#Like when he killed himself in front of his friends. He was really frustrated. And it's not like he did any lasting damage anyway

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

AAAAA OH MY GOD<3333333 Please do a part 2 to hold me, console me, im eating it up

The angst is delicious, thank you<333333

Hold me, console me (part 2)

Theworst!logan x reader (part 1)

A/N: I know this goes without saying but I am a WHORE for broke men and the “I can fix him trope”, Logan fits just that. LEMME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!! (not proofread btw)

You find yourself standing in front of a familiar door that morning—Wade's door. He had been the one to play matchmaker between you and Logan, always eager to meddle in his own chaotic way.

‘Sweet and sour, just how I like my cu-‘ he used to tease about your dynamic, though he never meant harm. How could he, when all you did was bring him and Al delicious dinners and baked goods? Wade would’ve married you himself if Vanessa weren’t in the picture. ‘You’re my twin flame,’ he’d often joke, even though you were nothing like him. You were quiet, reserved, and detested socializing unless it was within the comfort of either your or Wade’s apartment.

Now, here you are, on the morning of your worst heartbreak, clutching a tub of ice cream and a bag of microwavable popcorn outside his door.

Three sharp knocks echo in the hallway. You hear a clatter from inside, followed by a string of muffled curses, until the door swings open to reveal a face that knocks the air right out of you.

Logan.

“Oh...” Your eyes widen as you freeze, a storm of emotions brewing within you.

Before you can stop yourself, you push past him, setting down the ice cream and popcorn on a nearby table. When you turn around, your face is met with the solid wall of his chest. He looks down at you, sorrow etched deep into his features. And suddenly, everything boils over.

“You,” you spit, fire blazing in your eyes. You strike his chest, again and again, and he lets you—lets you unleash your frustration, your anger, because he knows he deserves it.

“You left. No warning, no note. You were just... gone! Clothes packed, phone off! What were you thinking? I begged you to stay, Logan. I begged.” Your voice cracks, and the tears come, burning hot down your cheeks. But all you notice is the tears in his eyes, and the soft rustle of movement from the kitchen where Wade is likely listening.

You try to ignore the thought of Al and Wade overhearing your heartbreak, keeping your tear-blurred gaze fixed on Logan.

“Bub—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “I know it’s hard, Logan. I do. I was there when Wade went through his worst. I’ve stood by friends in their darkest days. I want to be there for you, through everything. But you shut me out.”

Your voice trembles, betraying you, and you see him instinctively move to hold you, but you step back, wiping at your tears. The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable, but you continue.

“I’m sorry if you think I’m pushing you too hard. I’m sorry if I ask for too much. But I love you, Logan. And no matter how much you run, I won’t leave you. Not ever.”

The silence between you lingers, thick with unsaid words, before it’s broken by slow clapping from the kitchen.

“You really hit him with that one, sweets,” Wade’s voice calls out. “No, seriously, I was just telling him he should’ve dealt with his frustration by boning you—”

But Wade’s words are cut short. Before you know it, Logan’s grabbed your wrist and is pulling you toward the door, past Wade’s crude commentary. He leads you out of Wade's apartment, two doors down to your own, ignoring the continued yells from Wade behind you.

“Logan, what—?” you barely get the words out before his arms are around you, lifting you from the waist until your face is nestled against the crook of his neck. You feel the warmth of his tears against your skin, his body trembling with quiet sobs.

You hold him, your hands moving to comfort him, running through his hair, soothing his ragged breathing.

“You—” he starts, his voice breaking with the weight of it. “In my world... you died. I killed you. I let you die.” His voice shakes as the sobs take over. “I never meant to... I didn’t mean to let them die, bub.”

You feel his knees give way, and the two of you sink to the cold hallway floor. He’s crying harder now, his grip tightening around you as if letting go might make you disappear too.

“I’m sorry, I’m so—”

“Shhh,” you whisper, cutting him off softly. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here.”

He clings to you, his desperation palpable. You pull away just enough to cup his face in your hands. “Look at me, Logan. I’m alive. You didn’t lose me—not here.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, feeling his breath begin to slow, then to his tear-soaked eyelids. You kiss him softly, murmuring gentle reassurances between each touch.

“I’m here. I’ll hold you. I’ll love you. Forever. Does that sound like a deal?”

As you cradle Logan’s face in your hands, his breathing starts to slow. The raw emotion in his eyes begins to soften, though the weight of everything still lingers in the air between you. He looks at you, truly seeing you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, a small, shaky smile begins to form on his lips. It’s brief, but it’s there. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t say that,” you reply softly. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the cold floor grounding you both in the present. His arms are still tight around your waist, as though letting go might shatter the fragile peace you’ve found. You stay like that, the world outside your apartment and Wade’s chaotic energy fading into the background.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, your hands sliding from his face to his shoulders.

“Come on,” you say gently. “Let’s get up. You’re going to catch a cold sitting here, even if it’s for a little bit.” You say, aware of his super healing.

Logan hesitates, as if reluctant to let go of the closeness, but then he nods. You both stand slowly, your legs shaky from the emotional intensity. Without a word, you lead him into your apartment, closing the door behind you.

Inside, the dim lighting casts a soft glow over the room. It’s quiet, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that just unraveled in the hallway. You sit on the couch, and Logan follows, sitting beside you. There’s still a heaviness in his movements, a man weighed down by too many ghosts from his past, but he’s here. He’s with you.

For a few minutes, the silence is comfortable. You lean against him, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest is a soothing reminder that despite everything, you’re both still here—alive, together.

“You don’t have to talk,” you say softly, sensing the turmoil still swirling inside him. “Not now. Not until you’re ready.”

Logan’s thumb traces slow circles on your shoulder, a sign that he’s listening. After a moment, he speaks, his voice quiet but steady.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he admits. “But... I want to try.”

You turn to face him, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and sadness. “That’s all I need to hear.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sorry for leaving,” he whispers. “For everything.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of his words. “I know. But you’re here now. And we’ll figure it out. Together.” You reach for his hand, giving it three squeezes before reaching up to give him a peck, one of reassurance.

For the first time in a long while, you both let the quiet settle, not out of avoidance, but out of mutual understanding. The journey ahead might not be easy, but it’s a path you’ll walk side by side. As the minutes tick by, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. You’re not alone in this—neither of you are. And for now, that’s enough.

Suddenly, a loud knock on your door breaks the silence that makes you jump, followed by Wade’s unmistakable voice shouting through the wood.

“Hey! Are you two done with the emotional stuff yet? I’ve got pancakes in here, and they’re getting cold!”

You exchange a glance with Logan, both of you barely suppressing a laugh. The tension in the room eases just a bit, the smallest sliver of normalcy creeping back in.

“We should probably go before he kicks the door down,” you say with a smirk.

Logan stands and offers you a hand, his expression a little lighter now. “Yeah,” he agrees, a small but genuine smile finally reaching his eyes.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both walk back toward the world—not broken, but healing, one step at a time.

[kennys-parka-jacket]

I have an entire theory about how Vampir met Karen based on everything we've been told about Vampir. I'm not too sure how familiar you are with from Dusk Till Casa Bonita but basically Karen got invited to Vampir's birthday party and Kenny decided to take that personally and teamed up with Cartman and Henrietta to beat up the vamp kids. Karen was perfectly fine I think Kenny was overreacting.

Yeah he totally was. It was the older sibling in him shining through, trying to keep his little sister from her interests just because he thinks they're lame. Kinda douchey of him, but it's accurate to how siblings work in real life.

[matramancer]

Hoshina Soshiro with a Shinobu like! reader🦋

🦋Synopsis: Amongst the 3rd Division Officers lies one of the JAKDF's most unique fighter's--a swordswoman who fights kaiju with poison.

mitsuri! reader

🦋Tags: shinobu! reader, kny crossover, friends to pining, hoshina soshiro x reader, mostly fluff with slight angst in beginning and end, fem! reader, no beta we die like kanae

“If my combat level was just a bit higher, could I have killed that kaiju?”

That was the thought that rang through your head for years, from the moment you held your dying sister in your hands, to the times where you found yourself alone in your research lab, craning a vial of poison between your fingers.

The world’s first anti-kaiju poison.

You really didn’t know how exactly you qualified enough for the Defense Force. When you enrolled with your sister, you figured that she’d be the only one eligible to enter. Your body was smaller, and your combat power was low. You could barely wield a gun properly.

But throughout your weaknesses lies your hidden strength. You were exceptionally intelligent, using your ingenuity to focus your energy on other aspects of yourself you were keen on.

Despite your blatant hatred of them, you studied kaiju immensely, and turned to insects amongst other creatures as a base of study. Many, many kaiju shared similarities with a common animal counterpart. Science never lied, and if there was one way you could make up for your lack of manpower, it was your understanding. There were things you could do.

Your captain started to notice how intuitive you were–eventually landing you a spot in the research team. 

You were content on not being dispatched or not being in the front lines as much, taking the opportunity you had gratefully nonetheless. You were still part of the action, and you got to observe specimens more closely. You even made friends with another officer, Hoshina Soshiro.

Hoshina and you had a unique bond, one riddled with understanding and mutual respect. Hell, the two of you go back a long way–you were actually batchmates. He was there when you got frustrated over your low combat scores after your shooting assessment, your older sister sporting a much kinder smile in contrast to your fuming face. 

(He’s a bit reminded of himself and his brother)

He understands that feeling of being underestimated, of being swept under the rug. He knows most about how your small size can get under your skin. He shares that frustration of not being enough, not with a gun. Not with what the Defense Force expects of the two of you. 

The two of you became fast comrades in arms, as you came to understand Hoshina’s own battles throughout his entire life. You encouraged each other to move forward, even vouching for his swordsmanship.

Similarly, if it weren’t for Hoshina noticing how nimble and swift you were, you probably wouldn’t have believed in your abilities a lot sooner. Although your combat level for shooting was low, you were definitely exceptional in terms of maneuvers. 

Though Hoshina pushed himself to further be recognized for his talents and exceptional skill, something you actively encouraged, you initially stood in the backlines with your much smaller role. You were content with being behind your sister and everyone else, even as you secretly envied them. Feeling so much envy over how much bigger and stronger everyone’s backs were as they moved forward, that it made your chest hurt sometimes. 

But when you lost your sister, everything changed.

Hoshina saw how it broke you. You were always quite temperamental–brash to him, even. Always so hot headed in contrast to your sister. But now, your anger has gone cold. Your hatred for kaiju turned into prickling ice, and on the times Hoshina caught you slipping off your facade, your immense hatred was so strong that the veins in your face seemed close to popping.

your resolve changed. You were to fight, to put your life on the line in any way you could. You threw yourself in your research, and for a certain period of time, only Hoshina was able to get through to you.

Then, one day, you emerged from your lab with something that could change the world..

You held in your hands the world’s first lethal anti kaiju poison. And you had every intention to test it out yourself. You had thrown yourself into the field, implementing an entirely new outlet of kaiju extermination all by yourself. For that, you were admirable.

And as kaiju poison was still a very new and experimental invention—your invention—you were the only front liner allowed to wield it.

You spent a great deal of time honing your skills with Hoshina–if you were to fight on the frontlines with this poison as your main weapon, then you were going to do it right. With half the physical strength your fellow officers had, you’d train four times as hard to make up for it. And if there was no stopping you, then Hoshina swore that he’d be there every step of the way, just as you did for him.

Your style of fighting was unique amongst the Defense Force, your high agility and field expertise a key cornerstone in your combat style. Where your combat level in gunmanship was low, similar to Hoshina, you held potential with swordsmanship. 

Although you were aggrieved over your physique yet again being a hindrance (you just couldn’t compare your swinging strength to Hoshina’s), you were particularly adept in delivering forward thrusts and piercing motions. Perfect for injecting poison.

It fits you, Hoshina notes. You were never one for brute force.

The man always had a kick seeing the flabbergasted faces of the new recruits during their first time seeing you on the field. It’s something he looks forward to with a certain pride.

Afterall, you‘ve been with each other since the very beginning. When the Defense Force told you both to just quit. When the both of you just kept biting back, fighting for a spot to prove your existence. When you looked at him with so much pride in your eyes, congratulating him for securing his spot as vice captain. When he attached himself to your hip even in your lab, up until being the person standing right next to you when you received honors as well as your promotion.

Though you and Hoshina fought valiantly for your own battles, the other was always there to push the other forward when things felt too stifling.

So he couldn’t help but burst out the biggest smiles whenever he hears that you’re joining the frontlines on a mission with him again—this time, it would be your first mission with the newbies.

It was a silent night before a swarm of spider-like yoju invaded a part of the city, opting for an immediate dispatch of the 3rd Division. Whilst Captain Ashiro was to deal with the Honju, the many, many hordes of yoju required quite a bit of manpower in the frontlines due to its sheer numbers.

That was how Reno and Iharu found themselves cornered, the spider yoju proving to be a much trickier threat than expected. The darkness proved to be another hurdle—it made the dark colored yoju harder to spot. If they didn’t act fast, the swarm would overtake them…

“Iharu! I’ll fire rounds and give you cover! You hurry and call backup!” Reno keeps his shots steady, keeping the horde at bay.

Iharu immediately quips back, firing his own gun. “Hah?! No way am I leaving you—ugh!” He winces, narrowly dodging an attack. Things weren’t looking good, the swarm was imminent.

“HURRY, IHARU! WE’LL BOTH HAVE A BETTER CHANCE WITH REINFORCEMENTS!”

“—Oh my, so you’re the one who’s been firing freeze rounds.”

The two boys froze, goosebumps forming on Reno's skin in particular as the boy felt a sudden presence already by his side. Who— when did you—?!

With as little as a blink of an eye passing, the two boys watched with wide eyes as you nimbly dodged a group of spiders heading your way, as if you fluttered through the air.

Flabbergasted, Reno and Iharu watched as you made it through the infested street in record time, not letting a single yoju touch you. “So fast!”

“Heads up boys,” Hoshina chuckles, speaking into the comms. You had made it to Ichikawa’s position. “Watch your superior closely.”

You stayed so calm and collected, even when the situation seemed dire. Your presence on the battlefield was admirable. “Yoju behavior confirmed. Despite resembling arachnids, every cluster consists of a head yoju similar to the behavior of social insects.” You calmly spoke into your comms, withdrawing your sword. “Prioritize on taking out the mother.”

Reno couldn’t help but marvel at your sword—it was in a shape that he’d never seen before. Were you like the vice captain? But there was no way you could slash through anything with that…

Iharu’s eyes widened as a stray spider tried to sneak up behind you, promptly yelling at you. “WATCH OUT!”

Mid sentence, Iharu realizes that you had already lept to the air once again, and in the blink of an eye with unfathomable speed, you shifted through the yoju, leaving stinging pierces through the hoard. 

“Butterfly Dance: Caprice.”

The two boys watched on in awe. It all happened so fast—but wait, none of the kaiju’s bodies or limbs seem severed?

It was silent, Reno and Iharu still catching their breaths as they scanned the vicinity. The kaiju were intact, but they weren’t moving. “Eliminating a kaiju doesn’t necessarily mean shooting or slashing it down.”

Your voice dropped to a sudden chill. “…Because there are swordswomen like me who use poison.”

As you finished your sentence, the two boys watched in awe as all of the yoju you hit crumbled to the ground, writhing in pain as their bodies shriveled. Then, they all dropped dead. The danger zone had been cleared.

Reno and Iharu watched as you spun your sword in circles, cleaning off the blood from the yoju before moving to face them. “Defense Force Division 3 Head of Research—(L/N) (Y/N),” you smiled, finally introducing yourself. “It’s nice to meet you, new recruits.”

You earned a place for yourself right alongside Hoshina as another remarkable swordsman in the 3rd Division. Your contributions to kaiju warfare were not only quickly making waves, but beckoning your presence in the field of bioweapons. 

To be frank, it was a bit daunting, but if it gave you any chance to get closer to vanquishing the kaiju, you’d keep working hard.

Nowadays, only Hoshina knows of your prior disposition before your jovial, more easygoing front today. How you had morphed a new smile and attitude, akin to your sister’s. According to Hoshina, although your face was tranquil and soft, your eyes held full bloodlust, a desire of vengeance. A show of your actual temperament.

The only person you’ve really let your guard down around since losing your sister was him and him alone. He’s your closest confidant. 

In addition to being the head of research, you oversaw the medical bay of the 3rd Division sometimes. After all, you did also carry medical expertise.

Perhaps the motivation behind that was from your sense of responsibility, as well as this small tug in your head that tells you to take good care of the division Hoshina was entrusted with.

Despite your kindhearted demeanor however, everyone knows not to trifle with you, especially when it comes to medical manners. No one under the 3rd Division has ever “forced themselves” to train before being fully healed ever since you started overseeing them.

Mina Ashiro herself testified to it. “Never again,” she states, not after experiencing your temper.

Well, whatever keeps the division healthy!

Hoshina enjoys crashing into your lab from time to time. He’s your most frequent visitor, to the point where you have a mug and some throw pillows on the couch reserved for him. He was like a cat going in and out.

“(Y/N)~” “Everywhere I go, I hear his voice.” “Oi, I’m right here.”

"..." When he feels your aura darken, he immediately shuts up and sits politely.

“(Y/N)~~ let’s go outside and train.” “It’s raining.” “Then let’s train inside.” 

No matter how naggy and clingy he became however, you always keep him close. Because that’s how he shows how he cares. 

“I know you’re there–” You don’t turn around from your seat, before a cold sensation on your cheek elicits a gasp out your mouth and forces you to turn back. You’re met with a bag filled with some warm takeout, and two cans of coffee.

Balancing everything on his hands was Hoshina Soshiro, grinning all the while. Your expression softens. “--Soshiro.”

“Missed you at lunch,” he starts. “Pity. All the new recruits were asking about you. guess I have you all to myself right now though.” You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but his tone shifted a bit into territory that felt more intimate.

These were really small efforts from Hoshina that you knew all too well, making sure you didn’t hole yourself up in your lab. And you always appreciate him and all he's done. 

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room. You meeting Kafka as Kaiju No. 8 did NOT go smoothly.

Your strong hatred for kaiju ran deep, and Hoshina knew that. Your entire life’s work revolved around that. So when the entire debacle with Kafka happened while you were off base during the attack, Hoshina mentally prepared himself for the havoc that was to come.

The definition of “Don’t freak out when I tell you, but……”

Spoiler, of course you found out. And quick. You were the 3rd Division’s head of research who specialized in kaijus–of course you would know. In fact, On your rush to the 3rd Division’s base, you were immediately ushered to study him in captivity. 

Like that was a good impression you’d give to someone who developed the world’s first and most lethal kaiju poison!

“(Y/N),” Hoshina calls out to you, throwing formalities aside. His eyes shifted to your hands, seeing your knuckles grow white, veins visible. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Calm down. “--Soshiro.” You replied, coldly. Hoshina holds a breath at that. He knew you would let your logic and rational thought prevail, but the hatred in you ran so deep, you could slip into a near constant state of anger if you let it get to you.

A new sensation enters your hand. It’s Soshiro’s, you realize, tugging on your own as if to ground you. He hopes it helps bring you back to reality. “I’m here–the 3rd Division is. We all wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t on our side. He saved us, (Y/N).” His gaze and yours meet. “He saved me.”

Luckily (and very thankfully, Hoshina would add on), you grew to become more understanding of Kafka’s disposition, and set aside your antagonistic views as you slowly opened your heart. You even properly thanked him for protecting the 3rd Division.

In fact, you’re quite compassionate with the man now. You check up on Kafka as often as you could, even providing him the fastest updates of any developments you had on his case. He’s also a great talker, you note, and the two of you even start doing catch up sessions over whatever recent developments have happened over tea whenever it was time for his check ups. 

Hoshina feels a bit jealous that he’s no longer the only token visitor of your lab, not that he’ll ever admit it.

With the stakes of no. 9 rising, you knew that the situation would only get more and more dire. You’ve been getting busier days both in and out of the lab, studying samples of the recent high magnitude specimens and observing any abnormalities in kaiju behavior. 

The hypothesis and predictions you’ve marked up however, don’t sound an ounce reassuring. A high class disaster seemed imminent, and when the time comes, you fear that your poison might not be enough.

Not with your sword alone, at least.

On one particular late night in your lab, you glance towards Hoshina. For once, the two of you were silent. You had finished for the night, whilst Hoshina probably popped in to check on you after a midnight session of image training. No kaiju attacks, no sirens, just the night sky ever present through your large windows. “Soshiro,” your voice immediately catches his attention, his full focus now on you.  “Could you promise me something?” 

“Should there be a kaiju–a strong one, and we aren’t able to defeat it,” his eyes widened, the grin on his face gone. “Could you finish the job?”

You let your words stay in the air, your eyes long downturned to the research papers on your desk. You escaped his distraught gaze, attempting to focus on the reports strewn about before they fly out of your vision, Soshiro’s entire being clouding your senses in their place.

The sight of his deep maroon irises caught your breath, and you quickly realized that Soshiro is being completely serious with you right now. He let out a silent plea, with both his eyes and his soul. “Please. Please don’t say that with that face.”

That night, as he held you close, you’re both reminded of the bond that ran tight between the two of you, a bond so strong after everything that you’ve been through together. Something that was forged through pain and joy alike. An innate force that was proof of how the two of you had become so important to each other. It spoke of the same thing,

“I can’t afford to lose you/I can’t afford to lose you too.”

--

A/N: Whew... thank you to those who enjoyed my mitsuri post !!!! mitsuri and shinobu are my absolute favs in kny, and it was rlly fun to write them into kaiju no. 8--i'd love to do more in the future.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌����𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, engineer, heavy, medic, sniper, and spy (i forgot demo i'm so sorry)

↳ warnings: bad translations, slight mentions of world war two and malpractice

↳ song: with a little help from my friends—joe cocker

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He would be so smug about it

• Puffing his chest out and everything

• His friends in the past- and even family members -have teased him for mispronouncing words or speaking too fast, and it’s made him a bit self conscious about the way he talks. But after hearing that you find it endearing, its a giant ego boost for him

• “Yeah dat’s right! Who’s awesome? I’m awesome!” Scout smiles as he flexes his arms in your face, subjecting you to what he likes to call a surprise gun show. You pretend to hate it as you shove his arm away, but chuckle all the same

• He’s already gloated before that he already knew his accent was the best. Boston is the greatest place in the world after all! But hearing it from you really just sent him over the moon

• Makes a point to talk to you a lot more now; as if he didn’t already

• “Yo! Hey did you see that kill out there? I totally messed dat Spy up! One wrong step and pow! He’s dead meat!”

• “I saw Scout. I was covering your flank while you did it, remember?”

• “Yeah yeah, but I just thought you’d like ta hear about it again.”

𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫

• Didn’t consider himself to have an accent until you pointed him out

• Sure, he says the occasional y’all and ain’t, but not enough to qualify as a whole different way of speaking

• It wasn’t until he dropped a hammer on his foot and cursed that he understood what you’d meant

• “What in the sam hill! Sweet hell!” He’d exclaimed, startled. Once the throbbing in his leg had subsided, Engineer replayed his words in his head, making a slight o with his mouth as he realized you were probably right. To some extent at least

• He was a born and raised Texas boy, so it makes sense that the culture rubbed off

• Doesn’t understand at first that you find it nice. Maybe he thought you pointed it out just because you could? He’s a bit distracted when it comes to anything but machinery, so he misses context sometimes

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲

• Surprised that someone like you who can speak English fluently finds his mannerisms attractive

• Gets frustrated sometimes when he can’t remember certain words in English. Heavy is a very smart man, so it aggravates him when he looks illiterate in front of his team

• That’s why hearing that you like his mother tongue caught him by surprise

• “But you don’t know any Russian?” He’d rumbled out as a question. When you shook your head no, still sporting a smile, his eyebrows furrowed further

• “Nah. But I like hearing it when it comes from you. It sounds more natural. Like you’re more comfortable than normal, you know?”

• You’re technically right. When Heavy slips into Russian, often whilst talking to Sasha or simply forgetting that not everyone on the team know how to speak it, he is more comfortable in his words. They flow better, and he’s flattered that you’ve noticed

• One hundred percent offers to teach you Russian in his spare time. He finds it slightly adorable how you stumble over words in your broken translations, but always manages to softly correct you

• He’s a really good teacher

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Positively thrilled that you like his voice

• When you tell him for the first time, he goes into shock for a moment before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve seen. Somehow its a perfect balance between excited and malicious

• “Do you hear zhat Archemedies? Mein freund here enjoys my accent!” He cooes at his bird, chuckling in a way that would make anyone’s insides squirm

• Once you look past Medic’s initially devious reaction, it’s very clear he enjoys knowing this

• If anything, the ex-doctor would have thought that you’d enjoy the more stereotypically romantic sounding languages. Spanish, Latin, etc

• German has always been considered harsh or scary sounding, and it turned a lot of people away from hiring him after the events of World War Two, which he understood. Still, Medic finds himself absolutely tickled that you are drawn to his accent

• Finds himself slipping more and more into German while doing checkups on you now. When he catches himself, he translates most of what’s he’s said back to you. But sometimes he’ll simply forget, and it leaves you wondering if he’s offered you a glass of water or the opportunity to swap your bladder out

• You sincerely hoped it was the former

𝐒𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

• Oh my god you killed him

• Sniper is very reserved. Living in his camper, hunting his own game for dinner instead of joining the others, literally pissing in jars, etc etc

• Being a man of few words comes part and parcel with that; which normally works out just find because Scout talks enough for ten people

• Hasn’t said much to you before. He mostly communicates in head nods or slight tilts of his coffee mug in your direction. Maybe a few ‘good mornin’s’ tossed around, but nothing more than that

• “You know, you should talk more.” You’d said to him one day while pouring a fresh pot of tea you had just boiled into your own mug. He preferred black coffee himself, but whatever floats your boat

• “You voice.” You elaborated after a sip. You must have noticed his confused look as you carried on. “It’s nice. Can’t imagine that you don’t have gals throwing themselves at you all the time because of it.”

• Suddenly very grateful he wasn’t drinking any of his brew at the time, because what you said surely would have made him choked

• He, in fact, had had a few ladies approach him in town before saying something along the same lines. Even a few fellas. But nothing made him blanch this strongly like you had

• Excuses himself as he walks out of the room suddenly, tilting his hat down to cover his face no one can see the furious red tint forming

• Sniper leaves you in the communal kitchen. Holding a steaming cup of liquid and looking very confused

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• Already knew before you told him

• To anyone else, it would have been passible as just curiosity. But Spy’s job is to know things, and it is an undeniable fact that you found his voice attractive

• Doesn’t utilize this weapon often. You are not a weak willed person swayed by just a few words, so when he needs something he pulls out all the stops

• Of course, that doesn’t stop him from being impressed when you eventually admit your little not-so-secret-secret to him. And of your own free will. He didn’t have to pry it out of you, which was a feat on its own

• Much like Heavy, he extends the offer of teaching you how to learn his language. Now that he no longer has this knowledge as a bargaining chip, he might as well seize the opportunity to teach you a proper language

• Considers using electroshock therapy to condition you faster, but nixes it pretty quick

• Again, like Heavy, he finds it cute how horrible you are at French. More amused than anything, but he can appreciate the way you practice verbs in your free time even when he isn’t leaning over your shoulder

• That you know of, that is

• Praises you often in french, letting excited phrases slip when you nail a particularly hard set of words

• “Merveilleux ! Tu t’améliores beaucoup, ma petite. Encore une fois.”

• While you don’t understand the full extent to his words, you smile and continue on, eventually realizing what he had said later in a fit of embarrassment

[weebsinstash]

I know the show isn't out yet but Stayed Gone is stuck in my head and I'm chugging my yandere Vox juice so hard right now. I think he has the capacity to be absolutely insufferable

---for starters THE SPYING POTENTIAL WITH THIS MAN. You're telling me he can directly plug himself in to the city power grid and see through all televisions, potentially even phones and computers too? Could he put himself on your phone and start going through your texts? Could he even just put himself on your phone real quick while you're sleeping to check in on you? You couldn't even have privacy in your own home because of whatever screens are around he could potentially shoot himself to or watch you through. Imagine just being in your apartment completely alone and he's suddenly on your tv. Like what if you had just been sitting there topless or with your dick out or something or 👀 I mean. He could see so much, really...

---God honestly like. You know I keep mentioning the Instagram without ever attaching pics or anything because I'm on mobile and I'd have to use the hazbin Instagram archive blogs here on tumblr to go find them back like, you know Val would openly post the meanest shit, would literally post Vox's face being busted up because he woke Val up from a nap or i think it was he literally just brought him the wrong soda (which to be fair was taken from Velvet and was half empty), and then you go over to Vox's account and his pic was taping his pieces back on while being really frustrated and kinda lowkey looking like he would cry

Like Val's out here "women are stupid also men are stupid too" and talking about how he adopted a dog and killed it within like 48 hours and here's Vox celebrating his pet's birthday with cake and a party like. Why are these men together. Why. Why. Don't get me wrong I love to be the involuntary third in a toxic codependency but--

look all I'm saying is... do any of you get really really upset when you see someone being mistreated, especially more so a friend of yours?

READER JUST LOSING THEIR SHIT GETTING FERAL ANGRY SHOUTING AND SCREAMING AT VAL BECAUSE HE PULLS SOME SHIT and like that's IT for you because 1. Valentino might like actually backhand you one as well, do you think he wears rings so it hurts, 2. Vox sees you defending him and like, it's based on your own preferences really but if he wasn't already gaga this CEMENTS it and 3. especially if he watches you have to take a blow for trying to stick up for him. Like what if you cry. I have a low pain threshold, I'd be sniveling and crying at the least. Valentino storms off and Vox is helping peel you off the floor cause you curled up into a ball or some shit and he's sitting there thinking "wow they suck at this but they still did it for me 🥺"

---during his song with Alastor, it's a little confusing because they show an actual camera crew when he's turning the TVs on, but i think it's pretty clear that he can control whatever the screens show visually, thus his little zany sketches and being able to talk to himself and at one point, showed the visual of himself blocking the radio Alastor was projecting on right next door. I can just see him using this to kind of.... fuck with you, really! Or do whatever he wants? He's trying to suck up to you and he's surrounded by roses, or you're his co-host/guest host and he thinks your joke was funny and gives a little audience laughter as a treat

Or you know... you're running from him down the street, passing all these different screens and displays as they power on and show things like, him "jumping in front of you" while demanding you stop or, trying to show some kind of blackmail publicly, or just, begging you to just ACCEPT HIM and showing you all the fun things he could do with you, "cmon, I said I was sorry, stop freaking the fuck out! We can- we can do that thing you've always wanted to do, what about that?!" as he tries to project you two doing something fun, but most importantly, doing it TOGETHER. You're running from him terrified and he's showing you images of like you two smiling and happy or, it becomes scarier as he's more desperate

"Don't-don't make me do something fucked up!! I'm serious, STOP RUNNING" and he's like freaking out, showing shit of trying to hold you down, tying you up, and/or shoving you into a locked room

Sudden thoughts of "what if the more emotional and unstable he becomes, the less he can control his intrusive thoughts and shows his more impulsive darker desires". He's tweeking and the screen glitches and you briefly think you see yourself completely restrained, blindfolded, gagged--

---he's just like OBVIOUSLY so prideful but also immature and whiny ("who gives a shit about alastor?" Well you, mr hes just quietly minding his own business and I'LL start beef because i feel threatened and STILL LOSE, like awww my poor little pogchamp got publicly humiliated in an argument HE started out of nowhere, he's my little sad wet baby lmaoooo) and we already know his relationship with Val can become physically abusive, so, you pair him staying in that kind of relationship, being codependent, with this personality of his, and I can just see.... ACTUALLY FUCKING TRIGGERED LIKE LITERALLY CRYING UPSET VOX BECAUSE YOU REJECTED HIM like he's pissed he's hurt he's lonely he's heartbroken and HELL NO IS HE GONNA ACCEPT THIS

Vox would be over here proudly claiming on his TV show that NO HE REJECTED Y O U, not the other way around! He's not upset! He's totally fine! Meanwhile everyone watching can tell this man is manic and visibly hotboxing copium, "I didn't even really like you anyways!!.... no, I mean, shit, fuck, COMMERCIAL BREAK--" *cut to technical difficulties screen because the man is CRYINGGG*

-- Valentino and Reader bonding over teasing Vox and making him flustered and of course, obviously, the inverse. I still kinda like the idea of "they both think you're cute but like nothing exciting until one night they bump into you unplanned and you're all dressed up". Like Val is from the 70s or 80s so they go to a roller rink disco whatever kinda place because I'm sure the coke game there is INSANE and you're just like, swaying your hips spinning around to Let It Whip or September or something dressed in some shorts that make your ass look just right 🤌

You're sneaking back into the studio after a night out and they're both lounging somewhere and Val's like "uhhhh who is THIS coming in without saying hi to Daddy?" and you pull your sunglasses down like "SIR??? 😳" And now HE'S flustered because he didn't know that was you and Vox is feeling some new kinda way because he's used to seeing you in like, your work uniform or casual wear

Val who then makes your work uniform really slutty and you have to serve him and Vox wearing it 😩❤️

---I have this thought of like lmao imagine walking down the sidewalk with Angel and seeing Vox on TV and Angel is like "ya know he can see everything outta dese things when he's plugged in" and you're like "bullshit, he couldn't possibly process that many screens at once, it'd overload his brain, he wouldnt be able to concentrate" and you're like "here I'll prove it, hey Vox, check it out you fucking dweeb" and flash him your bare titties or you MOON HIM

scenario A would be that he INSTANTLY barks out laughing, "hey Val, that dumb slut who brings you drinks just flashed me!" And he just totally shows it on the air, maybe partially censored, maybe not at all, your phone is ringing IMMEDIATELY, of COURSE it's Val, and Vox is broadcasting your mortified embarrassed expression, "our big story tonight: drunk bimbo fucks around and finds out! More updates after this word from our sponsor!" and the man will noooootttttttt stop bullying the fuck out of you afterwards, because he's got a crush on you and you're like someone weaker than him his insecure ass can punch down on

Scenario B is that he instantly turns pink and about 5 seconds later he blue screens and the entire city experiences a blackout and when he comes back on the air he's like stammering and, glancing at, it FEELS like he keeps glancing at you, but, is he really?

------

I dunno... like I'm sure Valentino is gonna wind up being unstable in his own way but I guess there's a certain, ALLURE to Vox being a little bratty and whiny while also having these very VERY handy, actually quite scary abilities and resources 👀 like boy show me what that screen do 😫💦

[desireangel]

Infernal Desires | Part Two

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

Part One

Synopsis: When your family is caught up in treasonous scandal, the Prince Regent makes an offer that is impossible to refuse. To avoid what certainly would have been death by his sword, your family promises you to a man who is followed by whispers of violence and sin.

Warnings: mdni 18+ ONLY! Aemond is conflicted, bad language, some religious guilt if you really squint, some fingering wooop, tension, orgasm denial, inconsistent writing my bad, Aemond's response and defence mechanisms are to fake hatred, this man hates feelings, allusions to sex, allusions to death and killing, again Aemond is angry handsy, a bitch gets slapped bc sometimes violence IS the answer. unedited (shock).

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: look, I know y'all were hoping for an update on Dark Cherry instead but hey, this one happened along first! I have been swamped with work at my new job (LOVE) and an exam that's in two days sooooo this is my apology for the delay in updates for both fics! Lmk your thoughts & ideas - inbox is always open to chat my loves

xoxo kisses!! <3

Masterlist

Weeks had passed and Aemond had been acting as if you were nonexistent. He had ignored your attempts at talking to him, pretended he couldn’t hear the constant questions that you asked about what you were you doing here and why are you here if no formal arrangements to be wed have been made as was promised?

Truth be told, Aemond was having second thoughts. He had acted irrationally in making the deal. Jericho may have been someone he loved as a confidant and a friend but truly, he could have simply had him hanged without blinking an eye. Treason is treason and Aemond certainly would not stand for it but here you were, waiting outside of his own chambers with a fierceness in your eyes that managed to catch him by surprise. 

Without saying a word, Aemond stood in front of you and waited for you to speak. 

“I was supposed to become your wife last week,” You avoided letting your anger at being strung along seep into your tone. “Instead, you have imprisoned me within the walls of the Keep and avoid me like I am some sort of disease.” Stepping towards him, you shook off the nerves that had your stomach in knots. “I tried to visit the town yesterday. Your kingsguard stopped me from leaving. Said you told them that I am not to exit the grounds.”

Aemond was calm. “That is exactly what I told them.”

“You said I could visit home when I please.”

A shrug that had his pin-straight hair dancing softly. “I lied.”

“Well,” you glared at him, staring him down with as much contempt as you could muster. “You best start telling the truth-”

“Do not,” Aemond’s spat, a departure from his usual slow and commanding drawl. You wondered whether he resented you such that he wouldn’t be able to reign back the worst of himself around you. “speak to me like that. I have warned you that I will not tolerate disrespect. Not from the likes of you-”

Your hand met his cheek before you realised what was happening. It wasn’t hard and Aemond barely flinched more than the slight turn of his head but your hand burned hot at the satisfying mistake that had just been made. Pushing down the fear that bubbled in your gut, you squared your shoulders and spoke firmly. “You have me brought here as a bargaining tool for my family’s lives. To force me into wedding you. And now that I am here and we are betrothed, you refuse to do so. Is there honour to your word or are we all to face execution instead?”

You had caught the side of his bad eye and a dull ache pulsed behind his eyepatch. He all but growled, grasping your wrists tightly in his hands and hunching over you, casting a dark shadow across your face. 

Aemond was red with frustration and you were half aware that angering him would not turn out well. But you were not going to cower and fold to the power that he held over you - over everyone. He may be the current ruler of Westeros to its citizens but the two of you had spent some moments of your childhood together and you knew what kind of man he was past the charade of coldness and stoicism. Arrogant, greedy, entitled and selfish. 

He knew that he shouldn’t take your behaviour lightly - that were it anyone else, he’d have dished it right back. But admittedly or not, you had caught Aemond off guard. He wasn’t expecting you to have the gall to hit him. 

Part of him–he would never, ever entertain the fact that it was actually most of him–enjoyed it. Your inability to control yourself and your emotions around him was entirely satisfying. And Aemond loved to watch how you cowered in fear at the realisation of your actions and that he was at all liberty to decide on their consequences. 

All the while, and you couldn’t help but think he looked terrifyingly handsome in his anger, though the right corner of his lips upturned gently. “You should appreciate the generosity I have shown you. I hardly understand how you are making a problem out of this.”

“Generosity?” You scoffed. “You’re keeping me prisoner.”

Aemond’s expression was blank, the strands of hair that had come loose at the swipe of your hand on his cheek casting shadows of his face as he let out a snarl. The leather of his meticulously tailored tunic brushed against your hand and before you knew it, he guided you into his chambers with a strong push that had you stumbling inside.

“Since you’re so ungrateful, I will show you what it means to be a prisoner in my home,” Aemond spoke with a slow, rumbling tone. “You are not to leave without my permission. Try to run away and I will have you punished.”

And with that, he left you to yourself, slamming the door harshly behind him. The click of the lock was barely drowned out by your protests, palms smacking against the wood of the door. 

How dare he? 

Tears welled in your eyes but even in your own company, you refused to let them fall. The ache in your chest for the freedom to visit home, to walk the gardens and to see your friends was overwhelming. You hadn’t been here long and you knew that the Red Keep was a luxury far beyond what you were used to but the feeling of confinement ate you alive. 

This was not fair. You had done him no wrong. In fact, his hatred towards you was entirely unwarranted and everything seemed so, so unfair. His problem wasn’t with you - it was with Jericho and your father. So why did Aemond have so much rage for you? 

If this was to be your prison cell then you were fortunate, you thought. At least he didn’t send you down to the dungeons or to whatever place was made for those who crossed the Prince Regent.   

-

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew Jericho and your father had been lying to you. It made no sense - in fact, it was a ridiculous excuse that they had given you. You weren’t stupid - there was no marriage that could possibly fulfil the extent of Jericho’s debt nor to save your family’s already tarnished reputation.  

So why were you here? You had your own doubts. Not only had you spent the last weeks with little more to do than think but hours had passed alone in this cage since your confrontation with Aemond.

Jericho had said you were only a part of whatever bargain he had struck. You figured that Aemond had use for Jericho and here you were, a token of control over your family. So long as he had you here, Jericho would have to do whatever it was that Aemond needed him to do free of question. 

The sound of the door lock clicking pulled you out of your thoughts. Merylle, the maid who had been assigned to you much to your surprise, didn’t bother knocking before stepping inside with her arms full of–gowns?

“The Prince Regent wishes for me to get you ready,” she said. “You’ll be attending the feast we are hosting tonight.” 

A feast? While we were all at war? 

A message. 

You eyed the gown that Merylle laid down on your bed before rushing towards your wardrobe to put away the others that she held. From what you could see of the gown, it was unlike any dress you’d ever had the chance to wear.

“I am truly to wear this?”

The look she gave was answer enough. “I will run you a bath first. And then I shall help you into the dress.”

You quickly washed up, half tempted to take your time but Merylle was waiting for you and you didn’t intend for her to fall victim to your antics. There was a matching night dress that had been laid out with the dress - if you could call it that - and you scoffed at the idea of wearing it. 

Did all the other women at court have negligee to match their day clothes? 

Clutching the towel to your chest, you ignored the smallclothes that were also laid out. You were already sweating from stress. Before Merylle could turn around, you shrugged on a robe and turned to do your own hair. 

Merylle pottered about, seemingly displeased with your insistence on doing your minimal hair and makeup yourself.  She helped you step into your dress, adjusting the fabric wherever it needed. “Perfect, my Lady.”

“Please, you do not need to address me formally,” you corrected. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Fuck. 

The gown was a perfect fit. It was a deep emerald green silk gown which cinched at your waist before falling loosely yet gracefully from your hips. The bust was stiff and covered your cleavage just enough so that it could accentuate the swell of your breasts perfectly, a square neckline that left your collarbones and neck bare. It made you feel sultry in an entirely new way - it seemed as if it were seamless, flowing down and clinging to your skin at specific places to highlight each curve and dip of your body.

This was a powerful dress and you wondered if Aemond had intended it to be. Merylle fastened a jewelled chain around your neck. You asked her the question that had been lingering at the back of your mind, “Why does he want me there?”

And where the hell was he?

“I am merely a housekeeper,” Merylle spoke, her voice stern. She reminded you of a teacher. “I wouldn’t know.”

It almost made you laugh at the thought that he had effectively banished himself to some other part of the Keep in his stubbornness. 

“Oh,” you murmured. 

“I’ll leave you for now. The prince will escort you downstairs when he is ready for you.” 

And just like that, you were locked alone once more.

Aemond was making you wait. He knew that your mind would be racing with questions - questions he knew you would assault him with as soon as you had the chance. If he wanted to, he was more than ready to pick you up from his chambers and show you to the banquet hall. But there was something so satisfying in knowing the infuriating, heated effect he had on you. 

He could picture the scowl on your face and the way you’d be wallowing in your impatience.

Forty-minutes had felt like two hours before Aemond was standing in your doorway, dressed impeccably in matching emerald silk that was tailored to every curve of his body. He was like the embodiment of Adonis, the way he radiated with beauty, strength and temptation. 

Aemond’s gaze made your breath catch in your throat. It was hot and you swore you could feel it scorching your skin as he studied you from head to toe. He slowly dragged his violet eye up and down your body twice, swallowing and clenching his jaw as he turned away. “Let’s go.”

Gods. Aemond was raised a man of piety and honour but you were a tempting little thing and the urge to ravish you in that dress he had chosen for you–the dress which only seemed to multiply your beauty tenfold–was impossible to ignore. He was no prude but he felt that he deserved penance for the sinful thoughts of you that plagued his mind. 

And as you gazed up at him, innocently and unaware of all the ways he longed to defile you and unaware of his hardness straining against the fabric of his breeches, Aemond cursed himself for his doubts about marrying you. 

Aemond cursed himself to damnation for being too weak to admit that he yearned for you. Cursed himself because he wished to be yours and for you to be his but he would never be strong enough to live up to being good for you.  

He would forever fear the disappointment in a woman’s gaze–as his mother had always looked at him, the perception that he was unworthy of reverence and the truth that he will never be enough. Because all that Aemond ever seems to do is let people down when he is trying his best and being in love with the daughter of a treasonous lord was a vile predicament. 

The Dowager Queen had already told him so. She knew that the smallfolk and lords and ladies alike thought of her second son as a vicious man. But she had only agreed to the betrothal as a means to show the people that her family will always land on top. That you will be living out the rest of your life in the bed of such a man whose House and name your blood has betrayed. In the palm of the Crown. 

To show them that they have control over everyone somehow. That they were to be respected lest such traitors wanted to subject their loved ones to their reparations. 

Aemond stiffened at his thoughts. He couldn’t be in love with you. He had hardly known you truly. Above all, Aemond was sure that he would never be capable of giving nor receiving something so unattainable as love. 

Did he not resent you so? He rolled his eye. One nice dress was all it took for him to fall victim to such idiocies. Perhaps he was no different to the other men of these halls. 

“Am I-Am I to accompany you as your betrothed?” You still didn’t understand. 

“You said you wanted to see your family. Your parents will be here tonight.”

You took a moment to think about his words. 

I have your daughter. She’s safe and sound so long as you behave. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if it meant that you’d get to see your parents. A sense of urgency overwhelmed you and you rushed towards Aemond. “Let us go then.”

Goosebumps arose on your skin the second that Aemond’s hand brushed against the dip of your back. It was a gentle graze, feather light and barely there but he drew his hand back and took a breath before you could even blink. 

“Follow me.”

Aemond had left your side before entering. The main hall was alive with people, many of whom you recognised from your limited days in court as a young girl. They all looked at you scornfully and you knew that they were all thinking of you as a traitor to the Crown. You were not but you had the same blood as one. 

The music was pleasant and some people danced while others were busy drinking and conversing. You searched the crowd for your parents, hoping that you didn’t look as crazed as you felt. There were so many eyes on you, so much judgment that it made you suck in a breath and keep your eyes anywhere but on the guests. 

Your mother was toward the entrance, a champagne flute held delicately between her fingers as she talked with your father. 

It was a miracle they had been invited after everything but you knew that they were only here because Aemond had a message for them. A message that was loud and clear just through your attendance. A message that told them that you were sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, that he could use your entire family for whatever he pleased. 

“Ma,” you reached for her, willing yourself not to cry in a room filled with people. She gasped, arms wrapping around your shoulders as she mumbled incoherently. “Are you okay? And Jericho?”

“We’re all fine,” she smiled sweetly. “How is it? Over here? Are they treating you badly-”

Your father cleared his throat loudly. “Ears everywhere, my dear. I see that Prince Aemond has been generous.”

Generous. That word was like a parasite, stuck to you and making you sick to your stomach. 

“Yes. I suppose I have been alright.”

You stayed with them for the entirety of the night, slowly making your way through one cup of wine and a couple plates of the food that was set out for the guests. 

Slipping your cup onto a tray that one of the servants were carrying, you smiled at Floris Baratheon who spared a glance at you from where she stood. She was talking to Aemond and another man whom you could not name, a hand on his arm as she gazed at him through her eyelashes. 

She was only embarrassing herself, you thought. Aemond had put an end to that so that he could play out this game. Yet she still tried. Not that you cared, right? 

You glanced towards the corridor. Aemond seemed distracted enough by the conversation. Maybe you could blend in with the guests, make your way out as part of a group and nobody would be any the wiser. 

A few steps at a time, you made your way towards the exit. Every now and then someone would try and make idle conversation, bumping into you and forcing a hesitant greeting. But it would only last a few minutes. 

By the time you were at the doors, Aemond was nowhere to be seen. Fine, as long as he was far away from you. The hallway was grand and there were groups of people saying their goodbyes. It was the perfect getaway opportunity. 

You could disguise yourself within the guests, make your way to where your parents would pass and stay with them. It would work and you’d at least be out beyond this wing of the keep until you inevitably returned. Or you could see Jericho, and then you could convince them and disappear somehow. Jericho might even help you if you explained things to him–if you asked him. 

The thought that you were making a mistake began to cross your mind but just as you were at the foot of the door, an arm wrapped itself around your waist roughly, fingers digging into your hip as you were pulled away. Aemond smiled at the people who turned to look at you, their eyes trailing to where his hand burned its mark into the side of his betrothed. 

You could hear your blood rushing and heart racing, your palms growing clammy. You considered struggling, maybe putting up a fight. But it would be useless. Aemond was both skilled and strong and how far would you even get before he or a kingsguard caught up to you? Your plan was a desperate, confused mess. 

Of all the things happening in that moment, your mind was clouded by Aemond’s leathery, musky scent and the roughness with which he held you. The tick in his jaw and the slight purse of his lips gave away the anger he was suppressing as he dragged you through the crowd, opening the closest door he could find and pulling you in with him. 

Shit. 

Aemond pulled you so that you were facing him, holding your arms firmly in his hands. He all but growled, “I recall telling you not to run away, little mouse.” 

Your cheeks burned and your chest felt as if it were about to explode. Aemond had brought you into a closet which was actually the size of your chambers back home but you were flush against him, chest to chest and eye to eye. 

“And what? Will you have me whipped for it?” Taunting him was not a good idea but it came so naturally that you barely realised what you were doing. 

Aemond turned you and pushed you into a shelf, pressed against the surface and your back flush against his chest. “I do not like disobedience. My things are to stay where I leave them.”

You struggled against him. But it was for nothing. You barely stood a chance against the man who held you, his breath tickling your ear as you spoke. “I am not something you own, Aemond. I don’t have to heed you.”

“Oh but you do,” his knee lodged between your thighs, holding you down. “Where were you going to go, hmm? There’s not a single place in this Realm where I could not hunt you down myself and you would be back here within a moon.” Aemond could feel your rapid breathing, feel the way you squirmed against him but moulded so perfectly into his body. He hummed in mock thoughtfulness. “Maybe I should have let you go. I do enjoy a chase.”

There was a seductive venom that coated his tongue. It was so unlike the boy Aemond Targaryen you had known all those years ago, who may have been riddled with arrogance and dishonesty but he was never wicked. 

“What did I ever do to you, My Prince?” You gasped as he pressed himself further into you in an attempt to put an end to your struggling. Tears threatened to well in your eyes.  “Why are you doing this to me?”

Aemond stilled. He thought of the words to say, the words to describe the way that a small part of him now hates that he is making you cry but years ago, the entirety of him would have despised himself for it. As far as you were concerned, all he was to you was Jericho’s acquaintance who had no patience for you. Jericho’s acquaintance who never had the perfect family that you had, never had the love that he deserved, never had what he desired the most. 

He never had you. 

And Aemond might have hated you for it. 

“You were so blind,” he said. “So unaware. So selfish. All I had ever wanted from you was your devotion and all you gave me was resentment.”

Whether it was the gravity of his confession, or the way his body felt against yours, it took your breath away. What he was saying didn’t make sense. “I did not know. You were so cruel to me, My Prince, whatever little time we were together.”

Your chest was heavy with so many conflicting emotions. Fear, shock, anger and desire. 

“You want to know why I am doing this to you?” Aemond brought his lips so close to your ear that they brushed against your skin and sent a shudder through your body. “Because I hate your brother for what he did. Because I hate your family. Because I hate you.”

A lie. But you need not know. You swallowed deeply and were he not touching you in such a way, you would have recognised the pit of dejection in your gut. But you could only think of his hands. 

His hands, his hands. 

They were everywhere, dragging all over your body and leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He slid his fingertips down the sides of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of the words to say as the ache between your legs grew for him. It wasn’t right - Aemond was all but kind to you but your body yearned for him. 

He bit your ear. “I hate you but I fucking burn for you.”

Another gasp and you arched into him. Aemond’s words burrowed deep into your core and made your head spin with unfettered lust. After it all, you would have given him everything right then and there. The desire you had for each other was infernal, it was wrong and it was perfect. 

The air was thick and Aemond thought he’d choke on the concoction of lust, heat, anger and fear that was heavy in his chest. Your skin was soft like the satin of the dress he had picked out for you and it drove him crazy to think of all the ways he could indulge himself in your flawless body. 

“So tempting all the time,” he touched you with so much determination you wanted to let yourself melt into him, to become one with his heart and body. “Would you let me fuck you like this? How I should have done sooner and make your bewitching body mine?”

You let out a wanton moan as his soft lips found your neck, sucking roughly along the ridges of your skin. “I do not know-”

“Of course you do not know.” Aemond let his hand slip to the inside of your thigh, roughly digging his nails into your flesh and dragging them up to the most intimate part of your body that was bare under his touch. He sucked in a sharp breath at your lack of clothing under the dress–what an enticing, oblivious girl you were–and placed his hand flat against your sensitive flesh.  “I’m sure you would let me. Look at how responsive you are to my touch, such a needy little Lady. Tell me.”

The feeling of his hand against your sex and his body pressed against yours sent currents through you, right down to the tips of your toes. With heavy breaths you reached for his arm, desperately scratching his skin because you needed more, more, more. 

You were blind with need for Aemond’s body, for him to make good on his words and show you all the filthy things you knew he’d do to you. The voice of reason at the back of your head told you to slow down, that it would ruin you and you would never be able to undo it. 

If you gave Aemond your maidenhead here, and you managed to break free of this damned situation, you would be impure and left with no prospects of security. But all of that would be lost anyway. 

And you couldn’t stop yourself from burning in the heat of his body against yours, the hardened silhouette of Aemond’s cock against your back and the feeling of his palm cupping your womanhood ridding you of your ability to think. 

“Just this once,” you were breathless as you spoke, chest heaving against the hard surface of the shelf. 

Aemond tensed against you in surprise, his hips pressing further against the swell of your bum. He was hard, so hard for you. “If I am going to have you have you, ñuha dāria, it will be in the comforts of our marriage. Where I can take you in every way I have spent hours dreaming about.”

You had never met a more confusing, conflicted man than Prince Aemond Targaryen. Against your better judgment, you drawled, “You said you hate me-”

“I do hate you,” Aemond growled again, swiping the pad of his forefinger over your clit in one swift movement that had you writhing in an instant. “Does not mean that I do not want to fuck you.”

You were so wet for him, so prepared for him to push his cock into you right then and it made him throb under the restriction of his breeches. But Aemond was a man of great self control and he refused to give in so soon. 

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, the purposeful movements of his fingers rubbing circles over your clit sending thrums of pleasure through your body. Your hips rutted against his hands, incoherent words tumbling from your lips. 

Aemond was not a wildly experienced lover. And he didn’t usually take pleasure in someone else’s pleasure. But the way you trembled against him, the way that every inch of you called for his touch and the way you sounded so desperate and so filthy for him satisfied him in an entirely foreign way. It made his cock twitch and set a fire in his blood.

“Please, My Prince–I am so close,” you whined at the build up of your orgasm, recognising the intensified version of the white hot throb and the sensitivity which you felt whenever you touched yourself alone in your bed. He chuckled darkly before pulling his hand away from you.

There were people looking for him, Aemond could hear them through the door. He couldn’t care less.  “That is enough for now. It seems that they are looking for me.”

You turned yourself around, still squashed between Aemond and the shelf, just to gape at him. A smug smile graced his face, his pupil blown out with lust that you could feel pressed against your thigh.

You resisted the urge to smack him again. “You jest, surely.”

Aemond stepped away from you, taking a moment to look at the mess he had made of you while slipping his fingers between his lips. Your dress was caught at your hip and hitched up at your thigh, your hair was tangled and your knees wobbled gently. But your eyes, wide and full of innocent, unburdened desire for him had him questioning his decision to stop. 

How he longed to corrupt you. 

“Collect yourself. I shall send Merylle to get you to our chambers,” Aemond was at the door by now, fixing his belt to alleviate the discomfort of his arousal as his fervent gaze was focused on you. Our chambers. It was a slip of his tongue. “If you ever try such a stupid thing again, I will not be so lenient.”

With that, he was gone and you were once again left alone with a mind full of wild, distressed thoughts. 

--

tags; @toodlesxcuddles @tredegarwitch @blackravena

[ponderingmoonlight]

can i request geto and reader having an argument and reader coming back home drunk venting to geto about the argument they had🩷🎀

Getting back home drunk after an argument with Suguru Geto

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: You always supressed the pain in your heart when your boyfriend dumps you for his best friend again. Until one day you've had enough. Until you get uncontrollably drunk to forget your fight.

Warnings: hurt to extreme comfort, language, reader being drunk lol

Hope you like what I came up with love, let me know what you think 🤍

„Hey sweetheart.“

Oh, how much you longed to hear his voice again, how long you’ve waited for him to come back. When was the last time you really saw your boyfriend? To be honest you lost count a long time ago. It shouldn’t bother you this much that he’s gone for so long. After all, Suguru is a special grade sorcerer, one of the best jujutsu sorcerers out there apart from Satoru Gojo himself. It’s only logical for him to be out on missions every free minute.

But there’s also Satoru. Satoru who’s busy himself. Satoru who steals your boyfriend every free minute. You tried to brush this ugly feeling away more than once. Are you really jealous because your boyfriend spends more time with his best friend when he’s around than with you in general?

Normally, it doesn't affect you this much. But since you haven’t spent more than 2 hours in a row with your beloved boyfriend apart from missions here and there, you can’t help but feel that violent sting in your heart when Suguru begins to pack his bag in front of your eyes.

“Are you leaving again?”

You desperately try to hunt away the petty tone in your voice, the feeling of frustration crawling up your spine.

“You know it’s been rough for Satoru these past weeks. As his best friend, I have to be there for him. We want to grab something sweet to eat-“

“You don’t even like sweets that much.”

Fuck, you hate yourself for your harsh tone, for the way your throat begins to ache in upcoming tears. Don’t lose your composure, just accept the fact that he’ll be gone today as well. But something inside you forces you to stand up, to cross your arms in front of your chest, to let your anger run free.

“But he does. What’s the problem, (y/n)? I just want to hang around with my best friend as long as I get the chance. Most of the time he’s on his own, going out on missions each and every day”, your boyfriend explains softly, his hand on its way to gently caress your head-

Until you slap his hand away.

“I’m having enough of this. When was the last time we spend time together, Suguru? You come back home when I’m asleep and leave before I wake up. I’m still your girlfriend”, you press out.

“This is the first time you ever said something about this. We’re still sleeping in the same bed every night”, he replies with low voice, making another attempt to touch you.

No. You can’t stand the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your skin, you can’t stand the stinging fact that he doesn’t seem to miss you the slightest. You take a big step back, blood pulsating through your veins. Why can’t he see that something is wrong in this relationship?

“Go ahead and sleep in Satoru’s bed if that’s enough then”, you bark back at him.

Suguru straightens his shoulders and crosses his very own arms in front of his chest, jaw tight.

“You know what he went through, (y/n). Do you really want me to leave him all alone over some cuddles? That’s pretty egoistic, don’t you think?”

You have to pause for a second, feel the sensation of your heart shattering onto the floor before his words truly hit you. What Satoru went through? You violently bite into the soft flesh of your cheek, desperately try to stop yourself from screaming into your boyfriend’s face. What about you, though? What about you almost getting killed because you tried to stop that man from following Suguru? What about you, caring for Suguru like no one else when Shoko healed his wounds? What about you, staying up each and every night and waiting for his return while he was out with Satoru?

What. About. You?

“You know what, Suguru?”, you mutter, teary eyes fixated onto the floor.

Never in your life did you feel this misunderstood. Doesn’t he miss you a single bit? Doesn’t he miss you lying in his arms while watching a movie, going out and grabbing something to eat? Doesn’t he miss to have you around, to hear your voice? Doesn't he understand that it's more than "some cuddles"?

You swallow hard. Because you miss him like hell. You miss those cuddles more than you ever imagined. And it fucking hurts to feel that he doesn't care.

“Fuck you.”

You can’t have it anymore. With a swift motion you turn on your heel and walk out of his room, ignore the way he shouts after you while hot tears stream down your face. There’s no way in hell you’ll stay here at Jujutsu High. No, you need distraction. And you already know who you’ll call.

“What’s up, (y/n)?”

“Shoko, get yourself ready. We’re leaving in 10 minutes.”

-at the bar-

You mindlessly draw circles into the fifth cocktail of the evening, mind clouded by guilt and alcohol.

“I told you alcohol won’t solve your problems girl”, Shoko comments dryly while sipping on her cola.

“Smoking doesn’t as well and still you’re out there smoking like a chimney”, you reply dryly before taking another sip of your drink just for demonstration.

“Fair enough. All I’m saying is you can’t run away from him.”

“Suguru? I already drank enough to forget his name”, you mutter.

"You just said his name, (y/n)..."

Truth is, you fucking miss him. What time is it? You lift up your drunk gaze, heart still clenched in sadness. Normally, you’d lay right by his side, eyeing him up and down while he’s already sound asleep.

This is not fair. You shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t fear to come back home. But you just know that you’ll get greeted by your very own empty bed. And what about the morning after? Shivers run down your spine just by the sheer thought of it. The way you just left him standing there like an idiot must have been hard to swallow for him.

Still…

You ball your hands into fists and empty your glass with one last gulp. He deserved every single word of truth that came from your mouth, he deserved all those things you’ve said.

“One more”, you mumble when the bartender arrives in your foggy view.

“No, that’s definitely enough for her. We gotta get going, (y/n)”, Shoko interrupts gently and pays for your bill while it takes all your inner will to not fall off this sky-high chair in the meantime.

The cold air of the night hits you like a wall, Shoko holding onto you with every bit of strength she has. Suddenly a wave of nausea crushes down on you, the icy air making your lungs burn uncomfortably. Damn, you just want to get home, just want to get into your bed. A glass of water…Yeah, you definitely need to drink something before you go to sleep.

But the sheer sight of Jujutsu High makes you realize that you won’t close your eyes this evening, pictures of your boyfriends’ hardened features still occupying your mind. You hate it. You hate every damn thing about the argument you’ve hard earlier, how unnecessary it was. Did he leave after you in order to see Satoru? The thought alone fills your numb veins with sheer anger again, makes you cross your arms in front of your chest just like you did earlier.

“You’re fine, aren’t you? I don’t want you to choke on your puke”, Shoko comments when you arrive at your doorstep.

Your fingers clumsily fumble for your keys until you finally grab the right one, gifting her a weak smile.

“Will get through it…Get ya ass into bed, Sh-Shoko.”

“You’ll talk things out tomorrow, okay? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

You watch after her, how she disappears into darkness with one last wave. Then she’s gone, leaves you in the dark that seems to swallow you whole. What are you supposed to do now? All those memories flooding back in, the stinging fact that you don’t know how to act towards your boyfriend in the morning. All you want to do right now is take off your clothes, sip a cup of water and cry until you eventually fall asleep.

“Yeah”, you mumble to yourself while opening the door to your dorm.

“Cryin’ sounds good.”

“Hope you had a pleasant night, (y/n).”

Your heart stops, keys falling to the ground violently. No, this can’t be true. Did that really sound like…Suguru? Your tired eyes dart towards your bed, widen in sheer shock.

There he sits, on the edge with his arms resting on his knees, staring straight through your soul while all you are able to do is standing there like the drunk idiot you are.

“You drank, didn’t you?”

“None of your business”, you bark back at him, exposing yourself with your sloppy words.

“(y/n)…”

He sighs heavy, your name sounding so exhausting coming from his lips that your throat gets tight for a second. With a swift motion he lifts himself off your bed, his silhouette only lit by the moonlight that peeks through your window.

Just when he’s about to wrap his arms around you, you take a step back and almost trip over the bag you dropped onto the floor mindlessly the day before.

“Woah, easy there.”

Of course, he catches you mid-air. Of course, you feel like pudding in his strong arms. His scent hits you with full force, that baggy shirt not being able to hide his muscular frame from your trained eye. Oh, how much you’d love to lick his six-pack, to let your hands roam over his hot back. Why are you always this horny when you drank? But when your hand almost touches his chest, you remind yourself of what happened earlier.

The argument.

“Hope you had a great time with ya best friend”, you jeer at him.

Instead of letting go of you, he pulls you even closer. His eyes are near enough to inspect the colorplay of his chocolate brown orbs. If you stretch out your hand, you can play with his hair…

Get yourself together.

“Lemme go”, you protest weakly, almost tripping over your own feet while trying to get out of his arms.

“(y/n), look at me.”

You can’t escape his command. His eyes meet yours, reflect nothing but sorrow and sadness.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve said earlier. You made me think and I guess you’re right. I’m sorry for not making enough time to see you lately. It’s just that…I’m beyond stressed from all those missions and the fact that these people rely on me while on the other side, I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore. I feel alone, trapped, lost in my fate. I feel guilty for the fact that this girl had to die, for the things that happened to Satoru…I…I feel like I don’t deserve a girlfriend like you anymore, your cuddles, your love, your food… You sleeping next to me felt so normal and familiar that it was everything I needed, (y/n)…”

Your foggy mind can’t comprehend all those senseless words put together, but his sight…The way his eyes turn glossy makes your heart shatter all over again, makes you wrap your hands around his neck out of instinct.

“No.”

You press yourself against his much taller frame, get lost in his scent, in his hair, in him.

“Please don’t say that. You deserve all the love in the world, Suguru. None of those things are your fault and I get it. Maybe I was the one being egoistic when all I could think about was having you for myself from time to time…”

“You running away in all that anger you supressed so long made me realize how much you really mean to me. I love you, (y/n). And I was the one being selfish when I cut you short because of my own feelings. I promise to make more time for you, at least two evenings in the week, I promise-“

“Shut the hell up”, you interrupt him with a wide grin.

“I don’t understand a word ya say. But I love you too, Suguru. And I want you to promise that we’ll watch a movie tomorrow.”

He sniffs while chuckling in the most precious way, his grip around your waist tightening.

“Oh yeah, what did you think of?”

“I thought about something like…Twilight!”

“I don’t know if I’m able to promise that, (y/n)…”

“You just did! Now, I’m so damn tired, let’s jus’ go to bed…”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreoi @tachiharazsstufff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru @starlightanyaaa

[hotmencoreplus]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 ‘𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭’ 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Simon Riley x sister!reader (she/her)

Summary: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, the infamous, relentless and fearless Task Force 141 soldier. And the particulars of him being the guardian of his baby sister.

Warnings: Talks of war and deployment, mentions of a traumatic childhood, language. Attempted to do it chronologically, but have added bits here and there

Word count: 3300+

A/N: Basing this off the theory that he is mid 30’s in mw2.

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore

‣ Simon wasn’t at all prepared to be an older brother, but when he saw you, he knew it was his job to protect his little baby sister.

‣ You were the only one who was fortunate enough to not be killed by Washington, so when Simon was made aware of your survival, he took you in as his own.

‣ He doubted himself at first, fearing he would turn out like his dad, but also didn’t want to abandon you like he had been as a child.

‣ He wasn’t experienced in any way shape or form with taking care of a baby, so most of his days when not on deployment consisted of him watching youtube videos and going online to figure out how to do stuff and take care of you properly.

‣ When on deployment, he left you with a trusted neighbour who he had known for years before. (I feel like this would either be like a man who he would call his ‘best friend’ when home, or an old woman who has kids of her own, that use to babysit him)

‣ He would spoil you the best he could, and make you as happy as possible, not wanting you to have a childhood anything remotely like his.

‣ He definitely still gets help off of google for some things. He isn’t really too good with knowledge on ‘girly’ things.

‣ When home, you and him would always sit at the kitchen table of an evening, you playing with barbies whilst he sat across from you modding his rifle. As you got older, it would be the same just you with homework. You didn’t speak much when sat with each other, though it was always a comfortable silence for the both of you.

‣ Once when in primary school, you came home with a pout as you were jealous of your classmates pigtails and plaits, seeing that Simon only really knew how to brush your hair. So that night, he spent an hour watching videos over and over so that he could learn how to plait your hair.

‣ He felt stupid watching the videos, and frustrated that it took him so long to get the hang of it, but he knew it was all worth it when he saw the grin on your face the next morning as you looked at your hair in the mirror to see it all pretty and plaited.

‣ He also felt the same each birthday or christmas when you were little, worried that the little amount that he was able to get you wouldn’t be enough to make you happy. But 100% of the time, it was just him underestimating himself.

‣ When you were young, he never bothered to mention his own birthday. But one year when with your neighbour, you found out his birthday was a couple days after he came back from deployment. So you saved up money for the 2 weeks before he came back, and bought him a little teddy bear and a bar of chocolate. You also made him a little loom band bracelet, and haphazardly wrapped them up and hid them under your bed.

‣ When his birthday did arrive, you came downstairs to him in the living room, holding the parcel out in front of him. He lifted you up onto his lap, taking the parcel from you. “What’s this?” He asked, looking at it as he peeled his fingers from the cellotape of which you’d badly wrapped it with.

‣ “Happy birthday” you say softly with a smile, and that right there made Simon’s heart melt. He unwrapped the gift, and held the bear out in front of him. You looked at him eagerly, though his expression was confusing to you. “I hope you like it” you say with a slight hint of doubt. But Simon smiles at you, yes, smiles, and pulls you closer to him, placing a small kiss on your cheek, “I love it, thank you Y/N” he says, and the grin returns to your face.

‣ Simon had never felt more appreciated by anyone in his life.

‣ He let you off that one morning to share the chocolate with him, after eagerly placing the loom band on his large wrist, showing him that you now had matching ones.

‣ And he wears it everyday, even on deployment, under his uniform.

‣ And he still does to this day, years later.

‣ He also has a tattoo tucked away somewhere that he got for you, most likely your initials.

‣ When he first joined 141, Price was the only one who knew about you, and that Simon was the one who took care of you.

‣ He knew from Ghost’s files, as when he joined the task force, you were at the age where Simon wanted you written down as who was told when he died.

‣ You were at the age where it was harder to just pretend he never existed. Because when you were a baby, that was his plan. Before he joined it was your neighbour that was put down, just as a telling that you would need to be put in someone else's care.

‣ When Ghost requested the change to his file, he asked Price that someone could go over and tell you in person, rather than just a phone call, or his dog tags through the mail. Which caused for him to have to let Price know of your existence.

‣ He also asked for Price to tell Laswell, as he trusted her and wanted someone there for you who was in the UK more than he was, and in case both him and Price were on a mission/ far away.

‣ He also did it as he believed that you needed at least one female figure somewhat a part of your life, though you've only met her like once or twice.

‣ It takes a good amount of time and full trust in a person for Simon to be comfortable with them meeting you, or even just knowing of you. Which is why Johnny found out so randomly.

‣ You were late pre-teens when Simon was coming home from deployment, and got a call from his friend, apologising that he couldn’t pick him up from base. Johnny overheard the conversation and insisted that he dropped Simon off, though he was perfectly fine getting a taxi.

‣ Simon did message you to stay in the house, but you weren’t paying any mind to your phone, just looking out the window waiting for his arrival. Your own excitement blinded you to the fact it wasn’t the car of Simon’s friend dropping him off, so when you saw his skull mask through the car window, you jumped off the couch and ran out the door to him without a second thought. You didn’t hesitate in giving him a massive hug, which, though Johnny hadn’t pulled off yet, Simon reciprocated, as he knew there was no way of exactly hiding you now.

‣ It wasn’t at all that he didn’t trust Johnny enough, Simon just always felt awkward bringing it up and didn’t expect the circumstances of which he was in, so wasn’t prepared at all.

‣ Soap didn’t like to pry, but was curious and immensely shocked to see a young girl run out of his house and jump onto Simon’s huge frame. He knew it couldn’t have been his daughter as Simon would have simply been far too young for that to be true. So he made the conclusion of you being his sister, and tried to keep it to himself.

‣ Though on the next deployment, Johnny did ask about the young girl he saw, and with a grumble of a reply, he then understood that his guesses were correct. By then he trusted Gaz enough as well, so the whole of 141 eventually knew of Simon’s little sister.

‣ Simon keeps a little photograph of you in his uniform, in an inside breast pocket, above his heart. It’s a photo of you when you were little, the first year he put aside his fears, and took you trick-or-treating. You were dressed as a little fairy, grinning up at the camera, your face covering most of the shot as you leant forwards into the frame.

‣ You two don’t have any proper photos with each other, apart from one from when it was your birthday one year, and you told Simon that the only thing you wanted was a photo of the two of you together. So Simon begrudgingly granted your wish after a lot of convincing.

‣ In the photo, you are stood next to each other in the hallway of your home, you grinning with your short arms attempting to wrap around his large waist, and him stood looking emotionless with his simple skull mask on, his arm behind you resting on your back.

‣ It wouldn’t look sentimental at all to anyone else, but you treasured it. It stays on your bedside cabinet, with one of his old dog tags that he let you keep. You also have another old one of his attached to the zip of your school backpack.

‣ Simon never really decorated your room too much when you were younger, as he was new to the whole thing and decided that he would let you do it with him when you were older and found your own passions and interests. So first off for several years your room consisted of a small single bed, a wardrobe, and littles shelves for your toys, all of which he built with you sat on the floor of your room with him one day.

‣ But when you did find yourself and what you liked, you both spent a couple days decorating it. As it was just you and Simon in the house, you weren’t ever very ‘girly’ so the walls were painted a pale blue, and he bought you some new shelves and some fairy lights/ LED’s to hang up around your bed.

‣ When you use to get nightmares or just couldn’t fall asleep, you would sneak into Simon’s room, and wake him up so that you could stay with him. Although due to his own nightmares, was usually awake before you came in anyways. But there was something he secretly found so sweet about hearing your little feet try to quietly pad down the hallway to his room.

‣ He never minded, because he had nightmares all the time. Simon would never admit it, not even to his baby sister, but he enjoyed the nights where he would have her with him. Because in the long run it did actually help him fall asleep, knowing he wasn’t completely on his own.

‣ He had you.

‣ Due to him being away quite a lot, you have been aware of his job since you were little.

‣ Though when you got older, you wanted to know more about it. Simon didn’t really want to tell you much, as he didn't believe it was something he wanted his sister knowing about, but after so much pestering from you, he caved in. You learnt about his callsign, and how he always wore the skull mask.

‣ Once meeting Soap properly, he was the one to tell you about how infamous your brother really was on the field.

‣ You found it pretty cool that you were one of the only people in the entire world who new what the Simon Riley truly looked like, and secretly took pride in it.

‣ You have always known Simon with and without his mask, so it never feels weird. He rarely wore it when you were a toddler, though when you were first born he mostly kept it on, scared his scars were gonna frighten you.

‣ But the first time he took it off in front of you, you babbled and giggled, and reached out to his face. So from then on, he didn’t bother wearing it around you.

‣ There was one occasion when he came to pick you up from a neighbours after almost a year long deployment, and you were shy with him. It hurt Simon a bit, and made him feel guilty for not being there, and that you had grown so much in the time he was away. But the feeling soon melted away once your neighbour gave you a little push from behind their leg, you softening in Simon’s touch as he held you close in his arms.

‣ His teenage years were the most traumatic for him, so when you transitioned into yours, he became even more protective of you. You sometimes fought over this, and Simon felt bad, but you knew that he was doing it because he wanted nothing more than for you to be safe.

‣ When he bought you your first phone, he definitely made you have Life360 or something like it, so that he knows where you are just in case he needs it.

‣ He would never go crazy on where you were and who you were with. He trusted you. But when away, every night before he went to bed himself, or whenever it was late in the UK timezone, he would check that you were at home. It made him relax slightly about being away, knowing that you were safe.

‣ You were about 15 when you were properly introduced to the 141 team, as behind Soap’s teasing and pestering, Simon knew that you needed some other adult figures in your life. So, much to your own surprise, he messaged you asking if you wanted to come get him from base one time with his neighbour.

‣ You knew that Simon wasn’t really much of a physical affection type of guy, but you could never resist when he was coming back home after a deployment. And even less so now that you were able to come to base. But he also knew that much to his dislike for the public display of it, there was nothing he could do to stop you from doing so.

‣ And with that fact in mind, he knew he had to reciprocate the gesture, so when you did run up to him with your arms out, for a second he forgot about that fact the rest of the guys wouldn’t let cold old ‘Ghost’ hear the end of it, and wrapped one arm around you, lifting you up with ease, his bags clutched in his other hand. You practically squealed to him how much you’d missed him, as he mumbled back in your ear that he did you, too. Lucky for him the others didn't hear that.

‣ Once he had put you down, he very much awkwardly introduced you to the others in a grumbly tone.

‣ When you turned to them, the first thing that they all collectively noticed were your eyes.

‣ You had Simon’s eyes.

‣ Johnny’s hello was an enthusiastic “Good to finally meet you lass,” Simon glaring at Soap, aware of the amusement this brought him, knowing his lieutenant was annoyed as hell.

‣ Gaz nodded at you with a smile, and Price said hello in a deep but warm tone, looking on at you with an almost proud gaze.

‣ Price didn’t know what to expect when Soap loudly made everyone aware of Ghost’s new visitor at base pick up, as Johnny was the only one of them who had seen you before to recognise you as Ghost's sister, though they knew you existed (much to their inital surprise). But when you turned to the rest of the team without hesitance, Price instantly felt an even higher level of respect towards Simon as it was clear from your confident and polite hello that he had raised you well.

‣ Much to Simon’s own self doubt.

‣ One night when the 141 were all at a bar, Price quietly told Simon about how he had done well with you, knowing that he was definitely uncertain of his own worth in your life. But Simon heard the sincerity in his Captain’s voice, and with a quick look of appreciation towards John, he then didn’t doubt himself as much as he had before.

‣ Simon sometimes does mess up though with his language around you, only recently now that you have gotten older. But he isn’t too fussed, just as long as he doesn't hear you repeat any of it.

‣ Seeing that it is only you two in the house 24/7, you both surprisingly get on really well, and there have only been a rare few occasions when he has had to put his foot down.

‣ But these rare occasions would mainly consist of something silly to the point that he got sick of your nagging, like when you begged him to have ice cream for breakfast.

‣ “Please Simon, just this once-“

‣ “No, Y/N! You said that last time. Now drop it.”

‣ There have definitely been times where neither of you can sleep, and now that you're older, you both just sit with each other in comfortable silence. Occasionally just putting a random film on in the living room, but most of the time you would just be at the kitchen table, with a bowl of cereal at like 2am. That is until, and this is 98% of the time, you fall asleep with your head on the table and Simon has to carry you to your room.

‣ When you got to the age where Simon was comfortable with you in the house on your own, you once mentioned to him that the first day of him being away was always the hardest, and that it felt really weird in the house.

‣ You both knew he couldn’t do much about that, but he tried little things to make it somewhat bearable.

‣ For instance, he knows one of your favourite things is leftover takeaway from when you two have one, so the night before every deployment, he always orders takeaway for dinner so that there is always some in the fridge for you on the first day of him being gone.

‣ It’s the little things that Simon does for you despite his mostly cold heart that mean the most to you.

‣ On long deployments, you write Simon letters for him to read. You do message him too, but prefer writing them, as you know he will write back, which you feel is more sincere. His letters are never as long or heartfelt as yours, but you know your brother, and that he loves you dearly.

‣ His replies would often be a few sentences, praising you on anything that you would mention about school or just exciting stuff in general, signing off with ‘Simon’, and a barely noticeable ‘x’ next to it.

‣ You keep every single one of the letters he sends back, your favourites being the ones that he would occasionally send to you, first. And secretly Simon does the same, keeping your letters tucked away in his bag under his bed.

‣ He tells you unless its an emergency, that you should stick to letters or texts, so that he can still stay focused with his job and that if you do one day call him, he knows straight away that it’s an urgent matter.

‣ There was one time when you forgot about the emergency rule, and called him to tell him you passed a test you had been stressing about.

‣ He was about to shout down the line asking what was wrong and where you were until you beat him to it with a loud “I PASSED SIMON, I PASSED THE TEST!”

‣ “That’s amazing Y/N, but you just scared the fucking life out of me.”

‣ “Oh crap. I forgot, sorry. But I passed!!!”

‣ "Great love. I'm proud of you. But next time stick it in a letter, yeah?"

[beomiracles]

REBOUNDING WITH CHOI

── Yeonjun’s breath is heavy as he looks at you, his brows furrowed, still deep inside of you, he asks, “who’s Soobin?” in which you use a random stranger you met to get over your ex.

pairings: yeonjunxafab!reader warnings: vaginal penetration, marking, reader has troubled past (sort of if u squint).

Back pushed against the cold bathroom tiles, your legs wrapped around the delicate waist of the guy you'd met just a few hours prior. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he thrust into you, each movement filled with lust and desire. Letting your head fall back against the wall behind you a moan escapes your lips. 

Fingers tangle in his hair but the sensation is different, it's not the short ruffled hair you knew, no this guy, his hair is longer, creeping down his upper neck and its silky smooth. Frustrated you sigh as you tilt your head up to be met with your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Your eyes travel from the disheveled state you're in, lipstick smudged and mascara running down your cheeks, your once styled hair was nothing but a mess and a reflection of your emotions. Arms leaving the guy's hair, you run them along his shoulders, it's wrong, everything is wrong. Closing your eyes you try to envision what it would be like if it was him. 

And for a moment it works, a small moan leaves your lips as your arms pull him closer. Lost in desire the name slips out "ah, S-Soobin.." you whimper, before your eyes snap open, realizing what you'd just said. Yeonjun stops and looks at you, his breathing heavy and uneven, "what did you just say?". 

Fuck. What the fuck were you doing? 

Three hours earlier, 11.39 pm. 

Sweat makes your hair stick to your forehead as you push your way through the crowded dance floor. Blues and purples flood your vision as the scent of alcohol mixed with sweat and cheap perfumes fills your nose. You had since long lost track of your friends, and honestly, you didn't care. All you knew was that you needed more alcohol in your system, and you needed it now. 

Finally you manage to squeeze out of the crowd and with a heavy sigh you flop down on the nearest chair against the bar. Taking a few moments to gather yourself you pull your head up from the table, ready to order yourself a drink when suddenly the bartender places one in front of you. Frowning you look up at him. 

"Don't worry 'bout it, it's already been paid for," he says as he begins preparing the next customer’s order. 

Sitting up straight you hesitantly take the drink, "by who?" you ask as you swish its contents around suspiciously. The bartender gives you a small nod and your eyes follow his direction, a few seats down sat one of the most magnificent guys you'd ever laid your eyes on. And you really did mean it, he looked ethereal in the purple lights. 

His jet black hair went down his neck and the sides of his face, framing his sharp but delicate features. Sharp and pointed nose was turned in your direction and his dark eyes twinkled as he gave you a small smirk, showing off an annoyingly perfect set of white teeth. His slender fingers wrapped around his glass as he took another sip, finishing it and setting it down on the table in front of him he gets up, your eyes widen when you realise he's headed toward you. 

Even the way he held himself, his posture, made him ooze with confidence, he knew that he was desirable and was intent on using it to get his way. Physically he represented everything that your ex hadn't been, Soobin was taller than this man, but his posture had always contained a hint of uncertainty. Rough and calloused hands with short and ruffled hair, and his soft eyes, had all made you fall for him. 

You felt your heart ache at the thought of your ex, though that was quickly replaced by the soft flutter of the man in front of you. The man glanced at the untouched drink in your hand, “it won’t kill you, sweetheart”, he said and flashed you his perfect teeth in a smirk. You gave him a subtle nod as you downed the drink in one go, when you set your glass down he immediately called the bartender for seconds. 

“Yeonjun”, he extended his hand to you and you took it, bringing your hand to his lips, he gave it a soft kiss. You felt yourself stutter for words as you gave a half-assed introduction, “oh- uhm… y/n”, you cleared your throat. Yeonjun looked up at you, his lips grazing the back of your hand as he spoke, “pleasure to meet you”. 

And that’s how you had found yourself in the bathroom of said club, pressed up against the cold tiles, dressed hooked above your waist as Yeonjun had his way with you. You don’t usually do this, act so impulsively, but there was something about Yeonjun. He was charming, drawing you in with his smooth words. 

You found yourself in a sort of trance, letting him lead the topic of the conversation, letting him lead you toward the bathroom, letting his hands wander in places you had only let one other man do before. 

It felt good, euphoric even, all worries and thoughts were being washed away with each thrust into your dripping core. Until it wasn’t anymore, the trance was broken and you were suddenly aware again. Too aware. 

This wasn’t your ex, no matter how hard you tried to envision it he would never be. This wasn’t Soobin, what were you doing? Yeonjun’s breath is heavy as he looks at you, his brows furrowed, still deep inside of you, he asks, “who’s Soobin?”. 

You don’t need to glance in the mirror to confirm that the shade of your face is matching the white tiles. Biting your bottom lip nervously as you stall, scrambling to get your thoughts straight. 

“I…he’s”, you hold back a sob as your gaze drops to the floor. Yeonjun’s slender fingers find your chin as he tilts your head back up. “No good?”, his voice is soft. You nod as you draw in a short ragged breath. 

“Then forget about him”, he whispers and for the first time that night his lips meet yours. The kiss is slow, gentle and tender. You sigh against his lips as your shaking hands finds his hair. The slow rock of his hips leaves you craving more. 

A small tug at his hair has him immediately increasing his pace as his tongue finds yours. The soft moans leaving your lips are immediately swallowed by Yeonjun’s mouth on your own. 

Delicate hands travel down your body as Yeonjun gropes and squeezes at your chest, thighs and hips. His touch sends electric jolts through your body. The words, “gorgeous” and “so fuckin’ pretty, love”, leaves his lips as they travel down your neck. 

Your gaze once again falls on your reflection in the mirror, but this time you only feel euphoria. His fingers graze your clit and you let out a cry of pleasure. “Tell them who’s makin’ you feel this good, love”. Yeonjun’s abuse to your neck is bound to leave marks. 

His name falls off your tongue almost like a prayer, over and over again. “That’s fucking right”, his breath mixes with yours, lustfull eyes admiring you as if you were the only thing left on earth. Yeonjun reclaims your lips with his, “i’ll make you forget about him”, he groans as his thrusts grow harsher, “i’ll make you forget about everyone”. 

The euphoria continues to run through your veins every step you take with Yeonjun by your side. Your makeup is smudged, lips left abused by his and your hair a mere nest. Yet you feel like the most desirable woman in the room, the way Yeonjun’s gaze never leaves you, hands on your waist, his thumb rubs soothing circles to your hips.

You make your way toward the exit, Yeonjun pushes his way through the crowd as he guides you. But as the purple lights shift you freeze, your gaze meets a pair of familiar eyes and when they find yours you know that he’s also seen you. 

Gulping, you stare at your ex boyfriend, Soobin has a drink clutched in his hand, the shirt you had gotten him clung to his figure, halfway unbuttoned. His gaze travels from your disheveled state to Yeonjun whose arm is still securely wrapped around you, his eyes narrow. 

A quick glance between the two of you has Yeonjun understanding exactly who is standing between you and the exit of the club. His hand on your waist travels up your chest to your hair, gently pulling it to the side to reveal your neck, the trace of Yeonjun’s lips still evident. 

The sight has Soobin clutching his drink hard, knuckles turning white as he pieces together your relation to the man next to you. Yeonjun’s lips kiss the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I’ll make you forget him all over again if you want”.

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ★ all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

[untoldstar]

“Welcome back baby!”

yandere boyfriend x gn cheater! reader

MAJOR trigger warnings: murder, explicit scenes and descriptions of murder, explicit descriptions of blood, psychotic character, toxic dynamic, cheating, jealousy, trauma for the reader, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, stalking.

He glares at the wall in front of him is he lets out a puff of smoke, his face breaks into a scowl when a whine comes from underneath him igniting his anger further “You better fucking stay quiet if you don’t wanna piss me off further” he growls, his boot rubbing into the man’s bloodied cheek as he screams. What could only be assumed as a string of curses is muffled by the rag gagging his mouth. Jesse lifts his boot to stomp down on the man’s face, earning a pained scream, he leans down close to the man’s face “You really want me to take my anger out on you don’t you?” he whimpers, shaking his head violently. Jesse only lets out an amused huff and leans back against the couch

Your couch.

With his boot resting on the bloodied face of the man you cheated on him with.

It didn’t take him long to find out you’ve been having an affair. He knows everything about you which is exactly why he isn't only going insane at the fact you've allowed another man touch you but he's also frustrated with himself for not noticing sooner. He keeps an eye on you every second of the day, how had this slipped by him?

It doesn't matter. You did something very bad and you're about to be punished for it, starting with watching the man you've let touch you slowly get slaughtered.

Click.

The corner of his mouth lifts up

You're here.

He hears your footsteps halt when see him sitting in the dimly lit room.

"Jesse?" You haven't noticed the bloody whimpering mess on the floor yet. You slowly make your way around the couch on to stop dead in your tracks slapping your hands over your mouth.

"Hey baby. Welcome back" he grins at you all the while digging his boot harder into the mans face "What the fuck?! What the actual fuck have you done Jesse?" He ignores your clear distress and move his leg aside to bend down and grab the mans chin roughly, lifting his head up so you can see him more clearly "You recognize him?" fuck, of course you recognize him.

"Who's he to you huh?" Your breath shudders as you stare into the madness swirling behind his eyes, they're blood shot and there's dark circles underneath them, his jaw is clenches and his entire body is tense. He's a ticking bomb waiting for the final push to explode.

Your mouth dries and you can feel your heart bashing into your ribcage "He's..my friend." You lie with the calmest tone you can master at the moment and send out a quick silent prayer that he doesn't turn this night into a bloodbath. "BULLSHIT" he shouts bashing the mans head in the floor. You flinch and you feel like crying looking at the injured sobbing man on the floor and in a split second he's up and right in front of you "Don't you fucking dare look at him right now. You look at me only" You don't say anything as you hold his stare "Don't you understand? I know everything about you and one of the many things I know is that you've let this scum touch you." Your hands tremble as you try to stand your ground "You have no idea what you're talking about! Me and him are just friends and yet you have him tied up and bloodied on the floor you're fucking insane!" He steps closer until your chests are flush "I might be but that doesn't make what I'm saying less true." Your eyes gloss over "You have to stop Jesse." He chuckles darkly "You can deny it all you want I'm still gonna kill this asshole." the man on the floor thrashes and screams in protest "Fuck- fine it's true okay? just- just please stop..I'll do anything just don't hurt him." He laughs in disbelief and his eyes look more wilder than anything you've seen "Holy shit you actually care about this guy." he steps back and rolls the man on his back with his foot "This is what took you from me." the man lets out strings of muffled pleas "Jesse please.." he sighs and crouches down taking ahold if the mans jaw shaking his side to side as if inspecting him before roughly letting go. He nods "I want you to watch." your heart sinks "what?" It feels like your ears bleeding at the sharp sound of the knife he pulls out "I want you to keep your eyes on me baby ‘kay? don't take them off of me for one second." He straddles the man and your chest heaves "Jesse please please don't do this." the man looks at you, face red tears covering his entire face as he sobs and screams, he shakes his head and thrashes his body and you want to be swallowed up by the earth.

This can't be happening.

how do you fix this?

"Jesse please-" You're cut off by your own scream when Jesse plunges the knife into the mans chest. The room is filled with your screams and grotesque sounds of blood gurgling and the squelching sounds of the knife being pulled out only to be plunged back in.

Your legs give out and you fall to your knees.

It's your fault.

you cover your face unable to withstand the scene any longer.

He's dead because of you.

you did this.

and you watched as he died.

You don't hear Jesse over your own sobs "-baby" you lift your head to see him in front of you.

There's so much blood.

On the carpet.

Covering Jesse's hands. Streaking his face and clothes.

On the knife he used that's disregarded behind on the floor.

You feel bile rising up.

He cups your face with his bloodied hands staining your skin "Shh shh it's okay it's over now you did good. You watched. I know." He wipes the tears off your face but ends up making more of a mess "I love you baby. So much. Fuck- you have no idea how much"

You do. He killed for his love.

He presses a gentle kiss on your lips “I didn’t mean to get you dirty with his blood. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[grimesgirll]

“wouldn’t kill ya’ to smile, wouldn’t it, baby?”

your gaze goes upward from the fire you’re building to the man standing before you.

“fuck is there to smile about?” you quip quietly, pursing your lips and turning your attention back to the task at hand.

you should’ve known that would set off your ex boyfriend. the boyfriend who should really be your ex right now. you feel him behind you and eventually in front of you when he leans down to gently grasp your face. shane tilts your chin upwards in his hand while you simply glare.

“been gettin’ real tired of your attitude.”

“makes two of us.”

something in his eyes clouds and you can nearly see the frustration bubbling beneath his surface. “you know you could really have it worse somewhere else, girl.” he lets go of your chin. “you should be happy to be here and not out there alone.”

you can’t argue with him. after these past few weeks, you’d endure whatever macho act he manufactured just to make it to safety. anything at this point to get to richmond. wherever noah’s family was posted up had to be better than cannibal country or cop city.

playing the role of shane’s personal diplomat is exhausting but it’s kept conflict from escalating more than once. without you, he would’ve for sure gotten himself killed by now. it goes both ways as you can count on more than one hand the number of times he’s saved your life.

“we had a home. we’re gonna find a new one. until then you better be thankful to have someone looking out for you.” the man explains to you. “someone takin’ care of you.”

you snort. “you should be happy i let you fuck me.”

your boyfriend’s nostrils flare. “wanna repeat that?”

you don’t spare him a glance. “be happy i haven’t left you already. if it wasn’t the fucking end of times, our relationship would be toast.” you say that like it isn’t already.

but you didn’t leave him. how could you with the world falling apart around you?

and with your newfound sense of responsibility to lori and carl, staying with shane made the most sense. why not keep trying with someone who held you at night and fought tooth and nail to protect you.

that isn’t everything though.

he narrows his eyes at you. “wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t always findin’ one.”

“you fucking lori was a problem that i found?”

he throws his hands up. “why the fuck do you keep mentionin’ lori? that’s fucked,” he scolds your name. “that’s my daughter’s mother.”

“i’m not blaming her, i’m blaming you.” you discern. “you’ve been an asshole ever since everything happened.”

“c’mere.” shane pulls you to your feet and drags you away from the fire, leaving the task to sasha who’d been sitting nearby. shane has you on your feet and moving towards the back of the rest stop your group was posted up l in. “let’s take a walk.”

“shane! i’m about to make dinner over the fire,” you complain and pull back your arm but shane just wraps you in his embrace and wills you towards the grassy picnic area facing the forest.

“c’mon, one step at a time, baby. don’t make me carry you.”

“fucker.”

“watch it,” shane warns and steers you towards a dusty wooden gazebo where rick is standing with a radio, trying to get a signal from the looks of it.

“any luck?” shane calls out like he didn’t just forcibly walk you from the fire circle out here.

the bearded man turns around. he doesn’t have to shake his head or give you two a word to answer his friend’s question. an icy blue stare goes over you and shane.

“what’s going on?”

“oh, we just thought we’d see what you were up to. see if you were busy.” the ex-cop with his arms wrapped around you from behind declares.

rick drops his radio into his back pocket. “‘m not.”

“perfect. this one wants to thank you.”

rick’s dark brow goes up in question and you shake your head, asking, “huh?”

“what? you don’t wanna thank rick? don’t be rude, baby.”

you owe the man your life a million times over.

rick had saved you, shane, judith, carl, and the others so many times. he’d led you through the debilitating winters and the most nightmare inducing storms you could imagine facing in the end of times. metaphorical or not, rick had seen you all through more than you’d ever pay him back for.

the man who stayed up with you while you settled judith and helped you soothe the little girl who didn’t belong to either of you.

the rugged man looks on from shane to you not quite comprehending. it only takes the feel of shane’s hand on your ass to understand.

fuck. not now, shane, you plead internally.

“i want you to show our friend rick how grateful you are that he’s gotten us this far. huh?” shane places a steel hand on your back as he shoves you forward towards rick, nudging you onto your knees when you’re dawdling too much for him to tolerate. “go on.”

“shane.” the man above you warns.

“no, rick.” your boyfriend stops him, dark irises widening. “i see the way she looks at you and the way you look at her. don’t feel bad about it.” he chuckles. “think about it as payback for lori.”

a “what the fuck” is breaching your lips before you know it.

“why do you talk to her like that?” rick questions, chest puffing out slightly. “everything she’s stood you through.”

shane shrugs. “i’m just thinkin’ it’d help us all relax. lower tension, y’know. after we were almost slaughtered like cattle back there.”

your mind flashes to terminus. you hadn’t seen rick, shane, and some of the other men of your group tied up and prepared to have their throats slashed, but the scene made your stomach flip.

rick looks down at you, maybe considering the fact that he does have a lot of steam to let off. nearly a year’s worth to be honest.

“you been thinkin’ about me?” he inquires with a step closer to you, dipping his hand to cup your face.

beneath your leader, you feel small. ten feet tall, you’d feel insignificant compared to rick. that man has more guts and drive than you could ever admit to. more than shane could ever dream of. the thought scratches an itch you didn’t realize lay dormant.

“yes,” you exhale sweetly, almost giving away your giggle when shane has to pick up his jaw. “especially ever since the prison fell.”

“really?”

you nod. “thank you, rick.” you express your gratitude with parted lips. “you take such good care of all of us. if you really want to use my mouth, i would blow you.”

shane is stuttering a curse and rick just whistles.

“good girl,” shane praises. “never knew you had it in you.”

you wait on your knees for rick, beaming up at him.

rick has the look of a man considering letting his best friend’s girlfriend - who he has at least fifteen years on - blow him. he thumbs your soft lips, trying to convince himself not to. even under that newly acquired hardened exterior, rick is calculated.

it’s not until he lowers his hands at his sides and croons a, “only if you want to, darlin,” that has you undoing his belt and yanking down his pants.

you slow your roll once you come into contact with his underwear. beneath those dark blue boxers is a rock hard cock.

a noise escapes you that you hope your boyfriend doesn’t hear. rick is bigger than shane. you want to burst into laughter. shane had to have seen the outline of rick’s thick cock sometime during their years together in some locker room somewhere.

thoughts of if he’ll fit or not consume you momentarily until your hands are moving automatically and you’re met with the real thing. you feel hands in your hair and tense.

“down and up. you know how to do it.”

shane is behind you with his sturdy hands on top of your head, ready to guide you down onto his friend.

“just let her do what she wants.” rick snaps at the other man, exhaling at the feel of your hand around him.

“fine.” shane throws his hands up and goes to lean against the rest stop information board.

ever the sore loser, shane pouts but lets you sink further on your knees to begin by trailing a stripe from rick’s balls up to the tip of his cock. back down you go again to lick circles around him, working a pattern with your tongue.

the noises coming out of rick have you agreeing with shane - he really needs this. after everything, rick deserves to close his eyes and let you descend below his shaft to suckle first one side, then the other, while he lays his hands in your lustrous hair.

eventually you’re lapping around again and you circle your tongue around him, eyes widening in surprise at his moans.

shane snickers. “you like her mouth, rick? me too. don’t blow your load too early, bud, i know you probably can’t help it.”

you feel the man in your mouth tense above you. he ignores shane, snapping his hips lightly into your face instead. despite the initial humiliation of the situation and the shane of it all, you find yourself getting excited. a wet patch forms and you can tell by how hard you grind down onto yourself as rick starts to twitch.

“needy slut,” shane comments.

you roll your eyes, not missing a beat as you bob up and down on your leader. his spit covered dick disappears in and out of your mouth. you do your best to fit what you can of his length that is too large for your mouth.

rick doesn’t have a problem though. all he needs is to dig a little deeper in your hair and angle his cock down your throat. you’re so startled you gag but at the same time you moan and whimper around him.

a cry around him from a particularly harsh jostle of his pelvis against your face is what it takes to start spilling in your mouth. your foggy brain can barely decipher what to do next but you remember that you’re wearing one of your favorite sweaters and suck him dry.

rick isn’t out of your mouth when shane is nearly shoving him out of the way and grasping onto you, directing your head towards his now nude dick.

“my turn,” shane takes rick’s spot instantly, not sparing you more than a breath or two before his girthy cock is against your lips.

“that’s not good for her knees, man.” rick is saying but shane just laughs.

“you weren’t sayin’ that when you were in the one in her mouth.”

shane is taking up your mouth before you know it and you gag immediately when he drives like he’s aiming for your uvula.

your noises muffle around his cock but the sheriff looking on still hears them - is still affected by then. every pump of his fellow ex-officer’s hips made you gag, forced to swallow the burning feeling building up in your throat.

rick can’t take his eyes off you. after receiving the same treatment, he’s still mesmerized by the whole thing; the spontaneity of it, how absurd it all was, how soft and plush your mouth had been, how perfect you are.

“never knew you were such a whore,” shane groans with a gasp of your name, pushing your head down when you start to slide up and off of him to say something. “fuck, you’re so good for me, baby, always have been.”

his grip is buried in your long hair. rick observes with his half hard cock in his hand, eyebrow arching lightly at the sight of shane’s face. your boyfriend tightens his grip and before you know it his cock is thrust into your throat. a few more slams of his hips and he’s holding you firmly while you gulp down his length - and his release.

shane backs out of your mouth only to snake a rough hand down your pants.

“shane!” you’re nearly squealing when he thumbs down your panties and moves towards your sensitive patch of nerves. your face is overtaken with a blush again as your leader palms his hard on on the bench next to you.

whispering low in your ear, your boyfriend hums;

“now, you wanna show rick how grateful you are with your pussy?”

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3

Summary: A series of mishaps has you and Eddie (and Grandma and Harris) in the same place at the same time, leading Eddie to let his guard down a bit. That is, until a secret is spilled.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, injuries (nothing bloody or gory), mostly set in a hospital, mentions of Eddie's dad, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 6k

Chapter 3/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

“Har-Bear?” Eddie calls out from the bedroom, pinning his nametag to his shirt. “You tie your sneakers yet?” His son had insisted that he didn’t need help with the laces, that he could do it on his own, but he’d be late for work if he waited any longer.

“Not…yet!” the tiny voice yells back, and Eddie can sense the frustration in his voice. “I think they’re broken.”

“Broken, huh?” Eddie laughs to himself as he walks out to the living room, where Harris is sitting in front of the door. Sure enough, his shoelaces remain untied, and tears roll down his cheeks. “C’mere, bud. It’s okay. I can tie ‘em for you this time.”

Harris shakes his head, brown curls bouncing on his scalp. He mumbles something unintelligible, and when Eddie bends down to help him, he pushes his hands away.

“Harris, enough!” Eddie hisses through gritted teeth, taking the laces and tying them quickly. “You know that you have school and Daddy has work.”

“B-b-but I’m the only one!” Harris wails, kicking his shoes off defiantly. Eddie picks them up with one hand and scoops up his son in the other, tipping towards the couch and hooking his pinky around Harris’s little backpack. He doesn’t have any time to waste; shoes will have to be put on at school. 

Maybe Ms. Sweetheart will have better luck with him, Eddie thinks wryly, wrangling a screaming Harris down the stairwell. 

“The only one what?” Eddie asks once the crying starts to subside.

“I’m the only–sniff–one at school who–hic–can’t tie my shoes!”

Eddie wrinkles his nose as he places a shoe-less Harris in his carseat. “I’m sure there are other kids who are still learning how to tie their shoes.”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, straining against the seatbelt. “All the other kids tie their own shoes, but Ms. Sweetheart or Mr. Will have to tie mine.”

Eddie’s heart sinks as he thinks of his son being the outcast as the freak, the rest of his friends flying past him as he gets left behind. “Tell ya what,” he says finally, mustering up a smile, “I’ll teach you, and you’ll be able to tie them in no time.”

His offer placates Harris, who spends the rest of the time singing along to the radio. Eddie wishes it could always be like this; happy and carefree, just driving and listening to his favorite metal station with his mini-me. Maybe one day it’ll happen, but the fleeting sense of hope disappears as quickly as it comes. His time with Harris might be limited if he doesn’t get his shit together.

The job was a start; he was lucky that the hours coincided with school drop-off and pick-up so he didn’t have to reach out to Wayne. He’d been working at Rock Records for about a week, and while it was a far cry from the stardom he’d once dreamed of, it was paying the bills and still allowed him to spend his time around music. And when his manager–a twenty-year-old named Ash who used her phone line to talk to friends rather than answer store calls–heard that he plays guitar, she’d all but insisted that he give lessons. If he could get Wayne to watch Harris a few days after school, that would be even more money in his pocket.

But, first, he actually has to start talking to his uncle again.

He pulls into the preschool parking lot, killing the engine and hopping out to help Harris from his carseat. When he opens Harris’s door, he immediately deflates.

“Harris, where is your jacket?” Eddie asks, heaving an exasperated sigh.

The little boy just shrugs. “I dunno. At home?” It’s not his fault; the chilly early October air just began settling in, and he’s not accustomed to including his jacket into his morning routine. A look of realization creases his brows, another tantrum on the horizon. “Now I won’t be able to go out for recess!”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says reassuringly, shrugging off his own denim, patch-riddled jacket, “you can take mine.” It’s comically oversized on Harris’s tiny body, but the smile on his face is enough to distract Eddie from the chill settling on his own arms.

“Daddy, now I’m just like you!” Harris sticks out his tongue and makes the ‘rock-and-roll’ symbol with his pointer and pinky fingers, scrunching his big brown eyes shut.

Eddie laughs, taking his son’s hand as they cross the parking lot. The way he copies him is adorable, but there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he pictures Harris actually following in his footsteps.

As soon as he enters the school, Harris lets go of his father’s hand and bounds into the classroom, the jacket dragging on the ground like a regal cloak. “Ms. Sweetheart, look at my jacket!” he proudly announces, twirling around on one leg. “It’s my daddy’s!”

You smile, crossing your arms over your chest as you shake your head teasingly. “Harris, is daddy wearing your jacket?”

“Nooooo,” he says, jutting out his chin and giggling. “It’s too small, silly!”

Eddie shuffles in behind him; after a month of drop-offs, he’s realized that he’s never going to win the battle of getting Harris to walk beside him in the hallway. “Don’t forget your backpack, little dude,” he reminds him, handing him his bag and motioning towards the row of cubbies.

Nodding, Harris hangs it up on the hook, along with Eddie’s jacket. He starts to run towards the toy area, stopping when he hears you call out, “Harris…”

“Huh? Oh, right.” He flashes that innocent smile, slowing his pace to a walk.

You shake your head knowingly, grabbing the clipboard with the sign-in sheet from your desk. Wordlessly, you give it to Eddie, who takes it with a sigh. This is how it goes most mornings: he drops off Harris, scribbles his signature, and stalks off without so much as a “good morning.” It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the barrage of insults and snide comments that he seemed to prefer to greet you with.

He drops the clipboard on top of the cubbies with a clatter, turning to the door, but the sound of a child shrieking stops him in his tracks before he can leave.

“Harris, no!”

Eddie’s stomach turns at the way the little girl angrily shouts his son’s name. Harris is frozen in place, holding a weird contraption that Eddie doesn’t recognize. The boy’s lower lip trembles, and all Eddie wants to do is pick him up and yell at the other kid for making him cry, but you get to the scene first.

“Abby, Harris, what happened?” you ask, crouching down to their eye-level. There’s no accusations, just a soothing tone to de-escalate the situation.

“He took my Bop-It!” Abby pouts, stamping her foot in frustration. “He stole it from me!”

Eddie feels his fists clench involuntarily at the word stole. Harris would never steal. He was a good kid, and having the Munson name didn’t automatically make him a thief. He tries to send a telepathic message to Harris, willing him to stand up for himself, but it doesn’t work.

You eye the toy in Harris’s hand–the Bop-It in question, you assume–and meet his shy gaze. “Did you take Abby’s toy?” Again, your voice is free of judgment, and Eddie allows himself to relax ever-so slightly when you don’t automatically take the girl’s side.

“I just wanted to see it real quick!” Harris mumbles, shoulders slumping. “I was gonna give it back.”

“What should you do when someone has something that you want to see?” you prompt him gently, feeling Eddie’s eyes scrutinizing you, analyzing your every move you make to see how you’re treating his son.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, eyes wide and misty.

“You have to ask them and then wait for them to say yes,” you say, and he nods as you swivel to face Abby Carver. “Abby, if someone forgets to ask to see your toy, you can remind them nicely. With an inside voice.”

“But he didn’t even say sorry for stealing!” she whines.

“It was an accident,” Harris rebuts, scrunching up his nose, “an’ I didn’t steal it!”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you turn back to him to end the argument before it can really start. Hell hath no fury like a preschooler scorned. “Saying ‘sorry’ is important, even when we accidentally make someone feel sad or mad,” you tell him. 

“‘M sorry, Abby,” he says, handing her back the Bop-It. You can’t help but notice the way that he tucks his free hand into the pocket of his jeans, just like Eddie does when he’s anxious.

“It’s okay, Harris,” Abby says flatly, eager to flounce off to her friends and show them her toy, as Harris quietly joins some of the other boys to play with building blocks.

You press on your knees and stand up, finally allowing yourself to glance over at Eddie. He gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment; so subtle that you would’ve missed it if you’d blinked. You’re not exactly sure what it means–thanks or good job or simply I’ll be back for pick-up–but he’s out the door before you can think about it further.

You really should have seen it coming. Should’ve listened to the proverbial alarm bells ringing when you’d heard the shower running. But you were exhausted from a long day at work; the Bop-It situation having kicked off a series of arguments between various groups of kids. At one point, you and Will had given up on storytime and basically played referee, just trying to keep the peace between tiny feuding humans.

You’re scraping the last bits of unfinished mashed potatoes into the garbage when you hear the crash. There’s a clatter of bottles and the pop pop pop of the shower curtain ripping off of its rings. Your blood runs cold and you nearly drop the plate you’re holding, palms suddenly slick with sweat.

“Grandma?” Your voice catches in your throat, a hoarse whisper, and you clear it and try again as you fly towards the bathroom. “Grandma?!” 

There’s no answer; between the steady pounding of the shower and her own declining hearing, you expected just as much. You push open the door that she thankfully left unlocked to find her laying in the tub, tears mixing with the stream of water. She cradles her left wrist in her right hand, mumbling inaudibly to herself between heaving sobs.

“Grandma, what happened?” you ask, leaning over to finagle the knob to the “OFF” position.

She looks up as if she’s just realized you’re standing there, too disoriented and focused on the pain to take in any of her surroundings. “I fell.”

You reach for the powder blue towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pluck it off of its hook. “Here,” you say, draping it over her shoulders, “let me cover you and I’ll help you up.” It seems absurd to worry about modesty, given the urgency of the situation, but you can tell based on her sheepish demeanor that the small part of her that still feels shame is pinging in her brain. You tuck your hands under her arms, lifting with your knees and hoisting her to her feet. “Grab the bar,” you instruct her, nodding your head towards the silver safety bar lining the shower wall.

“Can I dry you off?” She gives a small nod, letting go to hold her swelling wrist. “Keep holding onto the bar. I don’t want you to slip and fall again.”

“But it hurts,” she whimpers, and you know this will be a losing battle. Even if she does agree to grab onto it again, she’ll almost certainly forget, and you'll have to start the whole process over. Instead, you carefully run the towel over her, watching as the cloth soaks up droplets and trying not to think about how backwards this all seems. There was a time where she was the one drying you off, lifting you out of your little bath seat in the kitchen sink and cooing at her beloved baby granddaughter, hope and joy filling her eyes. A time where life seemed limitless, and maybe she’d started to slow down, but she’d sworn that she’d always remember this moment. She couldn’t even imagine forgetting you.

Grabbing the pile of clothes from their spot on the tiled floor, you find her shirt and offer it to her. “I can help you put it on,” you tell her, toeing the line of preventing another fall and respecting her dignity.

Grandma’s lips curl into a frown and she shakes her head. “Those are dirty,” she protests.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to grasp onto the last bit of patience you have left. The words, You didn’t even go anywhere today rests on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down, force a smile, and say, “Okay. Let’s get you to your bed so you can sit down, and we’ll pick out new ones.”

She reluctantly agrees to this, and you slowly walk her to the bedroom and grab the first of everything you can find. A fuschia t-shirt and green sweatpants might not be her best look, but you’re not trying to style her for a runway show. After sliding her fluffy pink slippers over her feet, you help her up and guide her to the door, where she stops in her tracks.

“Can’t wear these outside,” she says simply, pointing to the slippers.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, grabbing your keys from the small table tucked in the corner. “You can wear them outside this time.”

She doesn’t budge. “No, I need my other ones.” Her gaze lands on the pair of white Reeboks resting on the shoe rack. She starts to lean over to take them, but she’s still unsteady on her feet, and you wrap your arm around her torso before she can wobble.

“Just…just sit,” you mutter, feeling anger rise in your chest like a thundercloud. It wasn’t her fault that she was being stubborn, but it didn’t quell the burning frustration. You toss her rejected footwear to the side, silently reminding yourself to pick it up later, and shimmy her feet into the sneakers. You tie the laces into a double knot, pulling nice and tight, determined to keep it from unraveling.

Eddie’s day at work wasn’t much better than yours. After dropping Harris off at school, his first customer had been a middle-aged woman who claimed that a record had been scratched when she’d bought it a few weeks ago, insisting that Eddie had sold it to her that way. Which could have been the case, except he’d only started the job earlier that week. 

All he wants now is a nice cold beer, but he has to wait until Harris goes to sleep. Years of watching his own father guzzle down Johnnie Walker until he fell into a drunken stupor led him to promise never to drink in front of his son. 

“Bedtime, buddy!” he announces. He doesn’t even have to pretend to be excited; the second Harris dozes off, he’s going to crack open that Coors Light and watch the most mind-numbing show on TV. 

Harris throws his head back in exasperation. “But Daaaaadyyyy, I’m not even tired!” His whine pierces Eddie’s eardrum, making him grimace. 

“It’s 7:30, and it’s a school night,” he tells him, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “But tomorrow is Friday, so you can stay up a little later then.” He walks over to the tiny dresser pushed up against the wall, pulling out the bottom drawer and taking out a pair of dinosaur-print pajamas. “C’mon, let’s go. Pajamas, pee, and brush those teeth.”

“I’m…not…tired!” Harris screams at the top of his lungs. His cheeks flush beet-red, and spit gathers at the corners of his mouth. 

Eddie clenches his fist around the pajamas, feeling his fingernails dig into the soft cotton. He inhales for three, then exhales for three, feeling the oxygen flow through his lungs. “Harris,” he manages through gritted teeth, “I’m going to count to five. And when I’m done, I want you doing your bedtime routine, or you’ll go to bed early tomorrow.” He takes one more deep breath, getting to two before Harris angrily snatches the pajamas from his grip and stomps off to the bathroom. 

The boy only brushes his teeth for a grand total of ten seconds, but Eddie doesn’t have the stamina to argue about oral hygiene tonight. Tucking Harris into bed, he leans in to kiss him on the forehead, but he’s met with the back of his head. 

Logically, he knows that there will come a time where Harris won’t want a kiss good night, won’t need his dad to help him into bed. Eddie just hadn’t planned on it being tonight. 

“I hate you.” Harris’s voice is muffled from his lips being smushed into the pillow, but Eddie received the message loud and clear. It reverberates in his brain like an echo in a tunnel: I hate you I hate you I hate you. 

Eddie backs out of the room slowly, flicking off the light and closing the door. He forgoes the shitty TV and sits in silence as he sips on his beer, letting the bitterness seep into his tongue before he swallows. 

The venom in Harris’s voice was unmistakable. Eddie knew all too well how it felt to hate a parent. That raw anger swelled within him each time his father got them thrown out of another apartment, or conveniently forgot to pick up groceries (but always managed to remember his booze and drugs), or put his hands on Eddie. 

My son hates me, Eddie thinks, taking a last swig of his drink and absentmindedly wiping the foam from his lips. I’m a shit dad, and my son hates me. 

He’s too wrapped up in his own thoughts, leaving the sound of squeaking bed springs unnoticed until a loud thud followed immediately by the sound of Harris’s distraught wail snaps him to attention.  

“Daddy!” Harris cries out, and Eddie’s sprinting to the bedroom before he can even finish the second syllable. 

“What happened?” His voice is louder than he intends from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and it only makes Harris cry harder. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he says, softening his tone as he flicks on the light. His eyes widen when he sees the way his son’s arm is twisted. 

“I couldn’t—sniffle—sleep, s-so I—sniffle—t-tried to j-jump my awake out,” Harris explains through hiccuping sobs. “An’ I h-hurted—sniffle—my arm.”

“C’mere, sshh, ‘s okay.” Eddie reassures him as he scoops him up, carefully avoiding his injury. “We gotta get you to the hospital so the doctors can fix it.”

Harris’s lower lip trembles again. “Are th-they gonna g-give me a sh-shot?”

“Nah, they’ll just have to do an x-ray,” he says, grimacing when he thinks of how much it’ll cost, even after Medicaid kicks in. “But those don’t hurt.”

Harris gives a tiny nod, still ambivalent as he nestles his head into the crook of his father’s neck. His curls tickle Eddie, who presses a kiss to the boy’s forehead and murmurs, “Daddy’s here, okay? I got you.” He feels Harris’s uninjured hand grab onto him a bit tighter as he brings him to the car.

“Can we go home now?”

You breathe out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in the chair and bouncing your leg anxiously. Hawkins General Hospital wasn’t crowded, and you and Grandma were taken to a room fairly quickly, but it still isn’t fast enough for an elderly woman who has no idea why she’s here. 

“We have to wait a little longer for the doctor to see us,” you explain for the fourth time in as many minutes. “They have to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Your answer seems to placate her, at least until she asks again within the next sixty seconds, as she hums her acknowledgment.

There’a a soft knock on the door, and a perky blonde nurse pokes her head in the room as soon as you give her permission to enter. “Hi, I’m Chrissy; I’ll be your nurse,” she says, looking at your grandmother. “What brings you in to see us tonight?”

“I’m just here with her,” Grandma shrugs, pointing to you.

“She slipped and fell in the shower,” you explain patiently. “I know she hurt her wrist, but I’m not sure if she hit her head, and she has Alzheimer’s…” You glance at her uneasily. “She doesn’t even remember falling.”

Chrissy nods understandingly, offering a sympathetic smile as she makes a note on her chart. “I can take you in for an x-ray of your wrist, and then we’ll run some tests to rule out a head injury as best as we can, okay, Mrs…” Her gaze shifts back to the chart before she brings her attention back to you. “Do you teach at Hawkins Preschool, by any chance?”

“Guilty as charged,” you give the best semblance of a laugh you can muster.

“I recognized your last name,” she says as she helps Grandma off of the examination table. “My daughter is in your class. Abigail Carver? She absolutely adores you.”

The compliment buzzes in your chest as your smile becomes more genuine. “Well, thank you. That means a lot. And she’s a great kid, too.” Except when she’s screeching at her friends, you think, but you keep that tidbit to yourself.

“I work nights, so my husband handles the school stuff,” Chrissy explains. “But I’m glad we finally got to meet, even if it’s under these circumstances.”

She hooks her arm through Grandma’s, who promptly shakes her off. “Let go of me!” the older woman snarls, shuffling back towards you. She may not know exactly who you are, but there’s at least a level of familiarity that brings her some comfort.

“I’ll walk with you,” you offer, and Chrissy agrees gratefully as the three of you gradually make your way down the starch-white hallway.

Unbeknownst to you, in a room just across the hall, Harris Munson is showing his dad how he can hop up and down on one leg without losing his balance.

Jesus H. Christ; does this kid ever run out of energy? Eddie silently wonders, but he plasters a smile on his face. “That’s really cool, Har-Bear. Just, uh, sit down before you hurt yourself even more.”

Harris is about to pout when a nurse enters the room. She’s probably in her mid-fifties, Eddie surmises, with brown hair that’s streaked gray and pulled back in a low bun. 

“Harris Munson?” she asks shortly, and Eddie points to the little jumping bean standing next to him. “Come with me to the x-ray room.” She doesn’t offer her name, but Eddie catches a glimpse of the badge on her scrubs pocket that reads “Anna.”

Anna has Harris place his arm on the table, gingerly moving it to take x-rays from different angles. Standing in the doorway, Eddie winces at the tiny yelps his son lets out with each minimal adjustment. “You’re hurting him,” he manages through a bone-dry throat.

“If there is a break or sprain, we need to ensure that we find it,” she explains impatiently, retreating back to the room where she snaps a few more images before bringing them back to the room.

“Dad?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m sleepy now.” Harris punctuates his statement with a yawn, laying back on the examination table and dozing off just moments later.

Eddie takes his jacket–the same one that Harris wore at school that day–and places it over the boy’s sleeping body in a makeshift blanket. By the time the radiologist comes in to deliver the results, Eddie’s struggling to keep his own eyes open.

“How’re we doing in here?” she says, watching as Harris stirs, stretches his little legs, and promptly falls asleep again. “Is it past someone’s bedtime?”

“His and mine,” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes and sitting up straighter. There’s a pinch in his lower back from slouching in the uncomfortable chair, and he grimaces as he tries to massage the sore spot. 

“Well, you’ll be out of here soon. It looks like Harris did break his wrist, so we’ll need to get a cast on it, but we can discharge him as soon as it’s done.”

“Brilliant.” Eddie presses on his knees as he stands up to gently shake his son awake. “Hey, bud. It’s time to wake up so you can get a super cool cast.”

“Mmph,” Harris grunts, throwing his good arm over his eyes dramatically. 

Eddie just laughs, not catching the concerned look on the doctor’s face as she flips through Harris’s chart. “C’mon, I’ll carry you, but you gotta help me out here.” Harris begrudgingly complies, wrapping his legs around Eddie’s waist and holding onto him as tightly as he can.

“It’ll only take about fifteen minutes,” the doctor explains, rubbing Harris’s back for good measure. “You can drop him off in this room, Mr. Munson. One of our nurses needs to speak with you.”

He doesn’t like the look on her face; the one that simultaneously gives away nothing and too much. Her lips press together in a thin smile, one that’s obviously forced, as an orthopedic technician guides Eddie into the next room.

The unfriendly nurse from earlier, Anna, is waiting for him outside the door. 

“Mr. Munson, could I speak to you privately?” Eddie nods wordlessly, traipsing behind her back to the room where Harris had just been sleeping.

“Mr. Munson,” Anna begins, and Eddie swears he’ll punch a hole through the hospital’s wall if she keeps speaking in that condescending tone, “as you know, ensuring the safety and wellbeing of our patients, particularly our pediatric ones, is our top priority here at Hawkins General.” She pauses, as though he’s supposed to have some response to that, but he remains silent. “Given the nature of your son’s injury, coupled with the report that a nurse smelled alcohol on your breath when you entered our facility, we have to report this incident to Child Protective Services.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head; his fists clench involuntarily, and he has to remind himself to steady his breathing. In for three, out for three. “There–there must be some mistake,” he stammers. “I had one beer after Harris went to bed–well, he was supposed to be in bed–and I was well under the legal limit when I brought him here.”

Anna cocks her head, and rage surges through Eddie’s bloodstream at her subtle gesture of disbelief. He didn’t even drink when his son was awake, let alone drive drunk. And the thought of him hurting Harris, whether under the influence of alcohol or not, was enough to turn his stomach. For fuck’s sake, he felt guilty if he accidentally stepped on the kid’s toes.

“Be that as it may,” the nurse continues, and Eddie swears she’s trying to suppress an eyeroll, “I also see that there was a previous report from 1992–”

“When he was born?” Eddie sputters. “That–that had nothing to do with me. His mom…”

Anna glances back down at Harris’s chart and frowns. “It looks like both you and Harris’s mother were listed in that report.” She looks up at Eddie again. “This is out of our hands now. CPS will take over from here and determine the next steps to take.” With that, she walks away, leaving Eddie leaning against the door with tears in his eyes.

All he can think about are the custody papers Wayne gave him. The way he’d angrily torn them up, taking them as a threat, rather than an offer to help. The way he’d blamed Wayne for his life going to shit.

I hate you, Harris had said earlier that evening.

Maybe Wayne was right. Maybe Harris was better off without his dad around to fuck up everything in his path.

You’re waiting at the front desk for Grandma’s discharge papers when you hear an excited voice call out your name; rather, his nickname for you.

“Ms. Sweetheart!”

You turn around to see Harris Munson running towards you, sporting a bright orange cast on his wrist. “What happened to you?” you ask with a smile–a genuine one, this time. That little boy always manages to cheer you up.

“I was trying to jump my awake out and I breaked my wrist,” he says. “So then my daddy taked me here and I got this cast. See?” He holds out his arm two inches from your eyes, as though the neon color wasn’t already a dead giveaway.

“That is the coolest cast I’ve ever seen,” you tell him. “I broke my leg once, and I just got a boring white one.” You pout your lips exaggeratedly, making Harris laugh. “I bet all the kids in school will wanna sign it tomorrow.”

Harris breaks out into a giant grin. “They can sign it?”

“Sure can!”

He thinks for a moment and asks, “Will you sign my cast, Ms. Sweetheart?” He looks up at you with those soft brown eyes, and you feel yourself start to melt.

Before you can answer him, your Grandma speaks up. “I’m leaving,” she declares, already trying to take off the sling that the nurse gave her for her sprained wrist.

“I just need to sign you out, Grandma,” you explain. “And remember, you need to keep the sling on so your wrist can heal.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” she hisses. “I hate you.”

Your face heats up, embarrassed at her outburst and at the fact that it happened in front of a student and his parent. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, though you’re unsure if you’re apologizing more to Eddie or to Harris. “She has Alzheimer’s…she doesn’t know…”

You expect Eddie to laugh at your misfortune, but when your eyes flicker to his face, you only see sympathy.

“‘S okay,” he says softly, putting a ringed hand on Harris’s shoulder. “I feel like swearing, too, after the night we’ve had.”

You offer a weak smile, still processing the unfamiliar kindness that he’s showing. “Thanks,” you manage, just as the receptionist hands you the discharge paperwork. “I’ll see you both at school tomorrow?”

“And you can sign my cast!” Harris exclaims, flashing a toothy grin. “Promise?”

“Promise.” You ruffle his hair, leading Grandma out to the car before she can conjure up another slew of swear words.

Eddie wakes up the next morning still exhausted. He rolls over, catching a glimpse of Harris still sleeping soundly in his racecar bed. He’s tempted to let him sleep in a bit, maybe take the day off from school, but he knows how badly he wants Ms. Sweetheart to sign his cast.

Ms. Sweetheart.

He’d been thinking about you all night. The way your calm, confident demeanor had faltered when your grandma cursed at you and said she hated you. The way you caved in a bit, as though her words had punctured you.

You hadn’t reacted like that when Eddie called you a bitch; you’d simply carried on as though the words meant nothing to you.

Because they did mean nothing to you. Because he meant nothing to you. He was just another drop in the douchebag bucket, and once you’d gotten over the initial sting of rejection, you’d moved on. And so had he.

Right?

He tries to shake these thoughts from his mind as he gets Harris ready for school, but it’s nearly impossible when all the kid can talk about is how he saw Ms. Sweetheart at the hospital and how she’s going to sign his cast today.

“She’s the bestest teacher I’ve ever had,” Harris tells Eddie, shoving a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.

“She’s the only teacher you’ve ever had, buddy,” Eddie reminds him, but Harris remains unfazed.

Sure enough, you’re waiting outside the classroom door, black Sharpie in hand. Harris’s eyes light up when he spots you.

“Ms. Sweetheart! You remembered!”

“Of course I remembered,” you say, uncapping the marker and crouching down to his level. Both Eddie and Harris watch intently as you write your signature, complete with a little heart.

Ms. Sweetheart ♡

“Go ahead and unpack,” you tell Harris. “Once you finish your morning routine, we can have your friends sign it, too.”

“Okay!” He starts to run, but crawls to a stop. “Gotta use my walking feet in the classroom.”

You give him a thumbs-up, turning back to hand Eddie the sign-in sheet.

“I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head incredulously. “I’ve been trying to get that kid to slow down since he learned how to run. Swear to God, he skipped right over the ‘walking’ stage and went straight to sprinting.”

You laugh at his remark, taking the clipboard back from him. “Try the walking feet trick. I’ll let you borrow it, free of charge.”

“Much appreciated.” He starts to leave, but stops before he can fully turn his back to you. “How’s your grandma, by the way?”

His kind gesture catches you off-guard, but you recover quickly. “Already giving me a hard time about the sling, but that’s the home health aid’s problem until I get back.”

Eddie steps forward, awkwardly resting his hand on your upper arm for just a second. He’s not exactly sure what he’s doing, or why, but it felt like the right move. “Well, uh, good luck. With the whole ‘sling’ fiasco.”

“I’ll need it.”

He smiles, and you easily return it. It’s an olive branch, one that you eagerly reach out and take. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever given you.

Eddie’s walking back down the hallway, feeling as though a weight has been lifted off of his overburdened shoulders, when he hears it:

“...reported to CPS. Apparently, this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

No. No. There’s no way that they could be talking about him.

He rounds the corner towards the school lobby to see Carol Perkins talking to Steve Harrington, her hushed whisper not soft enough to prevent other people from hearing.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Yup,” Carol nods. “Something about when he was born? Like, how bad of a parent do you have to be to get reported to CPS as soon as your kid is born?”

Eddie feels the bile rise in his throat. His suspicions are further confirmed when she adds, “And get this–he was drinking when he brought Harris to the hospital. That’s why I’ll never let Frankie play at his house.”

There’s no way he can just walk past them and act like he hadn’t heard anything, so he decides to wait until they finish their conversation. They made him sound like some sort of neglectful alcoholic who disregards his son’s safety. They made him sound like his dad.

As Steve and Carol say their goodbyes, Eddie takes one last glance back towards the classroom. You’re cheerfully greeting an adoring student, ruffling her hair like you did to Harris at the hospital last night.

Eddie sucks in a quick breath. You were there last night. You were also in the orthopedic wing, as evidenced by your grandma’s injury. You had been humiliated in front of him for the second time; the first was when Eddie hadn’t called you after the one-night stand. And now you wanted revenge.

No wonder you were so friendly this morning. This whole time, you were just waiting for him to slip up. Waiting for him to have his moment of weakness. Now he knows better than to trust you. He won’t make that mistake again.

--

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[shantechni]

Aight, so this is something I intended to make a post about eons ago before making a bunch of posts related to it, but some things happened. Anyways-

The night Leo meets Karai, or rather is ambushed by her, he's thrown for a loop by her unprecedented decision to leave before she could easily finish him off. He's almost instantly putting an unreasonable amount of trust in her after that single interaction, and you can't entirely blame the guy since she was making no attempt to kill him while exuding her mischievous nature and taunting him like they've been buddies for years. Her behavior loosened him up in a way he normally couldn't be because of his duties as a leader. Of course, the situation greatly escalates from there as one thing leads to another, and the turtles are faced with the moral dilemma of accepting Karai for their familial connection with her or shunning her like any other enemy they know as she takes almost any chance she could get to hold a tantō to their necks.

Although none were more expressive with their distrust of her than Raph, there is something interesting to take note of.

Raph is the first to find out about Karai's existence and the evidently one-sided "friendship" Leo has with her, but rather than immediately go on the offensive with Karai (extremely surprising considering she had Leo pinned to the roof right when he arrived) or accuse Leo of any wrongdoing, he simply demands an explanation from his brother. Raph observed the situation with a level head and didn't judge Leo for anything other than seeming too blasé about Karai being a Foot clan member, or for saying she wasn't intent on killing him when she threw a weapon at his head. Other than that, he kept the matter between him and Leo since it didn't seem to be a pressing issue at the moment. His trouble with Karai only really began in the next episode when he witnesses Leo needlessly showing off in front of her and even going out of his way to hide her from Splinter, Donnie, and Mikey.

Nothing's stopping Raph from telling everyone, and he certainly doesn't trust Karai enough to leave things as they are, but he puts his faith in Leo and nudges him to come clean about his new found friend twice to their brothers at least. Soon after being told that Karai was 'taken care of' (something he called total BS on), he reaches his boiling point once he discovers her following them, and his frustrations are worsened by Leo going out of his way to defend Karai when she's spelling trouble for them. As to be expected, Leo is forced to confess after she lands them in hot water and leaves them for dead while running off with a Kraang bot, but once Splinter gives him a much needed lecture, Raph forgives him and seemingly stays out of his face about the ordeal. At least until Karai approaches them with a proposition to combine their forces and fight the Kraang, something he surely would've put up more of a fight to shoot down had the others, namely Leo, not agreed to her offer after she helped them fight the Kraang stealth ship.

All of those instances, when combed through for the little things, are some of the first details the writers gave us to show a major distinction between Leo and Raph.

Raph's temper is so front and center throughout the series that the amount of patience he exercises in response to Leo's asinine decisions and trains of thought (especially early on) has a tendency of being overshadowed. He constantly, and openly, shunned the idea of Karai ever siding with them since he couldn't find it in himself to readily trust her like everyone else could, and even after learning who her real father is, he continued to question the possibility of Karai ever turning out to be good when considering her upbringing. But he still went along with Leo's wishes to help and go so far to befriend her because he knew his brother was simply trying to help someone out of the kindess of his heart at the end of the day, and Leo's only further spurred by her being their sister.

This isn't exclusive to their development with Karai, because we see later on that Raph exercised a far greater amount of that patience when Slash made his theatrical return to the team midway through S3.

One could make the argument that the writers should've had the midseason two parter focus the slightest bit more on Raph's POV since Slash used to be his pet and Leo was the only one unwilling to believe he'd changed since their last encounter, but I'd say with certainty that the minuscule amount of input we received from him is just the right amount of focus we needed. Raph doesn't blow up at Leo for his treatment of Slash because he knows his suspicions aren't baseless, and he doesn't go out of his way to prove Slash's innocence to Leo (Mikey kind of does that for him lol); he only decided to step in when the two couldn't decide on what plan to proceed with. He plainly moves aside and allows Slash to prove Leo wrong through his own efforts, all while undoubtedly believing since their last encounter that Slash isn't bad anymore and that Leo would eventually come around to make that same conclusion.

The complete opposite of Leo's stubborn behavior when it came to Karai.

Look at Leo's face, he's so silly, a goofy goober if you will

Even though she went on to turn her back on Shredder, and essentially prove that Leo was right, Raph wasn't wrong to take so much time to see Karai as a trustworthy ally. He recognized that it wasn't enough for her to just be borderline friendly and fight on the same side as them; legitimate effort needed to be put forth for them to warm up to someone like her, and her track record didn't exactly suggest that she'd readily put in that effort. Leo's fixation with turning the tables on Shredder and making things right with Splinter practically blinded him from that simple little truth though. Of course, he learned the error of his ways and clearly followed in Raph's footsteps when confronting Slash and anyone else they'd cross paths with that posed a potential threat, sometimes tending to go too deep into that mindset when he was upset with Fugitoid and Usagi.

They both learned a little bit of something from each other along the way, but the difference in how Leo and Raph grow to perceive the matter of trusting someone is so fascinating to me.

[bookuce]

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it. 

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book also uses the actual names of the wrestlers. Gionna is Liv Morgan, Austin, is Xavier Woods, Josh is Jey Uso, Jon is Jimmy Uso, Trinity is Naomi, Alina is just Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE.*

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 1,827

PART TWO

PART THREE

“Say, I have a question for you,” Austin says, giving Alina a bright smile. She smiles back at him, a sign of friendliness. 

“What’s up?” She asks.

“How does one manage to be as beautiful as you? I mean, you are stunning, whew!” He exclaims. Alina giggles softly at the compliment. She places her arm on the back of the couch, propping herself up on it. 

“That’s really sweet to say, Austin, thank you.” She grins.

“No, thank you for blessing me with your presence. I can end the night now knowing I got to talk to you.” She rolls her eyes at his words. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to do and why he suddenly took interest in her, but who was she to be rude? They’ve talked a few times in passing, but it was never for long. “We should get you on UpUpDownDown.” He says. She immediately begins to shake her head.

“I don’t really play video games. I’ve never been good at them.” She answers honestly. To let her come on the show would be a waste of time. She also wasn’t comfortable embarrassing herself like that in front of several people. She has watched a few episodes and knew it was a fun show, but her participating? Not happening. 

“I doubt you’re as bad as you say you are.” He assures her. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” She promises. “I am terrible at games.”

Jon still had an amused grin on his face while he watched the two talk. This man is stupid, he thought. Either Austin was crazy, or he didn’t care. Shit, probably both. “That man is going to kill his ass,” Jon mutters to Trinity.

“That’s on him.” She says, not looking up from her phone. “He warned him.” Jon looks up, catching the moment Josh pauses in his tracks at seeing Austin and Alina talking. 

The eldest twin taps his wife’s thigh. “Look, look, look…” He points in Josh’s direction. This was going to be good.

Josh was happily on his way with Alina’s drink until he saw Austin had done the opposite of what he told him. They were sitting close, too close for his liking, and they seemed deep in conversation. Alina would smile at him, and Austin would smile back.

Nothing he says could be worth smiling over like that, he thought. Josh glances down at the drinks in his hand. Just go over there and give her her drink. He’ll move. Don’t cause a scene. It’s nothing, he tells himself.

If jealousy could kill, Josh would be dead ten times over. He craved the attention that everyone else got from Alina. The way she smiles at them, the way she talks to them. He wanted her to do the same to him. Instead, she’s awkward and quiet at times. That was frustrating to him. She never really hints at what goes on in her head. It made him question whether or not he should even feel how he felt. Then he’d see her trying with guys and failing, and it would make him feel some way. He just wanted to make her happy. 

Josh sniffles, quickly regaining composure. He resumes his stride over to the group. When he approaches, he holds Alina’s drink out between the chatting pair. He was purposely blocking Austin’s view of her face. Alina turns to look up at him. “Ay, I got your drink.” He says, his eyes fixated on the guy next to her. Alina slowly takes the drink from him.

“Thank you, Josh…” She says. 

“No problem.” He says quickly, now slowly swaying from left to right, a sign of impatience.

Alina continued to stare at him, but he would never meet her gaze. No, he was watching Austin, who was smirking at him. “You gonna sit down, Uce?” Jon asks, leaning forward. The elder twin was ready to jump up to stop his brother from doing anything stupid. 

“Nah, I’m good.” He says, not breaking his glare. “You good, Uce?” He asks Austin. That was him telling Austin to move. Here he goes, Alina thought. She finally looks away from him, her lips touching the brim of her cup. She slowly tilts the cup back, drinking the cup full with no breaks.  It’s going to be a long night. Austin scoffs slightly, his smile still intact. 

“You got it.” He says finally, putting his hands up in defeat. He moves back into his previous spot. Josh moves to sit down in his seat. 

“Was that necessary?” Alina asks.

He reaches down, grabbing her legs and pulling them between his own. “Yep.” Alina probably shouldn’t have giggled, but the two mixed drinks she shotgunned and tequila shots were beginning to creep up on her. He shouldn’t grab her like that.

“And who are you supposed to be?” She asks. Josh doesn’t answer her. Instead, he takes a swig of the beer in his hand. She places two fingers on his left cheek, forcing him to look at her. She lifts her eyebrows, waiting for a response. One never came. “That’s what I thought.” She drops her hand from his face. They would exchange stares until Josh would glance down at her lips. Lina would suck in a deep breath before inevitably looking away. He shouldn’t look at her like that. “Well, I want another drink.” She mutters to herself. “Who wants drinks?” She asks. 

“I do,” Austin chimes in. 

Alina moves to stand but is pulled back down to Josh. She plops into his lap, a gasp leaving her lips as she does so. He really shouldn’t grab her like that. “Nah, get someone else to do it.” He says. Alina’s brows furrow at him before she reaches down to remove his hand from her thigh. 

“Please, go to hell.” She says, prying his hand off of her. 

“Or I can go with you to the bar. How about that?” When she stands, so does he. She doesn’t argue with him, but she does roll her eyes. Alina turned her attention to the group again, only to find them staring at the pair. They weren’t sure what they were seeing. Was it fighting, flirting, or some sick combination of both? “Drinks?” She asks, gesturing to everyone.

“Get me another beer, Uce,” Jon says.

“Vodka Cran for me.” Orders Trinity.

“Two more shots of tequila.” Gionna requests.

“I’ll have a beer too.” Austin adds. 

Alina steps around the couch, marching over to the bar. Josh follows behind her, leaving the group once more. Everyone exchanged glances at each other after the exchange. “They get like this every time they drink together,” Jon says, shaking his head. “How long before they fight and get us kicked out?” He asks, looking at Trinity.

“Depends. How many fruity drinks have Alina had?” She asks. It was always the fruity drinks that got poor Alina. 

“Just one so far.” Gionna answers. 

“It’s that bad?” Austin asks.

“Yes, fool!” Jon exclaims. “That’s why I said leave her alone! Them folks are crazy!” Alina and Josh, with alcohol in their systems, are a match made in Hell. Josh had been drinking since before Alina got to the club. The beer in his hand was his seventh. He had about three more in him before he was at the point of no return. Alina was on her third mixed drink, two of which were fruity. The tequila shots would bring her up to five drinks in total. She swears she has a high tolerance for alcohol, much like Josh does, but doesn’t. Neither of them do.

Separately, they were fine, but together? It’s a whole other story. 

Josh follows behind Alina, his pace slower than hers. To him, it seemed she was trying to put space between them. She would tell him he was correct if he had to assume out loud. She shouldn't be turned on by the way he was acting tonight, but here she was, practically foaming at the mouth. Alina makes it to the bar, eyes fixated on the alcohol on the wall before her. The bartender would immediately come to her, ready to take her order. “One tequila sunrise, three beers, and a Vodka Cran.” Alina orders. She turns to Josh, who’s watching her. “I’m forgetting something.”

“Gigi’s shots.” He answers.

“Oh, right! And two tequila shots!” She says, turning to the bartender. The bartender walks away, leaving the couple alone. Josh placed his beer on the bar top and leaned in towards Alina.

“You look good.” He tells her. 

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Okay.” 

 “Here you go.” He huffs, shaking his head at her. 

“What do you want me to say? Thank you?”

“Uh, yes? That’s the normal thing to say to compliments, Alina.”

She wasn’t much of a compliments person. It makes her feel like someone wants something from her when she hears them. The people pleaser in her would forever deliver even when she didn’t want to. “Thank you, Joshua.” She says finally.

“You’re trying to be funny.”

“I said thank you!” She says, laughing. Josh places his hand on the barstool behind Alina, blocking her in. After a bit of silence, she turns to him. “You look good too.” She says, leaning into him. The bartender put out her tequila sunrise, and she immediately grabbed it. 

Josh glances down at his appearance. “Do I?” She nods. “I put this on for you.” He jokes. Alina would take a sip of her drink, humming softly at it. “Is it good?” Josh asks, leaning into her again. 

“Yeah, taste it.” She brings her glass to his lips, all while still holding his gaze. Her stare always made him weak in the knees. All she had to do was look at him, and Josh was under her command. He’d part his lips slightly, allowing the rim of the glass to touch his lips. She’d tilt it back, letting the orange liquid touch his tongue. The taste of Orange Juice came and went quickly. All that was left behind was the strong taste of tequila. Josh pulls his head back. “Yeah?” She asks, lowering her drink.

“Nah,” He says quickly, shaking his head. “That drink is strong as hell.” They both start to laugh. God, they were drunk. Alina leans into his arms, burying her face in his chest. His hand would move from the chair and touch her back. That touch was the catalyst for what was to come. His fingertips would trace her spine, sending shivers along her body. She’d arch towards him, lifting her head to look at him. They were very close, their noses almost touching.

“You shouldn’t touch me like that.” She whispers.

“My bad.” He whispers back. His hand would curl against the small of her back, now closing and opening in a scratching manner. She shakily breathes, her head tilting down to break his gaze. “Lina.” He calls to her.

Ah, fuck it, Alina thought as she pulled his face to hers in a bruising kiss. 

NEXT PART

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

A/N: So y'all blew the first and second parts of this up...that's cool lol.

Thank you to everyone who is reading this so far! I really do appreciate all the kindness and support I am receiving! It means a lot to me!

Stay tuned for part four!

🏷️list: @paigereeder @wrestlingprincess80 @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @alichesmi @reci1996 @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @trashbin-nie @meannaim @siriuslycee

[rafedaddy01]

AN: please send me in some requests

Summary: your brothers best friends takes you home after a party to make sure you get home safe. Things get a little heated when you make the first move…

Rafe takes me by the arm. Dragging me out of the party he sets me in his car. I don’t even remember the drive. My mind so gone from the alcohol flowing in my system.

“Where are we” I slur out. As he pulls me out of the car one arm around my waist as the other opens the front door to his mansion the fresh air gives me a ping of soberness.

“Y/n you drank too much, I’m just trying to make sure your safe, Brodie will kill me if anything happens to you” he sets me down to lean against the wall as he shuts the door and locks up.

I’ve always thought Rafe was hot. His baby smooth face. How gentle he is with me. Always making clever remarks whenever we bicker about stupid shit. His muscular arms that lead to those fingers that I think about every night.

“You good y/n?” Rafe looks at me and realize that I’ve been ogling him this whole time, my body feels desperate to touch him, I can’t help myself.

I reach out for him but my wrist gets caught before I can even lay a finger on his sweet face, “y/n, you’re drunk” Rafes voice is low and husky as his throat bobs, he wants me, I can tell.

“That’s what’s so fun about this” I tease him as a devilish smile curls my lips.

Rafe takes a moment to think before he musks up the courage, “no, this is wrong, your my best friends little sister” he’s still holding on to my arm, like the little bit of contact he gets calms him.

I’m about to say something back but just as my lips part the hallway light turns on. “Rafe. Is that you son?” Wards voice is heard as Rafe pulls me back. “Yeah dad. Just me” Rafe tugs me up the stairs and pulls me into his room.

The alcohol warming my body makes me feel all giddy and definitely gives me the confidence I lack sober.

The door shuts and I take a look around, I’ve never really been in Rafes room, sure we’ve hung out one on one but that was always in a public place.

“Rafe Cameron’s bedroom. Is this where the magic happens?” I can’t help but giggle a little at his frustrated face. He’s trying to contain himself but I can tell he wants to let go.

“No one has ever been in his room let alone this house.” He says under his breath as he walks up to his closet. Opening the door and pulling out a t-shirt.

“Really? Your know all over this town I just assumed..” I walked around his room admiring how clean and well maintained everything was. The bed made. Not a speck of dust to be found on the drawers and a soft sandalwood smell surrounding us.

“Maybe you shouldn’t listen to everything you hear” Rafes back is still to me and I admire the way his muscles are seen even in the dimmed room.

He turns around and I take the opportunity to step a bit closer.

“That’s a same, although it works out for me because now I have you all to myself” I close the space between us but he steps away before I can get too close.

“What’s wrong? Has it been that long you forgot what to do” I tease him.

“You need to sleep it off. Wear this” he hands me the t-shirt he pulled from his closet. “You can sleep on the bed. I’ll-“

“I’m not a little girl anymore” I frown, starting to get a little frustrated.

“Y/n” he rubs his temples as he closes his eyes and huffs a breath. “Just-“

“Do you not want me? Don’t you think I’m hot?” I ask shamelessly, the alcohol giving me a loose tongue.

“Y/n, we’re not doing this right now” he warns in a dark tone

“But your the one that brought me here”

“I’m gonna go get you a glass of water” he starts to move and I blurt out, “wait” I pull the straps of my dress down, letting it pool at my feet “I’m not a little girl anymore”

“Fuck. I know y/n. Trust me. I fucking know” he groans like his whole bodies in pain.

“You wanna see more. Don’t you” I take a step towards him and his body stills but his eyes stay averted away from me. “I can tell”

As I stepped closer his eyes connected with mine slipping down to my chest before making contact again and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Part 2

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @hoesindifferentshows @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv

[strwyofthesun]

a workplace escapade

pairing: id!leon kennedy x agent!(f)reader

synopsis: you work at the DSO and your days there have become increasingly mundane till you are assigned to a mission with Leon under the president's orders. and ever since then, tension grows between the two of you in your workplace.

word count: 2.4k

cont: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, masturbation, oral (m receiving), slight degrading, overstimulation, breeding (?)

a/n: it's like 5 am here and i have not had a blink of sleep. also, is it normal to feel hella embrassed when writing smut? can't take myself seriously i sweaaar. stream sntv too, i was inspired by i can see you to write this cuz shits jus so good.

reblogs, comments, reqs are highly appreciated! <3

The days in the headquarters of the Divisions of Security Operations have been getting more and more tiresome the longer you’ve been working. When you were newly employed, the job seemed exciting at first. Working alongside the best of the best agents from all across different branches of the US federal government, it was nice to have more company and see new faces. Over time though, the missions increased in difficulty and you’ve seen friends and colleagues come and go. You’ve tried your hardest not to become numb to everything but hid your emotions of anger and frustrations. On days where you weren’t on the front lines fighting, you were in stuffy, cold rooms reporting on what happened during your missions and relaying the information you have found. Your work-life balance was basically non-existent at this point, spending most of your time in and out the headquarters and if you’re lucky, you’d get to go home and relax for a while until you are called again for the next assignment.

Nothing gave you any thrill or excitement anymore. Everything had become a routine to you, until, under the president’s orders, you and agent Leon S. Kennedy are paired together for a mission. You left your comfort of your home immediately as soon as you were called and headed to the white house to meet the president and Leon.

Leon wasn’t exactly a new name or face to you. You’ve heard about his deeds and he does live up to the name he has made for himself. There has been a couple of instances where the two of you would bump into each other in hallways, but other than catching each other’s glances, there wasn’t anything more to say really. Though, you had to admit, other than being one of the president’s bets, he had looks that could kill as well. It’s hard to miss him whenever he’s around. His striking blue eyes, tall figure, long blonde hair, and that charming smile of his. If only your job had room for having more of a life, you’d have probably fooled around with Leon by now. But sadly, that isn’t the case.

You shortly arrived at the foot of the president’s office and you could hear him talking to who you assumed was Leon. Two of the president’s bodyguards opened the door for you and you let yourself in.

“Ah, speak of the devil, she’s here.” The president said while smiling at you. “I’m sure you are acquainted with one another, yes?” He asked while looking at the two of us.

“Yes, Mr. President but it’s our first time working together.” You responded.

“Oh? Is that so? I trust that my best agents will be fine.”

You got flustered at the president’s comment and hear Leon chuckle from the side, “We’re flattered sir.”

The president soon briefed the both of you on what needs to be done and the goals you must achieve. You and Leon nodded in agreement and the president patted the both of you on the shoulder with a look of pride painted on his face. “Make me proud my agents.”

The mission went according to plan and was successful. The following day, the both of you return to HQ and prepare to report what happened. You sported a white long sleeve button-up that has been rolled up and a black skirt that hugged your figure nicely. It wasn’t all the time you wore an outfit like that whenever you reported back, so not only were people congratulating you for the successful mission but at the same time, complimenting you on your outfit. You arrived rather early in the meeting room as it was only you and a couple associates in the room. Later, heads started turning once Leon stepped into the room. He was wearing a blue suit with a white button up underneath, looking jaw-dropping to say the least. The men and women in the room stood up to shake hands with him as you patiently waited for your turn. You stood up and walked up to him while he checked you out.

“Nice outfit. Suits you.” He said smiling at you.

You returned the smile and said, “I can say the same to you.”

The two of you head to the front and start recounting the events that have occurred. Whilst you were talking, you noticed Leon from the corner of your eye, looking at you. But it wasn’t just a simple look, you could see his eyes shine as he drowned in the sight of you. It was as though he was undressing you with his stare. One of the associates asked Leon a question but he didn’t respond due to him still having his gaze fixated on you. You turn to look at him directly and uttered a small “Hey” to catch his attention. He snapped out of his trance and apologized. Leon answered the question and for the rest of the meeting he really couldn’t keep his eyes of you.

Once the meeting was finished, you came up to him and jokingly asked, “Did I have something in my teeth? Why were you staring?”

“Oh, was I? I didn’t realize… I'm sorry." He apologized.

“No need to apologize. It’s okay Leon.” You reassured him.

He then gestured for the door and held it open for you. You thanked him and went parted ways for the day. When you weren't on a mission, you mostly spent your time on your desk from morning till night while occasionally running into Leon if he wasn't on a mission as well. You’d give each other an awkward smile and go about your business. This went on for about a week and over time, Leon was suddenly all you could think about every time you’re at work. Hopping that you’d bump into him somehow or see him around the halls. The thought of catching him staring at you excited you. It felt like there was this electrifying tension between the two of you.

You were done working together for a mission, but something told you that this wasn’t just the end for the both of you. Impure thoughts filled your head, distracting you from your job. You could tell that it wasn’t just you, and that’s what thrilled you the most. Knowing that you both want each other, yet held back. It made you long for him even more. The times you and Leon would talk to each other for work purposes, the two of you kept your composure and kept it professional when deep down you both needed the fulfill the urge to be on each other's bodies.

It was getting late at night already and you yawned from the exhaustion of a long day’s work. You rummage through your paper looking for a specific document when you remembered that you had left it in a meeting room. You sighed and sluggishly make your way to the meeting room, cussing yourself out for forgetting and now you’re working overtime. As you approach the door, you hear noises coming from the room. You thought it was odd that someone was still in there since the building was almost empty at that hour. Leaning into the door, you peaked through the glass and see Leon, touching himself. He moaned your name under his breath along with profanities. This took you by surprise. You leaned even closer on the door and ended up accidentally pushing it, making Leon jolt knowing that he’s been caught.

He quickly zips up his pants and walks up to door to see who was looking, when he was then met face to face with you.

“I-I left something inside the room…” You stuttered.

Leon just looked at you panting slightly, forehead glistening with sweat and the buttons of his shirt open just enough to see his bare chest. You excused yourself and went in the room and grabbing the document you left when all of the sudden, Leon pinned you to the wall, barely leaving any space between the two of you.

“Are you really just going to leave me here?” Leon asked .

“You seemed… busy.”

Leon let out a chuckle and leaned in close to your ear, “I know you heard me…” His breath making contact on your skin made you shudder.

“Maybe I can help you out..." You whispered back dropping the document to the floor and placing your hand on his chest, slowly moving down, palming his hard dick through his pants. Leon buried his face into your neck trying to stifle his moans. You undo his button, unzip his pants, and pull it down along with his boxers.

You bend down to kneel infront of Leon and level with his cock. You run your thumb over his tip making Leon's breath hitch. You let your tongue slide along his shaft tracing the veins on it. Slowly, you take in his dick in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down while your hand stroked the lower shaft. You licked his tip and left kisses on it, teasing Leon. You speed up the pace leaving Leon breathless, throwing his head back.

"Faster..." Leon panted.

"I can't hear you, Leon. Speak up."

"Faster... please..." Leon says louder this time. you granted his request and start pumping him faster. His mouth is agape as he starts heaving heavily. It turned you on knowing that you could make the Leon Kennedy like this. The thoughts of you and him together were coming to life, and this was barely scratching the surface of all the things you've imagined.

"Fuck, I'm gonna... cum..." he said trying to desperately get out the words from his mouth. You moved even more swiftly this time until Leon came onto your hand and before he could even ride it out, you started stroking his still hard and now sensitive dick.

"Wha- what the fuck are y-you doing?" He hissed.

You don't reply. You just look at him in his eyes while you pick up the pace catching Leon off guard.

Leon whined, "Please..."

"Please what?" you responded.

"S-Stop..." He managed to say.

"And why would I do that? You seem to be enjoying it." you smirk as you stroked his dick faster and faster.

Leon started to tremble a bit and his cock twitched in your hand. He groaned at how you were pumping his overstimulated cock, continuously moaning, filling up the room with his whines and groans. He was begging to you to stop but you didn't. You didn't stop until he came again. And when he did, you finally let him ride his climax down.

Once he settled down, he looked at you menacingly and you thought to yourself, if eyes could kill, you'd definitely be dead by now.

"Stand up. You think I'd let that shit slide?" he said as he heaved. You stood up as Leon grabbed you and turned you around, your back facing his. He pulled you closer, one arm wrapped around your torso while the other snaked its way down to your core. His hand unbuttoned your shirt, slid its way into your bra, and fondled with your boobs, leaving a moan escape your mouth. His other hand moved in tight circles around your clit, doubling the pleasure you were feeling at that moment. Leon pulled your skirt up and pulled your soaked panties down. He slipped his dick inbetween your thighs just right at the surface of your cunt. He thrusted back and forth making sure his dick isn't in you on purpose. He was teasing you and you were starting to become needy.

"Leon... put it in me..." you tried pleading with him.

"Beg for it." He responded, his lips curling into a smirk as he continued moving his dick through the folds of your slick cunt. "Please Leon... I need you in me." Hearing you beg for him, he gave into it and rammed his dick in your cunt leaving you and him gasping at the sudden movement.

"Leon what the fuck?!" you screamed. "I gave you what you wanted didn't I? Ungrateful bitch..." Although Leon was cussing you out, you didn't feel any sort of hatred or resentment towards him. In fact, it turned you on even more and Leon was catching up to it.

"You like it when I call you a bitch huh?" he asked as his hand moved from your boobs to your jaw, squeezing it.

He moved closer to your ear and whispered, "Or would you prefer if I called you a slut instead? Would you like that?" You nod your head in response.

"My, my, what a dirty little slut you are... I can't wait to fuck you like one." He said as he lets go of his grip on your jaw.

"I'll be your slut and yours only... Use me however you like. I'm at your disposal Leon." You said breathelessly.

"Oh I'll never dispose you. I'll make sure I fill you up with my cum like the fucking slut you are. So shut the fuck up and take it." Leon whispered as he started pounding hard into you leaving you in shambles. Whatever mess you left Leon in a while ago, you were now twice the mess he was.

Leon was fucking you in every spot you thought nobody could even fucking reach. He placed his hands on your hips and gripped it tightly as he pounded his cock deep into you. You were panting, breathing heavy, moaning, whining, all of the above.

"Good girl... You really are taking it like a slut. So fucking good for me."

Your walls tighten around Leon's cock, milking him off everything he had in him. You scream, "Le-Leon! F-Fuck I'm gonna cum!"

"That's right cum for me, princess." You came screaming his name but he didn't stop. "Leon! S-Stop please..." You begged.

"Why would I stop? I haven't even came yet." He said with a smirk plastered on his face. All your pleading went in his ear and out the other. He continued ramming into you while your eyes welled up with tears from the feelings of pleasure derived from pain. As much as it hurt, you didn't want it to stop either. Leon quickened his thrusts and grunted as he came, feeling his hot cum fill you.

"Take all that in." he moaned into your ear. As he was filling you with his seed, tears streamed down your face from the overstimulation. Leon pulled out and made you face him.

"Don't cry princess, isn't this what you wanted?" Leon said as he kissed the tears off your face. Trails of kisses from your cheeks led to your lips and the both of you share a long and passionate kiss before pulling away and fixing each other's clothes.

Maybe overtime wasn't so bad after all.