weight and momentum to catch him off his balance. It worked, he was on the floor, but he was so strong and it was difficult to free your arms from his grip.

So, you played dirty.

You carefully kneed his groin. Gently. You didn’t want to actually hurt him. Just to discombobulate him.

Jason swore, and his grip on you loosened just a teeny tiny bit. But that was all you needed to release yourself by twisting his arm to an angle that forced him to turn his body face down to the floor.

You continued twisting.

“Ow, ow, ow!” He complained.

“Do you yield?” You breathed.

“Yes! I yield, holy shit,” he whined.

You released him and greeted him with a shit eating grin when he propped himself back up. You had always been the better fighter. Even though Jason was bigger and stronger, you were more lithe, fast, and flexible. You used momentum, anatomical range of motion, and precise techniques in your martial art. That’s why you were always silent and could sneak up on him. That’s why you used to be the stealthy assassin, while Jason favoured loud guns and explosives.

“You know you will lose, yet you always challenge me,” you pointed out, “That’s why I think you’re a brat.”

“Like a spoiled kid?” he said, “Since when?”

“Not in that context,” you rolled your eyes. “Like, in bed.”

“Huh?” Jason sat down and looked up at you with genuine confusion. You joined him on the sofa again. This time, he didn’t stop you from lighting your cigarette. You inhaled. You exhaled.

“You know, like you have the dominant and the submissive,” you started to explain, “A brat is under the submissive category.”

“The hell?” he protested, “I am not submissive.”

“Maybe at first,” you smirked slyly, slowly closing the gap between you and him. “That’s what a brat is. You like to fight. You’re stubborn. You like to say no. But ultimately, you want to betamed.”

To make a point, you crawled towards him and boldly straddled his waist.

“Wh-what- what the fuck are you doing?” Jason sputtered, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“That’s why you like to fight me, right?” you continued, resting one palm flat on his bare chest, your other on his shoulder while you held your cigarette. “You want me to make you submit.”

You blew smoke onto his face.

“Stop that,” he gripped the side of your arms, “Did Cuba make you flirty too?”

“I always flirt with you.”

“Not like this,” he shook his head. “What, did Elisa have to seduce men? Women?”

“Unfortunately, no,” you pouted, “Elisa had to keep things strictly professional between all her assets.”

The truth was you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“So, it’s been a while,” he stated.

“It’s been a while,” you agreed. “How about you? Any women? Men?”

“Please,” he scoffed, “Just Grayson being an ass.”

“So, it’s been a while for you, too,” you teased.

“But I’m not a perv like you,” he huffed.

“We can change that,” you leaned in closer, watching the way he had subtly wet his lips, thinking you wouldn’t notice.

“Stop,” he repeated, “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk enough to make you yield.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret in the morning,” he pressed.

“Why would you think I’m going to regret anything?” You asked.

“Because you’ve never done this before,” he frowned, “This is coming out of nowhere.”

You’ve been pining for him ever since you hit puberty.

“Do you think you’re going to regret it in the morning?”

He looked away from your intense, questioning gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

That was the reason you gave yourself for so long. You didn’t want to tell Jason how you felt because you were scared he wouldn’t see you the same anymore. Or that he would feel self-conscious around you. That he would reject you. That because of your selfish feelings, your relationship would be ruined.

You put out the cigarette in your glass.

“When I was Elisa Martinez,” you began slowly, “I couldn’t be myself, obviously. I couldn’t drink my favourite drink, or watch my favourite shows. You know how deep undercover is like, right? The complete erasure of your identity. Your history. I know some people who actually started to believe their cover story, to the point where they forgot who they really were.”

You paused to make sure you wouldn’t regret whatever you were going to say next.

“Elisa Martinez didn’t know Jason Todd. She never grew up with him. She never… fell in love with him…”

You noticed Jason’s eyes widened, and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.

“And it was horrible, Jason,” you expressed, “I felt so lonely. So one day when I was alone in my apartment in Havana, I told myself that I wouldn’t be one of those people who gets lost in their cover identities. Unsure and confused about who they were. I vowed that when I got back here, I would truly be myself. No more hiding my feelings or my beliefs. No more stopping myself from getting what I wanted. Because I didn’t realise how having your own identity was a privilege that people took for granted.”

His eyes softened, but he still looked unsure of how to respond.

“So no,” you stated firmly, “I won’t regret it in the morning. Even if you don’t feel the same way, and you don’t want anything to do with me after this, I will not regret telling you how I feel. Because six months of struggling with identities was enough.”

Still straddling him, you crossed your arms to make a point.

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. He let go of his grip on you and ran his hand through his hair again. A habit that you noticed he did when he was either stressed or nervous. “Wow. I mean. I didn’t expect that at all.”

“I know it seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but I’ve felt like this for years,” you confessed.

And that Jason did what you didn’t expect him to do. He reached out to cup your face, and then smiled at you.

You learned that Jason had many types of smiles. The smile that was really more threatening than it was comforting. The smile that meant he had a devious idea in his head. The smile that didn’t reach his eyes, when he was shaking hands with someone he didn’t like. The smile when he found something funny. The smile when he was thinking of the past.

And the smile that he only reserved for you.

It wasn’t just the upturned corner of his lips that made the smile. It was also the softness of his eyes, the relaxing of his brows. And the actual smile was just a brief moment, followed by his gaze into your eyes. He smiled like that at you during the first time you successfully threw a punch. And that time when you won first place at the science fair. Sometimes he would smile like that when you went on about history, and geopolitics, and the latest episode of your favourite show.

“Me too,” he simply said.

And there it was. The last time you felt this happy was when Lady Shiva told you she had nothing left to teach you.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” Jason broke you out of your bliss.

“Huh?”

Suddenly he grabbed your hips tightly and threw you off of him, onto the empty space of the sofa. You gasped in surprise at the sudden movement, and before you knew it, he was on top of you, holding you down. He put his face above yours, lips only inches away that you could feel his hot breath.

“I am not a brat.”

And then he kissed you.

His cut lip grazed yours softly at first before sucking in your bottom lip with force. He broke off the kiss and grinned at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

And before he knew it, you had flipped him over, causing him to land on his back onto the floor with a loud thud.

Your knee was at his crotch again, a silent threat for him to stay still.

But you knew what had Jason blushing was your hand around his throat.

“Tsk, tsk, Jay,” you whispered in his ear, making a point to softly brush your lips on his lobe. “Don’t be naughty. You know you can’t take me.”

“I- wha-” he sputtered, and then tried to move.

“Nuh uh,” you warned, putting more pressure on his crotch with your knee, “Stay still.”

He continued to look at you in surprise, or confusion, or wonder. You weren’t sure.

What you were sure about was that you felt his cock begin to harden against you.

You chuckled softly to yourself. The truth was, you made it all up just to antagonize him. You didn’t really think he was a brat at first. In fact, all of your previous fantasies were of him dominating you, choking you, pounding into you while your hands were tied to the bed posts. Now that you knew he was into this, though, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“I’m going to get up. But you,” you squeezed his neck a little tighter, “You stay like this and do what I say, okay?”

You felt him gulp under your grip and then he nodded.

You stood up and put your hands on your hips. Looking down at him, you appreciated the view.

His hard chest was going up and down fast as he was panting. You saw a flush grow from his neck to his cheeks. Your gaze went down his abs, to his crotch, where you saw the outline of his hard cock and a small dark spot at the tip.

“Take off your pants for me,” you commanded.

He just stared at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to threaten you?”

You gently stepped on his cock with your toes.

“Okay, okay!” he hurriedly slid off his sweatpants, revealing his hard on.

You never saw his cock before. You sort of knew it would be large based on the outlines whenever he wore sweatpants or boxers. But, wow.

He was perfectly long, and perfectly thick, and perfectly uncut. Though, his foreskin was now stretched back, revealing his head that was red and pulsating, desperate to be touched.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he grinned, his confidence and smug attitude back.

You sat back down on the couch and crossed your legs, making him confused.

“Well?” you prompted, “Start stroking.”

“What?” he asked, “Down here?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “Go on.”

He slowly reached for his cock and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a small moan from his lips. You bit your lips at the sound and the sight.

Fuck, he was so hot. You had dreamed of watching him jerk himself off for so long, and now there he was, sprawled on the floor at your feet.

He started to really stroke himself now, his eyes fluttered close and his mouth parted in heavy breaths.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

You saw that his cock was now slick and wet with his precum. You wanted to taste it so bad. You wanted him to shove his cock down your throat and mercilessly fuck your face until you gagged and cried.

Not today. He will have his turn some other time.

“Okay, stop,” you said in a sing-song voice.

“Wh-what? No,” he refused, still fucking his fist.

“Baby,” you stood up, “I said stop.”

He groaned and opened his eyes, his arm stilling around his dick.

You proceeded to take off your jeans, and your bra, causing your breasts to fall. Exposed to him for the first time, Jason was actually smacking his lips.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. I want to touch you,” he whined and moved to get up.

“No,” you denied, “Stay down there for me.”

You walked over to his head, placed your feet on either side, and then dropped to your knees so you were hovering your pussy right above his lips.

“This is fine too,” he mumbled, hands going straight to your ass, kneading them. Then, he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal.

“Mmm, you smell divine,” he whined.

That did it. You just knew that you were drenched.

He started to mouth you through the fabric, kissing your folds, nibbling on them.

“Please, take them off,” he begged.

You complied, only because you couldn’t stand not being touched. The moment you returned to your position, Jason attacked you with his mouth.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

It was as if he was making out with your pussy. Wet lips on wet lips, he licked you everywhere, from between your folds, to your opening, to your clit. It was like he was starved for you. Hungry for you. All the while, the sound of wetness and his muffled moans filled the room.

“Jason,” you sighed. You felt the familiar warmth spread at the base of your core.

He knew what you wanted. You felt him focus on your clit with his tongue, and then a finger entering you slowly.

You let out a high pitch whine when he started finger fucking you while ravishing your clit at the same time.

A second finger.

He was hitting the right spot, so deep inside you. You had thought about this as well. Whenever you saw his fingers on a trigger, or that time when he was making pizza dough and kneading. You imagined his thick, calloused fingers inside you, fucking you the way he was right now.

He quickened his pace and added more pressure to your clit.

You knew he knew you were close. You could feel it. Your body was tense, and you knew you were tightening around his fingers. You gripped his hair with both your hands, because you just needed to hold onto something.

And then you were coming.

You didn’t know you were screaming until you felt a gush of wetness between your legs, splashing everywhere.

Jason fucking Todd made you squirt.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you apologised. You stood up too quickly and didn’t realise your legs were jelly, so you ended up tripping onto the wet floor next to him.

“That was so hot, don’t be sorry,” he looked at you incredulously. His face was glistening with your juices.

And fuck, was that a sight to behold.

You couldn’t help but grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him.

He crawled on top of you, sucking your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. One hand roamed your body while the other propped him up above you. He squeezed your breasts and your nipples, and went down to your waist, between your legs. He gripped your thigh from below and pushed it up so you were spread open.

He hooked your leg on his shoulder.

And without warning, he pushed his cock into your wet, sensitive pussy.

“Fuck!” you screamed as he bottomed inside you.

He filled you up so perfectly, that you never wanted to be empty ever again. He stretched you out so beautifully, that you thought your walls would just be molded into shape specifically for his cock.

“Hnngh,” he groaned, “You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight.”

You felt him thrust deep inside you, reaching all the spots that made you writhe in pleasure. He began pounding you hard, wet slaps made even wetter as you leaked all over his cock.

You weren’t gasping for air. It was so intense that you couldn’t breathe. Your mouth was opened in a silent scream until you actually had to remind yourself to inhale.

There were no words that you could form in that moment. Just absolutely filthy, vulgar sounds that rang through his apartment.

Through teary eyes, you watched him above you.

He was panting, breathing hard. You weren’t sure whether the moisture on his face was from sweat or your juices earlier. His dark hair had fallen down to poke his eyes, his brows pulled down in a frown. His chest had beads of sweat dripping, trickling down to his abs.

He moved his hips with precise and sharp movements. Every thrust into you was accompanied by gasps and whispers of words you couldn’t hear.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he praised breathily, “I want to watch you come again.”

It wouldn’t take too long.

You were already feeling like you were going to unravel. The heat pooling again, even more intense than your previous orgasm.

Jason increased his pace, and then reached down to your pussy to thumb your clit.

You screamed.

It was like a wave that pulled you down and released you. You felt your body tighten and your walls clench and unclench. You felt hot liquid release from your core, just like waves crashing.

Before you knew it, you felt empty. Jason had pulled out and jerked himself off over you.

He came long and hard in a loud groan. White ribbons of cum shot out of his pulsating cock, reaching all the way to your face.

He collapsed next to you on the floor, huffing and panting.

You felt drowsy all of a sudden, but so fucking relaxed.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, “Can’t move. Can’t think. Shhh.”

You giggled and scooted closer to him, pressing yourself onto his sweaty, sticky skin and rested your head on his chest.

You felt his heartbeat drum against his ribcage.

He rested his arm on your head and played with your hair.

“I can’t believe our first time was on the floor,” he complained.

“I think it describes us perfectly,” you closed your eyes and smiled.

He kissed the top of your head. After a beat, he asked, “Will you tell me what happened in Cuba?”

“One day,” you told him, “I need time to process it as well.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, “So, uh. Are we like, official then?”

“If you want to be.”

“Do you want to be?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I’ve been pining for you for a long time.”

“Me too,” he confessed, “We should have done this sooner.”

“I don’t think so,” you thought, “I think right now is the perfect time. We figured ourselves first, we explored what we wanted to do. We found our reason. Well, I did, at least.”

“So you’re really serious about this then?” he asked, “Fully committed?”

“One hundred percent,” you stated, “I think that we can make real change. Slow change. But change nonetheless.”

“Okay, then,” he sighed.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m in,” he said, “I can’t promise you that I will stay for the cause. I can’t promise you that I will even believe in it. But I can’t do the silence again. You have no idea how difficult it was for me, these past six months.”

You frowned. You wondered what happened. You will ask another time.

“But I can promise you that you will always have me,” he continued, “I don’t know what this is, and what these missions need you-or us- to do, but you will always have my support.”

You felt deeply moved. “Thank you,” you whispered.

You didn’t have to worry about your identity anymore. About being confused, about being corrupted by the roles you had to play.

Because as long as Jason was there, you were you.

[thesparklingwriter]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒛𝒆

~ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

Featuring: childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli

Tags: hurt/comfort, the genshin men are always working (except zhongli), gn!reader, petnames, suggestive if you squint (childe | kaeya), zhongli’s is a bit mean-I wouldn’t say toxic but a bit dismissive

Word count: 2k (about 500 each)

An: this is the first post I’ve made like this, and I might not make them all so long next time (this is also like my first or second time writing some of these characters so pls be nice if they’re a little ooc) lmk if I’ve missed anything in the tags ^^

taglist | masterlist

𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆

“Childe, come on, you said you wouldn’t do this to me anymore.”

Childe frowns. He doesn’t know what he could have possibly done to elicit such a response in you. he’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman, so why have you been avoiding him? And why are you standing here, having a go at him?

“Can you at least tell me what was more important than me?” You ask. You know the answer already, but you ask the question in the hope that something may have changed. But with Childe, nothing changes. He’s constant, regardless of what’s happening around him.

“Nothing is, you know that.” He chuckles, reaching towards you to pull you into a hug. You twist away from him and step back, out of his reach.

“We were supposed to go out for dinner two weeks ago and you never showed. You don’t even remember?”

“I’m sorry, I was busy. I was…” His voice trails off as he realises that he actually can’t tell you even if he wanted to. How would you feel if you knew that the hand that wiped tears from your face also wiped out entire organisations? He loved you, so much so that he didn’t want to know—not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t want you to be afraid of him.

“Yes?”

“I was busy.”

“You can’t even tell me what you were doing? For Celestia’s sake, Childe, you work at the bank. What could they possibly have you doing that eats up so much of your time?”

“It’s classified,” He says weakly. Deep down, he knows you’re right—the bank was a terrible coverup for working for the Fatui.

“Of course.” you huff. It’s always classified. “When you’re allowed to tell me the truth, come back to me.”

“Hang on a sec, what do you mean by that?”

You sigh. “I can’t keep coming in second place to your work. When things have calmed down, we can—”

“Are you breaking up with me right now?”

You wring your hands together. You didn’t want it to come to this, but you know you can’t—shouldn’t—settle for this treatment.

“No. I think you just need time to get your priorities straight.”

~

You’re not usually one for gossip, but when your friend asks about the whereabouts of the ginger that normally follows you around, you can’t help but let the words spill out of your mouth.

“I’m always second place to his work,” you complain, crossing your arms. “It’s tiring, it really is. He’s great and all, and he always takes good care of me when he’s around, but he rarely ever has enough time.”

“Maybe he’s not right for you,” your friend quips, right as Childe creeps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.

“Who isn’t?” He asks, glancing between you and your friend. He’s almost certain they’re using this chance to get one over on him, to coax you into their arms and he. is. not. having. it.

“We were just talking,” you say softly, attempting to lessen the tension. He ignores you.

“Come on,” he says, walking away and taking your hand as he leaves. “I’m making this up to you.”

“How?”

“You’ll see."

𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒄

“You forgot our date again.”

Diluc looks up from the cup he’s polishing, his face morphing into a look of grim realisation as he comes to terms with the fact that he did it again. The cavern is almost empty, even though it’s barely even closing, and a heavy silence falls between the two of you.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he says wearily, putting the cup down and taking your hands in his. “I don’t even have an excuse.”

You know his excuse, whether he knows you do or not. If you’re being sidelined so he can protect Mondstadt in times of need, you almost can’t be too mad. He just has a lot on his plate, right?

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hand and stroking his cheek lightly. “It’s okay.”

Diluc blinks, surprised by your leniency. “Don’t do that—don’t justify this on my behalf. It’s not ‘okay’, yn.”

Now it’s your turn to look surprised—Diluc can take criticism. If anything, the fact he doesn’t take it to heart is what makes him able to act upon it. But he’s clearly taking this seriously.

“I’ll make this up to you,” he says, glancing around the shop. There’s still no one inside, and if his memory serves him correctly, around this time things are incredibly slow. He shouts something to his colleagues about going on his break, and takes your hand.

“Diluc, wait. You can’t just skip out on work—”

“I’ve been skipping my breaks for the last few weeks, and we’re incredibly slow at this time of day. They won’t miss me for a couple of hours.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

“Placing so much importance on my work is what got us here in the first place. It wouldn’t hurt to not be so rigid once in a while.” He mutters. “Let’s go somewhere nice for dinner, it’s on me.”

~

Later, when your friend catches you parting ways with Diluc at the restaurant, they watch you with ever growing curiosity. Wasn’t he supposed to be working?

“Hey! Long time no see,” They grin. You wave back, grateful for the company. Leaving Diluc’s side always makes you feel somewhat lonely—you never know when you’ll next get a chance to be with him like this. “Isn’t Diluc supposed to be working right now?”

“Yes, but he forgot one of our dates, so he was just making it up to me.” You cross your arms, suddenly feeling defensive. It’s okay if you criticise Diluc to his face, but hearing someone else try to say something about him, especially when he’s not around to defend himself, really puts you on edge.

Your friend chuckles. “How much time did he give you?”

“I’m not sure I like what you’re implying.”

You hadn’t even realised Diluc had returned, consumed by the sheer audacity of your friend’s comment. He looks at you, pointedly ignoring your friend and smiles conspiratorially. “I’m taking the evening off. Let’s find something entertaining to do.”

𝒌𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒂

“Well, hello sunshine,” Kaeya drawls, looking up from his stack of paperwork. He looked tired, but it seems that your presence has brightened up his work filled day. Or it would have, if you weren’t wearing such a spectacular scowl. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You skipped out on our date last week.” You grumble, crossing your arms.

“You came all the way here to tell me that?” Kaeya stands up and closes the door to his office. He didn't really want the whole of headquarters hearing this particular conversation. On his way back from the door, he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on top of yours. “We can talk about this later, hmm? I have a lot of work to do and I can’t really apologise properly here, can I?”

“You can.”

“Not the way I want to.”

“Kaeya, you’re supposed to be on a break right now. What could possibly be slowing you down so much?”

Does he really want to risk telling you that it’s your fault? That the thought of you always gets him off task, and then he has to work extra hours to catch up, and then he skips out on work to come and see you, getting even more off task. Is it really fair to blame you for his inability to prioritise?

“I have things on my mind,” he mutters. “Things that are going to get worse if you don’t leave.”

“I’m getting seriously worried for you, you know? I barely see you anymore.”

Kaeya feels himself melt with every word. He can’t see your face, a conscious decision he’s made so that you can’t manipulate him with your beauty, but he knows the expression you're pulling. He kisses your hair lightly. “I’m sorry, darling. You know I am.”

You spin around in his arms, staring at him accusingly. “You’re not sorry. You’re just saying that so I don’t dump you.”

“Would you dump me?”

“No.”

“See, that would be an irrational worry on my part.” Kaeya chuckles, kissing you softly. “A rational worry is one about my supervisor walking in on this.”

“You’re on a break. You should be allowed to do whatever you want.” You complain.

“I’m not falling for this, yn.” He sighs. “I’ll come pick you up at eight, okay?”

You scowl at him, raising your eyebrow.

“I promise. Hand on heart. Knight’s honour. Just please leave my office before I lose all sense of reasoning.” And he’s not exaggrating. He’s five minutes away from locking his office door and kissing you until your lips are swollen.

~

You were glad for your friend for wanting to meet up. It took your mind your mind off of whatever Kaeya had planned for you. But they were also very good at being nosy, so when you stood up to leave, you had to keep the incoming 21 questions in mind.

“Why are you leaving?”

“Kaeya’s picking me up,” you smile, picking your bag up.

“Are you always at his beck and call like this?” They complain. “You never give me second chances when I stand you up.”

“That’s cause you never apologise.”

“Neither does Kaeya.” They scoff, mumbling to themselves. Later, when you and Kaeya are walking to an undisclosed location as part of his apology for neglecting you, he scoffs and says: “I always apologise. Don’t I, sunshine?”

You grin to yourself and tug his hair playfully. “Not with words.”

𝒛𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊

“Welcome home, love,” Zhongli says, as you return home. He doesn’t move from his post in the kitchen, occupied by the food on the stove.

“Hello,” You smile, following the sound of his voice. “I thought we were going out tonight?” You say, when you catch sight of the food on the stove. You wrap your arms around his waist, expecting him to say something like ‘I decided to make you you favourite food instead’ or ‘I thought we could have a picnic’. He doesn’t.

“Hmm? When did we plan that?”

“Last week,” You say pointedly, pulling away from him. “You don’t remember?”

“I wasn’t under the impression that that was a serious arrangement.” He says passively.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Why would I not be?”

“That’s really selfish of you. If you didn’t want to go, why not just say that instead of leading me on?”

“I wasn’t aware that there was a specified amount of times a month we had to go out. It simply seems excessive to me.” He doesn’t look up from his cooking, almost unaware of the fact his actions are upsetting. As far as he knows, people don’t often place such importance on where they eat. It’s about eating together, is it not?

“Your self-righteous ignorance seems excessive to me too.” You huff.

“I’m not sure why you’re so upset.”

“Then listen to what I’m saying.”

Zhongli turns the stove off and turns to look at you. Moments like this always remind him of how out of touch he can be—something that was as minor as going out to eat has truly upset you, even though it meant barely anything to him. “Alright, I apologise.” He says “I’m listening. Talk to me.”

“I know it sounds silly, but eating at home is different than going out. It’s less stressful.” You sigh, you lip trembling as you hold back tears. “I guess these kinds of things don’t mean anything to you, but they do mean something to me.”

He takes a deep breath. When did he allow himself to lose sight of the things you enjoyed? He couldn’t forgive himself for this kind of slight, let alone expect you to let it slide.

“I sincerely apologise, my love.” He sighs, gently wiping away a stray tear.

“Do you really care that little about the things I enjoy? Do you just do them because you feel you have to?” You ask him. You don’t allow yourself to fall into his arms, because then you know you’ll forgive him for it all without finding a solution. “Please be honest with me.”

“I don’t enjoy them all,” He says carefully. “Not the activities themselves. But I enjoy the joy they bring you, and the time we get to spend together.”

You sniff, pulling him into a hug and pressing your face into his chest. “Would it be better if we looked for things we both enjoy?”

Zhongli hums to himself. “Perhaps,” he says, gently stroking your hair. “But in the meantime, I don’t see why we can’t go out to eat anyway. That is, if you’re not opposed to the idea.”

[contentconsumer]

but you don’t like coffee?

a/n: just something to get me back into writing and rn i’m crushing so hard on steve harrington, maybe a future series? just some fluff lol, not my gif!

word count: 1k(ish)

requested?: no, requests are closed but ships are OPEN

pairing: steve harrington x reader

warnings?: usual stranger things vibes/warnings, steve being wholesome, 

summary: mutual pinning between the scoops ahoy worker and the barista across the food court.

robin was sick and tired of watching steve stare at the new girl across the mall. ever since you started working at a cafe opposite scoops ahoy in the food court, steve had suddenly taken a new found enthusam for being on the front desk - and robin wasn’t stupid, she had noticed his ‘slightly creepy’ staring at the poor girl who she remembered from their shared timed in high school. what was also creeping robin out was the fact steve was now early to his shifts, steve was many things but early was not one of them. robin’s breaking point was when she picked up on the fact steve had stopped trying to hit on every teenage girl who entered a 5 foot radius. 

on this particular wednesday robin could make out your figure clearing tables, simply minding your own business, with a sigh she turns to face steve who’s eyes are already following you, “why don’t you just talk to her?” “talk to who?” steve tries to play dumb, “the cafe girl you’ve been ooggling for the past 2 weeks” “her name is Y/N” “oh, she has a name!” robin claps her hands sarcastically, “brillant, so enlighten me - why do you know her name?” “because we went to high school with her” steve raises an eyebrow finally taking his gaze of you to stare at robin, “steve, do you really expect me to believe you remember a girl from high school who you probably never spoke to.” “how do you know i never spoke to her?” steve counters “did you ever speak to her?” “no, but-” “there is no but, why do you know her name? oh my god- have you been stalking this poor girl?” “what? NO! i just may have started visiting their cafe everyday before or after my shift” steve admits somewhat sheepishly “so you’re telling me that you’ve spoken to this girl” robin gestures wildly with her hands, “but not asked her out of made a move? thats not very king steve of you” she uses quotation marks with her fingers, “look, i’ve tried but she’s just” steve looks around exasperatedly, “different” robin gasps, “she makes you nervous” “no, i never said that!” “but that’s what it is, isn’t it? isn’t it?” robin repeated over and over poking steve in the side causing steve to lose his temper and bickering to occur, what they don’t realise while caught up in their argument is you walking into the store, in fact neither of them have any clue you’re there until you cough slightly and mumble a very quiet, ‘excuse me’.

the pair in front of you physically jump apart at the sound of your voice, “sorry i um didn’t mean to scare y’all” you cringe, “i was just wondering if you guys had any spare whipped cream we’ve ran out? i know it sounds so stupid but theres this kid at the cafe i work at right now having a full on meltdown because i said i couldn’t put any on his hot chocolate and i swear to god if i have to listen to a 2 year old screech in my fucking ear one more time i’m gonna loose it” you press your lips together offering a smile after your small rant.

for once in her life robin decides to actively help steve out by giving him the chance to reply to you yet after an awkward amount of silence she glances at him out of the corner of her eye to find his cheeks a deep crismon, he is nervous, she thinks before deciding to cut in to help whatever the fuck is going on, “uh yeah we do, i’ll go grab some!” she wanders off leaving you and steve again in silence, slightly cursing him to do something - anything. 

you cannot take much more of steve’s gawking at you, “so how's it going?” you offer a conversation starter, this helps snap steve out of his daze, “uh yeah, it’s um, it’s going - h-h-how are you?” he slightly stumbles over his words and you can see a red creep up his neck, “yeah i’m good” and soon you fall into a small conversation in which you decide to ask, “i was actually wondering if maybe you want-” “i got it!” robin reappears cutting off your almost-date proposal, with a sigh you slap on a smile and take the cream from her, “thanks so much,” you start to back out of the store, “oh and steve? i’ll have your regular ready for you tomorrow” you smile, “you’re a lifesaver” steve calls after you, his mind racing through what just happened and if you were going to ask what he thought you were going to, “your regular?” robin cocks an eyebrow, “black coffee.” steve mumbles, “steve!” robin exclaims “you don’t even like coffee!” “i might” “no you don’t and that’s a fact! once i let you try some of mine to which you said and i quote it tastes like ‘satans asshole’” “well maybe it’s grown on me” “no,” robin tuts “Y/N has grown on you” robin teases, “yeah well you ruined that chance,” steve pouts slightly, “what?” his best friend stares blankly at him, “she was gonna ask me something but you cut her off with your stupid cream!” “she asked for the cream!” “well you couldn’t wait 5 minutes?” steve shrugs with wide eyes waving his arms manically. 

you wander back across the mall, and a sigh escapes your lips once you get back to your cafe, where your friend and co-worker is staring at you with an expectant gaze, “well?” she asks, to which you shake your head, “i didn’t get to ask him, i got interrupted.” “ah too bad kid,” Y/B/F says ruffling, “well there's always tomorrow, when he comes in for his coffee which he throws away after talking to you” “yeah” you giggle, “there’s always tomorrow” “and once he says yes to going out with you please stop staring at him across the food court, you’re making many families and myself uncomfortable with you eye undressing” “hey!” you get defensive “i don’t eye-” “yes, yes you do Y/N” a blush covers your face, “in my defense, i think it’s the hair” this leaves both you and your coworker in an abundance of laughter all while robin and steve are back in another argument, going back and forth about how ‘robin ruined the moment’. 

[jellybear455]

What's left of Anna - The last of us

Pairings: Ellie x mother figure reader; Joel x reader

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, follows plot of the HBO series, I gave reader a name just in case that triggers you

Word count: 2700

Summary: Nearly fifteen years after the death of her sister, Anna Williams, Isabel Bailey journeys through post-apocalyptic America with her niece and a closed off stranger.

Author's note: Readers name is Isabel Bailey (previously Williams). Her physical features remain blank. I have the next 4 parts of this series already lined up, so lmk if you have any feedback. This story will be posted on wattpad upon completion.

Part 2 Part 3

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Gun shots echo through the hallway. Someone is screaming at me to run. I fly around the corner, skidding to a stop at a locked door. My hands shake uncontrollably as I wrestle with the key. Footsteps boom behind me, getting louder and louder with each passing moment. Bursting inside, slamming and locking the door, I rush across the room. Chained to the wall is a terrified girl of no older than fourteen. She flinches as I run towards her, shoving a second, smaller key into her cuffs, setting her free.

“What’s going on?” She asks. Her voice is unsteady.

“Shh, Ellie. Stay close.” I whisper back, pulling my gun from where it was tucked in my pants.

We creep silently across the floor, cringing at gunshots and creaky floorboards. What felt like hours pass as we crouch by the door. Somehow, the lingering silence was more unnerving than the sounds of violence. I squeeze Ellie’s hand to keep the memories poking the edges of my mind at bay.

Eventually, the quiet is broken by the muted whispering of Marlene. She was clearly distressed, and a second voice reassures her. I exhale in relief, before seizing up again. A quiet tapping of feet on the wooden floorboards.

“Stay.” I whisper to Ellie. Sucking in a breath, I slowly reach up to unlock the door, dreading the inevitable soft click. The footsteps grow closer, and Marlene is still oblivious.

I burst out of the door, pointing my pistol down the hall. A few meters away is a man, pistol raised. He steps towards me slowly, and I pointed my gun at him, backing further away.

He was average height, with short, greying hair. His eyes are stony, and his pistol is aimed right at my forehead. As he came in line with the open door, Ellie leapt out, brandishing her knife. It took the man no longer than a second to get her on the floor, her knife under his foot.

“Godammit, El, I told you to stay put.” I mutter, placing my finger on the trigger. Anger swelled in my chest. “Let her go, you asshole, or I swear to god I’ll-”

“Joel?” Marlene says from behind me. Joel seems to recognise her as well, and took his gun off me. “Stand down, Bel.”

Reluctantly I lowered my weapon, but don’t lower my guard.

“Shit…” Ellie cries, looking past me at Marlene.

I press my back against the wall, reluctant to turn away from Joel, and realise Marlene has been shot. Her companion, Kim, is missing an ear.

“I’ll be fine, kid. I said stand down, Bel.”

“I am!” I protest.

“So, this is who Robert screwed us over with.” Another voice echoes down the hall, and a woman emerges from around the corner. “The Che Guevara of Boston? Your war must be pretty shitty to be buying from scumbags like him.”

“Yeah, it kinda has been,” Marlene replies, annoyance and pain leaking into her tone. “The merch was bad, and he obviously didn’t take ‘fuck off’ as an answer.”

“Why do you need a battery?” Joel questions.

Ellie grapples for her knife, and Joel points his gun at her. I raise mine again. “No! No. Not at her. Point at me.”

Joel looks down at Ellie, giving her a warning look, before slowly turning his gun to me. I exhale slowly, lowering my weapon. “What we need that battery for is more important that what you do, I can promise you that.”

“No offense, Tommy is just one man.” Marlene says from behind me. Joel’s face contorts, as though he is trying to conceal his shock. “It’s our business to know things.”

“’To know things’?” Joel repeats. He looks pissed. “You were the cause of it. You turned my own brother against me.”

I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with the anger in Joel’s face, and the terror in Ellie’s. “That was a lot of gunfire. FEDRA will be on their way. We need to leave.”

“I know. We were gonna move Ellie out of the zone tonight. But we won’t make it anywhere like this. Not for a while.”

Glancing over at Marlene, I flash her a look. “Do you think this is-”

“I think you should do it.” She finishes, ignoring my concerns entirely.

“The hell we are.”

“I’m not going with them!”

“I am not leaving her with strangers, Marlene.”

“You won’t.” Marlene sighs, looking to me, then Joel. “You’ll do the job for us. And take Bel with you. She’s a doctor.”

“Fuck, Marlene, you know I can’t leave.” I shoot back.

“Leave with her or leave her.”

I look away, shuffling my feet. She isn’t wrong.

Joel scowls. “Tess, we don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, you don’t have time?” The woman, Tess, scoffs. “Who is she?”

“To you? She’s cargo.” I snap back.

“We don’t smuggle people. Sorry.” Joel replies quickly.

Ellie’s head whips back and forth, unsure where to look. I pull my gaze from Joel’s gun and meet her eyes. “Deep breaths, hun. It’s okay.”

“I can do it.” Kim insists from beside Marlene.

“Kim, you don’t have a fucking ear on your fucking head!” Marlene snaps, “Could you please-… There is a team of Fireflies waiting for her at the old State House. I know what out there, we were going with an entire squadron for that exact reason. Now I don’t have a truck. I don’t have a squadron. FEDRA is five minutes away. What I do have is you. And I know what you’re capable of. For better or for worse.”

“What…” Ellie starts, clearing her throat. “What are they capable of?”

“Be calm, honey. I’m not leaving you.” Ellie sucks in a shaky breath at that.

“You will get her there safely. They will give you what you need.” Marlene pleads. “Not just a battery. The whole thing. Fuelled-up trucks, guns, supplies, all of it. I swear.”

Joel looks towards Tess, before flicking Ellie’s knife away.

“Asshole!” She cries, watching as he walks away.

I shove my gun in the back of my pants, cautiously moving forward and grabbing Ellie before she can retaliate. I wrap an arm around her, and she clings to my waist, glaring at Joel. We back towards Marlene and Kim. Joel’s pistol was still pointing at me.

“What the hell, Marlene?” I mutter. “How do you expect to keep her safe if she’s with strangers?”

“Easy, Bel. You’ll be with her. And I trust them.” Marlene reassured me. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself too. She raises her voice. “Ya’ll talks it through, but please remember I am bleeding out.”

Tess stares intensely at Joel for a moment longer. “Okay, here’s the deal. We get her to your crew in the State House, but before we hand her over, they give us everything we want. If not, we kill her then and there.”

Joel shoves his pistol into his jacket pocket, and a little bit of relief spreads through me.

“Deal.” Marlene says quickly.

“Really?” Ellie scoffs. “That fast?”

“You are all the matters. My team will not jeopardise you. Remember what I told you?”

I sigh. “Go get your backpack, El.”

Tess and Marlene exchange a look as I watch Ellie disappear through the door. When she returns, Tess doesn’t waste any time. “Let’s go.”

Ellie stares at Marlene, a silent goodbye, before disappearing after Tess, bumping Joel in the shoulder. I send Marlene a nod. I’m reluctant to leave her when she’s injured, but I don’t hav much choice. “Please be careful. And see a doctor.”

“Keep her safe.” Marlene says. “And don’t die. She doesn’t need any more of that.”

--

“What the fuck?” Ellie cries, thumping a fist against the door that Tess had just shut on us.

“It’s okay, honey. They’re just talking.” I reassure her, flopping down on an armchair.

Ellie grumbles in annoyance. I watch silently as she navigates her way through the messy apartment and picks up a book. The door opens again, and Joel storms in, taking a seat on the sofa opposite me.

“Sooo, who’s Bill and Frank?” Ellie begins, looking down at the book. Joel gave her a baffled look. “The radio’s a smuggling code, right? 60’s song, the don’t have anything new, 70’s, they got new stuff. What’s 80’s?”

Joel snatches the book, tossing it on the table. He lies down on the sofa, closing his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks.

“Killing time.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out.”

Ellie huffs, and I held out an arm. “Come here, hun.”

She grabs the book of the table, sending Joel a dirty look before curling up next to me. She lets me wrap my arms around her, and she leans her head on my shoulder. Before long she was fast asleep.

--

“Her name is Ellie.”

I looked down at the little pink baby in my arms. She was out like a light, breathing softly. Her tiny hands clutched at my finger like it was a lifeline. She was too sweet for a world this cruel. “Where’s Anna?”

Marlene nodded to the closed door. Someone was crying on the other side. There was only one reason my sister would give up her baby so easily. Ellie stirred in my arms, and I rocked her gently. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, to smother the knowledge that this sweet baby girl would never know her mother, but no words came to my lips.

“Let me see her.”

“We have to give her up to FEDRA.” Marlene whispered, subtly wiping a tear from her cheek and placing her hands firmly on my shoulders. “I can’t keep her safe.”

“Let me see her!” I shouted. “Anna!”

“Bel,” I could hear her sobbing. “Keep her safe, Bel. I love you.”

Grief bubbled in my stomach. It burned. Ellie began to cry, and I clutched her tighter. “I love you, I’m so sorry. Let me go, Marlene. Please.”

“I’m so sorry, Isabel.” Marlene turned away.

 “Me too.” I sobbed.

The door closed behind her. I covered Ellie’s ears as a gunshot rang out. She cried louder and I tried in vain to calm her. It was difficult when I couldn’t hold in my own tears.

It was a few hours until we make it back to the QZ. I stood at my apartment window with Ellie. We watched the sunrise together. Then, I walked her right into hell.

--

Joel presses his shoulder to the sewer cover, forcing it open. A crack of light sweeps through the dark space, before moving past. He crawls out of the gap. Tess pushes Ellie forward next, then me.

“Jesus Christ, I’m actually outside!” Ellie cries, standing up and looking around.

“Ellie!” I mutter, pulling her down beside me just in time for the light to sweep past us again. “Stay the fuck down.”

We stay still for a few more moments, listening for any signs that we’d been spotted.

“Okay, we’re gonna take the left edge around the buffer zone.” Tess whispers.

I wrap one hand around Ellie’s wrist. “Stay close, and for god’s sake, stay down.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Ellie replies quickly. Joel makes a face.

“Let’s go.”

Tess leads us under an old, rusted bus. I keep a hand on Ellie’s backpack as we crawl. It was slightly inconvenient, but I am not letting her out of arm’s reach. We emerged from the bus and weaved through a maze of broken cars.

A FEDRA truck rumbled past, sweeping a light across us. Joel grabs me by the waist, separating me from Ellie and pulling me down to where he was hiding. We crouch there for a moment. My breathing is unsteady, and my heart thuds in unnatural patterns. Joel’s hand pressed into my waist until the light disappears and he gestures to keep going.

My hand is back on Ellie’s pack as we shuffle through a busted pipe. Another light sweeps past, and we freeze again. The wonder of being outside the walls had worn off, and I could see the utter fear painted on Ellie’s face. I clutch her hand tightly, offering silent reassurance. A flash of lightning illuminates us as we continue through piles of rubble.

“What the hell?” I spin around, spotting the FEDRA soldier too late. He scrambles from where had been taking a piss, grabbing his gun and pointing it at us. “Don’t move!”

Lightning flashes again, and I saw the man’s face. A flicker of recognition sparks in his eyes as he looks between me and Joel.

“You gotta be shitting me.” He grumbles. “I told you to stay home, man.”

“We can talk about this.” Joel replies quickly.

“Get on your knees!”

Tess sighes in resignation. “Do it. Get on your knees.”

It has been a long time since I had prayed, but I guess when you’re about to die that doesn’t matter. I pray that the soldier didn’t know who I was. I had seen him before, but I didn’t know his name.

“Listen, if you let us do this run, we’ll split the cards with you.” Tess reasons.

“Will you?” The soldier scoffs.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m so blessed. Hands on your head, eyes forward.”

Reluctantly, I thread my fingers behind my head. The soldier holds a square device to Tess’s neck, and my blood runs cold. Ellie stiffens beside me.

“Really, man?” Tess cries.

“Yep. We’re doing this by the book.”

Ellie stares ahead, terrified. “Bel…”

“It’s okay, honey. I got this.”

“How about three quarters?” Tess was almost begging now. I catch a glimpse of the screen. It’s green.

“Unauthorised exit.” The solider announces. He sounds almost smug. “They’ll hang you for that.”

“Fine, everything off this run.” Joel pleads as the device is turned to him. His screen turned green, too. “And half off on all the pills.”

“Half off?”

“All off.” The soldier scowls. My screen was green. He turns to Ellie. “Risk my job for ‘half off’. Out of your fucking mind-”

I leap to my feet, throwing a fist into the soldier’s face. He stumbles back, clutching his nose. I grab his rifle, pointing it back at him. He whips out a pistol, aiming it at Ellie. I want to shoot him so badly, that would destroy any change we have of getting away.

“Jesus, Bailey.” He shouts. I freeze slightly. “Yeah, I know who you are. I thought you would be better than this.”

I suck in a breath. “You asshole.”

“Let’s talk about this.” Joel cuts in. He’s standing in front of Ellie.

“Move.”

“Put down the gun.” I snap. Nobody moves.

 “Move.”

My gaze flicks over to Joel. His hands are raised, and his face is stony, but his eyes were elsewhere. The soldier takes a step forward, and my finger moves to the trigger. Joel moves, and within a second he is on the soldier. His fist pummels into the soldier over and over, until he isn’t moving. Ellie stares. The soldier is dead, but Joel isn’t slowing down. Without thinking, I rush forward and grab his arm. “Joel! Stop.”

His fist heads in my direction, and I dodge. “Joel!”

He freezes, I can see the confusion in his eyes. I take to moment to grab his bloody hand and pull him to his feet. He doesn’t resist.

“Joel!” Tess called, flipping the device screen up. Red.

“I’m not sick! This is three weeks old. No body lasts more than a day!” Ellie cries desperately, revealing the veiny, white scar on her arm.

I swear loudly. This exactly what we were trying to avoid. “There is no time for this. We need to go. Now.”

Tess snaps back to reality, looking around for more soldiers. I sling the rifle over my shoulder. Joel is still dazed, and I drag him away from the body. Tess leads us through a hole in the fence, and we are free.

--

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