#Witness Part 1 Innocent Blood

[forensicated]

[martyrlamb]

✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer. 

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently. 

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on. 

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s  like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night. 

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder. 

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot. 

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air. 

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm. 

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather. 

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh. 

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side. 

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot. 

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job. 

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles. 

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you. 

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors. 

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either. 

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency. 

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home. 

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something. 

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it. 

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him. 

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly. 

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that. 

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes. 

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts. 

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him. 

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word. 

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came. 

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals. 

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow. 

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone. 

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed. 

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.” 

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold. 

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?” 

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back. 

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew. 

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort. 

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious?  You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again. 

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag. 

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it. 

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes. 

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re  enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find  yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath. 

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like. 

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over. 

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic. 

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention. 

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on. 

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all. 

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face. 

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

[msgexymunson]

One Slow Blink Part 1

Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give? 

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.

A/N: Part 1 of 2, only due to Tumblr restrictions. Adding the second part in a minute. This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)

22k words in total for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)

Masterlist Part 2

Tires screech off of the road and onto a dirt path as Nancy turns erratically in her station wagon, the whole car shuddering in protest. Her hands are shaking on the wheel; so much so that you place a placating hand on her knee to try to calm her down. 

You didn't know Nancy, not really. Hell, you only knew Dustin because he came into the hospital for a nasty cut on his leg when he fell off his bike three months ago. Then all of a sudden he shows up in the emergency room covered in blood, grime matted into his curly locks and tear streaks cutting through the dirt on his face. 

He swore until he was blue in the face that it wasn't his, that he needed a doctor, anyone that could help. You tried and failed to convince him to call an ambulance but he insisted that no one else in the hospital would understand. 

There was something about the desperate look in his eyes. It was frightening; those innocent eyes were hard, harder than they had any right to be. Dustin had seen something no child should have had to witness. With Max being admitted blind and unconscious with both arms and legs broken, and all the talk about strange occurrences around town, not to mention the freak earthquakes, it wasn't difficult to believe. But there was something he was not telling you, you were sure of it. Who comes to the ER without a patient and begs a nurse to come with them?

A feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach. The same thing had happened when the mall caught on fire. A feeling that things weren't what they at first glance appeared. Something strange and unnatural was going in, you were sure of it.

Maybe that's why you stole a trauma kit out of an ambulance. Maybe that's why you got in the car, pushed into the front seat by Dustin and Nancy. Maybe that's why you're being bundled out of said car and running through the woods, bracken cutting your ankles through your scrubs and leaves whipping at your face. 

A light in the distance cuts through the dark, glowing and growing as you quickly approach. A small cabin, you see, ramshackle and falling apart. Stepping towards it, you're about to go in when a bellowing roar echoes throughout the woods and into your chest, vibrating your very lungs and stealing your breath away. The kind of roar that makes your survival instincts run wild, telling you to flee. You would listen to it, if your gut wasn't telling you that you were right where you were supposed to be. 

A minute later, Steve is slamming the front door open, looking dishevelled. There's crimson smeared on his cheek; two long cuts run from temple to jaw dripping blood. 

“Is he why-” 

“Henderson, what the hell dude! You can't just bring anyone here!” 

“I know Steve! She can help, she's a doctor-” 

“Nurse, actually,” you interrupt rather sheepishly. 

Steve rubs his hand through his mussed up hair and takes a pace backwards.

“Great, that's just great. When I told you to get someone-” 

Dustin's response is high pitched and hard, tuning through the clearing. 

“I did. I got someone! It's not like I could freaking advertise!” 

“Look, you said you need help. What can I do?” 

Steve and Dustin exchange dark glances. 

“Alright, you better come with me.”

He heads back inside and you follow quietly wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into. 

The cabin is quaint, and clearly used to be a well loved home a while ago. Now however, there's a gaping hole in the ceiling and dust trailed across the living area. Robin is sitting on an old sofa, you remember her being in band at school. She looks terrible, cracking her knuckles and mumbling to herself incoherently. 

“He's through here.” 

You trail Steve as he leads to a door that's slightly ajar. Pushing it open with one finger he leans on the doorframe and gestures with the other hand at the most impossible thing you've ever seen in your life. 

“What… is that?” 

“That is Eddie.” 

There's a figure strapped to a double bed with strips of fabric bound to its wrists and ankles. Torn clothing is clinging to parts of it, and what skin you can see is a mass of blood and hair. No, not hair. Fur. Its spine seems wrong, curving more than a humans, and its fingers are thick and adorned with semicircular black claws. The face is not recognizable anymore. You see a huge maw, lips curled in anger with razor sharp teeth on display and spit gathering down its matted chin. That's been bound too; a leather belt wrapped tight around it, you assume to stop it biting. It writhes around on the bed, snarling and growling deep in its throat as various wounds bleed out in front of you. One of its arms, if you could call it that, is bent at an odd angle and seems to be limp compared to the rest of it. 

Standing there open-mouthed, you gawp at the thing.

“You said this is- this is Eddie??” 

“Listen, I know it's insane-” 

You step into the room, pulled by an invisible thread. It turns its head and looks straight into your eyes. Wide, warm eyes, full of pain, pleading with you. They're a soft brown, burnt umber, with a whisper of honey and summer days. Familiar eyes. Human eyes. 

“Its- his arm is broken I think, and these wounds… isn't he wanted for-” 

“He didn't do it. He could never. Just- just do what you can. Please. He- he's a hero.”

Standing by the edge of the bed, you reach out with shaking fingers to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He whips his head around, jaw inches from your trembling hand. His chest is heaving, arm struggling against its bindings. 

“Eddie.” 

You kneel to his eye level and stroke softly at the tatters of his t-shirt. He looks panicked, wide eyes rolling like a cornered animal as he continues to struggle. 

“Eddie, I'm here to help you.” 

Nothing but low growls and broken whines come from his tightly bound maw. The thrashing intensifies; he nearly lifts the bed up with sheer force. Steve takes a step back, but not you. 

You climb up on the bed and straddle his floundering form. Blood smears your scrubs as you grasp his head firmly and turn it to face you. 

“Eddie Munson, you listen to me right now! Stop squirming and listen!” 

The silence is deafening, ringing in your ears. He stops his incessant battle against his confines and looks at you, the look of a frightened boy. 

Voice softening, you stroke at the newly grown fur on his cheek. It's soft and warm. 

“Eddie, do you remember me? We used to have English class together two years ago, with Mrs O’Donnell? You sat next to me. Remember?” 

A flash of recognition dawns behind those soft brown eyes. 

“You were late nearly everyday. You used to draw amazing things in your notebook, all sorts of creatures and symbols and I thought it was incredible. You- any time you caught me looking at you, you winked. You know I nearly failed that class because I was too busy staring at you, seeing what you'd do next?” 

His breathing starts to slow down, his heaving chest moving up and down almost rhythmically now. 

“You are Eddie Munson. You're in there, I can tell. I know you're scared, I get it, but I need to try and treat you. OK?” 

He breathes deep, and something akin to a nod happens which seems to hurt him judging by the way his face tightens. 

“Right. Stay still. I need to try and set your arm. I've got some painkillers in the trauma bag, so I'll need to inject you. Can you- can you blink once for yes, twice for no?” 

He closes his eyes slowly, tight shut, and then opens them again. 

“That's it, that's good. I'll be back.” 

Clambering off his huge form, you turn to Steve who is already clutching the bag in his hands. 

“That was- how did you do that?” 

Filtering through the bag to find what you need, you pull out a syringe and unpack it, and find the drugs you're looking for and start setting up the needle. 

“Listen, if I think about this too much I'm gonna panic, so shut up. I've never done this before.” 

A strange calmness has descended upon you. Taking the needle you move back to Eddie's side and find a vein in his muscular arm. 

“Eddie, I'm gonna inject you with some painkillers to take the edge off, OK?” 

One slow blink. 

“Good. You'll feel a scratch, doing it now.” 

Once the drugs hit his system you know they've helped as the tension seems to leave his body. 

“I need to set his arm, can you try and hold him steady?” 

Steve looks like he'd rather run for the hills, but to his credit he nods and approaches. 

“Right, hold up by his shoulder there, keep him still.” 

You untie his limp wrist and Eddie whimpers when his arm falls to the bed. 

“Now, Eddie, this is gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done it'll feel alot better.” 

Instead of counting down you just arrange his arm into what you think is the right place and twist in one smooth motion. 

Eddie's body convulses; you can see Steve trying to push all his weight into him, knuckles white from the pressure. The howling growl that rips from Eddie is muffled by the leather strap around his muzzle, and then it cuts off. 

Eddie is completely still. After a second, a snarling snore fills the room. 

“I think he passed out.” 

“That's probably for the best. Now I need two straight sticks or something, and the bandages from my bag. I suppose I need to splint this.” 

“What do you mean you suppose?” 

“Steve!” 

“OK OK! Jeez, you sound just like Nancy.” 

He jogs off to get what you asked for, and when you have your materials you tie his arm into a makeshift splint. 

“Now, there's trauma shears in the bag. I need to cut his clothes off and treat these wounds.” 

Steve fumbles through the bag as you get more bandages and gauze ready. He passes them to you and you methodically remove the scraps of grimy torn clothes, eventually leaving him in a pair of tatty looking boxer shorts. 

“Are you gonna, erm, cut those-” 

“I think we can leave those on,” you rush it out of your mouth, a little faster and more high pitched than you meant to. 

“Now, I need warm water and a clean towel or something.” 

As you work together, Steve following your directions, you clean and bandage each wound you see as best as you can. After what seems like forever, you're finally finished, collapsing onto the floor exhausted with your back flush against the wall to keep you upright.

“He's probably gonna need some antibiotics. Those bites looked pretty gnarly. Maybe a tetanus shot. Fuck, maybe a vet.” 

You huff a laugh with zero amusement in it as Steve sinks to the floor next to you.

“That was awesome, how'd you know all that stuff?” 

“I'm studying to be a doctor, and I read every chance I get. I'm a junior nurse. You get to see some shit in the ER. Nothing like this, but apparently I must have learned something.” 

“Sure did. You wanna go and get some rest? There's a bed next door.” 

“No, I'll stay here, keep an eye on him. He's gonna need food, and water though.” 

“I got it.” 

Steve gets up and leaves, returning with a chair and a blanket. 

“Thanks Steve. Is Dustin alright?” 

“He fell asleep on the couch, when he's awake we'll tell you everything.” 

He goes then, and you hear the front door shut softly. 

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

You ache, your back bending, contorting in a way that makes it burn. A warm blanket is covering your shoulders though, and the pillow underneath you is firm and fuzzy. There's an odd pressure on top of your head; it's slightly comforting. Risking opening one eye, yesterday's memories begin to flow into your consciousness. 

You're sitting in a chair, bent over Eddie's sick bed, and that's not a pillow. Your head is resting on a furry shoulder. Reaching a tentative hand upward you realise his huge paw of a hand is resting on your head. Fingers find coarse hair, rougher than the fuzz on his chest, and his thick fingers taper into a bone like claw, smooth and curved. 

With the patience of a bomb defusal expert, you lift his hand ever so gently and place it on his stomach. There's much less fur there, you see in the daylight, mostly skin and rippling muscle. It flexes under your gaze as his paw settles on top of it, absentmindedly scratching his skin in his sleep. 

Careful not to wake him, you sit up and stretch, hearing pops and clicks from your backbone. He looks peaceful, huge chest rising and falling gently. The hair on his head is still long, matted and dirty but soft looking. There's a fuzz on his cheeks, and that maw of his is no longer snarling in pain though his canines still jut out slightly. An ear peeks out from his curls, the flesh still soft and pinkish, but it curls into a rounded point with downy fur at the tip. 

Your eyes rake down, over his chest with the tattoo near his heart. The fur is thinner here too, and starts growing thickly in a long rope at his belly button, towards the hem of his underwear. A small gasp escapes you when you see the tent in his boxers. His member is pressing hard against the fabric, trying to break free from its cotton prison. It's thick, and clearly enormously long, your thighs clenching at the thought of touching it. 

Well that was unexpected. You tear your eyes away almost shamefully. Just look at him, he's almost monstrous. Stop thinking about his package. 

The door behind you creaks open, and Dustin is standing there. His gaze sweeps over Eddie, then sees what you just saw. Eyes widening comically, he slaps a hand over his face to block his view. 

You stand, shrugging off the blanket you had wrapped around you, and place it delicately over Eddie. Taking one last look at his peaceful features, you follow Dustin out. 

He and Nancy tell you everything. The demogorgon, the Upside Down, Will, Eleven, Vecna. It takes a couple of hours but you're patient, only asking questions to clarify some points. It's not like you don't believe him. After last night, you think you could believe anything. 

By the time he's done, Steve is back with food, dumping bags in the kitchen. 

“I took Robin home, she's in shock but she'll be alright. So how's Eddie Dog?” 

“Eddie Dog?” You question, brow furrowing. Dustin pipes up. 

“Demogorgon, Demodogs, Eddie Dog. I did think DemoEddie but Dog seems more-” 

“I get it. He seems alright, I think. I mean, he's sleeping. I'll have to check the arm, and see if he gets a fever or anything but that seems like the least of his problems.” 

Nancy speaks then, looking at you gently. 

“You're being really, calm, about all this. You OK?” 

“Oh I'm fine. I don't know why, but I'm fine. I sort of knew, deep down, what's been happening wasn't normal. Something told me I needed to be here, and I was right.” 

Steve nods, happy with your response. At least he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out right now. Nancy just purses her lips and doesn't say anything else. 

“I'm gonna have to untie him, you know. He needs to drink, and eat.” 

“I'll help.” Dustin stands up, but you wave him down. 

“No, I'll do it. He calmed down for me yesterday. I can do it.” 

You stand and walk back over to Eddie's room, pushing the door open carefully. He stirs, looking at you with one eye. 

“Eddie, how you feeling?” 

He snorts, trying to paw at the leather around his muzzle with his injured arm. 

“I'm gonna take that off and untie you. Are you… are you gonna be nice?” 

He settles in the bed, head low to his chest. You take that as the best sign you can get right now. Walking over to him slowly, he turns his head to you. His eyes are soft. 

You reach your hand out and cup his face gently, working the belt off with the other as you make shushing noises at him. You're not sure if they are for his benefit or yours. 

When it's off, Eddie stretches his mouth wide, giving you a flash of rows of sharp teeth, and a long, thick purplish tongue. He snaps it shut and licks his lips dryly. 

“You want some water?” 

He blinks slowly at you. His eyelashes are thick and long, and almost look weirdly feminine against his wolfish face. 

“Oh you remember that?”

Another slow blink. 

“Good. Let me get you some water.” 

You stand up but Steve's already at your elbow with a glass. 

“Hey Munson, still alive then?” 

Eddie stares at Steve for a second, lifts his injured arm up gradually, and unfurls his middle finger. Steve laughs loudly; relief coating it. 

“Seems like you're still you. Good, I can't handle Dustin on my own, he's exhausting.” 

A weird huffing noise comes from Eddie, almost a laugh. You hold the water up and he sits up slightly. No idea of how to get him to drink it, you tip up his chin and trickle some water gently into his open maw. He splutters slightly but manages to swallow it. 

“I'm gonna untie you now, OK?” 

He blinks slowly at you again and an unexpected warmth floods you. You begin at his feet; unbinding them, rubbing his ankles where they are red and sore, and rotating his feet around to get his circulation back. When you move to his bound arm he stares at you intensely, so much so it makes you blush. You take the same amount of time inspecting it, rubbing the redness away and circling his wrist. 

When you move your hand he grasps it awkwardly so you can't move away. An odd noise is coming out of his mouth, a drawn out rumble of sound. His eyes crease with the effort.

A word emerges. 

“...Thank.” 

It's low, animal like, almost a growl, but it's a word. 

“Eddie, you can talk?” 

Tears spring into the corners of your eyes, though you don't know why. His face scrunches again, another bubble of growling sound forcing its way out of his maw. 

“...harrrd.” 

He looks like he's about to cry. You hold his cheek, stroking at the soft fur.

“It's alright, I'm sure it'll get better. You're just not used to it. I'll talk enough for the both of us, OK?” 

He blinks deliberately at you again. A moment passes where you just stare at each other. Shaking your head as if to clear it, you cross to the other side of the bed to look at his broken arm. 

“This looks… this can't be right. Eddie, does it hurt?” 

He blinks once. 

“OK, does it hurt a lot?” 

Two slow blinks.  

Untying the bandage, it looks almost healed. You change it, and inspect his other wounds. They look like they're already scarring, a mass of dried blood sticks to each patch of matted fur and skin but you could swear the damage happened weeks ago. They're healed so much that you take the wrappings off and don't bother to recover them. 

“They've healed. I don't know how, but look.” 

Eddie looks down at the scars on his abdomen, pawing at them in disbelief, causing dried blood to crust off in crimson flakes. 

“Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you clean.” 

He nods softly and you move to hold his uninjured arm to help him up. Placing two elongated feet on the floor, he manages to bend his knees and rise from the mattress. 

He's huge. Seeing him unfurl makes you realise just how huge. He's got to be at least seven feet tall, with a broad chest and thick, powerful legs. He turns to the door and whips you inadvertently. 

“Ouch, be careful with your tail Eddie.” 

He spins, turning to look over his shoulder and stares at you with wild eyes. 

“Yes, tail. Look.” 

His paw reaches and feels it, face twisted incredulously. He shuffles forward toward the door frame with it still in his grip approaching where Steve is standing. 

“Don't play with that you'll go blind,” he jokes. Eddie pats him in the chest with what should have been a mock hit, but the force of it pushes Steve back into the wall. 

“Woah, easy there, big guy.” 

You angle Eddie toward the bathroom and he ducks low, shuffling sideways through the doorway. 

“Hmm,” you say, thinking aloud, “no way you're standing under that shower. Tell you what, if you sit in the tub I should be able to clean you.” 

He stares wide eyed, glancing down to his tattered underwear and back up to you. 

“You need help, Eddie, your arms broken and you shouldn't get it wet. Don't worry, I've seen- no wait, I've not seen anything like this before, but I'm a nurse. I can help you.” 

Eddie continues to stand there, a low growl beginning to vibrate out of his chest. You close and lock the bathroom door, then turn back to him with your arms folded. 

“Enough of that, you don't scare me. Pants off and in the tub. Now.” 

Snapping his teeth in annoyance, he hooks claws into his underwear and pulls them down. As he clambers awkwardly in you briefly see his member hanging between his legs before he cups himself and settles down, squished in the enamel bath. 

“Right, stick your bad arm out to the side, that's it, let me get the water running.” 

You unclip the tiny shower head and turn it on, directing the stream to the plug hole until it's warm enough. Then, you begin to clean him methodically, rinsing all the blood and grime away. His fur is soft, muscles flexing under each gentle touch of your fingertips. You rinse his head of hair under the shower head, massaging his scalp, and a noise bordering on a purr exudes from him. 

You're not sure if you should use shampoo over his whole body, but since all you can find to scrub him with is some drug store 3 in 1 and your bare hands, you suppose that will have to do. You begin to lather his head, rinse it off, and start working down his torso. He squirms, getting more tense the further down you go, until he starts hissing at each brush of your fingers.

“Eddie, what's wrong?” 

Voice tight and strained through his tense jaw, he manages a word. 

“Hurrrt.” 

“I'm sorry, I'm trying to be careful. Where does it hurt?” 

Throwing his head back, it smacks into the wall so hard the room shakes. 

“Eddie, I can't help if-” 

He looks at you and nods downwards towards his crotch, the one place you've avoided entirely so far. You follow his gaze and he awkwardly uncups himself. 

His cock is standing to attention, twitching and throbbing. The end is bulbous and as purple as his tongue, the shaft thick and long, snaking out from a base of matted fur. 

Your face glows with heat, blood pumping viciously to your cheeks. 

“Did- did it get, er, injured, yesterday?” 

He shakes his head, wincing with the movement.

“Do you want me to leave you for a minute?” 

It's practically a whisper. Eddie looks anywhere but your face. Moving his hand, he shows you that he can't hold around the shaft with his thick claws. 

“OK I get you,” you say, nerves shaking your voice.

You said you'd help him. You can just help him, right? 

“D-do you want me to help?” 

His eyes snap to yours, wide and wet. He doesn't move or say anything further, just stares. You reach down with your hand, checking up with his face. There's no change in his beastial features. Hesitantly, you cup the swollen head with your palm. He flinches, water cascading out of the tub, but doesn't take his eyes off you. 

Reaching down, you gather some lather from the grubby water and begin to move your hand up and down his bulky shaft. It feels hot to the touch, and solid as a rock underneath the soft feel of his delicate skin. The noise he makes is almost a sigh of relief, head leaning backward as his spine arches to your touch. 

You're struggling to get your hand around his thickness, so you extend your other arm and wrap both hands around his impressive length, stroking firmly up and down. Eddie starts whining in his throat, a desperate noise. He's thrusting into your grip, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You start to feel throbbing between your own legs, a pulse thumping deep inside that's difficult to ignore. Focusing on your strokes, you push the feeling to the back of your mind.

You watch him instead, his chest heaving, legs beginning to shake as his dick leaks pre cum down your hands. Adding a twist to the tip of his head with each upstroke, he whimpers and whines in his throat. Impossibly, he seems to be getting even larger. You feel a bulbous growth at the base of his cock at the same time he releases, splattering cum over your fists, his chest, the water, his legs. You've never seen so much cum in all your life. He tenses all over, stifling a broken grunt from his maw. You go to move off him but he places a paw over your hand, a silent plea to keep you in place. So, you keep holding him firmly as his breath starts to regulate again. 

A few minutes later he lets you go, his cock still half hard and slightly submerged in the water. Not saying a word, you rinse him down, cleaning any remaining suds and sticky release off of him, not daring to look up at his face. Once that's done, you cough and stand up, grabbing a scratchy towel to dry him off with. As he gets out of the bath, water winding down the drain and gurgling in protest, you dry him off as best as you can, taking care to be gentle around the scabs and scars. The room smells like wet dog. Finally wrapping the towel around his waist, you step back, looking over his body to check if anything is bleeding. 

A clawed hand reaches to your face, the rough furry knuckle tucking under your chin, lifting it up. For the first time since it happened, you look back into his eyes, shame tumbling in your gut. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don't mention it.” 

He gestures widely at his torso, and you snap back to your senses. 

“Clothes! I'll- I'll find you something to wear, just- just hold on. I'll be back.” 

You stumble quickly out the bathroom, back slamming against the shut door and close your eyes. 

What in the absolute fuck was that? 

You have no answers. Surely you were just being a good friend? A really good friend. It didn't explain why you are turned on so much, your own thighs feeling wet and sticky, slick dampening your underwear. 

Nancy approaches as you snap your eyes open. 

“You OK? Can I help?” 

“Yeah, er, we need some clothes for him. Big clothes. Real big. Is there… anything?”

“Hmm,” she says, “I think I saw some of Hopper's old things in the closet. I can go out? Grab some things?” 

“That would be great, thanks.” 

She nods, flashing a tight lipped smile, and grabs her keys from the side. You search the closet and find a white t-shirt and some sweats, returning to the bathroom to help him put them on. The top is a stretch; on anyone else it'd be baggy but on him it looks like a muscle shirt. After some minor adjustments to the pants, which included cutting a hole for his tail, they fit well enough. 

“Listen, Eddie, I need to leave.” 

He snaps his head towards you, whining. 

“It's alright, I've just got a shift at the hospital. Nancy's getting some more clothes for you, and Steve's brought some food. Go. Go and eat, and I'll be back in a few hours.” 

He huffs, but moves carefully to the living room anyway. You explain what's happening to Steve, making sure to tell him to change the bedsheets, and turn to the front door. As you're about to leave, you hear a low, growling word that shakes through you and makes your eyes brim with emotion. It's your name. 

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

You shower and change at the hospital, willing your shift to be over and done with. Managing to explain away your disappearance last night to your boss with a trite story of helping with Search and Rescue, you breathe in the relief that you won't lose your job. He even understands that you need a couple of days leave; after you hint heavily that you had lost your family in the earthquakes of course. It's a dirty lie, your family doesn't even live near here anymore, but he doesn't need to know that. 

With all the medical emergencies, you're rushed off of your feet, which at least makes the time fly by. After the shift you race back to your apartment, flinging things in a bag. Changes of clothes, a bunch of leftover food from the freezer, and a tape player with a few tapes that you hope will cheer Eddie up. You change as well, putting on a summer dress and tennis shoes, trying to convince yourself you're not doing it for him. 

It's inexplicable; you're aching to see him again. It's like a limb has been severed and the phantom pain is excruciating. Which is fucking mental to say the least. You barely know him, and he's… changed. 

Driving like a woman possessed, you reach the dirt turning in record time, slamming the breaks when you reach Steve and Nancy's cars. At least he's not alone. 

As you jog toward the cabin, you hear a roar, one so loud it dislodges birds from their nests, flapping anxiously to escape. The jog turns into a run as you fly toward the front door, unceremoniously slamming it open. 

“Thank Christ it's you! I can't. I can't deal with him. Please.” 

Steve looks drained, begging you with wide eyes. There's a fresh cut under his eye with a small bruise forming. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Nancy approaches, placing a thin hand on your forearm. 

“Eddie, he's… we can't do anything, he just keeps calling your name.” 

“Roaring it, actually,” Steve adds, looking at your hand with the bulky bag in it. “Are you staying?” 

“Yeah, well I thought, I mean- I live alone. No one's gonna miss me for a few days. The hospital knows, so yeah. I suppose I'm staying.” 

A crash next door makes you all jump. 

“Are you gonna-” 

“Yes, I'm going in there. I'll be fine.” 

As you tiptoe to the door, you hear Steve mutter, ‘she must be one of us, she goes towards the scary noises.’

“Eddie.” 

It's nearly a whisper, but he hears, whipping around to face you. Before you can do anything he's striding forward and wrapping his fierce arms around you. You tense, expecting him to break your ribs, but you relax when the hug is soft. 

Your eyes scan the carnage in the room. The chair you'd sat on whilst nursing his injuries is in splinters on the floor. A cabinet looks like a bull ran into it, and there's glass under your shoes. 

The bed seems fine at least. Coaxing him gently, you lead him to it and perch on the edge. He sits next to you, not letting you go. 

“Eddie what the hell happened?” 

Unclenching his grip, he looks at you with tear filled eyes, anguish etched into his very skin. He's trying to form words, you can see it in the way he's concentrating, but they just won't come. Face screwed up, he balls his fist and howls when a claw digs into his own flesh, which only serves to exacerbate the ball of emotion that's fighting his insides. 

“It's OK, I'm here, just breathe.” 

His maw continues to open and shut, paw gesticulating wildly. You grasp it, being careful of his sharp claws, and try something else. 

“Alright, you can't use your words. That's fine, you can just let it out. Just like, awoooo!” 

You let out your own mini howl as he stares at you in disbelief. 

“Go on, it'll feel good. See? Awwooooo!” 

He stares at you with wide eyes, an almost amused look dancing within them. 

“See? I feel better. Awwooooo!” 

Shaking his large head, he gives you a side glance and tilts his head back to the heavens. 

“AARRROOOOOOO!” 

It's long and loud, bursting in your ears as a wall of sound. 

“Eddie that was awesome,” you gush, hand reaching to wind fingers into his curls. 

“Are you OK, I heard- oh.” 

Steve bursts in and sees you smiling, Eddie staring at you like a puppy. 

“Right, now that's just- what in the- I'll just-” 

He leaves looking stunned, never finishing a sentence. A giggle bubbles out of you, a silly little thing that dances in your chest. Eddie reaches to touch your hand in his hair but the claws hit first making you flinch at the sharpness. He looks at you, pained. 

“It's alright, you didn't hurt me. At least I can do something about that. Come with me.” 

You guide him up and out the room. Steve and Nancy leap off the couch, staring bug eyed, on the cusp of running. 

“It's fine, he's just- frustrated. It's a lot to deal with. I'm sure he's very sorry for scaring you, aren't you Eddie?” 

The last words are directed at him and he looks down at his feet. 

“-Orry.” 

“See? If you calm down a little you can speak. We're gonna cut his cla- his nails.”

Steve shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but Nancy? Nancy just smiles, looking between the pair of you, like she just heard a secret. 

“I think we should go Steve,” she says, holding him by the elbow to guide him towards the door. 

“But we- what if he-” 

“Steve!” 

“Alright, alright! Keep your pants on. I hope you've got food in that big bag of yours, ‘cause he ate three whole rotisserie chickens. Three! Bones and everything.” 

“We’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

Nancy drags Steve out the door as he's shouting over his shoulder. 

“We'll check on you tomorrow!”

“OK!” 

The front door shuts and it's silent in the cabin. Coughing awkwardly, you look around the room searching, speaking as you do so. 

“Right, so, let's sort out the bedroom first.” 

A broom rests against a nearby wall, so you take it and sweep up the glass shards and bits of furniture and dump them outside. It's not perfect but at least you shouldn't cut your feet. 

“OK, nail clippers are not going to work. We need something…  is there a toolbox or…” 

Mumbling away, you finally locate a dusty red snapbox by the back door and extricate a pair of tin snips and a metal file. 

“These should do. Sit down Eddie, I'll put the TV on.” 

He does as he's told, carefully tucking his tail under as he perches on the couch. It screams with the weight but holds steady. 

You get to work, sorting out the claws on his feet before moving to his bearish hands. The TV mutters indistinctly in the background as you clip and file his claws to half their size; as close to his fingers as you dared. When you look up you see Eddie's gaze is transfixed on you. Ignoring the heat of his stare, you finish up, prodding the end of each nail with a finger pad. 

“See? No more scratching. Should be able to practise using your hands more too.” 

A heat rolls across your face at your own dirty thoughts. If Eddie notices, he doesn't say anything. 

“I brought some beers, you want one?” 

He can nod and shake his head now without pain, you've seen him moving with ease, but he chooses instead to blink slowly at you. Gasping a little, you get up and fetch the beers from the fridge and hand one over. It's tricky, but he manages to hold it, looking at you for validation. 

“See? That's great! You just need practice.” 

“Prrractice.” 

“Yes! That's really good, Eddie.” 

You beam a sunny smile at him but he looks down and away from you. 

“What is it?” 

Turning back with glassy eyes, he waves a hand at his new form. 

“-rreak.”

“Sorry, what?” 

“F-rreak.” 

“No! No, Eddie, stop,” you respond, holding one huge hand in both of yours, “you're not a freak. You're scared and, and different, and God knows this is a strange situation, but you're not a freak. You were never a freak.”

He brings one burly arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight to his chest. You can feel the pads of his fingers now, stroking at your arm. For some reason, that's what makes you cry. Tears fall unbidden, streaking down your face alarmingly fast. Eddie pulls away to look at you, eyes brimming with concern. 

“I'm fine, it's fine. Really. I just- I can feel your fingertips now.”

Eddie flashes the closest thing to a smile his new face can allow and laces his tough, furry fingers with yours. You sit like that for a while, drinking your beers and staring mindlessly at the TV. Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, you realise you need to go to sleep before you pass out. 

“I need to sleep Eddie. Hang on, I'm gonna go change.” 

You stand up, fishing a tank top and sleep shorts from your bag as well as a toothbrush, and go about getting ready for bed. 

When you return, the TV is off, and Eddie's sitting in a pair of plain black boxer shorts that Nancy must have bought him. 

“Eddie, do you think you can brush your teeth or do you need a hand?” 

He gets up determined and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Trusting he knows what he's doing, you make your way to the spare room. The bed is tiny and there's no duvet or pillow, just a ratty blanket. 

Eddie appears in the doorway. 

“No.” 

“Huh?” 

You turn and he waves a hand at the bed almost in disgust. Taking you by the arm, he leads you to the main bedroom. 

“You, herrre.” 

He turns and the word is out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to wake up. 

“Wait!” 

As he looks at you expectantly, you blush and stammer over your sentence. 

“I mean, that other bed- it's too small for you Eddie, and theres- there's no pillows and-” 

Reaching out with a paw-like hand, he settles it on your forearm gently. 

“Herrre?” 

“Yeah? If you don't mind, of course.” 

Without a further word he climbs onto the bed, covering himself with the duvet you'd found in the closet. You shut the light off and get in too, laying at the very edge of the bed, knees dangling over thin air. 

Eddie's not having that though. His arm swipes over and pulls you close so fast air leaves your lungs in a gasp. You settle into him, hand laying on his chest, a furry leg underneath your knee. 

“Goodnight Eddie.”

“-Night.” 

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

When morning rolls around you find yourself alone in the bed, a cold dip in the mattress next to you. There's noise coming from the kitchen area but it sounds contained; nothing like the sounds you heard when you arrived yesterday. 

The bandage and sticks you hastily splinted his arm with are discarded in a pile on the floor. The material looks like it had been ripped apart by sharp teeth. 

Padding out of the room on bare feet you see Eddie's back. The fur along his spine is longer and thicker than the rest, and his tail is swishing. It's sticking out of the hole you made in a pair of sweatpants as he wiggles a frying pan. 

“Morning Eddie. Your arm healed already?” 

He flicks a glance over his shoulder and flashes his canine teeth, waving the arm around to show you. 

“-orrning. Bet-terr.” 

“Are you making breakfast?” 

He points to a plate next to him where a haphazard tower of pancakes sit. 

“Prractice.” 

You walk over, shivering a little. Someone's going to have to do something about the holes in the ceiling here. Making a mental note to speak with Steve, you cross the room and stand next to Eddie. 

“You need any help?” 

He shakes his head and gestures to the table. 

“Sit. Eat.” 

You pick a couple of pancakes up and put them on a small plate and unearth an ancient bottle of maple syrup from a cupboard. The pancakes are surprisingly good; you find a hair in one but don't mention it. 

“Eddie, these are delicious! Thank you.” 

“You'rre -elcome.” 

“And you're speaking so well!” 

“Prrractice.” 

He sits opposite you with an enormous plate stacked high with pancakes, offering another to you. Taking one more, you place it neatly on your plate. 

“Thanks but that's it. I know you need practice but we don't need so many-”

He picks up two and puts them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and picking up three more. 

“-Oh. We're gonna need more food.”

Eddie nods, finishing the stack of pancakes in less than a minute. When he's done, his thick tongue lulls out to lick his fingers. It's so long, practically wrapping around each individual digit. 

Mouth hanging open, you snap it shut and close your eyes for a moment trying to will the hedonistic thoughts you're having to stop swirling around your brain. 

When you open them again he's staring at you intensely, a hint of amusement in those soulful eyes. 

Looking down to avoid that stare, you ask something that you've been dying to find out. 

“Eddie, can I ask- are you still, you, in there? Like completely? Or is it, different?” 

He looks away, seemingly thinking. It's a while before he turns back, face contorting with the effort of words. 

“Still -e, I think. Head… fog-gy. Hurrts. Prrractice.” 

You nod and reach for his hand, proud of him for his longest sentence yet. He holds yours gently; the thumb rubbing back and forth over your knuckles showing much better dexterity than yesterday.

A loud knock at the door startles you both, until you hear Steve's voice ring out.

“It's me, it's Steve! You alive?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and you stifle a giggle. 

“No Steve, I died! I was maimed! Blood and guts everywhere!” 

You smile as you say it, winking at Eddie. Steve barges in, shaking his head. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Excuse me for caring,” he turns to Eddie, voice softer than before, “how you feeling, buddy?” 

Eddie flashes his teeth. 

“Bet-terr.” 

“Good, awesome. Hey, did I miss breakfast?” 

“Sure did. Eddie made it.” 

“Really?” 

Steve looks stunned, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“Yup, he did. All on his own. Actually, while you're here, we need to fix those holes in the roof. At least board them up or something.” 

“Yeah sure, I can do that, but I'll need a hand.” 

“I… can hel-p.” 

The boys get to work and you leave them to it. You busy yourself too; dusting and cleaning the cabin, hanging a sheet up in the bedroom as a makeshift curtain, and making a list of everything you need from the store foodwise. Then, you add even more to it, including four rotisserie chickens. 

Whilst food is on your mind, you make a huge pile of sandwiches and call them both in for lunch. Steve looks shocked at the amount of food.

“Woah, don't think we need all-” 

Eddie shakes his head and grabs two sandwiches, putting them both in his mouth at once. 

“Ah. Right.” 

“I think he needs a lot of food because of the injuries. He healed so quickly, I mean, he's got to get the energy from somewhere, right?” 

Steve slowly nods, looking at Eddie as he stuffs another sandwich in his mouth. 

“Yeah, I guess. Plus, look at the size of him.” 

Eddie swallows thickly and stares at the pair of you. 

“Can… hearrr you. Rrrude.” 

“Sorry, you're right, that was rude of us Eddie.” 

You reach a hand out and stroke his arm; his gaze immediately softens. 

“Wow, you're like, the Eddie whisperer or some shit.” 

Eddie growls in his throat. 

“Hey, that wasn't about you it was about her!” 

After lunch, they get back to work, completing the patch job on the roof in a few hours. By the time they're done, the sun is starting to set. Steve leaves the pair of you, taking the shopping list and promising he and Nancy will be back tomorrow with fresh supplies. You offer him some money which he swears blind he doesn't need, but you give it to him anyway. 

Once dinner is demolished, you and Eddie sit on the couch, watching some made for TV movie. Well, he seems to be watching it. You're uncomfortable, thighs clenching in an effort to put out the raging fire between them. Hyper aware of his arm over your shoulders, you try to block all the horny signals to your brain but it's not working. Huffing loudly, you bite your lip, shuddering at each touch of his gnarled finger pads on the smooth skin of your arm. 

“You good?” 

You glance up and see Eddie's eyes boring into you. 

“Yeah, of course, I'm great.” 

“Liarrr.” 

Flashing his teeth, he lets out a rough chuckling sound. You press your lips together firmly, refusing to respond. 

“You want me. You… want… this.” 

He points to his mouth, tongue dipping out past his sharp teeth, far longer than a tongue had any right to be. He twirls it in a little circle and puts the purplish muscle back in his mouth. 

“Oh really?” You reply hotly, “and what makes you think that, huh?” 

“Can scent.” 

“What?” 

Wordlessly, he points between your legs. Clenching your thighs harder, you glow scarlet, face igniting with such heat that it almost hurts. 

“Eddie, you can't just say that's it- it's impolite!!” 

Letting out a little howl of amusement, he strokes up and down your back with his large hand sending shivers through your spine. 

He's not wrong. Your panties are clinging to your wet heat uncomfortably, thighs sodden with false anticipation. Your blood is on fire, pumping fast and hard to your aching clit. It's bewildering; you've never felt so needy in all your life. He must be letting out some pheromones or something, brain grasping wildly at straws for an explanation. 

“-Orry. Just… you help-ed mme. I can… help you.” 

“I don't think- I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, your heads all foggy, you said, and, and-” 

“Want to.” 

He looks entirely serious, meeting your gaze with hardly a blink. 

Are you really gonna do this? 

Your body is protesting the lack of a decision, pulse thumping hard in your cunt as if to remind you of your predicament. It takes over, urging your hands under your dress to peel off your sticky underwear and put them to one side. Eddie doesn't move, waiting for you to speak, but you can see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly fully black. His snout is snuffling the air, tasting you through his nose. 

“Could you… please?” 

Tears are stinging your eyes at the discomfort. Eddie blinks once slowly at you, and immediately crouches to his hands and knees on the floor. As he crawls between your thighs, it strikes you that the movement seems more natural than him standing like a person. Gently, he slides your dress up your legs and pushes your legs apart with his giant hands. 

You're waiting for the first touch of his tongue, but it doesn't come. First, he smells you, inhaling your cunt so deeply that embarrassment blooms in your chest. The growling, humming noise that emanates from him vibrates into your very bones; it's laced with such desire that your thighs begin to quiver. 

Then, he tastes you; tongue lapping at your sex suddenly. You were expecting it, but you weren't expecting the sheer relief that flooded your senses at the first touch of his dripping maw. He slathers it all over you, cleaning your slick from the tops of your thighs, tongue slithering through your folds, around your clit, right down to your ass, as if he can't get enough of the taste of you. 

Whining and bucking your hips up already, he growls, holding you open with one brutish hand as the other pushes into the softness of your belly pinning you in place. You can see where his thick blunted claws push at your flesh, leaving dimples on your stomach. 

Then his tongue is writhing inside of you, twirling and dancing, hitting spots no other tongue could ever reach. Moans are ripped from your chest, the kind of sounds you would never dare to make before. Pathetic whines, hoarse shouts, screeching cries of pure pleasure. His snout is pressed firmly up against your clit; it's scrunched with the pressure, and each flick of his head makes him nussle it over and over. 

Despite Eddie's firm hand holding you down, you still manage to thrash about, legs twitching and back bucking uncontrollably. Your walls are convulsing around his muscle, fluttering with each pulse. He tongue fucks you in earnest then, knowing you're reaching that crescendo as your noises get even louder. 

You're beyond words. You couldn't tell him you were about to come if your life depended on it. The only word you can manage is a high pitched squeal of his name as your release floods out of you, slick gushing over his face. 

He laps it up, tongue washing over you as you collapse back into the sofa cushions, throat hoarse from yelling. There's an odd, murmuring grunt sound coming from him, the same sound over and over. As your ears finally stop ringing you release he's mumbling a word into you, almost incomprehensible in between licks. 

“Mine. Mine, mine… mmmmine.” 

Over and over he says it; like a mantra, a prayer to your cunt. Eventually you have to tug him away by his hair to stop him compulsively lapping at you. 

He looks up, dazed eyes starting to refocus as he pants like a dog. You pat the fur on his neck over and over, rubbing your fingers through it, your stare desperately trying to tell him what a good job he did. 

As he sinks down and sits on the floor, you join him, sliding off the couch and crawling into his lap. He holds you close, nose nuzzling your neck. 

“Wan’ kiss you.” 

You know what he means. He wants to kiss you properly, like a man and a woman kiss. Not like a beast. 

You cradle his head, making your hands appear tiny in comparison, and twist your fingers gently in his fur. Pulling his closed maw toward you, you press your lips against it softly, nudging his nose with yours like he did with your neck. It seems to placate his needs. He keeps his arms in a tight embrace around you as you move your heads as one, nudging your faces together, letting actions speak instead of words. 

For the second time in as many days, you wonder what the hell you're getting yourself into. 

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

“Eddie, come try this!” 

Calling from the kitchen, you mix batter in a huge bowl, trying to work out if you've used enough sugar. Technically speaking, you're not a chef. Far from it. The last cake you made sank in the middle so much it resembled a sad bundt cake. 

“Eddie?” 

All you hear is muffled music playing from the bedroom. You go and investigate, spatula in hand, and gently swing the door open. 

Eddie's shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips, with his guitar slung around his neck. His muscles flex with every strum of his fingers, face screwed in concentration as he attempts to follow along with the tape.

“Eddie?” 

Finally he glances up, eyebrows unknitting as he looks at you. 

“Wherre you find… the aprrron?” 

You'd forgotten about the apron. Glancing down, you see flour dusting it. You brush it off absentmindedly and look back at him. 

“Oh, it was in a drawer.” 

“Hot.” 

You giggle, cheeks flushing. 

“What you doing Eddie? Practising?” 

He huffs, taking his guitar and laying it gently against the bed. 

“Trrrying. Not good enough.” 

“Yet.” 

Exposing his teeth in a bestial smile, he walks over to you. 

“Yet. What you calling forrr?” 

He tilts his head, exposing the fuzzy tip of his ear through his hair, rough hand rubbing up your arm.

“Oh, I see. You could hear me, hmm?” You place your hand on your hip dramatically. He nods, crowding over you, making your breath hitch in your throat, as thick furry fingers stroke at your skin. 

“Well, I was asking you to try this.” 

You tap his nose with the end of the spatula, leaving behind a splat of uncooked cake batter. His maw opens in shock as you laugh. 

“Don't… do…” 

“What, don't do this?” 

You get him again, this time on his cheek, smudging the mixture in the soft fur. He raises an eyebrow at you, face stoic as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. He'd look intimidating, if it wasn't for the batter dripping off his snout. 

“What you gonna do about it, huh?” 

He takes a step backward, unfolding his arms, and cracks his neck from side to side. His knuckles are next, popping with the stretch. Then, he starts growling out a low countdown. 

“One… two… thrrree…” 

“Oh, it's like that is it?” 

“...fourrr… five…” 

You run out of the room, flinging the spatula onto the kitchen side, and look for somewhere to go, but there isn't anywhere. This place is tiny. Jogging around the couch, you hear Eddie roar like a lion and your pulse quickens. He shoulders nonchalantly out the bedroom, crouching low. Adrenaline hits you as you try to work out how to get past. 

Attempting to fake him out, you run one way, then immediately double back, dashing around the back of the couch. Eddie's moves are a blur, husky arm scooping you up by the waist and dragging you over his shoulder in an instant. Kicking and giggling, you bash at his back trying to get him to let go, but you may as well pound on a concrete wall. 

There's a sudden rush of air and your back meets the wooden floor, landing with a soft ‘ooft’ noise. He pins you down, powerful legs straddling you, holding both your arms over your head with one brutish hand almost lazily. It easily circles both of your wrists. 

Taking his free hand, he scoops the mixture off of his nose and licks it with his tongue, twirling it around until every last bit is gone. You're breathing heavily. That display, teamed with him wrestling you to the ground so easily, has your heart thumping a tattoo inside your chest. 

He makes a face, scrunching his snout. 

“That bad?” 

“I know… what rrrather eat.” 

Flashing his pointed teeth, he runs his tongue over them, looking at you like you're his favourite meal. He leans in close, hot breath fanning your face. 

“You like this.” 

“No.” You say, even though you're trembling and hot all over. 

“Liarrr.” He says it whilst tapping his nose. 

He pushes his body against yours so you can feel his solid bulge pressing up against your core. Nothing can stop the whimper that gurgles out your throat, no matter how much you bite your lip. 

A warm hand paws at your breast over the apron as his tongue dances across the shell of your ear. Pushing upward with your hips, you make a futile attempt at escaping. Not that you want to, but the game is just getting good. He growls in your ear and the sound shoots straight to your cunt…

Then the front door flies open. 

“So we got- Jesus Eddie, no! Get the hell off her!” 

Steve drops paper bags on the floor as you both turn your heads to face him. Nancy's running in beside him trying to drag him backwards by the elbow. 

“Steve, I don't think-” 

“It's not what it looks like!” You stammer it out as Steve gawps. 

“What- what's going on!” 

Nancy turns him so he has to look at her, talking to him like a child. 

“Steve, when a man and a woman like each other very much-” 

His face immediately starts glowing scarlet. Eddie clambers off you and holds one hand out to lift you off the floor, hunching awkwardly to try and hide his erection as he takes refuge behind the couch. 

“Seriously? Him? He's- he's-” 

He gestures widely at Eddie. You hear a snarling coming from behind you so you hold a hand out to calm him, fingers meeting soft fur. Your eyes harden as you stare sternly at Steve.

“He's Eddie. He's just Eddie. He might look different but he's still here, and you're being… rude.” 

“You're right, I'm sorry,” he looks over to Eddie sheepishly, “sorry Munson, I didn't mean-” 

“Don't worrry, I… underrrstan’. Harrrd to rremem-berrr… even forrr mme.”

Steve looks surprised at how much his speech has come on, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he holds out a hand, taking Eddie's giant one in his own and shaking it. 

“Listen, I got what you asked for, it should be all here. If you're both alright, we'll get out of your fur- shit- hair! Out of your hair!” 

Eddie snickers low in his throat as Steve tries to hide his face from his own faux pas. 

After packing the food away, and a couple of hugs and goodbyes, they leave you it. Nancy promises they'll be back in a couple of days to check in, and that they'll knock first. 

Once you're both alone you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to Eddie. 

“I'm sorry about him.” 

Eddie looks down, clutching the back of the couch. 

“I'm s-orry. Should have… ask-ed you out beforrre… this.” 

You round the couch and grasp his bicep in your hands, staring at his side profile. 

“Hey, hey, you didn't know this was gonna happen. How could you ask me out? It's not like you even noticed me really before, right?” 

Eddie refuses to meet your gaze. His eyelashes are dipping down, nearly kissing his cheeks. 

“Eddie?” 

He rumbles a sound out, shaking his head, making his hair ripple about his shoulders. 

“I… lik-ed you. Wan-ted you. Was… scarrred. You werrre.. arrre… too good forrr mme.” 

An ache settles in your chest at his words, face creasing with anguish.

“Oh... Oh, Eddie, don't do that. I'm here now. And I'm not too good, that's just not true.” 

Your fingers wind into his fur, trying to tug him around but it's no use. You can see the tension in his arm underneath. 

So, if that isn't working, you'll try something else. 

“Seems I won.” 

His head turns quickly then, staring at you, muzzle wrinkled in confusion. 

“Our little chase?”

You wipe the remnants of cake batter off of his cheek with two fingers. He watches you intently as you bring them to your mouth, pushing them deep inside and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie grunts, maw extending open slightly as he swallows thickly in his throat. You suck hard, and pull your fingers out, running the flat of your tongue up and around them, leaving a string of spit behind. 

“I think you're right, that doesn't taste good.” 

Eddie's staring at you, eyes nearly black as his tongue lulls from his mouth, panting. 

“So, I won. I got free, didn't I?” 

Eddie's ribs are rising and falling distinctly. He steps toward you, the back of his hand dragging its coarse knuckles over your cheek. 

“Don't count… Caught you.” 

“Yeah? And I got free! So I win, right? Unless you don't think that's fair?” 

Snout nuzzling at your hairline, he breathes in your scent deeply and cups your face, pulling it towards his. You kiss his mouth gently, crushing soft lips against his hard jaw. He pushes his maw against you, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue between your lips. 

It's messy, tongues licking each other as spit pools and drips down your chin. His burly hand rests on the back of your head, covering it completely, forcing you to stay in place, while the other reaches down to grasp at the flesh of your ass. 

When you break away, you're both panting, breathing laboured and ragged. 

“Woah. Fuck,” you huff out between hard exhales, “you can kiss.” 

“Interrrrup-ted.”

“Huh?” 

You're dizzy from the kiss, lips red and swollen, still slightly parted as his fingers trace down your back. 

“We werre… interrrup-ted. Don't count.” 

“Ah, I see. So what do you-” 

“One. Two… thrrree…” 

This time you fly from his grip and race out the room, considering the bathroom for a second before you dive wildly into the main bedroom. Eyes scanning as quickly as you can, you see a trap door at the foot of the bed. 

It swings open when you pull the rusted metal ring and you stick your head inside. It's little more than a crawl space, full of cobwebs and mouldy boxes. You scrabble inside and snap the trap door shut just as you hear a bellowing roar from the other room. 

He won't actually be expecting you to hide, and you're rather pleased with yourself at the spot you'd managed to find, laying on your back wedged in the stuffy space. 

The door swings open and you will your heart to slow down. Surely he can hear it hammering from here? It's thumping loudly in your own ears, blood whooshing through your head. 

The floorboards creak with each step he takes. When he falls to the ground suddenly, crawling on all fours, your thighs clench. 

“Sweet-hearrrt…I know you’rrre herrre… can smell you…” 

His sing-song tone, along with the growling purr of his voice had you biting your lip so hard you could taste tin.

You follow the shadow of his form through the slats, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Suddenly his massive furred arm swipes under the bed, catching nothing but air. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. 

He goes entirely still, pressing his snout to the floor, and sniffs between the floorboards. You can see his nose twitching just above your head.

“Arrre you… in the crrrawlspace?” 

He sounds impressed, finding the trap door only a second later. Light floods your hiding place as you try to wriggle your body away from him, but there's no room. In an instant he's got your ankles in his clutches as you shriek in protest, pulling you from the gap below. 

In seconds he scoops you up and hurls you on the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, then jumps on top of you, pinning you down as the bed springs squeak dramatically. 

“Cleverrr… but can't hide from mme…” He purrs, and leans closer to your ear, voice a deeper, threatening growl. 

“I can smell yourrr cunt.” 

You take a sharp inhale at his words. As if your pussy could understand him, you feel squelching wetness seep out, aching to be touched.

Eddie sits up, straddling you, and rips your apron and top in half as easily as tissue paper, exposing bare flesh. Greedily, he lathes his tongue from the nape of your neck down to your breasts, swirling it around each nipple leaving a trail of spit in its wake.

Your skin itches, flashing red hot, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable. You're whimpering, close to tears with the sheer need for him.  

“Eddie, Eddie please.” 

Wasting no time he climbs off the bed and yanks your jeans off in one go, not bothering to even unzip them, and does the same with his sweats. Standing fully to attention, his monstrous length looks painfully hard, throbbing purple. 

You hook fingers into the waistband of your panties to take them off, but Eddie slaps your hand away, and leans down, hot breath dancing over the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth graze your abdomen, not enough to cut your skin but enough to leave angry red marks in a pathway to your sex. 

Then he's gripping your underwear in his teeth and ripping the flimsy lace off, leaving it in shreds. The feral gesture has you groaning out loud, thighs immediately opening to him. A thick tongue slivers through your folds, tasting you, until he presses a clawed finger to your opening, thrusting it inside with no warning. 

“Fuck, that- that feels so good!” 

Just like when he went down on you, that familiar rush of relief at his ministrations pours over you, nearly bringing you to tears. He moves up the bed, other arm holding him steady above your head so he can crowd your senses, intently watching your face as he fucks you with his finger. 

He forces another finger in making you cry out, small hand gripping at his forearm to try and slow him down, but his movements are unrelenting. 

“Eddie, too much, please-” 

He growls, the sound making you clench even more around him as he curls his fingers, keeping them painfully deep inside. 

“Have to. You need… to take me… prrrincess.” 

You nod your understanding as you wince at the stretch, but the discomfort melts away as your release slinks up your spine, heat pooling in your belly making you moan and push back into his grip. His rough palm presses harshly into your clit, thick skin slipping against the silken nub.

“See… goood girrrrl.” 

You clutch at his fur as your orgasm expels from your body, throwing your head back into the mattress as your cunt gushes around his grip violently. He purrs his satisfaction in your ear and pulls his fingers from you. Rubbing them over his pulsating shaft, he spreads your slick and holds his girth by the base. 

“Eddie, I-I'm ready, I need you.” 

Grunting at your words, he forces the swollen head into your soaked folds. Your eyes snap tightly shut as you cling desperately to muscle and fur. Seemingly unable to control himself, he thrusts his whole length straight into you, tilting his head back and roaring so loud that dust falls from the ceiling. 

You're expecting blinding pain at the enormity of his length but it doesn't come. Instead, that first thrust pulls a second orgasm from you, one so profound that it fizzes through your every nerve and leaves spots in your vision. The blazing heat of your skin subsides as you throb around him, your prior discomfort melting away entirely. The same sureness that settled in your gut when you arrived is back. This is where you're supposed to be. 

No words come from Eddie, just forceful thrusts and throaty noises as he fucks into you like an animal. He's on his hands and knees, one arm dipping into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him as he forcefully humps into you, using you. The slick sounds of your conjuncture echo through the cabin; all wet sucking noises, gravelly growls and high pitched moans. 

Suddenly he snarls, teeth exposed, and grabs you by the hips, flinging you to the floor on your front. Your breath leaves you in shock, wooden boards rough against your naked skin. Yanking your ass in the air by the flesh of your hips he forces his throbbing member back inside, fucking into you so harshly that it's hard to stay upright. You're slipping forward with each piston of his hips, arms trembling with effort. 

Eddie's panting, pools of drool gathering at the base of your neck, mixing and mingling with your sweat. A sharp pain cuts through all the pleasure, ripping into the meat of your shoulder, causing you to scream and tense up, pussy fluttering pathetically around him. It pushes you over that precipice once again, the hurt and the bliss intertwining into a mass of feeling, tangled and twisted, unable to exist without the other. 

His member swells, growing impossibly, and a bulbous growth locks in you as he releases with a desperate broken howl. You feel the pumping of his cum deep inside, coating your trembling walls, claiming you.

A minute or so later he's collapsing to the side, pulling you close with his bearish arm, still firmly buried inside your cunt. Time seems to stop as you both pant, gasping for air, tangled in his furry embrace. As his breathing finally slows, he manages to purr one word in your ear. 

“Mine.”

Part 2

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[wpdarlingpan]

Snow Falls… In Love

Part 2 ❄️

Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader

Female Prounouns

Word Count: 2k

Summary: an innocent girl from district 12 is Coriolanus Snow’s tribute. She wins the capitals heart through her love and kind eyes. Now he never wants to let her go, she was his tribute. At first it was admiration, but not it’s grown into something bigger. Love.

Warnings: obsessive behavior, mentions of murder, normal hunger games warnings, self-deprecation

Click which part you’d like to read below! ❄️

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Finale)

The kiss they shared was monumental for Coriolanus. It was as if every puzzle piece fell into place for him. His confidence overruled the idea of Y/N getting murdered in the games the next day.

But that’s all she could think about.

Y/N adored Corio, after all he’d done to keep her alive and favored it was impossible not to. It was difficult for her to process that fact she found someone this special but she would soon die in the games.

“Corio, I-“ she spoke before cutting herself off, figuring out the best way to say it. “I don’t want you to think I have a chance in that arena. Hope is a dangerous thing.”

Coriolanus was silent, staring into her eyes intently as he moved to grab her chin with a firm grip.

“You are going to get out of that arena. The other mentors? Their focus is on making their opponents strong. They will look past simple solutions in favor of brute strength. You will get out of this because of you are your strengths, agility and wits.” He never looked away, not even for a second. He didn’t even let go until he thought he got his point across.

Y/N hesitated but nodded as he goes to hand her a compact case before stopping.

“What is this?” She questions at his hesitation. Not because it’s his mother’s but because he was afraid she open it or something before he could explain. He would never put her in harms way.

“Do not open it until absolutely necessary. Do not smell it or even touch it util that point. Even just a little of it could kill you.”

Y/N understood that he wanted to ensure she’d have a weapon within moments of the timer starting. She nodded as he continued to talk about a hiding space.

“Thank you Corio, thank you for everything you’ve done to keep me alive.” Tears gathered in her eyes, silently falling as he wiped them.

“This isn’t goodbye, I will see you when you win the games. I will see you everyday when I wake up and at the end when I fall asleep.“ Coriolanus leaned in and kissed her softly as he wiped her tears with a plain handkerchief before he retreated back to his house. Not home because he truly believed his home was with you.

~*~

Coriolanus watched the games reluctantly, the blood spilled seem to engulf the screen. He stared at the screen holding Y/N.

The second the countdown stopped they were off. Y/N turned around in fear to see a spear being thrown towards her as she attempted to duck out of the way, but it still managed to cut her arm causing her to whimper in pain.

Yet It didn’t stop her as she ran into the vents, it the hiding place snow suggested but good enough. She was even able to lock it before anyone could notice.

The battle outside was loud. The clangs of metal crashing echoes through the arena. The sounds of screams and grunts as someone’s life vanished in mere moments.

Meanwhile Coriolanus was internally on edge. It wouldn’t show through his poised posture or the indifferent look on his face but the way his heart was beating faster.

There were no cameras in the vents much to Lucky Flickerman’s despair and promises to add one next year.

By sundown there was nearly half of the tributes left.

It was late at night and dark in the arena, most of the tributes were sleeping or staying in their hiding spots since it was dangerous to go out in the dark.

That’s when Sejanus snuck in. He saw the way they hung up his friend from the districts. The torture he went through while he was living lavishly in the capital with his daddy’s money.

To which he used to give his friend a proper District 2 send off.

Unluckily or luckily for Coriolanus it was his responsibility to get him out.

~*~

Y/N peaked out the vent when she heard talking. A voice sounded familiar but with how far away they were it was hard to tell for sure.

Corio couldn’t pass up this opportunity so as his friend gathered himself, he ran up to the vent.

Y/N was on edge until she saw the face of Coriolanus Snow.

The tears instantly began running as she went to along it but be stopped her.

“I have to get out of here. I’m not supposed to be here. But I had to see you, I couldn’t leave without hearing your voice in person. I’m sorry I can’t get you out.” He reached through the vent the best he could and they held hands. “There’s significantly less tributes left from earlier. Your chances are bettering Y/N, now it’s time for you to believe in yourself.”

“I will be okay, I will see you later Corio.” Y/N spoke as her voice wavered. Would she? She didn’t know. But she couldn’t bring herself to fully find comfort in his words.”

“See you later my love.” Corio spoke without truly thinking of the implication of the pet name but couldn’t find himself to be bothered as him and Sejanus ran out of the arena, no other tributes even hearing the sound of the gates closing for the last time until the winner was announced.

~*~

Y/N had begun to sneak out of the vent at night to stretch her legs. Risky but necessary after spending days sitting down in the vent, her breathing silent as tributes would walk by, not sparing even a glance at the vent.

That was until one did notice.

Y/N got out of the vent on the third night, pushing the door open quietly as she stepped out on alert.

What she didn’t know though was there was someone else in that part of the arena. They were crouched in a corner, blending into the shadows the best they could at the orders of Coral.

Tanner got up slowly, reaching to grab his weapon, before running at Y/N.

She heard the rocks cracking beneath his feet before she turned to the noise. His sickle was raised high, a battle cry falling from his mouth as he swung right at Y/N. She dodged it.

That was until she lost her balance and slipped down the slanted rocks.

~*~

Coriolanus was the only one left at the viewing auditorium. He watched closely as Y/N was crawling out of the vents.

He looked around the frames of the arena, checking peoples positions to ensure the safety of his tribute.

That’s when he saw Tanner.

Corio watched in apprehension as tanner ran at her. He was hitting buttons on the keypad urgently, looking for anything to help her after the whole faulty drones thing.

But what else could be done?

~*~

Y/N felt her head slam onto a rock, leaving only a concussion hopefully due to the lack of blood.

Tanner made his way down, almost making a game of cat and mouse out of the chase as he slowly lurked closer.

Y/N pushed her self up even with the disagreement of her head as she went to run before feeling a slight weight in her pocket. Reaching into her pocket as she kept an eye on him, she got ahold of the little ‘gift’ from Corio.

The second Tanner got closer Y/N open the container and blew the entire contents into his face before throwing the container to the center to keep her hands free in case it doesn’t work.

Nothing happened… at first.

Then he collapsed as blood drained from his nose.

Coriolanus watched as Tanner’s feed cut with a look of admiration at Y/N’s ability to defend herself. Because that’s what he saw it as, self-defense.

Y/N saw it as murder. She knew what was going to happen. It was between the two of them. They wouldn’t make friendship bracelets and stop fighting. This was life or death, she had to make her choice. The feeling of the poison in her hand made her decision for her as it brought a familiar blonde to the front of her mind.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less as she watched the light fade from his eyes before shutting them. A quiet promise of hoping he had a better time in the next life before shutting herself in the vent.

With the Rebels attacks increasing, Volumnia Gaul decided the game was over. There was no chance for a Victor. They all would die.

This was not something Coriolanus took into account.

He ran as fast as he could before stopping at the entrance of the doctors building.

Coriolanus had to make a plan… and fast.

~*~

Y/N and the others heard the commotion of something landing in the arena, followed by the sound of crunching underneath it. It was dangerous but they all inched forward as Y/N got out of the vent, watching from afar. Of course she was curious but it was the capital. There was no influence she could have but only hope for the odds and they never seemed to be in her favor.

Wovey was the first to get close

“Is it done? Can we go home?” Tears built in the little girls eyes.

The item began cracking before a sea of snake engulfed the girl like a wave upon an ocean pulling her under the tides.

All of the tributes screamed as they attempted to run for safety. There was just too many snakes, the bites would slow them down before their inevitable death due to the amount of venom flooding their system.

It was down to Coral and Y/N.

Y/N had stayed up by the vent and watched as Coral attempted to reach her but was stopped by the snakes wrapping around her arms and legs.

Then there was one.

Y/N didn’t move, maybe if she didn’t run they wouldn’t be alarmed and kill her? Maybe they would go right past. But that was hope, and she would be hypocritical to have it.

The snakes circled up her arms and legs as Y/N urged herself to calm down. This was her last few moments and she only waited for the inevitable pain of stinging bites resonating throughout her body.

It never happened.

They just slithered around her, coiling themselves as if to comfort.

~*~

Everyone was confused on why the snakes attacked everyone else but Y/N. It didn’t make sense until Coriolanus spoke up

“She calms them! You saw how empathetic she was in the interview” he looked around to see the nodding heads as he hid a smirk “They won’t hurt her. Let her out!”

Tigress yelled to let her out as well. She saw what Y/N was doing to her cousin and she couldn’t imagine what would happen if he lost her.

This brought the crowd to a chant.

Then finally, the games were over.

“The Victor of the 10th annual Hunger Games is… Y/N L/N!” Lucky announced the winner as the room cheered. Corio only talked to Tigress and Sejanus before rushing out of the room to find his love.

After all, there was no proof he cheated.

The compact was shattered upon impact with the snake container.

The white handkerchief had been deemed a tributes.

There was no evidence Coriolanus Snow and Y/N L/N cheated in the games. It was only their secret.

They say love is a weakness.

Especially in the Hunger Games.

But it made the two of them stronger. It was the two of them against the world from the start.

Snow fell in love, but what would it take to keep her with him?

The world may never know

Until the last and final part of their love story.

~*~

Note: Hey Everyone! I hope I did you guys justice with how much you liked the first part. I appreciate all the love and it greatly inspired me to write and finish this story. I know there wasn’t much fluff in this chapter but this plot had to be told.

I will be publishing a part 3 ❄️

Taglist: @diannana @olivetree420

[mayullla]

Title: Little Sunshine! (Part 2)

Characters: Mainly Akaza with Douma (/Doma) at the end! (Demon Slayer)

Summary: You were taken into the Paradise Faith cult with Kotoha (Inosuke's mother.) And Douma became rather fond of you like he did with Kotoha. When Kotoha ran away, she had no choice but to leave you behind as Douma hid the truth away from you. After becoming a demon you slept for a year and finally woke up again.

Warnings/tags: Platonic yandere, fem!child!reader, reader recently got turned into a demon and just woke up

Note: Part 1 is here!

Akaza didn't know when or why he started to become so attached to you. When he was forced to come to Douma's cult to tell that damn demon some news about the demon slayers, he wanted to keep the time there at the minimum.

That was where he met you.

You were alone in the middle of the garden, looking everywhere, confused and tired. He thought you were a human child at first but had to take a second glance when he realized that you were a demon.

He wondered if it was a joke, a demon art of some demon that could turn into a kid. Yet when he saw your eyes, it was clear that you were not a trap made by some weak demon. You looked at him with no fear but with curiosity and wonder. An innocence that was not supposed to be in a demon yet there...

You took a step towards him when your leg suddenly lost energy and started to fall. You thought you would hit the floor, face first into the dirt, but that never happened when the collar of your sleeping robe was grabbed by the mysterious man who was once on top of the wall.

Looking up at him, you saw the man confused face, surprised at his own actions. "Thank you, mister!" You said, returning to looking down to the floor, your feet not quite reaching as you made a kicking motion.

He let you down after a pause, but before Akaza could leave, you started asking him questions. Asking if he knew where Douma was? "How do you know that guy?" Akaza asked curiously at you. You pouted at him as he didn't answer your questions. "I live here! Douma-sama had let me stay!" You told him flapping your shoulders' sleeves.

Somehow, everything clicked in an instant when he realized who you were. He suddenly remembered that long ago, Douma had asked Muzan if he could turn a small kid into a demon a year or two ago.

You were probably the child that he had turned into a demon.

Akaza snapped back into reality when he felt his pants being tugged, looking down to see you holding him, wondering why he wasn't saying anything.

"Mister, are you okay?" You asked curiously. Giving you a grunt, you took it as a sign that he was okay and smiled at him. Watching that smile, it was strange if not weird almost to see it in a demon. Most demons have malicious intent, as most have killed or done things that were morally wrong, even if they haven't by now the smell of blood should linger on their skin. Demons can't eat food anymore to survive.

They needed blood.

Yet here you were. He barely could smell any of it from you. He wondered if this was the first time this ever happened. Why were you even here, Akaza thought to himself as he unconsciously patted your head.

When you giggled, the innocent sounds made him uneasy.

"Mister, play with me!" You called out to him, raising your arms. "Up! Up!" You told him. Akaza blinked again in surprise when he saw you asking him such a thing. Never in his life after becoming a demon did someone ask him to play like this. Most human kids run away either because they already know that he was a demon or they witness him kill someone.

However, you refuse to let your hands down and continue to stare at him. He wondered if you couldn't feel it at all, the difference in rank between him and you. Most demons can't even look at him in the eyes. Yet it seems that you didn't care as you approached him again one step and then suddenly lost strength again, staggering as you thought that you would fall again.

Akaza caught you... again. Why did he do that??

Bring you up to eye level, holding you by the collar Akaza examined you as if you were some foreign alien. You looked at him again and smiled as he wondered why you are so weird?!

Reaching out to him again, you motioned that you want to get on his shoulders.

"... Fine... Just this once." Following your instructions hesitantly as he placed you on his shoulders, holding your legs as you held on his hair. You giggled as you started pointing him in directions to head to, "Go there, Mister! Go there!"

It was so awkward for him as he followed your childish demands, wondering why he was even listening to them. Walking over to trees, you touched the branches that were far too high for you to reach before and beamed at him with self-pride. "I am so tall!" You laughed.

The more the two of you played under the moonlight, the more relaxed Akaza started to become. When was the last time he played like this when he was relaxed with almost no care in the world? He smiled as you showed off to him that you were taller than him when both of you knew that he was carrying you which made you tall.

And Akaza... maybe in a way, wanted to show his powers to you. He thought it would be a fun idea really.

You gasped in surprise when he jumped, the wind on your hair, as you guys reach so high over 3-story buildings up. This was your first time seeing up so high. You shouted in awe and excitement as the both of you landed on the roof of a building. You raved on and on about how cool that was and that Akaza was amazing, with so much respect in your eyes begging him to do it again.

You don't know how long you played with Akaza, jumping higher and higher up in the sky, and you looked at the world around you under the night sky. You didn't know when you fell asleep again, a smile on your lips hugging Akaza's neck as he held you in his arms.

Akaza looked at you in wonder, wondering why you were a demon yet so amazed by what Akaza thought was normal as a demon.

But right now wasn't the time.

"You can show yourself now." Akaza didn't turn around to face Douma. He knew for a long time when the guy showed up but would rather focus on you to really care for the man.

"Ah, Akaza-donno, thank you for taking care of her. She has been sleeping for a while now and must have been so confused to wake alone like this. It is such a shame that I wasn't by her side." Douma walked towards you, his eyes on your hair, your face hidden by Akaza's neck softly snoring away, unable to notice the two demons looking at you.

"She didn't notice anything... she is weak." Akaza stated he could not smell, not even a scent of blood other than Muzan and Douma's in you. In his mind, it was obvious that Douma had been staving you for so long now.

"She has been sleeping for over a year now after her transformation to a demon. The poor little girl refused to drink blood when her senses were telling her to do so. I had an amazing meal prepared just for her, too, that time." Douma smiled, his eyes on you slowly turning to the one holding you. "Thank you for caring for her but I will take it over from her-"

Douma's hand that was reaching out for you suddenly exploded into bits and pieces, spraying blood and flesh. His eyes still smiling as he stared at Akaza showed no emotions of annoyance or anger.

But you could see a small vein on the side of his temple.

Akaza didn't want to give you back to Douma. He didn't want to give you to this sick bastard because Akaza knew that he would break you. And as a demon now, this pain can be forever. Rather than with Douma, Akaza knew you would be father better off with him.

He would not let you go, not like this.

Note: Hope you liked it! Have a nice day guys~

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

One of Us is Guilty; Chapter 2

The night started with only one body, and now there are two; both the Headmage and the Ramshackle Prefect are dead. Will the killer ever be found before more people die?

Characters; Vil Schoenheit, Divus Crewel, Rook Hunt, Azul Ashengroto, Silver, Jade Leech, Cater Diamond

Content; Unreliable narrators, murder mystery

Content Warning; Murder, blood, death, reader death, character death, description of a dead body & method of death, dead dove content in general

Word Count; 1.1 K

Find this content triggering but still want to participate? Go to this Google Form!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue (Part 1) | Epilogue (Final)

It was foolish, it was dangerous, but Jade could not blame the Ramshackle prefect for wanting out of that room. He may be used to — in some sense — the eyes clouded in distrust that are usually sent his way, but the Prefect? To have their friends turn on them in such a manner? He could not blame them for fleeing, for wanting to distance themselves. Yet, fleeing was how they ended up in this situation, and Jade froze at the top of the staircase to the main hall.

He had seen blood before, for the ocean was not a kind place, he had witnessed death, but the scene in front of him? He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

In some sick turn of events, you were now dead. Glassy eyes, and a peaceful expression on your face. You didn’t know… it was sudden.

“Jade-” Azul was coming up from down the hall… he wouldn’t be able to see the scene, and Jade lifted his hand, motioning him to stop, which Azul did. “... did you find them?” 

Jade nodded, and Azul could tell from his posture that something was horribly wrong. He was shaken, a rare sight, which could only spell the worst.

…

…

Everyone had come back to the mirror chamber, with the last two people being Jade and Azul. All eyes were on them.

“What’s with the gloomy faces,” Cater asked, fidgeting with his phone, a nervous habit.

Jade cleared his throat, “The Prefect is dead.” His voice was monotone, but everyone could tell that it disturbed him, a rare thing indeed.

Several things happened at once. Professor Crewel started shaking visibly. Rook had silent tears rolling down his face. Vil took a step back, face pale. Cater stopped fidgeting and was now clenching his fists. And Silver clenched his jaw, and was standing stiff as a board.

Whoever the killer was, they did a good job of hiding it. Did they find this amusing? Why did they do this? What is their motive?

“Who came across them?” Professor Crewel said through gritted teeth.

Jade looked at the man with suspicion, “I did, sir.” He knew what the next question would be; ‘how did they die?’ “... their throat had been slit.”

If he had done it, wouldn’t he be covered in blood? Eyes scanned over everyone, but as far as they could all tell, no one had a speck of blood on them. 

“We need to stick together,” Azul spoke up, analyzing everyone knowing they were doing the same in turn to him. “And since the prefect,” his voice pitched a bit, his emotions getting the better of him, “was innocent, we have to vote again.”

Everyone shuffled, but once again they all wrote down who they thought the murderer was, the room, and the weapon; whoever killed Crowley had thought it would be ‘funny’ to dispose of the Prefect in the manner the majority thought they had disposed of the Headmage. 

“Seven people, eight rooms, six weapons. One person is guilty, two dead, and until they are found, no one is safe; from the perpetrator of the crime, or of being accused.” The mirror repeated what it had said last time, but with adjustments to reflect what had happened since then. 

Everyone waited with bated breath as the mirror started to show who was voted. And in the mirror was Professor Crewel in the main hall, with his mage stone in hand.

The mirror then faded again to black, “He is not the killer. The Headmage was not killed in the main hall. The weapon is magic.”

Divus was shaking again, and everyone knew that this time it was anger; he was first angry that the Prefect was killed, as he was technically responsible for them with being staff and all, but now that his own students had thought him capable that he would murder Crowley. Yes, the man aggravated him to no end, but he wouldn’t stoop to homicide of all things. And these pups had also thought that he would slit the throat of one of his own students… So yes, he was angry, rightfully so. 

Instead of lashing out though, Divus took in a long breath through his nose, and let it out through his mouth, getting a grip on himself. He was the eldest here, he couldn’t let his ire and grief get the best of him and make him do something foolish… that’s how you had met your end after all.

“From here on out we will be staying together,” he barked out. “Do not stray from the group. Am I understood?”

Everyone gave him a pensive nod as their answer, turning their eyes back to one another, judging, analyzing, trying to pin a motive on one another. 

Divus cracked his whip against the ground, gathering everyone’s attention. “Now, Jade, can you show us where the Prefect is?”

Everyone looked to Jade, and he nodded, guiding everyone to the main hall. “Do be warned though,” he murmured, just loud enough so that everyone could hear him, “it isn’t for the weak of heart.”

…

…

It had been a few hours since Crowley was killed, and now everyone understood why the crime scene was so clean; magic killed him, someone had used their magic to kill the Headmage. But your death was not clean, it was a bloody mess. And since Jade had seen the scene before, everyone else had not.

Rook grimaced but didn’t look away from you, tears running down his face again. Silver put his hand over his mouth and looked away, as if he was going to be sick. Cater nearly fainted, and was bracing himself on the bannister. Divus was shaking again, and his anger was back in full force. Vil had seen you, but then looked up to the ceiling; he didn’t want his last memory of you to be this. And Azul, Azul was shaking, and pacing; thinking.

Jade’s jaw was clenched, and he wasn’t looking at the scene again, but his mind was trying to put the pieces together. Why kill the Prefect?

But his train of thought was interrupted by a loud crash of thunder, and the power went out. The thunder continued for a solid minute, drowning out any other sounds. And by the time the power flickered weakly back on, Professor Crewel was crumpled on the ground, face distorted in anger and shock. 

He was dead, much like the Headmage and the Prefect.

There was no blood this time either, with the weapon finally pinned, it seemed like the murderer stuck with it, playing into this game. A sick game… would he win? Or can the remaining students find him before there is no one left?

LINK TO FORM (Voting will end on Friday, October 13th at 9 pm EST)

SUSPECTS:

- Silver; the kindhearted knight with a mysterious past, is it just for show?  (Plum) - Vil Schoenheit; the actor who is always pigeonholed into the role of a villain (Scarlet) - Divus Crewel; the alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion, Crowley’s co-worker (Peacock) DECEASED - Rook Hunt; the enigmatic hunter who always has a hunch of what’s happening (Mustard) - Azul Ashengrotto; the owner of The Mostro Lounge, a businessman with dubious morals (Green) - Reader; the ‘house-keeper’, a role that was imposed on them by the late Headmage (White) DECEASED - Jade Leech; a student enamored by fungi and seems to have a foreboding presence about him (Orchid) - Cater Diamond; the preppy beau of Heartslabyul, but his smile seems forced (Peach)

ROOMS:

- Main hall (eliminated in Chapter 2) - Teachers’ lounge - Cafeteria - Kitchens - Lecture theatre - Botanical garden - Alchemy lab - Library - Crowley’s office (eliminated in Chapter 1)

WEAPON: MAGIC (found in Chapter 2)

...

To be continued

[johnwickb1tsch]

Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 1 by @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake and @johnwickb1tsch GIF credits to @scarlettspectra ❤

What unholy fuckery is this, you ask? It's a round robin fic! And we're consolidating our parts here for your reading pleasure...

Summary: Imagine you're a witness in a high profile FBI case against the mafia and hitmen John Wick and Tex Johnson are competing for the contract on you. After some serious fighting and car chases in the end they just decide to fake your death and keep you for themselves...🤫 Original Post

Warnings: So many dead doves! Don't eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

johnwickb1tsch:

In the beginning Tex plays with you, chatting you up in the local diner of the po-dunk town witness protection has stashed you in. You're so cute, he just can't help himself. He peppers you with "darlin's" and sly winks and usually you would tell someone hitting on you like this to fuck off, but... You can tell he's a little wild but he's so heart-stoppingly handsome and there's something infectious in the devil-may-care way he smiles at you with a mischievous glitter in his dark eyes. That down-home accent does things to you that shouldn't be mentioned in polite company. You actually like him, so it's an EXTRA shock when it turns out he's there to kill you...

treedaddymcpuffpuff: And you’re just so sweet and cute and funny and fiery - just his type. And he’s just gonna make it quick and painless at first, but then you’re so entertaining that he wants to fuck with you for a while. Maybe even fuck you before he puts a bullet in your smart little head. John Wick just flat out wants to kill you as soon as possible. Get it over with. At least at first. But, he’s John Wick, let’s be for real. And you’re just an innocent bystander who saw too much (and you volunteer at the local animal shelter and you always give out money to homeless people and you’re just an all around sweetheart, damn you), so John is gonna decide to say fuck his task (big shocker) and save you from Tex instead.

johnwickb1tsch:

You are incredibly lonely and bored in the little town you’ve been stuck in. You usually keep to yourself, as per your FBI handler’s warnings. But you’re having such a good time, when Tex asks if you want to go for a ride in his incredibly hot vintage muscle car…you ignore every bit of good sense you have left to your name, and agree. He thinks this is hilarious, of course. And…kind of endearing. Here you are, just eatin’ out of the palm of his hand like he’s not some kind of monster.

So…you go for a ride, and you don’t get too alarmed when Tex heads out of town. He can’t show off what this baby can do in the city limits, after all… But when there’s an explosion, the front tire going flat, and you have to pull over in the middle of nowhere, you start to get worried. When Tex gets out to see the tire’s been shot out…and he pulls a gun, looking around—you start to realize you made a HUGE fucking mistake. You get out of the car, thinking this would be a great time to go elsewhere. He tries to grab you, but you knee him in the crotch! 👈 @treedaddymcpuffpuff 🤭

Just your luck, here comes another vehicle speeding down the road. Wow, there are a lot of muscle cars on the road today. This one is dark gray, with black racing stripes. You try to flag him down—but change your mind when a hand extends out the window holding a gun, and he opens fire on Tex. You, understandably, duck for cover while screaming as the firefight ensues around you. Then suddenly strong hands are grabbing you up—and throwing you in the trunk... Dun dun dun! 😈🤣

sweetwolfcupcake: Now, that's a shitty situation. That's all you can think before you begin to scream for help. But who would be there in an isolated road, ready to go against two armed men? You can barely see the man shoving you into the trunk when another round of fire starts. The man backs off to pull his gun back, but that is enough time for you to slip put. Staggering on your feet. To your relief, it is tge familiar car. Your FBI handler! "Oh God, oh God!" You cry out in tears of part relief and part terror. How could you be so stupid? Following a stranger into his car?

treedaddymcpuffpuff:

Ah, your FBI case handler. He’s a tough guy. Trustworthy. Scrappy. You know he’ll protect you even though you really hate being a damsel in distress because fuck that trope. Except mystery man (JOHNNY BOY) shoots him in the kneecap faster than FBI man can blink or say “mercy”.

And then Tex grabs you and points a loaded Glock at your head, grinning that shark toothed grin that not too long ago was making you giggle like a schoolgirl. And now it’s just making you hyperventilate and practically piss yourself in fear.

And here you are, the bargaining chip in a game of who dies first with three grown men fighting over you.

Johnwickb1tsch: “Well well. Ain’t this a sticky situation?” calls out Tex, taking cover behind his car, an arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders with that fucking gun to your head. The barrel digs into your temple painfully. “Asshole,” you growl under your breath. At a volume just for you he says, “Now, now, darlin’, don’t be sore.” “I actually liked you.” “I like you too. But your pretty head is worth a fuck ton o’ dinero. It’s a shame, sweetheart, but it ain’t lookin’ good for you.” Tears start streaming down your cheeks as the hopelessness of the situation really settles down on you. “Then why don’t you just shoot me now?” “That’s a helluva suggestion. You’re not very good at this game, are you?” “It’s not a game, you bastard.” “Sure it is.” Then in a louder voice he calls out, “Hey, John! Been a long time.” There’s a long pause before you hear from the other side of the dark muscle car, “Yeah.” “Whattya say we split the bounty, call it even stevens?” “I don’t want the girl dead.” This actually, if not stupidly, inspires some hope in you. But then if he was here to rescue you…why did he shoot your FBI agent? Tex actually laughs about this. The feeling of his broad chest moving behind you is…distracting. “Now that’s interesting! How do you propose we go about that?” “I kill you both and take her with me,” is this John’s deadpan response. He sounds so…certain that he can accomplish this. It’s kind of hot, if you’re being honest. You like the part about you not being dead, but the rest… “Hey now, that’s not nice,” answers Tex, and you can tell he’s smiling as he says it. “And you forget about this big ol’ gun I got pressed to her head.” “If you kill her, I’m going to kill you.” “Anyone ever tell you you’re a one trick pony, John?” “Yeah.” “How bout this. For old time’s sakes. Remember how it was that time in Tijuana?” “I was extremely drunk.” Tex chuckles at this, some fond old memory, and your heart is slowly sinking little by little all the way to your feet. “Well, I seem to remember you don’t mind sharing. I could live with that.” The silence on this deserted road stretches on as John considers this. “And after? The girl lives?” “Sure, sure. We fake her death, take the money. She can go her way, and we go ours.” “We’ll have to kill Dmitri Nobokov.” “He’s an asshole anyway.”    “Deal.” You are shocked when Tex releases you so suddenly you fall into a pile on the ground. What the fuck were they even talking about?? Sharing…you??! Moving in tandem, you watch as the two dangerous men close in on Agent Bradford. You hear shots, and you fear the worst. In the end you find yourself sitting on the ground, quivering like a terrified lump of jell-0, with two tall, stupidly handsome, mafia assassins looming over you. “Are you guys…brothers, or something?” Frowning, they look at each other. Tex in his denim and John in his smart black suit.  “What?” “No.” They reach down for you, and you find yourself locked in the trunk, again.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

You don’t see the need for the rope binding your wrists behind your back, or the tether on the ankles. Overkill, much?

Maybe they think you actually pose a challenge? Well, that’s nice of them, but even you’re not blimp-headed enough to think you can take on two taller, bigger, combat ready men. Plus, Tex lifted you like you were a goddamn sack of pillow stuffing.

You’re more convinced by the minute this is all just meant to humiliate you - the bondage, the trunk, the fucking slinging you over a shoulder and making casual conversation about how they’re going to pull off your death. 

Which makes you seethe because you didn’t fucking do anything. And, poor Bradford, with the family and the kids.. well, probably, you don’t actually know about his personals. That doesn’t change the fact he was a living, breathing human - once - who was just trying to keep you safe. 

You have to do something, so you don’t make it easy for them - you kick, squirm, bite. You get a big chunk of the nameless one’s hand in your mouth and latch on like a little boa, and he doesn’t even seem bothered. He just sighs, pinches your nose shut until you have to let go. 

“Now, darlin’,” Tex coos, too close to your ear for comfort, “we gotta gag you, too?” 

“I hate you,” you spit. 

Tex sifts the prickly rope through his hands, fast, big fingers way too agile, snaps it taut, chuckles like he was hoping you’d say something bitchy. And watching that debauched show should have not made your insides give an abrupt, furious clench. But it just does. 

“Guess that’s a yes,” he sighs. 

Johnwickb1tsch:

When the blade comes out is when you really start to panic. They debated for what felt like hours about what was the best way to drain your fucking blood. Something about staging your death, burning Agent Bradford's body in his car, leaving some of your blood and hair at the scene.

Jesus fucking christ, how has your life come to this?

When you feel Tex's rough hand on your arm, inspecting your anatomy for a vein, you start to cry. You couldn't be more surprised, than when you feel a soft touch in your cheek. "Hey, it's going to be alright. We just need a little." It's the intense one. John. He doesnt say much, but you get the feeling he could burn down the world with that anthracite gaze.

 Still, you whimper when you feel the cool blade on your skin. "Don't hurt her," warns John, his voice not so gentle for Tex, filled with warning.

 "I'm not," insists the one behind you. You feel a sting, but somehow, he was telling the truth. You feel the warm drip of your blood oozing down your arm. They're catching it in a 7-11 cup. How...decorous.

"Really, you should be thanking us," drawls Tex. "We saved your life."

Your exclamation of "Are you fucking kidding me?" is muffled by the scratchy rope in your mouth.

Tex gets it though, and grins. "That's right. It was an open contract, darlin'. If we didn't find you, someone else would have. Someone not so nice."

John tilts his head slightly in agreement.

 "How did you find out where the Federal Bureau of Incompetence was keepin' her, Wick?"

 "A mole." It's the only shred of hope you have.

"What a coincidence."

 Bradford was a good man. You at least know it wasn't him.

Even though you're tied up, you are so relieved when they finally go. However, it seems like they're not gone long before they return to the secluded hideout. They are not happy. Apparently, Bradford's body was gone from the scene. He could still be out there, looking for you.

sweetwolfcupcake: Hope flared within you, and it might have shown, unfortunately. You felt fingers grab your chin-- firm, not painful(for now). "Don't be so quick to sigh. Finding him is a child's play for us. And then we kill him." Tex' cold stare greeted her. Though a biting reply remained at the tip of your tongue, you knew better than to piss them off. Your life was still in their hands, after all. "I have made the arrangements." The other man approached them, he was on call for a while. He glanced at you and sighed. His eyes found Tex before he nodded. You frowned as your mind raced with possibilities, but it was only for a moment before you felt a sharp, sudden pain at the back of your head and your eyes rolled back. "You were supposed to go for the vein, not hit her!" John hissed, cradling your lolled head in his hands. " Remind me next time." Tex rolled his eyes, no sign of remorse visible. With his jaws tensed, John let your head rest and got to work. There were a lot of things to take care of-- faking your death, for example.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

 When they go, they don’t even give you hope of escape - they bind you tight to a cushiony blue chair with wooden legs and arms, expertly looping ropes around and across. It would be really hot, how they move together flawlessly and work the rope like it’s a good friend, if they weren’t making sure you couldn’t move a damn inch in the process. Oh, who are you kidding? Despite your rage and fear and sorrow, your panties are still completely soaked watching big hands and bulging veins and sinew and tendon.

And now you’re highly uncomfortable, trying to squirm and getting absolutely nowhere. You’re trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey, and then they leave. Just fucking leave. How. Dare. They.

When they get back, you’ve got drool running down and soaking your shirt, neck and chin. You’re sweaty, disheveled, uncomfortable. Despite being left to your sparse devices, the arousal has just gotten worse. Because you’ve been alone with your imagination - which has been preoccupied with two very beautiful men - and you’re fucking aching. Seeing them again makes it so much worse… are they laughing, getting along? Some inside joke. Fucking rat bastards

And they’re touching you and examining you and talking about you like you are the actual thanksgiving turkey. Unconsciousness actually feels like a great relief. It’s probably the best thing that’s happened so far.

John cuts your hair and takes some skin from a place that will heal quickly. They untie you, put your limp body back in the trunk - John does this, too, being very gentle with you, carrying you bridal style instead of over his shoulder like some caveman. He checks your pulse, makes sure your oxygenation is okay, and then does what Tex should have and injects your vein with a heavy sedative to keep you knocked.

“Ya know, I kinda liked her better when she was alive and biting the shit out of you,” Tex muses as he and John slide into the car. “She’s cute, huh? Kinda tight, just needs loosened up a little bit.” Tex raises a suggestive eyebrow and John glares him down.

“Lighten up, addle-pot,” Tex replies to John’s heavy silence.

sweetwolfcupcake: The sensation of the jerking increased along with the pain at the back of her head. It hurt. The throbbing continued as she gulped-- her throat burned. The discomfort urged her to open her heavy eyes faster. Her vision was hazy but she could make out the interiors of a car. She blinked slowly. They were silent, except for occasional whispered comments from Tex and one-word answers from the other man who looked exactly like Tex but had a distinct aura, some kind of energy that sent chills down her spine. It was like being in the presence of a dangerous creature with barely contained primitiveness. He looked more refined and spoke with a tone and way that suggested quality. And yet...and yet something in the back of her mind would be ready for a fight or flight response in his presence. If anything, he had been comparatively nicer to her. Tex was a jerk in every annoying sense-- but she could dare to have a verbal spat with Tex, and give him a fitting reply. The other man though... She had not realized that she had been starring at them until a hand reached out for her from the front seat. "She's awake." A voice gently declared. Fingers touched her cheeks gently and she knew that it was the other man. Even with swimming sight, she could tell that the car was speeding through and the other man's gaze was set on her form laying on the backseat. Only if... Only if she had been smarter, and not blindly trusted a stranger--- she wouldn't be in this mess, Bradford was her only hope now, he had proven his capabilities to her time and again and she knew that he was out there, trying to track her down. She only hoped that he was well, alive, and he knew that she was alive as well.

tbc...

[talesofesther]

scorch marks | ch 2

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: Wednesday has been careful to keep what you two have behind closed doors and far away from labels; but when someone starts to take it — take you — away from her, she realizes how much she cares.

A/N: Not much to say here, just that I hope you like this part and let me know your thoughts. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 1 here

It was an awful day outside.

The sky was all baby blue and the sun was shining warmly over the lake's water. Wednesday could see everyone running around all the way from the round window of her dorm.

She liked to keep as far away from the commotion as possible on days like these. But Enid had other plans when she dragged her roommate outside, going on about how sad it was to be cooped up inside on a day like this.

Though Wednesday was quickly ditched when Ajax came into the picture, and that's when she spotted you.

It was genuinely, annoyingly, one of the most beautiful sights Wednesday had ever witnessed. You were leaning back on your elbows under a huge tree, lips moving softly into words she couldn't know; your skin was mostly hidden from sunlight, but a few rays still managed to catch your hair, painting the strands into a golden glow as the glistening of the lake's water in front of you framed your profile. It almost got Wednesday enjoying the bright and warm weather for a second, but the rest of the world came back into focus when her gaze settled on the girl beside you.

Why did it look so intimate? Why was Yoko touching you with such grace? Why did you let her?

Wednesday had always been observant, noticing details to a minimum to find weaknesses and points of advantage, so of course, she noted how your sunglasses matched the ones the vampire was wearing. Wednesday caught her mind wandering as to how it happened; were you in her dorm room when you took them? Did Yoko put them on you, her hands touching the apples of your cheeks as she did so?

She kept her distance to keep her heart safe, so why does it hurt so much to be this far away now? Why is it so awful to see you with someone else, so happy and lively? Why does Wednesday feel like you're being stolen from her, when you're not even hers, to begin with?

There were so many goddamn questions flooding Wednesday's mind and making her feel less and less in control. It got her clenching her fists, breath coming out shallow as she nagged on her bottom lip until the metallic taste of blood brushed her tongue.

Goody warned that she was destined to be alone, so maybe she shouldn't be surprised if one day someone else gets to keep you. Doesn't mean she needs to like it, or go down without a fight.

With each step Wednesday took towards you, the more she hated herself, because it felt childish and naive, maybe even futile. But deep inside her little black heart, she also knew she would never stop torturing herself about it if she just turned away.

So she played her cards, and now that you were walking side by side with her — your shoulder bumping into hers because the concept of personal space changed when it was just you and her — Wednesday's lips parted with a long sigh she'd been holding since laying eyes on you on that picnic blanket.

Dead leaves and branches snapped under her boots, the bee keeper's shed slowly coming into view amidst the dense trees. She glanced at you, blinking slowly as her features softened for you, for you, for you always.

"What did you need me for?" You eventually asked, all innocent curiosity and flushed cheeks from the sun.

"Eugene wanted you to check on the new hive." Wednesday lied easily.

"Are the bees okay? Did something happen?" The look in your eyes mimicked the urgency of your tone.

Wednesday rolled her eyes, though the action held more adoration than anything else. "That's the whole point of checking in on them, is it not?"

The old wooden door of the shed creaked as she opened it for you and let it close again once you were both inside; it was a little darker, stripes of sunlight coming in through the cracks and holes in the walls, illuminating the organized mess of the shed.

"Touche," you mumbled, making a beeline for the new bees that were still settling in. You and Eugene liked to keep them inside for a while before relocating them to their definitive hive outside, especially when a new Queen is added.

You could feel the weight of Wednesday's gaze on your back the whole time as you checked the little ones with a faint smile, and when nothing out of the ordinary was noticed, you started to wonder — to hope — that maybe this didn't have anything to do with the bees at all.

There was shuffling behind you, steps coming closer to you yet slow and hesitant in their movement. You would have known it was Wednesday even if she wasn't the one who brought you here. From this close, the feeling of her was unmistakable; it was almost like your soul already knew the shape of hers.

You felt a touch, a barely there graze of fingertips on your elbow. You knew that it was Wednesday's silent plea for you to focus on her. Solemnly.

Oh.

You turned around, twisting on your heels and almost forgetting how to breathe, she indeed came closer, you noted.

You didn't want to look desperate — Wednesday was closer, her perfume numbing all your other senses; there was a lock of her hair slightly caught on her lips, the freckles over her nose and cheeks much more apparent — though it took everything on you to not cup her cheeks and pull her closer still.

A beat passed with you wondering whether she'd ever feel the same — with you not knowing she was already in just as deep, if not deeper, than you — watching how the slivers of light reflected off of her dark irises, how her eyebrows relaxed and her lips quirked in the faintest of smiles. With time you came to know her mannerisms, the little telltale of emotions on her that you adored, that you could spend hours admiring. This was new.

"You're so pretty," the words came out in a breath before you could hold onto them.

They got Wednesday blinking multiple times, as if a dandelion had been blown in front of her, its petals grazing her cheeks, leaving testimonies of affection and delicacy.

You wondered if she liked the feeling, or if it got her nauseous and annoyed.

Wednesday breathed in deeply, her tongue running over her bottom lip in motion that you followed. She wasn't looking at you as she said; "I remember the last time we were alone here," she spoke carefully, at the same time that her thumb curled around the belt loop of your shorts.

From her avoidance to look into your eyes to the way she insisted on touching you, it was somehow foreign territory. From all the other times you've sneaked away with Wednesday, this is easily the most intimate.

"I like that memory." Wednesday finished, tone dripping with something sweet, akin to honey but better.

Before you could even think, your fingertips were already tracing the outline of her jaw, like a satellite following the pull of gravity. You'd never heard her say anything that resembled attachment, let alone this. Part of you wanted to ask what triggered it, or where was the punchline.

Wednesday kissed you first; lips tender against yours as her nose nudged your cheek. Her urge got you stumbling backward until your back hit the shelf behind you.

You forgot any and all types of rational thinking.

————

"No," you grumbled, closing the bottle of nail polish, "no, stop fucking complaining, you're the one who asked me to do this."

You were laying on your belly on top of Wednesday's bed, her plush, comfy black comforter wrinkling slightly with the way Thing was gesturing erratically in front of you.

"And, I made it pretty clear I wasn't the best at it," you raised an eyebrow at him. Just because it was a little smudged on the sides doesn't mean he has to make a big deal out of it. The dark purple does look nice with his skin.

"Wednesday, tell him how it looks nice."

The raven-haired girl carefully picked up a filled page off of her typewriter and laid it down on the pile by her side. She spared a half-second glance towards you and Thing before inserting a new page to resume the noisy typing of her novel. "It looks dreadful."

You groaned exasperatedly, burying your head under the covers.

"I love it." Wednesday finished.

"Well there you have it," you hummed, clumsily getting up from her bed, "at least someone likes it."

Thing relented, signaling to you that it wasn't that bad.

It got you chuckling, for only a hand, he was quite something. With your palm over your chest, you mouthed a thank you to him before turning to Wednesday.

She was focused on her writing; her eyebrows just a tad furrowed, eyes sharp over the ink that was set on paper, her lips pulled thin as her fingertips skillfully pressed over the letters. Selfishly, you wanted to pull out your phone and take a picture, stash away this memory just for you. She probably wouldn't like that though, and as your mother used to tell you; memories exist outside of time. You could be back here and now anytime you wanted.

Some might think that Wednesday's side of the room is morbid and dead compared to the burst of colors that is Enid's side. You saw it differently; her hoodie was thrown over the bed, from earlier when she came in; there is a potted cactus sitting on the bedside table, beside the big round window, you gave it to her a few weeks ago and it still a vivid green; her cello rests beside her wardrobe, its case half open from when she practiced last night; the bin from under her desk is almost overflowing with balls of paper, signs of a dead end on her novel that she, apparently, has just found a way around.

If you look closely enough, Wednesday's side of the room is just as full of life as Enid's is. Each corner has a little bit of her, of her personality for you to discover. And just recently you've been allowed to. Honestly, it's still a little overwhelming.

You've been in her room before, countless times because of Enid, but never because Wednesday had invited you. It caught you by surprise when she — in her own nonchalant and cryptic way — asked you to come back with her a few days ago. A part of you always thought she would never want to entangle your personal lives more than they already were, so it did catch you a bit off guard when she yanked you from Yoko's side in the hallway and just… didn't let go.

Every day since, you've been spending more time by her side. None of you had quite addressed why yet.

You slowly walked to Wednesday's side, with every three clicks of the typewriter you took one step. Your gaze shifted from her to the recently written pile of pages on the desk.

Wednesday's fingers hovered over the buttons when she noticed you looking. She strived to keep her face impassive even when her breathing felt stuck to her throat.

Shit. She thought to herself, did you have to come snooping right when that page is on the top?

"Is there a new character in your novel?" You asked, lightly tracing your fingertips over the black ink, mainly over the lines in which Viper was described holding the hands of an unnamed girl.

Wednesday got up in a quick motion, her chair harshly scrapping the dark wood floor as she stepped in front of you, blocking your view of her story. "No, I… She's not important." She explained, looking at you through her eyebrows in an almost daring way.

You were about to open your mouth to inquire more, but three knocks on the door stopped you.

Both you and Wednesday looked towards it. She took a step away from you, her back bumping the desk and causing a few pencils to roll over, as if just realizing how close you two were — as if you'd never been much closer than that.

Wednesday cleared her throat, taking swift steps to the door and pulling it open only to reveal Yoko on the other side, round sunglasses resting above her nose and a cheeky grin on her dark-painted lips.

"What do you want?" Wednesday all but growled, her knuckles going white around the door handle.

"I'm here for that one," Yoko gestured towards you, before tilting her head so her eyes could properly find yours, "due date is next week Y/N, last I checked we're still a pair, come on lovergirl."

The nickname held no bad intentions other than to tease you for suddenly being glued to Wednesday's side. But if looks could kill, Wednesday would have Yoko six feet under already.

Begrudgingly, you picked up your backpack, giving Thing a fist bump before walking to the door.

You stopped by Wednesday, naturally reaching out to touch the back of her hand with yours. Her skin was all silk-like smooth as you hooked your pointer finger with hers.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" You asked only for her to hear.

Pathetically, Wednesday dreaded the thought of you leaving with someone else. She only nodded, giving your finger a barely-there squeeze before you walked away.

And when Yoko put an arm around your shoulders, she almost knocked the whole building out of place with the way she slammed her door.

————

The smell of coffee and freshly baked goods was ever-present in Weathervane, the place held this warmth to it, all cinnamon and brown sugar. Maybe that's why it was your favorite place in town.

You and Yoko sat by one of the booths beside the big glass windows, watching the people walk by on the sidewalk as a light drizzle painted the streets a darker color.

Your spoon clicked against your mug every time you mixed up your cappuccino. There was a small frown on your eyebrows, your back hitting the plush fabric of your seat; "yeah but like, why?"

Yoko let go of the straw in her drink with a pop, she shrugged, "not sure."

"So someone just told you oh by the way if you eat anything with garlic you might just end up in the hospital, and you just went with it no questions asked?" You tilted your head to the side as a puppy would, a faint smile coming to your lips.

"I mean," the vampire leaned back, strands of her straight hair going over her sunglasses, "back then I didn't give much of a shit, and since then it has happened to me enough times that I know it's true so, no I never asked about the whys."

A waiter passed by you holding a recently baked pie, the warm smell of apples invading your nostrils. You briefly considered ordering a slice. "I'd be curious about the whys." You mumbled, your lips grazing the edge of your mug before you took a sip.

Yoko smirked, her fangs prodding at her lower lip, "look it up then."

"We have, there's nothing."

"That's because it's something we know since the dark ages."

You hummed, "talk about blind trust."

Placing your mug on the table, you lazily turned your head to the side to look out into the street, only to be met with the piercing eyes of Wednesday staring right into your soul from the other side of the glass window.

Your hand bumped into your mug with the way you jumped in your seat, spilling a bit of your drink, "shit," you cursed under your breath, hearing the pounding of your heart in your ears.

"Don't scare me like that," you exclaimed to Wednesday, motioning wildly to the cappuccino stain on the table.

All the raven-haired girl did was raise an unimpressed eyebrow at you, probably not understanding a word of what you were saying.

"You two, I swear to god…" Yoko giggled, watching you amusedly.

"Don't." You pointed a finger at her.

From the sidewalk, Wednesday visibly huffed before turning around to carefully make her way inside.

"Yeah, I'm gonna take that as my cue to go to the bathroom, because she," Yoko told you, finishing her drink before gesturing behind her to where the bell above the door dinged as Wednesday came in, "looks like a damn storm cloud."

"Yeah very funny," you whispered back, to which you only received a salute from Yoko as a response as she walked away.

Wednesday made her way around the tables and to you, her arms straight by her side and face impassive. Her eyes never left you, she choose to sit beside you on the booth instead of in front of you, her shoulder brushing yours as her hands rested neatly on her lap.

"Hey you," you smiled something shy, feeling the familiar way your cheeks warmed up and your stomach filled with butterflies for having her this close. "I'm happy you're-"

"I couldn't find you at school," Wednesday stated before you could finish, her gaze sneaking from your eyes to your lips.

Your hands became slick with perspiration, words tangled at the tip of your tongue. She was looking for you, came all this way for you. Maybe it shouldn't have made you as happy as it did.

"You were looking for me?" You dared ask, tone filled with tender hope and something else, all warm and sweet, a feeling you've been trying to keep at bay since she first kissed you.

Wednesday gulped, her jaw tensing as she averted her gaze with a slow blink. One of your hands was resting on top of the table, fidgeting with the edge of a napkin; was it too bad that she felt like holding it?

"I uh- I'm sorry I didn't say anything," you said when she didn't answer, "Yoko wanted to go out for a bite and asked me to tag along."

There was an instant coldness to you when Wednesday shifted on her seat, separating her shoulder from yours, "she asked you out?"

"I mean, yeah but-"

"And you said yes?"

Your lips hung open for a beat where you simply looked at Wednesday; her dark eyes shining under the orange lights, droplets of rain still clinging to her black hair, and for the first time, no walls up around her heart. But maybe it was your fault that it was not for the right reasons.

Wednesday breathed through her nose, it sounded much like a sniff and she hated it; "don't let me spoil your date." She got up so fast that she was halfway to the door when you scrambled to go after her.

"Wait, Wednesday wait," you called, jogging to catch up to her and almost knocking over a guy who was carrying two big mugs of hot chocolate.

You took hold of her hand without thinking, walking around her to block her path a second before she reached the door handle.

She didn't return the hold you had on her hand and it stung, but you carried on almost desperately; "not a date. This is not a date, you don't have to be jealous or-"

"I don't care." Wednesday yanked her hand away, her words so cold that she almost convinced herself that they were true. "The fact that you could even think I would feel anything remotely close to that for you is ridiculous at best."

It was already a scene, you and Wednesday could feel the not-so-discreet eyes of almost all the customers on you, forks with pieces of pie and mugs with coffee stopped midair as they watched the show.

You involuntary curled in on yourself because of the unwanted attention. Wednesday didn't seem to mind.

"Please can we talk about this somewhere else?" You asked quietly, your sneaker tapping the floor rhythmically.

"There's nothing to talk about." Wednesday simply said, but the words were pushed out forcefully, bitter on her tongue and razor-sharp around her already bleeding heart. They hurt, but at least this was a pain that Wednesday could control.

You took a step closer to her, hands itching to touch her in any way but she took a step away from you.

"We have nothing worth talking about."

With that Wednesday walked around you and into the now pouring rain, leaving behind everything that could've been.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 3 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @angel-luv-04 @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @kylobensgirl @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @astancomerbelova

@justyourwritter69 @natashaxwife @fieldofsecretss @faunusrubyrose @darkblueeyedperson @jujuu23 @part-timetraveller @athenablack1959 @loki-is-loved @oh-thats-cute @straweberries

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Just read yandere sugar daddy AND GOD!! Plz do part 2. I want to see them dating🫣

One order of Rowan coming right up!

Yandere! Sugar Daddy x "Pure"! Reader part 2

Part 1 here!

An opulent outfit of pure white stood out as it draped on a person in front of a mirror. The hands that caressed it's folds and seams trembled a bit as they tried to calculate the numbers that must have cost to come up with such an intricate piece of clothing. Their face, flushed with a tint of bashfulness, looked like an angel on earth. The way their aura and pure look awed the man sitting on his desk, his eyes ravaging on their form, pure hunger in them.

"You look absolutely stunning, love." His deep voice rang around the dark and dreary office room. "An angel, sent to me, and only me."

His fingers twitched slightly as he grabbed his churchwarden pipe, inhaling a drag and exhaling out the grey, slightly purple smoke that smelled of lavender and mint.

"What do you think? I had to pull quite the strings just to get that dress made." Rowan chuckled a bit. "What did the designer said again? Ah, the sheen on the outfit is apparently crushed pearls and opal."

He had a hard time convincing the dressmaker, but it's nothing a few... Threats won't do.

"It's beautiful..." Your voice let out an airy response, still at awe at how the dress looked good on you.

As you twirled around the mirror that witnessed different sides of your relationship, Rowan observed your form.

He always loved how you stand out of the dark office. You, and your pureness was something he craved, wanted, obsesses with.

Authentic. Uncontaminated.

In his eyes, you were something unattainable, something so holy that he shouldn't dare to even lay his bloodied hands on you.

But he dared to, and he wants to paint your white dress with his red and blacks. His blood, sweat, and tears on your body so soft and refined it's almost too daunting to glance at. He wants to sink his teeth on your untainted flesh.

"Come here, love." Rowan stretched his hand to you and you walked up to him. He whirled you around and made you sit on his lap, resting his chin on your exposed shoulder. His lips, dauntingly pressing against your neck, threatened to place salacious marks of belonging.

That you are only his.

"Stay on my lap, love. I want you close to me as I work." He whispered, his breath hot on your ear as he started to work on his papers.

You only nodded, flushed from head to toe as you tried to focus on something other than him.

You could feel his hardened body, his calm heartbeats, and his deep exhales and inhales as if he was taking in your scent and ingraining it in your mind.

The necklace he bought you before was hanging on his monitor, taken off earlier in order for you to wear the dress much easier.

Were you bored out of your mind? Absolutely. But can you really do anything other than obey the man that spent so much money on you that you swore it can almost make you live up to your 70's without worrying about money and inflation? If you're a brat, probably.

But your nice and innocent nature didn't dare to.

"You know, you can search up things you want to buy, love. If you're bored, at least." Rowan suggested, urging, coaxing. It was weird how he's so adamant at making you spend his money, like it was a weird fetish he had.

You aren't wrong.

You were like an unspoken prayer on his lips, a saint on his sinful tongue he wishes to pleasure and please.

At first, you were always rejecting the idea of spending his money just because you're bored.

But now you didn't even shrug as you daintily grabbed his phone and typed out your birthday as his password and went to an online shop of your liking.

Oh, how he shivered at the sight.

You're tainted with his colors.

His red and blacks.

His greed.

Now, he just wishes for you to get so greedy you wanted more of this relationship.

If not, his efforts of isolating you slowly from your family and friends will be all for naught. And he doesn't like it if his efforts are wasted.

Your fingers hovered over his gallery as you finished your shopping, and you were so tempted.

Usually, he doesn't like it if you try to look at his gallery. It's as if it was totally forbidden to look at it.

But you can't contain your overwhelming (Greedy) curiosity.

So, with a slight twist of your torso, covering the phone, you opened the gallery.

Rowan smirked as he knew what you did, no matter how much you try to hide it.

And as your gasps of fear and shock filled his ears, he chuckled and placed a lustful kiss on your neck. You took the bait.

"Did you like the candid photos of you in your home, love? I especially love the photos of you in your apron." His tongue, the work of the devil, trailed along your jaw as he kissed it. "If you wanted, you could cook for me. Just staying in our home as I shower you with affection and money. And you can just devote yourself to me. As I to you."

Your lips trembled at the suggestion. You wanted to say no. You really do.

You should be creeped out by how he took these photos. It looked like spy cameras. You really should.

But do you, really? But should you, really?

It was so tempting. Like an oasis in the middle of the desert, and you, the unfortunate person to see the mirage and think of it as a haven to rest your weary form on, and not a trap set to ensnare you for life.

And, as your mouth opened to reply, Rowan's lopsided smirk appeared on his devilishly handsome face.

He won.

He finally satisfied his greed, and yours.

[purpleyoonn]

Doughnuts and Shell Casings

one shot series // part 1 of ?

summary: you finally gather the courage to leave your routine and do something different. your expectations are blown out of the water as you meet your soulmates in a less-than-expected way. 

genre: soulmate au, bts au, mafia au, poly au, 

pairing: mafia bts x innocent reader

warnings: robberies/break-ins, attempted kidnapping, murder, reader witnesses a murder, bruises, mafia bangtan, weapon use, very touchy bangtan, blood, 

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp​ @yourleftsock​ @skyys-universe​ @cryingpages​ @strxwbloody​  @drissteele​ @dustyinkpages​ @iamkookiesforyou​ @crushedblackroses​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @blaaiissee​  @iiitsmaria​  @carolinexkpop​  @azazel-nyx​ @strawberry-moonpies​ @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​ @knjkitten​ @kleirielk​ @foreverweareyoung7​ @lachimolala22019​ @namuficxs​ @94z-93​ @kimgmzmc​ @thenaverse​ @dahliasbouqet​ @black-rose-29​ @tinyoonsblog​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @stellauniverse​ @stupendouscookiehumanmug​ @tinyoonsblog​ @veronawrites​ @tatyhend​

masterlist // one-shot masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

Mornings were always the best for you. You loved getting things done and then having the rest of the day to relax or do whatever your heart desired. It was probably one of the reasons you loved working at a café, that and the free coffee and pastries.

Doughnut was the name of the café, named after the owner’s famous doughnuts she handmakes every morning before opening. Nayeon and Jihyo owned the café and were also some of your closest friends. You had gone to school with them, and the rest of their soulgroup.

There were nine people total within their soulgroup, and you were happy that they were able to complete their soulgroup so early in life. Most people don’t find their soulmates until their twenties, others were lucky enough to grow up with theirs.

Unfortunately for you, you had yet to meet any of the people whose name’s live on your wrist. There were seven names, and you had yet to even hear of them in your twenty-five years. It had you losing hope, but you had faith that you would meet them soon.

“Good morning, Kitty!” Nayeon yelled out to you as soon as you walked in through the back door. She had been calling you that since you were six, since the day you walked into first grade with your favorite stuffed animal: a black cat plushie.

“Good morning, Bunnie!” You yelled back, seeing her working on getting the fresh batch of pastries and sweets out on the shelf. It was your turn to bake the cookies, hence why you were at the café at 4:30 in the morning.

You set out to make coffees first, two for you for Nayeon and one for Sana who would be coming in at five. Once you handed Nayeon her coffee, and after hearing her mumble her thanks, you set out to get the cookie dough you had let freeze over night for easier handling. You spent all day yesterday working on making cookie dough. You made chocolate chip, peanut butter, and sugar cookie dough.

Your sugar cookies were a huge selling point, besides the doughnuts. You spent hours before opening individualizing each cookie, making different characters and designs. You loved seeing the faces of the little kids who come into the shop and pick out one of your cookies. It was a fun hobby for you and you loved the payoff of the business you receive from them.

Once you had a couple batches in the oven to bake and the time set, you moved back to the front to help Sana, who had just arrived, clean and set up the café. It was a smaller café, only around eight or nine small tables and twice as many chairs, but it was your friend groups pride and joy. All ten of you worked there, varying shifts and times.

You, Nayeon, and Jihyo worked the most shifts, as this was your baby. The others all had their own things going on, but never failed to take on one or two shifts a week at the café. It led to many fun times, and lots of happy memories that littered the walls in the form of polaroids.

“Okay my friends, we open in thirty minutes. Let’s have another good day and make even more friends!” Nayeon shouted out, getting your attention as she stood with her hands in the air.

When it was time to open, you already had a couple of customers waiting outside, two of your regulars who had been coming in every morning since you opened three years ago. You actually already had their order ready for them at the counter, two hot chocolates with caramel and two of Nayeon’s chocolate glazed doughnuts.

“Thanks again, deary.” The wife, Mrs. Chang, smiled up at you as you rang in their total. Mr. and Mrs. Chang were two of the sweetest people you had ever met.

“It’s no problem Mrs. Chang. You know we love seeing you both every morning.” You smile back at her, meaning every word. You loved seeing your regulars and learning how their day has been.

“Have you heard about the robberies going on?” Mr. Chang speaks up, a hint of worry in his tone as he looks to the side and out the window. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you take in his words.

“No, Mr. Chang. We haven’t heard anything.” You hand him the change as he motions for his wife to grab their usual table.

“There has been a couple robberies over the past week, most of them taking place downtown in the shopping district but we still worry about you all.” He places a hand on top of your own that rest on the counter.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Chang. I will talk to Nayeon and Jihyo and see if we can’t figure out some more safety measures.” You try to smile reassuringly at the older gentleman, not quite sure what you could do, but it seems to work as he smiles back and nods his head.

“Good. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to our favorite girls.” He grabs his hot chocolate and goes to sit down.

His words had you kind of worried, wondering if at some point the robberies would make their way to where you were located. You hoped that the college district was far enough away that you were safe. You looked over to the measly double lock that the front door had and moved to turn to Sana.

“We need to figure out our budget and see what kind of safety measures we can add to the building.” Sana quirks her head at you, questioning your statement. You lead her to the back where Nayeon was and explain to them what Mr. Chang said.

They were also a little worried, Nayeon telling you both she would talk to Jihyo and look at the budget to see what you all could do. That was all you could really do for the moment without looking at the numbers so with that you all went back to work.

It was a normal day, the flow ebbing off around eleven but returning around one when classes let out for the science building at the local university. That meant rush hour for your café as the crowds of students came for caffeine refuels or sweets to tide them over.

This meant that it was time for Dahyun, Momo and Jeongyeon’s shift. They would be taking over for you and Sana as it was Nayeon’s day to run the shop. You both were going to meet Chaeyoung for lunch as she had a free period before her next class.

“Bye Bunnie! By Hyunie! By Yeongie! By Momo!” You and Sana both shouted out in unison, your normal departure ritual, each earning bye’s in return as the door closed behind you.

The two of you walked the couple blocks it would take to get to the restaurant.

“You know, you should get out more, like take up a yoga or painting class or something.” Sana was nonchalant as she suggested. The soulgroup had been trying to get you out of your hole for years. They thought you spent too much time in the shop or at home.

“You don’t need to worry about me. Getting out isn’t really my…thing.” You shrugged in response. It was true, you were completely content with just relaxing at home or being at the café. You weren’t the person to party or drink. It just wasn’t something you enjoyed.

“It’s just, the more places you go to, or things you do, the more likely it is you’ll meet your soulmates.” She explains with a saddened tone. They all hated watching you retreat into your shell. They knew that you thought it was too late for you to meet your soulmates and noticed how you stared at your soulmark when you thought no one was looking.

They just wanted you to be happy.

“That’s why I’m doing what I’m comfortable with. I’m going with you and Chaeyoungie to lunch and we’ll be there to hang out.” You appreciate their love and friendship, but you aren’t comfortable with putting yourself out there, even if it is to find your soulmates.

“And I’m happy you are going!” Sana squeals as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. “You never go to lunch with us!” She wasn’t wrong. It had been a long time since you had gone to lunch with one of your friends. You usually brought lunch with you and ate it in the back or went home to eat.

Within another five minutes you had made it to the restaurant, seeing Chaeyoung wave at you from her window seat. It seemed she made it early to grab you guys a table.

You smiled wide as you saw your younger friend. You both shared the same birthday; you only being born a year before. You bonded quickly over that, dubbing yourself the ‘birthday twins” after meeting.

“Youngie!!”

“Y/n-ie!” You both run to her, almost crashing into each other as you wrap your arms around your friend. You hadn’t seen her for a week, you both being busy with work and school.

When you let go, Sana was already at the table looking at the menu. Chaeyoung drags you over and has you sit next to her as she goes to hand you a menu as well.

“Okay so I already got our drinks. They should be coming soon.” Chaeyoung broke the silence from you looking at the menu. You hadn’t been to this restaurant before, but you know the girls frequented it a lot.

“So, what have you been up to Youngie?” You turn to her and ask.

“I’ve been finishing up my sculpture! It is almost done and I think I only need one or two more sessions before I can start glazing it.” Chaeyoung is in the middle of getting her art degree and is taking a ceramics class for the first time.

She was nervous when she first started, so you were happy to see her getting excited about it now that a couple months have passed. She was also in a photography course, which you knew she was even more excited for.

“What is your sculpture going to be?” You ask as your drinks arrive.

“She won’t tell us. She says it’s supposed to be a surprise.” Sana states, narrowing her eyes at her younger mate, a teasing glint in her voice. Chaeyoung begins to blush at her mate’s tone, rolling her eyes dramatically to deflect.

“Because it is. I wouldn’t have to keep it a secret if someone didn’t break my last sculpture on accident.” Chaeyoung accuses, looking directly at Sana as she spoke.

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault that Jihyo accidentally knocked into the vase!”

“Yes it was! If you weren’t trying to bite her shoulder then she wouldn’t have fallen into my vase!” You looked back and forth between the two, excitedly watching the drama unfold as the two continued on.

However, despite the growing entertainment, your stomach was rumbling with hunger and you needed to get food into your system or you were going to cry. You look around for your waiter only to notice something sticking out the back of a man’s jacket. It was black and shiny and had your nerves standing on end.

You looked up to see if you could recognize the man only for him to already be looking at you, a smirk resting on his lips as he winks at you. Your eyes widen as he moves to place his finger on his lips, a “be quiet” gesture.

You quickly turn to Sana and Chaeyoung who were still arguing over whose fault the broken vase was.

“We need to leave. Now.” Your quiet voice and urgent tone as their own figures freezing, turning to look at you to see you visibly shaken.

“What’s going on Y/n?” Sana asks you, leaning in closer to you over the table. You open your mouth to respond only for a scream of terror to cut you off.

You move to yank your friends under the table with you, hearing the words “freeze” and “get down” yelled all throughout the restaurant. Once you know that your friends are okay, huddled together under the table, you risk your courage and move slowly to peer out from under your cover.

There were three men standing up, guns in hand and aimed at who appears to be the owner of the restaurant. You can hear your ears ringing as you watch the scene play out in front of you.

“We told you. Boss gave you three weeks to give him the money back you owe him.” The one in front spoke, his voice slightly pitchy but nonetheless attractive as he spoke up, tone cold as he cocks his gun at the trembling man.

“I—I’m sorry Sirs! I’ll get you the money. I swear!” The man cries out, only for a gun shot to ring out.

One of the employees was trying to crawl past the men, passed you and to the door. You couldn’t look away as the man tried to crawl to you, hand grabbing onto your forearm where your marks were.

“help plea…” Another shot rang out as the man fell to the ground. You gasped, moving your hand to cover your mouth as you looked to your other, blood now smeared across your soulmarks as his hand continued to clutch onto you.

You could feel the tears falling down your cheeks as you look at the man, the life gone from his eyes as they now stare, unblinkingly at you. You could vaguely hear Chaeyoung and Sana calling your name, can feel the tugging on your shit stop once the footsteps start.

One of the men was now kneeling down in front of you, yanking the man’s arm off of you and grabbing you to stand up. He had a grin on his face, barely concealed by his lips moving.

“Poor baby. Let’s just clean that up.” He pulls you in the direction of the other men, both wearing their own smiles as they watch their partner drag you.

He pulls you and makes you stand in front of the owner, still crying as the guns aimed at him never faulted. He steadies you upright, hands on your shoulders as he make you face the owner.

“Can our sweetheart here clean up in the back? She’s got a little something on her arm.” Both you and the owner glance down at your arm, the reminder of red making more tears pool in your eyes. The man looks at you with a worried look, “sorry” written all over his features as he points to the back.

“Speak up!” One of the men behind you speaks, tone sharp as the owner jumps in his boots.

“You can go through there. The sink is to the right.”  He cries out, fists clenched to his sides as the man walks you forward past the counter where the man was standing. You can see his hand moving out, only for it to snap back to his side.

“Don’t touch her!” The same man shouts, a slight growl to his tone this time, like he was speaking through anger.

The one in the middle, the main leader it seemed, still hasn’t spoken. He just stares hard at the owner, almost begging him to move and give him the chance to shoot. It was unnerving as you had a full view of his face as you tried to scrub the blood off your forearm.

The man who grabbed you still stood behind you, flush against your back with his hands on your shoulders. You had no clue what he was doing or looking at, but you had to bite your lip to hold back your sobs.

“Do you need some help there, baby?” His voice was right next to your ear, causing you to flinch a little. The man just chuckled before reaching for your arm. You knew you couldn’t say no, couldn’t deny him when they had guns aimed at everyone.

You let him move you around so he could face you. While he was scrubbing at your mark, you took the time to study his appearance. He wore a long black coat that seemed designer from how nice the material looked. He was wearing jeans and some nice boots. His face though, was otherworldly.

He was beautiful. Ethereal even. His features were sharp, as if sculpted by the gods. He had a mole on his nose and if you looked closely enough, you could see one under his eye. He seemed to be smiling as he cleaned your arm, paying closer attention to one of the names on your mark, rubbing it with his thumb.

Once the blood was cleaned up, he held your hand in his and stood back up. You watched him nod to his partners who then got busy. Within seconds the owner was shot, and two of the employees who were there were in similar states, screams of terror and panic sounding from the eating area.

The man holding your hand had moved you passed the owner, making you step over him instead of moving around. You noticed Chaeyoung and Sana watching you with tear marks stained to their faces. You wanted to move to them, reassure them you were okay, but you didn’t know if that was true.

“Hello darling. Sorry about the mess.” The man who shot the owner was now smiling down at you, his smirk turning to a smile as he moves his hand to cup your cheek.

Jimin almost coos at you as he watches you shake. You didn’t even realize who they were. You were probably too focused on your fear to feel the tingles running up your spine at their hands touching you.

You can’t even speak you were petrified. Jimin knew you wouldn’t be like that for much longer, not when they brought you back. But it had to wait for now. There were too many witnesses and Namjoon would kill him if they harmed you in any way.

“Don’t worry, everything will be okay.” He squeezed your cheek in his grip before reluctantly pulling away.

“Are these your friends?” Your heart skipped as he gestured to Sana and Chaeyoung who were frozen, watching the scene in front of them. You nodded your head only for the tallest man to chuckle.

“Use your words, darling.” You couldn’t tell if the shiver you felt was from fear or something entirely different but nodded again.

“Yes sir. They are my friends.” You managed to whisper after trying to clear your throat.

“Good girl.” The leader spoke in your ear before turning back to your friends, motioning for them to stand up. They both slowly stood up, limbs locked from fear as they clung to each other.

“Now, why don’t you make sure our darling here gets home safe. We don’t want any more blood on her hands.” The men laugh at the joke, but the humor doesn’t reach you nor does it reach any other person in the building. You can still see one or two more customers hiding behind tables, watching everything unfold.

You don’t know why you were singled out, nor why the men smiled at you the way they did, but you figured they were just sick, finding everything funny as if they didn’t just shoot four people dead.

Jimin let everyone go free, knowing they couldn’t identify them even if they tried. No one would believe them anyways. They had the cameras shut down over an hour before they even arrived, Yoongi doing his job and more as he is probably already uncovering everything about you.

The three of them watch you walk out, shaking as you cling to your friends.

“She’ll be clinging to us soon enough.” Jungkook wraps an arm around Jimin’s waist, knowing exactly what his older mate was thinking. Taehyung nods his head in agreement.

“She had her eyes practically glued to me the entire time I was holding her. She even started to relax in my hold, not that she noticed.” Jimin quirked his eyebrow, smiling as he opened the door to the car.

“Such a sweet little thing. I know Jin is going to love her.” They all laugh, knowing just how much Jin is going to love their innocent soulmate.

“Probably won’t let her leave. He’ll keep her with him the first couple months maybe, spoil her rotten.” Jungkook quips back, a knowing glint to his eyes as he remembers his own first couple of months with his soul group.

“Oh, like you weren’t sucking his dick two months in!” Taehyung exclaimed, his head hitting the passenger side window as Jimin takes a sharp turn. Jungkook just shrugs his shoulders.

“Yeah, so. What’s your point?” Rolling his eyes, Jimin just reaches for his phone, hitting the first speed dial.

“Hey baby, we’ve found her.”

-*-*-

“Someone get her blanket for her!” You were pushed onto your sofa as Jihyo yelled out, motioning for your favorite blanket. It was a light blue, worn down from use but still felt as soft as the day you got it. You had brought it with you through three different moves and almost losing it to your grandmother’s dog a couple years back.

It was your comfort item and if there was ever a time where you needed it, it would be now.

Chaeyoung managed to text the group chat a SOS message, letting them know what happened. And while they were all worried for everyone, Sana made sure to let them know exactly what happened when you got to your apartment and everyone was waiting for you.

“Here you go, Bunnie.” Nayeon handed you your blanket before taking her seat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and almost bringing you into her lap. They were all scared and worried for you.

“Why you? Out of everyone in the restaurant? Why you?” Jeongyeon asked the most obvious question, something the others didn’t really want to think about.

“It was weird. Once the man started crawling to her, I noticed the robbers get really angry, like visibly shaking before one of them shot the man.” Chaeyoung spoke up from her place on Mina’s lap. Her voice quiet as she goes through her memory of the events.

“And then one of them walked up to her, pulled her up and helped her clean her arm of the uh, of the blood.” Sana choked out, adding onto what Chaeyoung was saying.

“Did they say anything to you Y/n?” Momo asked, leaning on her knees as she moves so she can look directly at you.

“They just…kept trying to take care of me, calling me pet names and asking if I was okay.” You were unsure of everything that happened. You felt like your brain was making things up, trying to twist the events so you weren’t traumatized. You almost felt like you were lying to yourself.

However, one thing stuck in your head, no matter how many times you tried to forget about it.

“When the man helped me clean my arm, he kept rubbing at my soulmark.” Your words stump the others, shock moving through your friends as you stare at the pillow on your lap. No one knew what to say or think.

“He was probably just shocked by the number of names on your mark. You know it’s not really common to have a huge soulgroup like we do.” Nayeon reassured you. She knew exactly where your mind was going.

You were wondering if these men were your soulmates. No one besides regulars at work have ever been that caring and nice upon meeting you, especially when they were robbing the establishment where you were eating.

“Yeah, let’s not worry about it. They probably just saw an opportunity to make someone uncomfortable and took it.” Dahyun agreed with Nayeon, but her reassurance was light, as if she wasn’t really sure she believed her own words.

“How about this, let’s just order some pizza and watch movies. A girls night, like when we were younger. It’ll get your mind off of everything.” Tzuyu’s quiet voice spoke up in the silence, watching all of her unnies stew in their worry. She knew there was nothing they could do for now, so they needed a distraction.

“That’s sounds great baby! I’ll order our usual.” Jihyo gets up from her spot and moves to grab her phone while Dahyun and Jeongyeon crawl form their positions on your floor to your bookshelf, all of your movies lined up on the black piece of furniture.

Part 2

[certifiedwhore4slashers]

Chase

Part 1

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: yandere themes and behavior, obsession, possessiveness, toxicity, murder, blood, gore, etc…

SCREAM VI SPOILERS!! I’m warning you right now in case you haven’t seen the movie. Also should I write for him more?

taglist: @liyahsocorro @astarborntowrite

You somehow managed to run once more, However, this time, You were confident he was far behind you. You stepped in the elevator. You were definifely telling the others who Ghostface was. One of them, anyways.

You inhale, then exhale, You shouldn't worry. You got rid of him, right? Well, you went through this before. He was never fully gone. While you were on the elevator, You call Police about your boyfriend.

However, once you entered the lobby, you could hear footsteps, Not looking behind you, you exit the building. You were outside. People could witness you. Could help you.

Life or Death Scenario.

He promised he wouldn't hurt you, but who could really believe him? Not you. He murdered your boyfriend simply because he was your boyfriend.

Your best friend, betrayed you. You wondered if he had been playing a façade. Maybe, this was who he really is. Because why would he be Ghostface? He has to have a motive, right? Well, besides the fact he was in apparently obsessed with you. Hence why he never killed you.

You didn't even know where you were going, You knew where your apartment was. Suddenly, the footsteps grew closer. You gulp, before running further.

Behind you, He was there. For some reason, Never giving up. Even if you rejected him. You just needed to keep running. In hopes he would stop for now.

Sadly for you, He doesn't give up easily. You needed to find someone who could help, quick. Your friends, Maybe. But you left your phone. You would eventually tell them one of their close friends was really Ghostface, well one of them. You would figure out the others on your own.

"I like a chase."

You were doomed, weren't you? You were growing tired from running. You'd have to eventually stop. Which You though you were safe, stopping so you could gain your energy back. Dumb Move of you to do.

You feel yourself being pulled into someone's chest, feeling the clothing, You knew who it was. He wrapped his arms around your waist strongly, in order to prevent you from leaving.

He must've taken his mask off, because he said, "You can't tell anybody, Y/N. If you do, You'll regret it." He held his knife on your throat, not so he could hurt you, but so he could scare you. You knew he could feel how scared you were.

You whimper. "I won't, I promise." "Good, He replied."I meant my word on not hurting you, Y/n." Ethan still held you tightly, so you really couldn't go anywhere.

"I... You begin. "I don't believe you." He smirks. "You don't? What a shame. Why would I ever hurt you, y/n? I love you." "You killed the guy I love! You yell. "You're mine, Y/N, Ethan said possessively.

You missed when he was sweet, Kind, who seemed happy you found someone who loved you. But he probably never liked your boyfriend to begin with.

"this isn't love! you argued. "you're obsessed. big difference." When you heard sirens, you knew they arrived. they would find your boyfriend's body. You would be found. You would tell them. He sighed."I love you, You can go. For now." You blinked a few times but bolted when you could.

Stupidly, You went home. Of course you did. There, the Police were waiting. More specifically Detective Bailey, Father of Quinn. They asked you questions but you were proven innocent.

You wondered if they’d ever catch Ethan, the other ghostfaces too. You knew there were more. That’s when you decided on going to your friend’s. He didn’t live too far from you.

And it probably would be a dumb idea but you couldn’t be by yourself. You ring up your friend. You didn't want him to think You would be telling Tara, Chad, Sam, Mindy, or her girlfriend, Anika.

You only met Ethan through Chad, being roomies and everything. "Pick up, You murmur. You had been friends with Kyle since childhood. You could trust him. You smile when he picks up. "Y/N? Is everything okay? Kyle said, concern in his voice.

"No... You said, kind of freaked out. "Could You come pick me up? I don't feel like being by myself tonight." "Of course, He replies. "On my way."

Kyle hung with your friends sometimes, who often teased how whipped he was for you, but during this, you had your boyfriend. But you didn't believe them. You knew Kyle your whole life, He moved from Woodsboro so you could keep your friends close.

You could see his car and quickly get in. "Y/n, What happened? Kyle asked. "Ghostface, You said. "Oh My god, I'm so sorry, Kyle replies, stopping for a second so he could hug you.

"Thanks for letting me stay over, You smile, entering his apartment, when it began raining. "Of course, feel free to stay as long as you'd like, Kyle smiles, closing his door. You nodded.

Rain came down quick. You were lucky you didn't stay outside longer. “I’ll make you something to eat, Kyle said, going in the kitchen. “Okay, You smile, sitting on the couch.

You hear your phone ring, You see who is calling you, Instead of being dumb, You ignore. You knew someone would be hurt if you continue answering unknown numbers.

Until the number began messaging you.

What a shame your friend will have to go.

Your eyes widen, hearing Kyle hum while cooking. Unsure of your choices, You respond.

No, Please. Don't hurt him. I'll do anything.

Too late. Like I said, You're mine. Nobody else's. Including your friend, who obviously loves you.

You were more angry knowing he knew Kyle and his name, Yet chose to call him your friend. "Kyle! You exclaimed. "Hm? He said, coming in with your food.

"Ghostface is coming for you! You warn him, your eyes widen when you see not one but two killers. He turns around, before being stabbed, He fell. You help him up. "You okay?" "Mhm, Kyle groaned."I could run still. I've only been stabbed once."

One of fhe Ghostfaces lunged forward, Making sure Kyle didn’t get away. “No! You yell, trying to get the killer off of him as he stabbed him. Blood on the mask and knife. You managed to somehow pull Ghostface off.

“Kyle! Run! Or try to! You yell. “I can’t leave you! He says. “I’ll meet you outside. I can handle them.” He nods. But not for himself but for you. Kyle trusts you and he’s the most selfless person you’ve ever met.

“Call 911! You added. He nods leaving with his phone. You encounter Ethan again as he takes off his mask. “You shouldn’t have done that, He says, his voice darker and different somehow.

“Who’s your friend? You say, boldly. Ethan smirks.”My father.” You were puzzled but more so shocked when you saw Detective Bailey.

“What? He’s your father? And Detective Bailey? You say. "Why?” “We have to finish the movie that he was making, Detective Bailey smirks. “Huh? You say still confused.

“Richie was my brother, Y/n, Ethan said. "And then you just had to make me fall in love with you.” “I didn’t do anything, You say. "Now let me go. I promised Kyle-“

“Shut up about him, Ethan said.”But that was really stupid of you to leave him outside.” “What! Is there more of you? You say. You rush over and see another Ghostface continuously stabbing Kyle over and over who was now dead and you could see his insides.

You didn’t know if it was that graphic scene or everything around you ringing because your vision cut to black.

[forensicated]

[gardenofnoah]

I would have killed a part of me to have you

part 1

note: this is a new series I'm playing with! no idea how it'll end up so. lock in ig

wc: 1k. tags: bkg x reader, fantasy/royal au, childhood friends to lovers (this is not the main focus though), king bkg/servant reader, immortal reader, infertility (because of the immortal thing)

Bakugou Katsuki is awarded the privilege of consistency—of waking up and knowing the natural progression of each day of his life. There will never be a surprise. He will live only to grow old—to be dotted on and made fat by adoration and excess and to die in much of the same way, after having fulfilled his duty to secure the continuation of his blood line. While his life is only a means to an end, he will come to know his reward with such handsome familiarity that he will forget there is no meaning in any of it. This ignorance, this nothingness, is his birthright.

It was, anyway.

It was unfortunate, the oversight that brought you into his life. Whether it was a rushed signature or a lazy finger point that pulled you from your own life and dropped you into his could never be known, but it’s for the fact that you were dropped at his feet that shattered any real hope for his life as it should’ve been.

And it was innocent, of course. Two fledglings figuring out which way to flap the wings to get tiny bodies up off the ground. There was quite a bit of fumbling and squawking and just as much horseplay that earned the pair an endeared eye roll from whatever handmaid had caught them that day. Bakugou was your friend—your first and only. And you got away with this friendship until you didn’t.

You were brought here to serve Bakugou and his future heir. You lived in blissful ignorance of this cruel fact until your twentieth birthday—it was then that you were reprimanded swiftly and harshly for years of childish behavior and reminded of your purpose here. You were reminded that you were created to bend to Bakugou’s every whim—there was no place for friendship in servitude.

And how cruelly that information came to both of them—to Bakugou, who thought he’d finally been given an opportunity to have someone witness his own humanity. To you, who thought you’d finally been given a safe person.

But there’s no stopping a notion once it’s been started and unfortunately for parliament, that silly childhood friendship had snowballed into something truly monstrous in the eyes of the crown.

The two of you loved each other.

It was easy enough to keep up a charade. Bakugou had a surprisingly good poker face and no one bothered to look at yours long enough to see what was written all over it. No one noticed every tiny brush of his thumb over the pulse in your wrist as he left a room, just like no one saw you creep into his chambers late in the night—the same way you’d creep out in the early hours of the morning. For ten years, this worked. Bakugou’s father passed as peacefully as any patriarch could have, and his succession meant that Bakugou was let off his leash, if only minutely. For ten years, you could keep your heart as intact as it could be. But on his thirtieth birthday, something changed.

Parliament was unhappy that Bakugou had not yet married. The crown needed an heir.

Between the two of you, Bakugou was firm in his decision that he’d bring no child into the world if it was not yours—even at thirty he was still so naive to how little say he had in his own life. He would create an heir—parliament made it clear that they would have one by any means. He could kick and scream all he wanted.

But there was, of course, the matter of the other thing.

You would never have children.

The only secret you'd ever kept from him—it was not so much as your hips proved baren that they were deprived of all means of making life altogether. Ten years and a day ago, maybe. But not now.

When you turned twenty, you were let in on another royal secret—it was no small coincidence that you were pulled from the squalor of your old life. Poor as you were, evidently you'd been rich in something else—your genetics. Something in your blood they knew to be optimal for continuing the royal line. Truthfully it'd been a godsent that they'd given you until your twentieth birthday. It was only because they'd needed time to discover the cure.

To time, to death, to life—whatever you called it, it stopped your heart and froze you in time. But something went wrong, and everything stopped. As did the flow of blood from between your legs every month.

You allowed parliament to believe the cure had worked, and you never said a word to Bakugou.

Not until now.

If you had a heartbeat, it'd be in your ears by now, as you raise a knuckle to tap softly on the thick oak of his bedroom door. Two taps, a pause, and then another. The same sequence you've done for the last twenty odd years. You find it strange that at thirty, you still feel like a child.

No sooner do you feel the reverberation of the final tap does the door swing open, giving way to the same broad chest you've been yanked into for the entirety of your life. You feel some grief in knowing that there will be an end to it, someday.

"And here I thought y'finally found y'r way out of my castle."

He holds you close—speaks his words softly and without any malice into your hair as he shuts the door behind you.

"Never, my lord," you tell him, and there is a truth in it that he will never know, "not ever."

[empresskylo]

𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 – 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 「 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 」 r.h. masterlist

━━━━━‧₊˚➛ hopper regrets his building feelings for you, deciding it's best to cut this fling off before you learn to regret it.

pairing ‧₊˚➛ jim hopper x afab!reader

tags ‧₊˚➛18+ content, smut || unprotected sex, age gap, blood, angst, reader described as small and having hair that can be tucked behind ear. reader refers to self as a 'girl'.

w.c.‧₊˚➛ 7434

a.n. ‧₊˚➛ sorry for the wait, but here is the final part to ride home. as you can see, it's longer than usual which is why it took so long. i hope you enjoy! (and yes, this is the final part)

masterlist. navi.

A few weeks had passed since that night Jim Hopper touched you under the dining room table.

Things with Hopper had been going… good. And if by good you meant that you were having sex any time you saw one another and blatantly ignoring the rising feelings stirring inside each of your chests. Then, yeah, things were going good.

Just tell him! A voice rose in the back of your throat like hot bile. You shoved it down. Nope, you weren’t going to bring it up. Isn’t that how things were always ruined? The woman catches feelings and makes things incredibly awkward to the point where the relationship is cut off entirely. You didn’t want to lose Hopper, so you were just going to have to tough it out and accept the fact that he only wanted you for sex.

But what you didn’t know was that Hopper was fighting the exact same feeling. It’s maddening how blind the two of you were. For God’s sake, Jim almost moaned out an ‘I love you’ while he was balls deep inside of you the other day. You convinced yourself that you just misheard him.

Jim pushed you down further into his mattress, his cock hitting you so hard that you had to muffle your cries afraid they would break his eardrum. His hand was locked in your hair and your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist. Your soft whines underneath him were sending him over the edge. Your eyes fluttered up at him as he kept rolling his hips into you. “Jim…” You mumbled, completely entranced. You looked like an angel under him, glowing in ecstasy as you mewled into his chest. He felt himself begin to spill into you, your head shook side to side as you tried to contain your moans but they slid off your tongue like honey. Jim groaned in your ear, “Fucking hell. You’re so good. So—perfect. Shit, I lov—“ He masked his mistake with a loud moan as you tightened around him at his praise. 

Why were you both torturing one another?

Jim fiddled with his pen as he stared down at the same paragraph he had been rereading for the past five minutes. He was busy contemplating a way to get to see you again. 

That’s where the stupidity started kicking in. The two of you each decided—without talking to the other person—that this was solely about lust and sex. So your meetings only ever revolved around that. Both of you would have been happy simply talking most of the time (Jim wanted to take you out to dinner so badly and get to see you all dressed up for him.) But you both also thought the other was in this unconventional coupling for a different reason. So, alas, your rendezvous only ever resulted in sex. (Granted, you both craved each other desperately that it wasn’t much of an issue.)

You came up behind Hopper and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around to face you, surprised by your appearance. “I was writing a piece for the school paper.” You shrugged the notepad in your hand towards him. “Can I ask you some questions?” Jim tried to look annoyed, but you were so fucking cute as you innocently requested his time. 

“You know I can’t give out information…” You looked up at him with the most pathetically sweet doll eyes, your lips pouting. He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes. 

Hopper was the only one at the scene so he decided it wouldn’t be too risky (i.e. he wasn’t very good at hiding his desire for you and it would be blatantly obvious to anyone who witnessed your interactions.) 

He walked around to the back of his truck and pulled down the tailgate so you could sit. His hands slid around your waist and he helped you jump up. You felt your cheeks warm, the feeling of his fingers lingering long after he pulled them away. You tried to focus and began writing in your notepad while Hopper leaned his hip against his truck. After a few minutes of questioning, you had gotten what you needed. You both wanted to continue talking to one another, but you’d never admit that. You both thought the other would be irritated. This was clearly only about lust. 

“S’that it?” Jim asked. You set your notepad down and reached out and grabbed his hand. “What’re—“ You yanked him towards you so he stood between your legs. His eyes darkened as he tentatively watched your moves. “Just one more thing,” you whispered. Jim’s eyelids fell heavy, your hands slid up to the collar of his shirt and you pulled him in towards you until your lips were connected. His mustache tickled as he kissed you. It made you giggle. That sound almost made Hopper collapse. He was falling for you at an alarming speed. And he knew he could never have you like that. So this would have to be enough. 

He grabbed your butt and heaved you towards him, your clothed core pressing against Jim’s rough jeans. He quickly fiddled with his pants, already hard beyond belief, and you did the same with your own. When he finally slid himself into you, bottoming out completely, you both exhaled in relief. He felt so right inside you. You stared up at him, wanting to savor every moment you had with him. He traced your face, you were so perfect. Your lips were parted and he could feel the heat radiating off of your body. He took a moment to take you in entirely before he gave you what you wanted and thrusted in and out of you so that you moaned out his name. 

You were sat in your living room, spacing out at the television as you laid horizontally along your couch. Your hand raised to change the channel then lazily collapsed and hung off the couch and onto the floor. You looked up at the ceiling. If only you had an excuse to go visit Hopper at the station. You knew he was working late tonight. Usually, your dad was a good excuse, dropping off his lunch or just checking in with him. But your dad was currently rummaging through a box of old paperwork on the living room floor, huffing to himself as he struggled to find whatever ancient archive he was looking for.

Wait. Your dad didn’t have to be at the station in order for him to act as your wingman. You could simply go pick something up that he ‘forgot’. You stumbled to your feet and ran up the stairs, gaining a curious glance from your father. 

You changed and ran out the door, telling your dad you were going to a friend’s house. If you wasted any more time than that, you might have talked yourself out of going.

It was pathetic, really. But you didn’t care, you just wanted to see Jim. The way his grumpy face would slightly soften when you appeared. You loved when he tried to be annoyed with you and would call you silly names. Or the way he would call you kid–like your parent’s friends would– while he was standing before you, rock hard. Your heart fluttered just thinking about it.

Hopper huffed and sat back in his chair, the silent station driving him mad. And just as he thought that, the loud noise of fumbling footsteps sounded outside his office. 

Then the footsteps were coming closer, and closer until they were right outside his door. Hopper felt his heart rush. The door creaked open and Flo stepped in, a clutch of paperwork in her arms. 

Hopper sighed for the millionth time that night (but what’s new?) His heart resumed to its normal pace and he grumbled something to Flo. “Just received these,” she said, gesturing to the papers in her hands. “Said it was urgent.” 

Hopper stood up and sulked over to the door. “Yeah, thanks, Flo. I’ll get right on that.” Hopper took the work from her and she rolled her eyes. “Sure you will.” That gained a smirk from Jim. 

She went to turn around but stopped, then spoke over her shoulder. “Oh, and you have a visitor.” 

Jim turned back to his office door and saw Flo slip away down the hall and your frame appear where hers just was. 

You meekly waved at him. Hopper set the folder down on his desk and turned to you, leaning on the edge of his desk. 

“Are you stalking me?” He teased.

“I can leave if you want.”

Hopper shook his head, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks. “No. It’s fine. You can come in.” 

You shyly slipped into his office, closing the door as you did. 

When you turned to face Hopper again, he saw the look of worry spread across your face. But it wasn’t his place to ask.

“My dad had left some stuff in his desk he needed. Thought I’d stop in and say ‘hello’.”

Hopper grinned. “Oh, yeah? You just wanted to say hi? Nothing more?”

You felt a chill run up your spine. Shit. Did you really sound that desperate?

You stuttered, “No-no, I just—I—“ 

“I’m just messin’ with ya, kid.”

Hopper hated to see this anguish plastered blankly across your face. You barely even smiled at him. Maybe you were finally regretting wasting your time with him and realized you made a mistake sleeping with this mean, old grump. 

Hopper paused before pushing himself off of his desk, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I… I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He sat down in his chair, his legs spread wide as he leaned on his thighs. 

You approached him, leaning your hip on the edge of his desk. 

His eyes scanned yours and he felt himself try to hold back what he wanted to say. He couldn’t keep being selfish. You were clearly ruining your life being with Hopper. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic, but still. You were obviously going through something that was making you rebel. What better way than to sleep with your dad’s boss? (Well, technically Hopper wasn’t his boss. But that’s beside the point.) This was never going to sit well on your conscience once you grew up and had an epiphany about all your poor choices. And Hopper didn’t want to be remembered as one of your mistakes.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” He gestured between the two of you. “Actually, it’s an awful idea and I’m sorry for keeping it going for so long.”

You rolled your eyes. “God, not this again. I’ll admit, it was kinda hot when you saw the ambivalence of the situation, but it’s getting old, Hop.”

“See, that’s what I’m saying. Even you realize that this is wrong.”

“That’s not what I—“

He said your name breathlessly, his fingers coming up to pinch between his brows in annoyance. “It’s just… What are we gonna do?” His voice was raising in tempo and it made you feel small. “Just keep fucking around, until what? How long are we gonna drag this shit out?” 

“Hopper, I—“

“Listen, I know you probably thought it was cool to rebel or whatever and seduce the chief of police, but this isn’t going anywhere. And I can’t keep sleeping around with a high schooler. Fuck.”

You felt tears well in your eyes. “I graduate in a month.” 

Jim sighed. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make.”

“So, you’re just done? Just like that? Because… Because you’re worried about my choices? Because of what everyone in town would think about you if they found out?” Your words were laced with fire.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” he said coolly, but his heart was hurting as he watched your eyes puddle with tears. It was all a facade. 

A tear betrayed you and rolled down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away. Jim’s eyes flickered, breaking his mask for a moment, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around you. “Why can’t you just admit you don’t like me instead of making up such dumb excuses!” Your hands balled up in fists. Jim didn’t say anything. “Fine. Whatever.” You spun around and stormed out. And by the time you made it to the end of the hall, you knew Jim wasn’t chasing after you. He wasn’t going to stop you from leaving. No, he wanted you to leave.

That was not how you thought the night was going to go.

A few weeks had passed and unlike before when you tried to jump Jim’s bones every chance you got, you spent your time avoiding him at all costs. 

You felt like you might burst into tears just seeing his face. 

You sat on the bleachers, watching the Hawkin’s High basketball team race up and down the court. Your best friend grabbed your arm, whispering something about how cute one of the guys on the other team was. You nodded your head feigning agreement. 

You watched, bored beyond belief. This wasn’t usually your thing. You only came because your friend dragged you here. On the far side of the gym, you spotted a burly man in a tan hat step in through the doors. Hopper.

You tried to sink down into your seat. Your eyes shifted to focus on the game but they kept darting to Hopper’s figure in the corner of the gymnasium. You watched as Jim was saying something to your principal, it seemed important based on the way they were speaking and gesturing. 

You shook your head and looked back at the players on the court. You instinctively started to pick at your nails, the skin around them beginning to bleed. 

The crowd began to roar–Jason Carver just scored. The people around you stood up and cheered, you think you heard Steve Harrington yelling something behind you but all you could make out was something about ‘Sinclair’ and ‘kicking ass’. Your friend looked down at you and nudged your arm, confused as to why you seemed to be so disinterested. 

As the crowd settled down again and slowly fell back into their seats, your gaze wandered to the far side of the court once more. Your eyes widened, Jim was looking directly at you. You both held each other’s line of vision for a moment, his pupils narrowing in on you. You quickly looked away, your cheeks feeling abnormally warm. 

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like watching the game anymore. “I’m gonna go get some air,” you said in your friend's ear. 

“Want me to come?” She asked. 

You shook your head and gave her a weak smile, “I’ll be right back.” 

She nodded, her eyes still suspicious as she watched you push past classmates to get down to the gym floor. 

Your arms wrapped around yourself, feeling small, as you pushed open the doors and stepped out into the night air. The rumble of the game became soft, locked within the school’s brick walls. 

You jumped down the stairs and walked over into the parking lot. You didn’t know where you were going, but you had to clear your head. 

A few voices carried in the wind off in the distance; some students were trying to be subtle about the fact that they were smoking. You went in the opposite direction until you were on the grass lawn, hidden from the street lamps. 

You sat down on the single, lonely bench, sighing as you tried to shake Hopper from your mind. You were so fucking stupid. How could you possibly think Jim Hopper, the fucking chief of police, would be interested in you? Like really interested in you. You were young and had teased him hopelessly for months, of course, he was going to act. Why wouldn’t he? But you wanted more than that. 

So stupid, you told yourself as you buried your head in your hands. You tried to hold back sobs, you were already pathetic enough as it was. 

A ruffling in the trees past the school’s lawn startled you. Your head shot up. “Hello?” You said quietly. You paused and listened for a moment thinking it might have been those students you saw earlier. You were just being silly, nothing was there. 

You pulled your legs up on the bench and into your chest. Maybe you should go back, your friend would be wondering where you went. 

The sound of crunching, like a dog devouring a meal, made you jump. Okay, now you were freaking out a little bit. You sat up on the bench, fully alert. Your heart was racing in your chest making it hard to hear anything apart from your pounding heartbeat. Branches breaking got closer and closer to you. You were on your feet and backing up. 

That's when you saw it. It was like a person wearing a Halloween mask, but it wasn’t a costume. The bloody skin of the creature reflected in the moonlight, its stature a good three feet taller than you. Your eyes were pried wide open as you backed away, gulping. The creature slowly approached you. You backed away and tripped on a rock, falling to your butt. You made a frightened gasp. The creature came darting toward you. You turned and began crawling away, trying to stand up as you did. You were too scared to even scream out. 

Red hot pain flared on your ankle, the claws from the monster were tearing into your flesh. 

You groaned, yelling for help now. You tried to kick it off of you, your foot stomping on its large mangled hands making it shriek. “What the fuck,” you said breathlessly. 

You managed to get to your feet but you could hear the monster following right behind you, its hand grabbed your shoulder, making you scream. 

Bang.

You fell to your knees, the claw slacking its hold and then disappearing altogether. 

Bang.

You couldn’t hear anything but the ringing of gunshots bouncing around your skull. You turned, looking at the creature struggling in pain. It had already been wounded and now it had two bullet holes burning through its skin. It looked at you, though you couldn’t spot any eyes, then it turned and ran back off into the forest.

You collapsed on the grass, your hand coming to rest on your head in exhaustion and confusion. 

Jim’s frame hovered above you, directly in your line of view. He leaned down and pulled you up, scooping you into his arms bridal style. You could see his mouth moving but you couldn’t make anything out; the ringing washing over everything. 

“What was that… thing?” You asked. You were sat atop Jim’s dining table as he rummaged in his bathroom for a first aid kit. You had only been to his place once before and you didn’t get a good look. You glanced around, taking in all his things. 

“I have no fucking idea,” he called out to you.

Your legs swung underneath you as you anxiously fidgeted. Your nails came up to your mouth, this was not good. You were stuck in Hopper’s home, in such close proximity. Nothing good could come from this.

Hopper came stomping out of the bathroom with his arms full of an array of random medical supplies. You raised your brow, eyeing him as he set it down on the table beside you. He noticed your glare. “S’all I got,” he shrugged. 

He grabbed some spray and a cloth and grabbed your foot. You jumped, his warm fingers grazing your skin. You tried not to think about his hands on your leg as he attempted to clean the wound. 

You cleared your throat. “Hop, it’s barely a scratch, I think I’m fine.” 

Jim felt his gut lurch when you said his name. “Don’t know where that freaky fuck came from, better safe than sorry and clean it out.”

You slouched back on your hands as you reluctantly let him clean the wound, holding back a smile at his word choice. His fingers tickled as he held your ankle, grabbing a roll of medical bandage wrap, and winding it around the cut. When it was fully dressed, he held your foot still in his hand, his finger pads lingering on your exposed ankle. He slowly looked up at you and immediately released your leg, standing up awkwardly. He grunted and scooped up all the shit he laid out moments earlier and brought it back into the bathroom. 

You slid off the table and aimlessly circled his kitchen, hoping he would take you home now. Jim appeared behind you and said your name, reaching out and touching your shoulder. “Ow!” You jumped.

His hand reclined and you both looked to where his fingers just were. Blood was beginning to seep through your shirt. “Shit,” you muttered.

“Fuck, he got you there too?”

“I guess. I think it grabbed my shoulder.” You went to move your shirt and hissed as it clung against the sticky blood. 

Jim went to the sink and wrung out a warm cloth, handing it to you. You walked over to him and took it, giving him a passive look. He leaned back against the sink as you tried to move your shirt to the side. You winced and looked up at him. 

“Come here,” he mumbled. 

You stepped a bit closer and he took the cloth from you, dabbing it on the area to loosen the shirt. He slowly pulled the clothing away from the cut and placed the warm cloth on top of it as a compress. He held it there, his eyes flickering to yours. You gulped. Your cheeks were on fire. 

He cleared his throat. “I’ll get you another shirt.”

He turned and went to his bedroom. “No, Jim. It’s fine. I can just change at home.”

Of course, Hopper being Hopper, he walked back out with one of his shirts anyways. He wasn’t going to make you sit in a bloody–and now wet–shirt. He stuck his hand out to you to give you the clothing. His eyes shifted between you and the fabric uncomfortably. Your fingers tentatively reached up and you paused for a moment, your chest racing. “Thank you,” you said meekly. 

You grabbed the shirt and Hopper rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I’ll go put the stuff away…” Hopper said awkwardly.

You nodded and he slowly turned around to go put away the stuff he left on the bathroom sink.

Once Hopper was in the bathroom again you slowly tore your shirt from your body. You winced slightly but once the shirt was off the cut, you felt much better. You looked over at your shoulder. “Shit, it’s not even that bad,” you mumbled, annoyed for acting like such a baby. You grabbed the cloth and started to dab up the stained blood. 

“Oh, shit, sorry. I—“ 

You jumped and looked up at Hopper who was standing wide-eyed in the doorway. You felt a heat rise to your chest and face. 

You stared at him, expecting him to shy away and let you finish changing, but he didn’t. He just watched you. You cleared your throat, your arms coming up to lay across your chest (but it’s not like Hopper hadn’t seen it all before.) “Uh. Hop…” You said, shaking your head a bit. 

He still didn’t say anything. He stepped closer towards you so he was only inches from your exposed body. “Hop…” You said breathlessly again. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

You took in a sharp breath. You looked down, not wanting to meet his gaze. “You can’t…” you stuttered. “Don’t say that to me.”

His fingers surprised you as they touched your jaw and tilted your head up towards him. Your words got lost in your throat. Hopper couldn’t help himself. He slowly leaned in, watching your eyes flutter under him. Your lips parted, you couldn’t seem to stop either. Hopper’s nose rested against yours and his lips teased your own. He breathed your name softly then closed the gap. You felt your body immediately cave into his touch, your knees buckling and your head sinking lower. Jim’s arms wrapped around you to hold you up, moving his lips in rhythm with yours. 

Jim’s hands slid around your back, gently pulling your hips into him. He grunted as your body collided with his, your skin incredibly soft under his touch. You pulled away, shaking your head slightly. Hopper looked at you with such certainty, his fingers coming up to trace your unharmed shoulder and then sliding into your hair. 

You wouldn’t look up at him, you were too embarrassed. Instead, you focused on his chest as you spoke. Hopper’s fingers continued to play with your hair, lost in thought. “I can’t…” 

Jim softly said your name. 

You felt hot tears well in your eyes. You shied away, afraid of him seeing you like this. Pathetic. “I’m sorry I ruined things.” Your voice was small. 

Hopper’s hands fell to his side. 

“You didn’t ruin-“

“I did!” The tears began running down your hot cheeks. “I was getting attached. I was being stupid. So fucking stupid,” your voice got quiet. “I shouldn’t have tricked you like that.”

Jim’s eyes stayed focused on you. “Tricked me?”

“Yeah. It was all just a fun hook-up to you. But I had… I have liked you for a while now.” Jim raised a brow at you. You paused before continuing, trying to gather your thoughts. “It’s stupid, but I had a crush on you.” You tried to laugh but it sounded more like a struggling snort as tears kept falling. 

Jim closed his eyes, thoughts racing around his head. You gulped as you peered up at him. You just ruined your chances of this ever working out. He might have been a grump, but he wasn’t mean. Once he realized you liked him like that, he wouldn’t lead you on. He’d cut things off for good. 

You jumped slightly when you felt Jim’s warm fingers brush along the side of your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. Your breathing hitched in the back of your throat, his eyes were dark, but not like how they usually looked. They were filled with something other than lust. 

He whispered your name and you felt your heart flutter. 

“That’s not what it was to me.” His words were soft. You wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he spoke any quieter. Your lips parted. He leaned down towards you, your lips drawing closer and closer to one another. “I fell in love with you.” His thumb came up and wiped away your wet cheeks. 

You made a noise in the back of your throat. “Y-You did?” 

Jim’s mouth ever so slightly turned up before he connected his lips with yours. You felt your body go loose as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him. His hand came up to rest on your cheek as he kissed you deeper. Breathlessly, he pulled away. “I thought if I pushed you away, I could prevent you from getting ruined.”

“Ruined?”

“Yeah. What good could come from a big grump falling for a sweet thing like you? You got your whole life ahead of you, kid. I didn’t want you wasting it hooking up with me. So you could get back at your parents? To prove you were mature? I don’t know, but I didn’t want you to regret this,” he motioned between your two bodies.

You felt a smile form on your lips. “And I thought I was the one foolishly-in-love-when-it-was-only-meant-to-be-a-fling.”

He pushed your hair back as he admired you. “Still don’t want you to regret this.” You could hear the worry laced in his words. 

Your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt. “No. I…” You paused. “I want you, Hopper. For more than just sex.” His eyes dropped, his hands falling on top of yours as you clung to him. “I know what you’re thinking.” He eyed you. “That your feelings for me are wrong. How you can’t possibly fall for someone like me, let alone hook up with. You’re the chief of police. And I’m just some dumb girl who likes older men apparently. It would never—“ Jim cut you off, smiling as he kissed you. 

You were right. That’s exactly what he was thinking. But fuck it. He wasn’t sure how he could manage knowing you liked him the way he liked you if he just pushed you away again. Screw what everyone else thought. You could both worry about that when you got to it. But right now, Jim desperately needed you. 

You fervently kissed him back, both of your breathing increasing. “Jim-” you mumbled between kisses. 

“Mhm?” 

“You’re not gonna–push me away–again after–are you?” you managed to get out as Hopper attacked your face. 

He paused. “Not if you want me. I can worry about what Hawkins thinks later. I don’t give a fuck what they have to say–” it was your turn to cut him off. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into you. His mustache tickled your nose as he kissed you. His hands found their way to your exposed hips, sliding up and brushing the back of your bra. 

Jim pushed you back so you wobbled to the couch. Your legs hit the side and you sat on the arm of his couch. Jim was quickly between your knees, his hand behind your head as he pulled you into him. When he pulled back to get a breath, his eyes couldn’t tear away from you. Your face was stained with tears, but that only made your eyes stand out more. Your hair had been ruffled by Jim’s large hands, and your lips were swollen. 

“What?” you asked, suddenly shy under his gaze.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You felt your cheeks flush. Jim pushed your hair behind your ear and placed a kiss on your exposed shoulder. His fingers traced along your bra strap and down to your back where he unclipped it. You felt goosebumps rise in his trail. His fingers gently lifted your straps off, making sure not to touch the cut along your shoulder, and threw your bra to the floor. His eyes ravaged you. You were about to speak, feeling shy, but Jim was faster. His lips grazed your nipple, making you gasp. He drew it into his mouth, sucking and nipping you softly. You felt your eyes flutter and your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Jesus,” you breathed. 

Jim felt himself grin, loving getting a reaction out of you. His hands rested on your hips as he kissed your chest. He hooked your jeans in his fingers and began to wiggle them. You lifted your hips up so he could yank them down. His hands grabbed your thighs immediately, squeezing them and letting his thumb rub small circles along them. His head came up to kiss your neck and jaw, his stubble leaving tingles in their wake. 

You grabbed his biceps, holding on to him as he nuzzled the side of your neck. A small moan left your lips and that was enough to send Jim into overdrive. His hips came slamming into your own, the roughness of his jeans gliding against your clothed clit. His hands were around your jaw, both of them pulling you in for a hard kiss, his tongue sliding along your lips and into your mouth. He grunted when he felt your hips roll into him, your legs wrapping around his thighs and pulling him into you. 

Hopper couldn’t handle it anymore, he needed you. 

He scooped you up into his arms gaining a squeal from you. He moved you to the couch cushions and laid you down before him. He tore his shirt and pants off in one quick motion, then placed himself on top of you, kissing you into the couch. Your fingers ran through his tawny hair, your legs struggled to wrap back around Jim’s waist. His hand slipped between your bodies and into your underwear. You gasped when you felt him touch you. He began to rub small circles across your core, your body already wet and ready for him. 

One of his fingers slid to your entrance and rubbed between your lips, feeling the way you were overflowing. “All this for me?” His voice was far deeper than earlier. 

You looked up at him, your eyes big and sweet. “Mhm,” you cooed. 

Jim removed his hand and slid it up your side then squeezed one of your breasts. You felt sad at the loss of his touch between your thighs. “I want you inside me, Jim.”

His eyes darted to yours, his pupils blown. You swallowed hard as he stared at you. You felt his hard length press against your thigh and you rolled into him. 

“Fuck,” he cursed. You reached down and wiggled your underwear off before grabbing the hem of Jim’s and urging it down. Jim followed your lead and tore his boxers off before nestling himself back between your legs. You could feel his cock pressing against your clit as he put his weight onto you. He kissed your jaw again while his hands grabbed himself and began to rub his tip against you. You moaned, your face heating up and he teased you. 

“God, Jim. Please!” You begged pathetically. 

Jim used his hands to push your hips down and prevent you from jutting your hips up towards him. You pouted. “I’m right here, baby.” He said softly. “No need to rush. I wanna savor you.”

Your chest thumped loudly. Hopper kissed your cheek and then ground his hips against you, his cock dragging along your core. You both moaned as he continued to do it. One of your legs were buried in the couch cushions and unable to wrap around Jim, so only one of your legs came up to rest on him. Jim’s hand instinctively went to your thigh as you lifted your leg to drape around him. He used that as leverage to rub against your harder. You bit your lip as you held back a yelp. 

Without warning, Jim thrusted himself into you. You gasped in shock as he filled you up. Jim grunted above you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. You clenched around him, making him grumble into your hair, sending vibrations throughout your body. 

He let you adjust to him as you squirmed beneath his weight. “Jim. Move,” you said in a breathless tone, desperate to feel him pump inside you. 

His hands wrapped around you and he began to thrust in and out. Your head arched backward as he hit you deep. Jim growled as he felt your walls spasm around his cock. You mewled in response, your vision dizzy as Jim rutted into your hips. 

You felt all your sadness from earlier sink away and you were filled with warmth instead. Both of you forgot all about the monster you encountered. You were pretty sure you both would keep fucking even if that thing had burst through the window. You couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t let him. 

You bucked your hips up each time Jim bottomed out, forcing him to hit you as deep as possible. You cried out in pleasure. “Fuck, baby,” he grunted. 

Hopper was already so close, and you desperately thrusting against him wasn’t going to help things. He wasn’t going to last. (So much for savoring it.) His hands found your hair and he fisted it, his voice growing deep as he growled. He began to hit you long and hard as he pumped his length in and out of you. He felt his fist squeeze tightly in your hair when he felt your walls clench around him. And just like that, he was done for. Jim groaned so lowly that you could feel the vibrations tickle your stomach. 

Jim let out a long, dragged-out ‘fuck’ as he began to come inside of you. Your own orgasm followed suit, your legs shaking as Jim filled you up. His hot seed seeped out around his cock as he thrusted through his high, obscene noises filling Jim’s quiet place. 

You arched your back into Jim’s chest, bucking your hips up against him over and over as he kept spilling himself into you. Jim moaned as you sucked every last drop from his cock, draining him completely. 

He began to slow his thrusts, your nails digging into Jim’s back as your high faded to a pleasant sense of ecstasy. Jim collapsed on top of you, his weight pushing you into the couch. He gently pulled himself from between your legs and a pool of his seed rushed out of you. 

He kissed your cheek before scooping you up and rolling over so you laid on top of his chest. 

His breathing was deep and his hand wrapped around you, holding you close to him. 

You rested your head against him, your hand coming up to rub small circles on his chest, catching your own breath. “I love you,” he whispered. 

You looked up at him, your cheek still pressed against him. “You do?”

He chuckled and you felt it rumble through your body. “Mhm.” He grinned at you, brushing his fingers against your jaw. 

You kissed his chest. Then kissed him again. And again. Leaving a trail of kisses up to his lips. You had to crawl and shift your body so you were in line with his face as you placed a warm kiss on his lips. His arm squeezed around you. 

You straddled him as you deepened the kiss, a small groan building in the back of your throat. You gently rolled your hips into him, your wet pussy dragging against him as you did. 

Jim grumbled something into the kiss and you felt him grow hard beneath you again. 

You giggled. “Round two?” 

His hands came down to squeeze your ass and pulled your waist harder against him. You took that as a yes. 

You squirmed on top of him, placing delicate kisses along his jaw and to his collarbone as he did to you earlier. Jim felt his cheeks blush at your touch, your soft lips like heaven against his rough skin. 

You slowly slid down so your hips were in line with Jim’s. Then you took his cock in your hand, earning a grunt from Jim, and lined him up with you again. You could already feel yourself pulsing with anticipation, wanting him to fill you like before. You slowly sank down on him, his hands resting against your soft waist. You both gasped, looking at one another with parted lips. 

He stretched you out slowly, your body needing time to adjust to him again. It was almost painful how well he filled you. You finally sank down on him completely, letting your full weight lay against him. You felt Jim’s hips buck slightly beneath you, his hands eagerly rubbing against your hips and thighs. You lifted off of him gently, letting his cock slide out of you painfully slow. 

Jim’s breath got caught in his throat, his cock already dripping in precum. You lazily took him all in again, sitting flesh against him. He growled, his head pressing up against your cervix. You felt his fingers dig into your skin. You began to lightly bounce on top of him, making his fingers press harder and harder into you. Your hands rested against his chest as you rode him, your mouth letting little whimpers escape. 

You felt every ridge of his cock glide against you, your clit bumping against Jim as you sank down on him. You couldn’t help but let little cries weep out of your mouth as you took him in. 

Your bounces stayed at the same pace and Jim couldn’t take it any longer. He grunted as he gripped your hips and began bucking his hips up into you and pulling you down to meet his thrusts. You moaned, his body slapping against yours. Jim began bucking up consistently, pulling you into him each time. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Jim took control, wanting to hit you as hard as he could. Your fingers curled into Jim’s chest, your body trembling as Jim thrusted against you. 

“Jim, I–” your words barely made it out before you were moaning again. You were so close. Your cries came out staggered as Jim jerked into you, making your voice waver. You cursed and mumbled under your breath, your eyes lazily looking down at Hopper. His own met yours, both of your eyelids feeling heavy. 

Jim shifted beneath you slightly and began to hit you at just the right spot. It made you cry out in pure pleasure. You have never felt this good before. You felt your walls clench around him, your legs wanting to squeeze together as they pressed against Jim. 

You felt your high approaching, your body going limp as Jim kept his pace. You mewled, another orgasm flowing through you. Your walls clamped down on Jim’s cock, squeezing against him and making him growl. He began squirting inside you, giving you what little he had left. 

You both were a mess as you groaned and muttered swears under your breath. Your eyes stayed locked with Jim’s, even if they were both laced with exhaustion. You helped him as he slowed and bounced on top of him, dragging out your highs. You both cried out, his seed spilling out around his cock and onto both of your thighs. 

You hindered your speed as you felt your body cave with warmth. You finally stopped and leaned over, collapsing on top of Jim. His arms pulled you into him, his chest rising and falling in unsteady breaths. 

You mewled as the aftershock hit you, making you shake on top of him. Jim let you ride out your high with his cock still buried deep inside you. 

After a few long moments, you paused, your hands wrapped tightly around Hopper. “I love you too,” you breathed. 

You felt Hopper chuckle against you, his hands rubbing small patterns along your back as he held you. 

You both wanted to stay like this and forget the rest of the world, bodies pressed flesh with one another, and Hopper’s cock buried inside you with his seed filling you up. You felt your eyes flutter shut as Jim’s fingers danced across your back. Sleep began to overtake the both of you as you snuggled up into Jim. You felt him harden inside you again and he groaned in pain. 

You muffled noises into his chest, your hands clenching into fists as you felt him inside of you. You huffed as you began to rub up and down, your body flat against Jim’s. His cock slowly slid in and out of you as you lazily rolled your hips up and down. Your clit dragged along Hopper’s stomach making you whine. Both of your eyes remained shut and Hopper’s arms held you in a hug. You whined again, feeling tired as you rocked against Jim. You picked up your speed slightly, your chest never raising from Jim’s. 

Jim’s arms, wrapped around you, pulled you up to help you up as you rolled your hips against him. Your both groaned, your pussy painfully aroused as Jim’s cock began squirting his seed into you again. You let out a vocal cry as you began to shake on top of him, coming for the third time that night. 

Jim held you close and helped you gently roll on his cock, his chest vibrating as he overflowed your cunt with his seed. It pooled out around your bodies, creating a sticky mess on both of your thighs. You mewled, your walls clenching Jim as you came with him. 

After a few more tired thrusts, you stopped and sighed into Jim’s chest, letting him drip out around you. He slowly pulled out of you and his cock sprang out, rubbing up against your ass as he did. You groaned, your legs trembling beneath you as the last of your high rode through your body. 

Jim leaned forward and placed a kiss on your head, soft snores sounding from your small frame. He smiled, feeling like he didn’t deserve this kind of contentment. He hugged you tighter, hoping you’d never leave him. And he fell asleep shortly after.

[holylulusworld]

The Widow - Prologue

Summary: You trust now one. Not since they got your husband killed.

Pairing: TFaTW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: death of a loved-one, reader is under protection, bitchy reader, arguments, grumpy Bucky, angst, blood, character's death,

The widow masterlist

Blood…so much blood. 

You always feared your life with Ransom would end like this.

On the run, without anyone siding with you but the cops.

After your husband ratted his partners out it was only a matter of time before you ended up dead.

One greedy agent and you held your dying husband in your arms.

He choked on his blood, staring up at you with scared eyes. “Y/N…sorry…Y/N…”

“You goddamn idiot,” you cried and kissed him hard. “I know…I love you…”

Two years later…

“Why me?” Bucky releases the deepest sigh ever leaving his lips. “Sam, I don’t want to play babysitter for some spoiled woman. Maybe Torres can protect her.”

“Bucky, you are the only super-soldier I know. Torres is a good man and can stand his ground d. But the people who are after Y/N Y/L/N are not the cuddly kind of enemy. If they try to kill you, they use a scalpel to cut you into tiny pieces, not a weapon.”

“Do you try to cheer me up, or scare me?” Bucky scoffs. “You want me to risk my life for some criminal’s wife? Why? We agreed on doing this job to protect the innocent, not people getting rich at the expense of others. That’s not who we are.”

“We protect people who need protection. She ended up in this situation because she fell in love with the wrong man. I checked her background and found out that until her marriage with her deceased husband, she was a good person without a criminal record.”

“She lived a fabulous life, spending money she didn’t earn,” the super-soldier grunts. “How do we know she won’t rat us out, and we all end up dead?”

“You jump out of an airplane without a parachute and now you are scared of a widow needing your protection?” Sam grins. “Aw, are we getting old?”

“Watch your tongue,” Bucky points his gloved index finger at Sam. “I didn’t say that I’m scared. I just don’t trust a criminal’s wife.”

“Who’s that?” You size the new arriver up. “Another loser not knowing how to handle a gun?” You sneer as the agent tries to find another lie. “What? Do you want to tell me that this one will protect me and my husband better than the last agents?”

“Mrs. Y/L/N, this is James Buchanan Barnes,” the agent stammers, as if you should know the name. “He’ll protect you at all costs.”

“Oh, yeah? Like the other ones protecting us before?” You cock your head and raise your hand to stop the agent from talking. “Did you forget that you got my husband and his brother killed?”

“He got killed because he did business with the wrong people,” Bucky sneers. “You made your bed, now sleep in it. I’m not here on free terms. No one wants to protect the likes of you.”

You grit your teeth and glare at the newly arrived asshole. “Do you think I care? One of your so-called fine people ratted my husband and me out for some hard cash. So, you are no better than me. At least I didn’t kill people for money.”

“I see you will get along very well,” Sam pats his friend’s shoulder. “Just remember, don’t kill her. She’s the last witness alive. If she dies, they will all get away with their crimes.”

“I should leave you to your misery. Why should I care about their crimes?” You pucker your lips. “You got my Ransom killed! He only tried to make more money than his fucked-up family. He never harmed anyone with his transactions! When he found out about their crimes, he did the right thing!”

For a moment, you let your mask slip, and the grief shows. Bucky blinks, but the sadness in your y/e/c orbs is gone, and he’s not sure it happened. 

"Just shut up princess and we will get along very well..."

Part 1

Tags in reblog.

[wutheringskies]

Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian aren't the same.

Jin Guangyao is one of the best written characters I've come across. A villian that doesnt look like one, doesnt act like one, is likeable, has strong motivations and a defined personality and extremely fun to read fanfics about. But what I dislike is the role that fanon gives him; specially his role in the story with allusions to Wei Wuxian, casting Jin Guangyao as someone similar to Wei Ying. The "poor children turned to forced villains" trope. This meta is about WHY that's NOT true.

The humiliation of his mother didn't give him the right to burn down an entire brothel. (personally, I found it satisfying but). The desire of acceptance from his father was a motivation for his crimes, not a factor that validates those crimes. Often, Jin Guangyao is treated as the counter part of Wei Wuxian. They both share only three similarities, however:

1. Both came from low backgrounds and struggled a lot in their childhoods. Meng Yao had food, but witnessed constant humiliation. Wei Ying had nothing, and then got tangled into the fucked up dynamics of the Jiangs.

2. Both were found to be much different than what people believed them to be. Wei Wuxian was supposed to be evil, hateful, a murderer who kills just to satisfy his blood thirst and need for power, a monster. Jin Guangyao was supposed to be the guy who worked hard and rose to the top, humble, kind, honest and pure of heart.

3. Both had their reputations destroyed from targeted rumor mill.

That is all.

Other than that, Jin Guangyao is NOT at all similar to Wei Wuxian by any measure. He had to do bad things because he desired power, and to gain, power in a corrupt world, you need to be even more corrupted. He killed all those who looked down upon him (not bodily harm him). He clenched his teeth and killed everyone who protested against him or questioned him. He silenced everybody before they could silence him. He isn't SOLELY responsible but he only played the cards that would bring HIM benefit, not the cards that were righteous, or good, or kind.

Wei Wuxian never desired power, was willing to give up a limb for the safety of his sect. When has he ever raised his sword or his flute if not in self defense? When has he ever attacked first and when has he ever killed an innocent? The only innocent he's most directly responsible for is Jin Zixuan and that was too, in an ambush, where he was asked to back down.

Not just that, everyone is always talking about the Nightless City massacre but never about the Burial Mounds Seige 2.0 where all of the cultivators WOULD have DIED, if not for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian.

If your reasoning behind justifying Jin Guangyao's actions and murders is the "intention" then you come across as hypocritical if you condemn Wei Wuxian for the Nightless City massacre, ignoring everything that led to it. His prowess in cultivation, his natural genius, and his terrifying powers that he built himself even after losing a core are not crimes that he should be punished for, but he was. Because he's supposed to be just the son of a servant. How dare he be so powerful? So many attempts on his life were made and he survived them all. So many attempts to summon his soul, and they didn't work.

Is surviving a crime? For the Jiang Cheng stans who always thrust the survivor narrative onto JC, this is a question for them. Was Wei Wuxian wrong to have survived incidents in which he was being attacked? Should he have died for doing absolutely nothing wrong, other than having a different voice? For standing against a structure that always prioritizes one being above all, being the ultimate voice that cannot be questioned?

Here I'm going to quote some parts from the ExR translation of Villanous Friends:

He Su, “What was the irresistible trend? What was stirring up trouble? Jin GuangShan wanted to establish the position of chief cultivator only to imitate the QishanWen Sect in being the only ones at the top. Do you think all the world is ignorant? You frame me like this only because I spoke the truth!”

When you really succeed, all of the world of cultivation would see the true face of the LanlingJin Sect. Do you think killing me alone would put you eternally at ease? How wrong you are! We, the TingshanHe Sect, teem with talent. From now on, we’ll unite and never surrender to you Wen-dogs of another skin!”

Sounds familiar?

After a few laughs, he continued, “Sect Leader Jin, let me ask you something else. Do you think that, because the QishanWen Sect is gone, the LanlingJin Sect has all right to replace it?”

Wei WuXian added, “Everything has to be given to you? Everyone has to listen to you? Looking at how the LanlingJin Sect does things, I almost thought that it was the QishanWen Sect’s empire all over again.”

Wei WuXian, “Did I say something wrong? Forcing living people to be bait and beating them up whenever they refused to obey—is this any different from what the QishanWen Sect does?”

These were voices that questioned the greater powers. This is what happened to these voices:

Jin Guangyao: That’s not the way to go about things, is it? The TingshanHe Sect rebelled and schemed to assassinate Sect Leader Jin with all its forces before it was caught red-handed. How could that be called without a reason?”

Flashback to Wen Chao, asking if the disciples in the Xuanwu Cave were rebelling when they protected Mianmian who was asked to be the live bait of a monster.

Also, flashback to Wei Wuxian standing up for the Wens and being called a rebel when he stood up for the Wens who were being used as live baits to strengthen the Jin.

The ones over there cried, “Brother! He’s lying! We didn’t, we didn’t!”

Flashback to Wen Ning "losing control" at Koi Tower probably due to Xue Yang's invention. But the point to be taken away is that Sect Leader He Su's younger disciples, who are harmless, are framed as murderers. A position similar to what Wei Wuxian was put into.

He Su, “Utterly nonsense! Open your eyes and fucking look! There are nine-year-old children here! Old men who can’t even walk! How could they rebel against anything?! Why would they assassinate your dad out of nowhere?!”

Funny how the evils of society comprised of old grandmas, uncles, a toddler, a doctor, a fierce corpse, and a cultivator with no status, no core, no money, no voice living in a cave with a pool of blood, digging the Burial soil to grow some potatoes.

And not those who were sitting on their thrones, reveling in riches and ordering people around.

Jin GuangYao, “Because you made a mistake and committed murder, Young Master He Su, while they refused to accept Koi Tower’s conviction of you, of course.”

"A mistake" reminds me of the incident at qionggi path. Even if Jin Zixuan hadn't died that day, they would've kept cornering Wei Wuxian until he'd have no other choice but to go on the offensive (which is what he did.)

Turns out even being sooo powerful that he could shake mountains, he eventually died.

Yet, at such a place, nobody would listen to his protests. Sitting before him were two villains who already treated him as though he were dead. What they enjoyed was precisely his dying struggle. Smiling, Jin GuangYao leaned back, waving his hand, “Hush him up, hush him up.”

"You shut them in live?"

Xue Yang turned around, curling his lips, “Wei WuXian never used live humans, but I wanna try.”

So, Xue Yang is an actual demonic cultivator who's protected by the Jins, murdered 2 entire clans and this is the third one and godness knows how many more. Absolutely very few people give actual fucks about what cultivation methods to employ. The one who really cared was perhaps, Lan Wangji.

Jin Guangyao as you can see isn't being "forced" to kill people because he's of lower birth and nobody accepts him :(

He's killing people to silence those who speak against his and his father's (and they both are one and the same entity. he's acting on his father's orders which he could've disobeyed and run away but he would lose his sect reputation and standing.)

Why does his reputation and standing mean more than the lives of all these 70 people ?

Were they trying to kill him? No.

Did they attack him first to the point he would lose his life? No.

Would they have thrown him into a whore house? No.

Let us please not compare Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao.

MXTX wants us to know what's said and told may not be right. Wei Wuxian isn't fond of the techniques that are used to confirm Jin Guangyao's demise. He's critical of how nobody else is concerned. He's unsure of what NHS's motivations are - does he now want complete power? or did his plan only extend up to his revenge? He's critical of how only yesterday people were all over this guy and today they hate him. Critical of how society works on what is favourable and not what is true.

But he's not SUPPORTIVE of Jin Guangyao. He's sympathetic to people turning onto you, but not empathetic towards Jin Guangyao. He believes Jin Guangyao to be a cruel man.

Those are two different things.

Nobody knows better than Wei Wuxian how it feels to be set up at every step:

1. Firstly he was used as a punching bag for Madam Yu and an emotional one for JC throughout his childhood

2. The Wens completely played him up, setting him as the cause of LP's fall.

3. Then, he was played by the Jins and the cultivation world until his death by validating JC's jealousy against him, by villianizing him and estranging him, by setting up the ambush, by sending JZX, by making false promises, by not checking for validity, by controlling Wen Ning, by setting up the seige parade, by getting JYL there, and finally the seige. (even after his death disrespecting his all)

4. He was brought back to the world on the revenge plans of NHS and tossed like a tennis ball from the plans of NHS and JGY. Yi City arc? children would've died -> NHS. Burial Mound seige 2.0? everyone would've died -> JGY. if LWJ wasn't with him at every step of the way, Wei Ying would've once again been in such a spot. Without any status or authority he would've gotten no help, no aid, and been villianized once more. He would've been stabbed and captured with nobody to save him. He would've made himself the bait without anybody to fight the monsters off.

Each of us have individual capacities and also, each of us have the one thing we cannot let happen:

1. Wei Ying can't let injustice prevail and sit by the side doing nothing

2. Jin Guangyao can't take in being stripped of power and being a lowlife again.

Those are two very different things. JGY made every decision he could to escape his grand fear, which was personal. I don't condemn his motivations personally cause I find them hot. Similar to how I find his character hot. Yet, he's not the hero on the opposite spectrum. He's not the lowlife who was killed because people can't handle people from lower birth statuses being on the top chairs for making decisions - but that is also true - but is not the reason behind his tragedy. Not the sole reason and also not the most important reason.

The most important reason is as it is said: he believes himself to be different and values his life over others, similar to Xue Yang. Their personalities vary greatly, yet his "true" friends were Xue Yang and Su She. (He showed glimpses of the truth and of his reality to LXC. So, he's hiding the truth and LXC doesn't wish to dig deeper anyways thus not a true friendship.) One wished to take revenge in extremely unfair shares, a clan for a finger. A clan for a son. The entire cultivation world could die but he couldn't be badmouthed or put on trial or killed. The other - Su She, wished to be recognized by those who he equally hated, despised and considered arrogant and also was jealous and envious of. So, these two traits - great desire for revenge onto everyone who's ever said anything mean about him, and the desire for power. You may argue how this developed from his childhood trauma but you can't argue that this justifies his cold blooded crimes because it doesn't. Another thing I'd like to add is that, his friendship with Lan Xichen also shows his personality; not wanting to take the messy, big path (such as showing up to your own death planning party, or planning a death party) and his relatively calm nature. Yet just like the friendship it is fragmented and fake; a composure that is stuck onto the cold, and hot brimming desire for power.

There was one character who had to kill a large number of people or would have no other option left and it wasn't Jin Guangyao. There was one character who was hated by society solely because of his background and his desire to protect people and it wasn't Jin Guangyao. There was one character who had to give up everything for what he believed in and it wasn't Jin Guangyao. There was one character who ended up being the indirect reason for the passing of loved siblings due to the unjust society.

and it wasn't Jin Guangyao.

(but there were two characters who had confirmed sex before marriage. one of them was Jin Guangyao)