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vintageshanny · 7 months

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Waiting for Love - Part Five

Never Enough

Content: Late July 1970-December 1970 (this picks up right where the last part left off 😉 and then we jump ahead a little bit), marriage problems, infidelity, smut, angst, fluff, 18+

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Catch up here: Waiting for Love series

Vivien’s body shuddered from pleasure as Elvis’ tongue continued its magic like a sorcerer’s wand. Elvis used the fingers on one hand to spread her open so he could dip his tongue inside her while the thumb of his other hand rubbed her clit. As the increasingly familiar wave of euphoria began washing over her body, he quickly moved his mouth to her clit, flicking it with his tongue and then sucking on it gently as he slipped one long finger inside of her. He was careful not to be too forceful, but it was enough to send Vivien over the edge.

“Oh god, oh god, Elvis,” she moaned, clenching around his finger, her legs shaking on either side of him. As her body started to float back to Earth, she felt him give a soft kiss to her most sensitive spot before lifting his head and scooching up on the bed, laying his body on top of hers. He leaned down to kiss her lips, and she tasted a tanginess that she knew must be her own arousal. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling a little embarrassed about the sheen across his lips and chin, but Elvis just smiled tenderly and buried his face in her neck.

“Ain’t nothin’ ta ‘pologize for baby, ya taste even sweeter than I thought,” he said, but he could feel his own face flushing as he continued. “I was hopin’ you could k-k-k-kiss me there now sweetheart, like ya did before. I-I-I need ya real bad, honey,” he murmured into Vivien’s soft skin.

“Of course, Elvis, I said I would,” she responded, gently caressing his scalp with her fingertips. “I’ve been looking forward to it actually. I want to make you feel good the way you always do for me.” Elvis gave her neck a little nip with his teeth, took her glasses off and set them next to his own on the nightstand, and then rolled onto his back, letting Vivien climb on top of him. He was aching so bad he thought he might rip right through his pants. Vivien carefully unbuttoned his cherry blossom shirt and opened it, revealing a fuzzy trail of hair that led down to the waistband of his pants. The way he was staring up at her with that need in his eyes emboldened her to lean down and kiss her way down the trail. Once she got to the waistband of his black pants, she slowly undid the button and pulled down the zipper, her heart thudding right out of her chest. Elvis lifted his hips a bit so she could slide the pants down, and his hard cock sprang out, bouncing slightly, no underwear to confine it this time. A string of a sticky-looking substance that connected the tip of his penis to the inside of his pants pulled apart as Vivien pulled the pants all the way off of him. She leaned in closer to examine his leaking tip.

“Uh, th-th-that’s jus’ some pre-cum baby, ya jus’ got me so excited already,” Elvis explained nervously.

Vivien smiled, wrapped her hand around the base of him, and leaned in to lick the stickiness off his sensitive slit, eliciting a low beautiful moan from his lips. “You taste good,” she whispered. “I want more.” She leaned in again and took him in her mouth, moving her lips as far down his shaft as she could before sliding them back up, her tongue swirling around him. She liked the way he was throbbing in her hand. This seemed to work better with him lying down in bed than it had when he was standing and she was on her knees. She liked that she could easily explore the rest of him with her hands while she took him in as deep as she could. She kept one hand steady near the base of him, enjoying the feel of his pubic hair against her skin. With the other hand she gently fondled his testicles, then kept moving it down, following along a soft seam that seemed to lead to his other private area. As she traced back and forth along that little seam, Elvis’ moans turned high-pitched, his hips bucking up, causing him to thrust himself deeper into her throat.

“Oh god, Vivien, I’m gonna-” he started to groan out just as she felt him pulsing in her mouth, something warm filling her throat. She swallowed as much as she could before gagging a little bit and pulling her mouth off of him, watching the way his face looked in a moment of pure physical pleasure. It warmed her inside to make him feel so good. “Are-are ya okay, honey?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking at her. His tone was concerned, but his face and body still looked very relaxed.

“Yes, I’m better than okay,” she reassured. “I love to make you feel so good.” Ah, that crooked smile. Vivien’s heart melted. She curled up next to him and lay her head on his chest, feeling the soothing heartbeat under her ear.

Elvis pulled the covers over them to hide his now fully soft member from view. “Whatchu thinkin’ ‘bout, honey?” he asked as he traced his fingers over the bare skin of her arm.

“A couple things,” Vivien said with a soft smile. “One is that I hope you know you don’t have to hide your body from me after we’re…intimate. I think you look perfect all the time, even when you’re inside your cocoon.”

Elvis let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Cocoon huh? Naw, baby, I ain’t hiding, I-I-I was jus’ cold,” he lied, his face flushing.

Vivien just smiled and let her hand trail underneath the blanket, all the way down past his abdomen to where his thick soft cocoon lay resting. She felt his breath hitch as she ran her hand softly over it. “Mm-hmm, okay good,” she said, not believing him for a second. “The other thing is that I was wondering what it will feel like when you make love to me,” she whispered. She could hear his heartbeat pick up speed at the thought of that.

“Honey, if ya decide ta give that precious gift ta me some time, I will make sure it’s so special for ya, okay?” He leaned down and softly kissed the top of her head. “So what do ya wanna do with your life, Vivien?” he asked suddenly. “Ya tryna be an actress or somethin’?” From his almost suspicious tone, Vivien guessed he’d had many girls throw themselves at him who were trying to be “an actress or something.”

“No,” Vivien responded. His relief seemed almost palpable. “I, um, I know it sounds old-fashioned, and Roxanne always tells me this is a silly goal, but I always wanted to just get married and have a family. Both of my parents worked a lot when I was a kid. Maybe it’s just a case of wanting what you didn’t have, but I’d love to stay home and take care of someone. To just be there when they need me, y’know? I’m sorry, that probably sounds ridiculous to someone so ambitious like you,” she apologized, feeling silly.

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all,” Elvis smiled. “It’s kind of like what I do in a way, trying to just take care of people and make them happy. My mama had to work when I was little too, and it was such a proud day for me when I could take care of her and she didn’t have ta do that no more.” The tenderness in Elvis’ voice when he talked about his mama pulled at Vivien’s heartstrings.

“That’s really sweet the way you took care of her. Any woman would be so lucky to be taken care of by you,” she whispered.

“Well, not every woman seems to feel that way,” Elvis murmured. She could feel him tense up a little bit, and she knew he was thinking about his marriage.

“Can I ask you something? Do you ever think about getting divorced if you’re so unhappy?” She held her breath nervously, hoping she wasn’t crossing a line.

Elvis sighed softly. “I think about it, but I jus’ don’ what ta do yet. I’m tryin’ to sort things out in my mind. Especially now that I know…” he trailed off.

“Now that you know what?” Vivien prodded.

Elvis cleared his throat a little bit. “Now that I know there might be someone who’s exactly what I’ve been lookin’ for.” He kissed her head again. “I jus’ need ya to be patient and keep enjoyin’ our time together. Can ya do that baby? Is that enough for now?”

“I hope so,” Vivien whispered, but deep down she feared she’d come crashing back to reality the second she was back alone in her apartment.

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

Elvis drummed his fingers nervously against the phone receiver, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. “W-w-what are ya sayin’? Ya don’ wan’t me no more?”

“Elvis, no, of course I want you. I want you so badly.” Vivien’s eyes welled up with tears. “I’m just so confused. I haven’t heard from you in three weeks. This is all just so much harder than I ever thought it would be.”

“W-w-well, I-I-I’ve been busy, honey,” Elvis protested, the irritation rising in his voice. “I had to finish rehearsals, we had opening night and now two shows every day, I-I-I can barely keep up with it all. I-I-I was callin’ cuz I want ya to come see me and watch me perform. I need ya here to keep me sane. You’re all I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout.”

“Why didn’t you want me there opening night?” Vivien asked, her voice barely audible. She already knew the answer before he sighed and tried to explain without really saying it.

“Honey, I-I-I did wan’t ya there, it’s jus’ that I have certain routines with people and I’m tryin’ ta figure it all out right now. I told ya ta jus’ be patient. It won’t be like this forever.” His voice sounded almost pleading, and Vivien knew she couldn’t go see him right now. She’d never be able to say no to him in person. It was breaking her heart just to hear him like this on the phone.

“Well maybe I should just give you some space to figure it all out then. I never wanted to cause you any problems. I didn’t know I was going to…to feel so strongly. I think I just need to take a step back for a minute.” Vivien could feel herself starting to ramble, unsure of what to say to make him understand how painful this all was. “When I come see you, it’s like I’m on a high, like I’m happier than I ever thought possible. Then I come home and don’t hear from you and there’s an aching in my soul.”

“B-b-but it’s good to know the pain of tenderness. That’s jus’ part of life, part of love,” Elvis whispered hoarsely.

“I understand that, but in the moment it just hurts so badly. I think I just need a break to think about things,” Vivien tried to explain, the words escaping her lips before she could think better of it. They hung in the air like a cloud of doom, and she could feel the tension growing.

Elvis swallowed harshly. It was the same old thing. He thought he found someone special, maybe even a soul mate, and all of a sudden they need a break from him, from his life. Why couldn’t anyone understand that his life had to be like this? That he could no more control it than a bullet whizzing through the air? Did anyone think that maybe he wished he could take a break from it all? All he gave, everything he did to take care of people in the best way he knew how, it was never quite enough. He was never quite enough. “Okay,” he muttered and hung up the phone, his vision blurred with tears. He punched the wall and went to get some ice for his knuckles.

As the click and the dial tone resonated in her ear, Vivien couldn’t stop the cascade of tears that she’d been holding in to the best of her ability. What had she done?

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

“Oh, Viv, I’m so sorry. I really thought he’d have called again by now.” Roxanne squeezed Vivien’s hand as they sat and talked the weekend after “the conversation.” “Tell me again what you said to him.”

“I told him maybe I need a break while he figures things out,” Vivien whispered, twisting her emerald ring around on her finger, remembering the way Elvis would fiddle with his own rings. She couldn’t seem to do anything without being reminded of him. “I don’t think I even really meant it, I just was feeling so sad and confused. I hoped he’d be understanding, but he sounded kind of…mad. Or maybe just upset I guess.” Roxanne cleared her throat a little bit and glanced away. “What? You think he was right to be upset with me?” Vivien questioned quietly.

“Honey, I think you were completely right to feel sad and confused. Falling in love can be confusing, and I can only imagine what falling in love with Elvis Presley would feel like. But just think about how your worries might have sounded to him. That being with him is sad and confusing and you need a break from him. Sometimes people hear things a certain way when they’re upset.”

“But that’s not what I meant at all!” Vivien protested. “I don’t actually want a break from him. I want more of him. I know his life is busy and crazy and difficult, and I just want to be the one who’s with him through it all.”

“I think you need to tell him that,” Roxanne said gently. “Then at least he’ll really know how you feel.”

“I think it’s too late,” Vivien said, brushing her tears away. “I’m sure he hates me now. I think I really hurt his feelings, Rox. And I can’t just show up on his doorstep to explain.”

“He’ll call. He’s probably still busy with his shows, but he’ll call eventually. And in the meantime, just keep living your life. Things usually have a way of working themselves out. And you always have me, Viv, okay?” Vivien nodded silently and Roxanne pulled her into a hug.

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

How many seconds were there in four months? Elvis wondered to himself as he stared out the window of his den at Graceland. That’s how many times he’d thought about Vivien since that devastating phone conversation. He knew he should call. He should have flown out to get her that very night and told her that she belonged to him, that he never wanted her to feel hurt again. He’d known ever since his pretty little June left him at the train station that his life was just too crazy, too much for one woman to handle, but Vivien had made him feel a flash of hope. She lifted him up, she made him feel good in so many ways, she wanted all the same things that he wanted. He sighed and twisted the black star sapphire ring on his finger. He’d tried to distract himself all fall with the touring, with buying a new car, with collecting badges and guns, but nothing could make him forget her. He needed to tell her. It couldn’t wait any longer.

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

“Oh, yeah, Rox, I’m sure he thought it was really sexy when I started crying while he tried to kiss me. I heard guys love that,” Vivien said sarcastically into the phone receiver as she attempted to string some Christmas garlands up in her apartment. She’d always loved the holidays, and she was really in need of some cheer right now. “I don’t know, I guess I thought a normal date would help, but I just can’t get him out of my mind. Apparently pretending he doesn’t exist is not the same as getting over him.” Vivien was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. She glanced at her watch and saw it was 10pm. Who on Earth? she wondered as she swung the door open.

“Honey, ya really should be more cautious opening the door at this time of night. It coulda been any weirdo out here,” Elvis said with a nervous little grin. Vivien’s mouth hung open as she looked him up and down. He was wearing a black velvet suit and his tinted glasses. His hair was a little longer than the last time she’d seen him, and he looked a little more tired maybe, but just as beautiful as ever. “C-c-can I come in?” he stuttered, wondering if maybe this was all a mistake. Vivien nodded wordlessly and stepped aside so he could enter.

“Roxanne? I’ll have to call you back,” Vivien murmured, hanging the phone up on the hook by the door. She tried and failed to resist the gravitational pull into his open arms.

Tag List: @whositmcwhatsit @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @thatbanditqueen @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @be-my-ally @from-memphis-with-love @pebbles403 @deniseinmn @everythingelvispresley @little-laamb @annapresley8 @leapresley @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @atleastpleasetelephone @gatheraheart @richardslady121 @helen06dreamer @arg-xoxo

#elvis #elvis fan fic #elvis fan fiction #Elvis x oc #Elvis smut #waiting for love #i love this man

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petertingle-yipyip · 11 months

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WORLD CLASS SINNER - FRANK CASTLE

four - aftermath

tags: n/a // three // five // masterlist

Pairing: Billy x Reader , Frank x Reader

Word Count: 8,477

Summary: A quick run nearly turns disastrous when a bold move goes wrong. An attempted reconciliation between friends turns nasty, all because the aftermath of Midland Circle still lingers in Y/N’s actions.

As you approached your usual entrance, you felt a familiar tingle through your muscles. It was one of intent, one specifically reserved for when there was a mission to be accomplished. A mission you’d work mindlessly, like a task you had practiced a thousand times over. Instructions that were carved into your bones and wired into the deepest part of your brain that you’d never be free of.

The Red Room had seeped into your DNA, altered your very being from the first mission you were given as a child. And for what seemed like the first moment since your freedom, you were thankful to have that darker, much bloodier, much angrier side.

“Just in time.” Frank nodded as you approached. “Let’s go.”

“You’ve been busy.” You gestured to the Mustang. “We get a location on the guns?”

“Yeah, there’s uh… a meet tonight.” Lieberman answered, but it was clear that he wasn’t really focused on the task at hand. “I can’t do this.” He confessed suddenly.

“It’s a two-man job so you don’t have a choice.” Frank answered flatly.

“Hello?” You waved a hand before you gestured to yourself.

“I’m not letting you get in the middle of this. You’re watching our backs tonight, alright? Eyes from a distance. That’s it.”

You glared at him and he met your expression with a challenge of his own.

“Where are your fancy goggles then, hmm?” He said simply, gesturing to your eyes. “Cause if you go out there and someone recognizes you down the line, you lose everything. You even think about that?”

“Yeah... I have it.” You patted the fabric that hid the mask at the base of your throat. “It’s a little beat up but it’ll work.”

“Then it’s a three-person job.” Frank rolled his eyes.

“I don’t do this!” Lieberman said pointedly. “I- I sit behind a screen. You shouldn’t trust me to help you with this.”

“Are you done?” You asked in annoyance. “Cause this whole woe is me act gets old real fast. Get your shit and let’s go. We’re wasting time with this conversation.”

When the man didn’t budge, Frank took a few steps closer to taunt him.

“So this is it, huh? This is what Sarah meant?” Frank said with a matter-of-fact tone and Lieberman visibly tensed. “She said you never got your hands dirty, right? If there was a tough job, you’d call a guy.”

“We may be a lot of shitty things, but at least no one can say that about us.” You added on with a mocking laugh. “If Red ever said something like that about me back when we started…” You sucked a sharp breath between your teeth. “Talk about embarrassing.”

You could almost hear a switch flip in Lieberman as he grabbed his gun from the table and got up. He was angry, at you two for being assholes and at the situation. He didn’t want to do it and you didn’t blame him. He had absolutely no experience in the middle of a fight, but it had to be done. And had you not shown up, he would’ve ended up having to do more.

“Finally.” You groaned as the man passed you. “Aw, are you mad?” You taunted.

“You’re both pricks.” He commented and you chuckled.

“Atta boy.” Frank egged him on and you smiled slightly. “Pissed off beats scared every time.”

Frank gave you a quick rundown on the way to the meet. You only half listened, distracted by the almost burning sensation of the mask sitting against the skin at the base of your throat. That mask may have been broken and bloody, but it held memories of its own.

Granted, those memories were angry and disagreeing, times when you and Daredevil stood in opposition. But they were still memories of a man you loved, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. You pulled the mask out and set it to sit at the top of your head instead, hoping your hair would serve as a buffer. And it worked, but only for a few minutes.

With a quiet sigh, you fit the mask into place as you got out of the car and there was almost a jolt along the old scars around your eye. You tapped the scar tucked under your hair and pressed gently, shifting your finger to work through the static until you picked up on the channels the communications were going through. On the other end, you heard a familiar voice that you knew you should be able to put a face to, or at least a name, but all you could tell was that you had heard it before.

“...Hold tight. Calm and careful.” She said, embodying her own words within her voice.

You waited in silence as you heard the song begin to play over the channel. You groaned in embarrassment at Lieberman’s song choice but willed it to the back of your focus. You could make out the different voices barely cutting through the song, panicked uncertainty in their tones as they repeated their messages with hopes of an answer.

Frank tapped your arm as the truck approached and you scooted closer to the ledge. With a nod to each other, you two dropped down and landed on the roof, you on the cab and Frank on the trailer. Frank offered you his hand and you took it before you leaned over and opened the passenger door. You heard the exclamation from inside the truck and leaned away from the swinging arm. Instead, you caught the wrist and yanked the man out, throwing his body across the pavement.

You let go of Frank at that point and maneuvered yourself into the seat, careful to shut the door behind you so you wouldn’t go flying as well. You offered a nod to the driver before turning and slamming both feet against him. His head slammed into the side panel and he fell unconscious almost instantly. In a quick movement, you grabbed the wheel with one hand and reached for the door with the other. You managed to pop it open and Frank pulled the driver out, quickly taking his place.

Once the truck was far enough, he parked it and you both got out. You followed him into the trailer, where he dawned a flamethrower. You almost laughed as he pulled the door down. It didn’t take long for the car that was following you to catch up and for the agents to come very close to becoming barbecue.

The spewing flames took you back to the first fight with Nobu when you thought you had burned him alive. Fisk was there, and so was Matt. You thought he had died that night and you forced yourself to choose between yourself or your unofficial partner at the time. You were only drawn back to the present when you heard the splashes. Frank offered you a hand down from the truck and you accepted it without a word.

You kept your eyes away from Frank, knowing you would catch a worried expression for doing exactly what he had said would be a problem. But you also knew he couldn’t afford to be too focused on you. Not when you were operating in a timed window. You were glad you chose your cracked mask because at least you could partially hide behind the blood.

“Take the van.” Frank told Lieberman as they swapped places. “Go with him.” Frank gestured to you.

“Why?” You asked plainly.

“Keep him alive if this goes bad.”

“And keeps me out of the way?”

“Keeps you alive, too.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I do.” Frank offered over his shoulder before climbing into the Mustang.

You blew out a quick sigh and faced Lieberman, who was staring at you like a lost puppy. You gestured for him to get in while you hauled yourself into the passenger seat. The uncomfortable tension in the cab made your skin tingle so you rubbed your hands over your arms in an attempt to break it up.

“So.. How’d you meet Frank?” Lieberman asked after a few minutes of driving in silence.

“He shot my boyfriend in the head.” You said flatly, and when you heard it out loud, it was a terrible way to meet someone. “He lived, though. He, uh, he had a helmet. Died of something else.”

“Oh..”

You glanced in the side view to see another car joining your convoy. You shifted in your seat and tapped your mask, hoping for a better view of the driver through the backend. A woman, vaguely familiar.

Why could you not figure this out?

“We’ve got company.” You warned after adjusting your implant.

“Head for the highway. I’ll cut them off.” Frank answered and you groaned slightly at the lack of involvement.

“If we don’t get these guns, he’s gonna be pissed.” Lieberman explained when you dropped the right way in your seat with a huff.

“Not all of us are happy to be sidelined.” You muttered. “Who was this deal with anyway?”

“Homeland. It was a sting on the Greeks.”

“Homeland…” You repeated as the gears turned in your head.

Suddenly, the voice made sense. Did he get dirty?

The woman you saw was the same woman Billy had at the bar. Special Agent Dinah Madani.

“Holy shit.” You realized.

“What?”

“I know someone who was there. I know who’s driving that car.”

“Should I- Should I turn around?”

“I don’t..” Your brows furrowed as you thought. “I don’t know…”

“Dammit, Exodus. Does he need our help?” He asked not urgently, banging a palm against the steering wheel to punctuate each word.

“That’s the problem. The whole point was the guns. We can’t blow that. It’s a major risk for you to get involved like that.”

“But if you know there’s a chance…”

“I don’t.”

He looked between you and the road a few times before he looked over his shoulder. He offered you another quizzical look, one that almost pleaded for you to tell him what to do, but all you could do was shrug. You wanted to go back and help, even if it was just firing shots to throw the driver off, but your gut was telling you that getting Lieberman that close might ruin everything.

“Screw it.” He said to himself and yanked the steering wheel to turn the truck around.

You slammed your hand against the roof to keep yourself stable as he turned. You rolled down your window and you could hear the engines of the cars in a chase.

“If you can get close enough, I can shoot out her tires.” You explained as you pulled your gun. “Make a getaway before anything’s at risk.”

He nodded quickly and muttered some hype words to himself. You gave a small eye roll before you climbed halfway through the window to sit in the opening. You wedged a foot between the seat and the door and braced the other against the center console. Out of habit, you reached for the wire but came up empty. You sighed to yourself and refocused on the task at hand, gripping your gun tightly in one hand and holding the handle near the windshield with the other as you drew closer to the bright headlights.

“Slow down.” You said, though you were ignored.

“Hey!” You banged your gun against the roof of the truck.”Lieberman! You gotta stop!”

No response.

“You’re gonna hit them, stop!”

You realized that was exactly what he planned to do and you reacted as quickly as you could. You pulled back the leg that was against the console and pressed it against the edge of the seat to free your other foot. You had shoved your gun away but held on to the handle to ensure you didn’t fall backward. That was all the prep you could do before the collision hit.

Your back and neck slammed into the mirror and it snapped from the impact while your arm nearly spun around in its socket before you let go. You were sent flying across the asphalt, the entire side of your body colliding with the unforgiving ground before you went rolling. Your head hit the discarded mirror hard with a sick smack that seemed to echo throughout the empty alleys along with the crack of the glass that flattened the broken lens against your tightly shut eyes as you rolled over it. Your wrists stung violently from the hyperextension of your trying to catch yourself on the initial landing. Bits of rock shredded pieces of your shirt away and your chin, palms, and cheek burned with the sensation of a fresh cut crammed with gravel.

When you finally stilled, face down against the asphalt, you coughed hard as air tried to refill your lungs. You managed to get yourself to your elbows and you gasped for breath, spitting out blood in the process, as you felt two hands under your arms. You cried out when you were hauled to your feet, feeling a sharp stabbing in your side.

That rib was definitely cracked.

Get up..

Pain only makes you stronger.

Get. Up.

You rubbed your hands together to clear them of some of the loose gravel before gently dusting your face, wincing when the small rocks moved across the tenderly exposed meat of your cheek and chin. You could vaguely hear Frank’s voice, a muffled and distant sound that was hardly English. Your eyes were wide as you stared ahead, feeling that familiar uneasiness that came before you would pass out. You willed the lightheadedness away and took a staggered step forward, only to collapse immediately against Frank. You shook your head and blinked hard to clear your focus, to regain some sense of self but that only seemed to make it worse.

“Di..” You said to yourself, your voice hardly a whisper as you doubled over and supported yourself on your bent knees. “Dinah..”

You heard a rough slam against metal and the hushed anger of an argument behind you. No doubt Frank was tearing into Lieberman about the collision but you had to keep moving forward. You tapped your mask and heard a small crackle as the shattered lens tried to whir back to life.

You saw the outline of her figure along with a status on the car. It was ticking down to an explosion and if you didn’t do something, Dinah was going to die.

What the hell did you do?

What did I do? What did I do? I got- I got my hands dirty!

Are you stupid? Are you fucking stupid? Look what you did! - Another rough slam. - I swear- I swear to everything you care about, Lieberman. I swear to you, if you ever pull a goddamn stunt like that again, I will kill you.

You tried to hurry but once you straightened, the stab of your rib folded you in half and the blossoming bruise at your hip made you buckle. Instead, you hobbled and basically collapsed when you got to her side. You couldn’t carry her out. You could barely support your own weight at the moment, so you had to drag her. You worked to get her torso in your lap and your arms under hers and propped the foot of your okay leg against the side of the car. You kicked off and heard the scrape as the car shifted and she moved a few inches.

You groaned loudly and cursed to yourself.

It would take too long to do it that way. You’d both be caught in the explosion. You quickly recognized you needed help so you took a deep breath and whistled as loud as you could. It caught both of their attentions and Frank practically ran over to help you, but not before shoving Lieberman back into the truck and slamming the door on him.

Frank helped you to your feet and asked you to head back to the Mustang. You looked between him and Dinah, new guilt eating at your heart. How that feeling got out of the hole, you didn’t know, but it was something. Something that meant you were still human, that Y/N wasn’t dead. And that was allegedly a good thing so you didn’t fight it off. Not that you had the strength to do so anyway.

He gave a small groan and gently pushed you away before he moved towards Dinah. You let out a breath of relief and managed to get yourself to the Mustang. You dropped into the front seat, and while the weight was taken off your hip, you winced immediately at the hit to your ribcage. Your hand went to the tender area and pressed softly, which was immediately followed by regret when the pain began to make you nauseous. Your other hand balled into a tight fist and hit the door beside you.

Using your shoulder, you dragged your mask down and clenched your jaw as the edges scraped along the newest cuts to your face. You blinked slightly as you looked over and saw Frank having a hushed interaction with Dinah. You wondered what they were talking about, but the bobbing of your head and flutter of your eyes made it hard to focus for too long. You had zoned out of the present moment and felt yourself slipping out of consciousness when the slam of the driver's door snapped you back.

“You alright over there?” Frank asked as he drove off carefully, not to jostle you around too much.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m…” You answered quietly. “My head..”

“Goddamn idiot.” He muttered to himself and you dropped your head against the seat as you turned to face him. “I told him… I told him to get out of there. Now look what he did.”

“My fault…” You tried to defend him. “Was my idea…”

“Nah, don’t give me that shit. He should’ve- Hey.” He reached over and tapped under your chin and you jumped. “C’mon, you gotta stay focused.”

“It hurts...”

“I know, Princess.” When he got to a stop light, he reached over and gently removed your mask from around your neck and you noticed his fingertips came back stained red. Was that your blood?

“You need to call someone to stay with you tonight, okay? Karen, Nelson, one of your new boyfriends. Doesn’t matter. Call someone.”

“No… They can’t see me like this.” You argued and shifted, whining at the sharp pain running down the side of your body. “It’s pathetic.”

“If you don’t call someone, Imma take your phone and call all of ‘em.” He threatened.

“Frank..”

He only offered a stern look.

You reached for your phone and tried to focus past the new cracks in the screen protector. Your eyes widened for a moment before you found the contact. Your thumb hovered over the green icon to dial and you thought of what he would say when he saw you. He’d want to know what happened and who was involved. He’d want to go and hurt them back, to cause them twice the pain you were in. And in any other circumstance, you would’ve encouraged the revenge.

You had to mediate some of the damage so you took a deep, painful breath and let yourself give in to the pain in your head. It throbbed through your skull and you almost swore you could feel the swelling in your brain by the way sounds muffled to near quiet. If your eyes hadn’t been closed, you would’ve been convinced they were going to pop out of your skull. It continued to grow until the tears burned in your eyes, then it was suddenly gone. So you pressed the button and waited for Billy to answer.

“Hey, pretty lady.” He answered quickly, no doubt with a smile on his face. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Can you come over?” You asked simply, finally hearing the scratchiness of your voice.

“Yeah… Everything okay?”

“No.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

You dropped your phone into your lap and gingerly prodded the side that hit the ground, counting the tender spots that would likely meld into one massive bruise by the morning. There was the idea of trying to heal it but with the strength it took just to rid yourself of the lurking concussion, you wouldn’t have been able to do it.

“Happy now?” You glared over as he parked in front of your building.

“The actually sounded lucid. What’d you do?”

“Just got rid of the head trauma.” You gestured to your head. “Everything else still hurts.”

“Thought you would’ve fixed your eye first then.” He snorted slightly.

“My eye?” Your brows furrowed and your fingers gingerly touched your lower lid. “What’s wrong with my eye?”

He flipped down the passenger sunshade and the small mirror was pointed at your chin. You saw all the little scrapes and dried blood as you adjusted the mirror to see your eyes. A stream of blood was crusted under your nose and had made its way into your mouth, staining your front teeth. You had bit the inside of your cheek at some point, which explained some of the blood you spat earlier that night. But your eye, the one that had been hidden behind the cracked lens, now mirrored that red stain as well. The white of that eye was a fair shade of red and the veins within it were even darker. As your focus darted back and forth, you noticed the movement didn’t hurt but the lids were shifting to a deep purple. You waved a hand to block and allow the light to hit your pupil, the small black circle adjusted and responded to the light.

“Fucking Lieberman.” You said to yourself and slammed the mirror back up. “I told him to stop.”

“Yeah, he’s a moron. Shouldn’t have brought him.” Frank answered.

“We got the job done.” You tried to shrug. “That’s what matters.”

“What if you had died, Y/N? What? You expect me to be good with that?”

“No, but it’s not up to you.”

“So what? You lose Murdock and life ain’t worth livin’ anymore?”

“It worth it without Maria?” You challenged and almost instantly regretted it.

“Not at first.” He confessed. “But you and your band of dumbasses pushed me to keep going… Find a reason to keep going.”

“I'm not sure I want to.”

You got out after that and slammed the door, admittedly harder than necessary. You didn’t hear the engine taking off until you were entering your building. Once the door shut behind you, you practically collapsed against the wall and had to use the railing to haul yourself up to your apartment. On your way, you muttered small complaints and blamed Matt for choosing the top floor.

You practically fell inside and had to kick the door shut. You used the bench near the coat rack to get back to your feet and wobbled over to your couch, where you collapsed again. You fought out of your shoes and closed your eyes as the exhaustion began to creep into your muscles.

Damn, you were weak.

You were tempted to stay there, to sleep on your couch with hopes that rest would clear some of the bruises and the redness in your eye. But as your eyes were closing, you were practically slammed by the concern bursting into your building.

You had forgotten you invited Billy over.

With a loud groan, you pushed yourself to sit up. Every movement of your torso hurt so you had to move in short bursts. You reached across and lifted the opposite arm enough to reach and yank on the straps that kept the vest in place. The movement jostled your upper body and you had to contain the noise you wanted to make. You wiggled out of it finally and forced yourself to quickly get across the room to the closet. You threw it without a care and were just able to fix the lock back into place before the knocks sounded at your door.

You knew better than to yell anything so you hoped your silence would be enough. After a second, he came in. He didn’t bother to shut the door behind him because the sight of you was enough to draw all of his focus.

“Jesus, Y/N.” He said quietly as he got closer, the concern practically latching onto you.

It made you feel warm inside but in a good way. Only it didn’t last long. Once you realized, you shoved it away.

One of his hands went to your slightly outstretched arm and the other moved gently to your cheek. You watched as his eyes scanned your face, brows furrowed with concern as his attention caught on your eye. You offered an apologetic smile and a small shrug, to which he sighed softly to himself. He took half a step back and looked down at your body, staring for a moment as if he were counting the tears in your clothes. You wondered if it was obvious that there was some protection since your chest and stomach were visibly unharmed, not considering the bruises you felt spreading across.

“Thanks for coming.” You said after a while of silence.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He answered and gently led you to your bathroom.

There he helped you out of your shirt, taking extra caution as he began to see the dark purple patches blossoming across your side and littering your back and you felt his concern growing beside you the same way. You sat on the floor of your tub and you were taunted with the memory of the last time, when you wanted to allow the water to take over and put you out of your misery.

You made sure to stay upright, leaning forward a bit so the water hit the back of your head and neck. Some streams fell down your face and it was stained red, mimicking the blood you saw in your nightmare. At that point, you closed your eyes.

“What happened?” He asked softly and you felt him tap your arm to hand you a washcloth.

“I…” You began and gently rubbed the wet fabric along your arm, knowing it came off stained with the blood and grime covering your body. “It all happened so fast.” You confessed slowly.

He gently took the cloth from you and gestured for you to lift your arm, which you could only get level with your shoulder before your aching muscles threatened to pull it back down. You appreciated the care he took, despite it playing on some deeply buried sense of vulnerability.

“It was a car crash.” You continued, pushing your wet hair out of your face. “I told the driver to stop but he just sped up.”

“Pretty bad for a crash.” He muttered.

“I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

“Was it a cab company? I’m sure you could sue.”

“Maybe, I don’t remember. I hit my head pretty hard.”

“I should take you to a hospital, Y/N/N.” He said pointedly.

You took a chance and looked over, seeing him on the floor beside your tub with arms hanging on the ledge. He fiddled with the washcloth until he noticed you were looking at him. You also noticed small droplets of water bouncing off you and the tub floor, landing in various spots on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad once I wash off the blood and dirt.” You tried with a small shrug. “For the most part, at least. I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

“It looks like half of your body is bruised, Beautiful.” He shook his head slightly. “It’s gotta be from more than a crash.”

“I couldn’t tell you anything… All I remember is the impact.”

“Have you eaten anything?” He changed the subject.

“No, actually. Can you order something? There’s some cash on my counter, I think.”

“I got it.” He smiled slightly. He handed you back the cloth and gently kissed your forehead before standing up. “Mexican?”

“What about pasta?” You suggested instead.

“Alright.” He chuckled.

“Thanks again.”

“You know I look after you.”

He left the bathroom after that, closing the door most of the way. You managed to get your feet and rid yourself of your now soaked and bloody clothes. You left them in a pile at the corner of your tub while you gingerly washed the rest of the residue from the night’s mission off your skin and out of your hair. When you got out, you were able to fully examine the extent of the damage and it was about what you expected.

The splotchy purple spread out across your side and stopped a little below your hip bone. It crept across the back of your shoulder and there was redness around the base of your skull. You had felt a few splits on the back of your head while you were washing your hair but you could fix those in the morning if they didn’t fix themselves overnight. The swelling in your cheek had gone down, as did some of the redness in your eye. Your muscles felt a bit less tense after sitting in the warm water but most movements still ached. Your biggest concern was your rib, which now that you could see, was a darker shade than the rest of the bruises. You gave it a gentle push and heard a small scraping sound which made you frown.

You headed into your bedroom, wrapped in your towel, and saw Billy unbagging the food. You didn’t even hear the knock from the delivery guy. You dug through your drawer for something to sleep in and settled on a zip-up - that wasn’t yours - and some shorts before you dropped onto the bed. You rummaged around the bedside table for the painkillers as Billy came in with a bowl and a bottle of water.

“You don’t wanna sleep on the other side?” He offered and your brows furrowed.

“I always sleep on this side.” You reasoned, which was technically a lie.

For as long as you had Billy over you slept on that side, but when you first moved in, that was Matt’s side. You switched once he died because you couldn’t stomach the thought of someone who wasn’t him being there. You didn’t want any other man’s cologne or bathroom products changing the smell of the sheets on that side, nor did you want some other man’s body reshaping the bed to fit him. Because that wasn’t their bed and it never would be.

That bed was Matt’s and it was yours. Without him, it only left you. And despite the war within yourself, despite the burning and the gap and the echoing rumbles and nightmares, you would stand firm on that boundary. No man would sleep on Matt Murdock’s side of the bed.

“Yeah, but that would have you laying on all the bruises. It’d be more comfortable.” He offered and while the gesture was genuine, you didn’t want it.

“I don’t like sleeping on my left side.” You countered easily as you stirred your pasta. “It’s harder for me to fall asleep so no, thank you.”

“But your right side-”

“Is banged up, I know.” You cut in. “But I can sleep on my back… I’m not switching.”

“Okay.” He nodded in concession. “Want me to stay?”

“Yeah, can you?”

“Of course.”

Back at the little hideout, Frank had been fuming since the minute he saw Y/N hit the ground. He had got into with Lieberman at the time but now that they were back and not worried about getting caught, he had some choice words for him.

“She told you to stop!” Frank said loudly. “And you didn’t! Everything that happened to her is your fault!”

“She told me to go back in the first place!” Lieberman defended.

“She didn’t tell you to ram the goddamn car!”

“I’m sorry, okay?! What do you want me to do?”

“I could do the same thing to you. How does that sound, huh?” Frank threatened. “Break your rib, crack your skull, bruises and cuts. Make it even.”

“Well what about you? And what you did.” Lieberman desperately tried to change the subject. “A trained agent should be able to extract themselves from a vehicle unassisted.”

“And I wouldn’t have had to do it if you hadn’t hit her in the first place.” Frank continued. “The Princess was gonna sit there and try to haul her out on her own anyways. You might be fine risking her life but I’m not.”

“So you think the fact that Agent Madani knows you’re alive isn’t an issue?”

“She was unconscious. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Our lives just got way more complicated!” Lieberman argued. “If Homeland Security enters your name into the system, how long until Agent Orange knows that?”

“Maybe you should’ve stuck to the plan.” Frank pressed, stepping closer. “Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to get tough.”

“You were driving right at her. Was this stupid, bullshit, macho game of chicken part of the plan? If they catch you, I don’t see my family.”

“They catch me, she’ll handle it.” Frank said easily. He may not have faith in most things, but he knew he could trust Y/N. “Unless you get her killed first.”

“You know what-“

“No, you know what.” Frank said loudly. “See, you want me and her to get your shit done but then you bust my balls about it. You are relentless.. You nagged your wife like that? I mean, you sure that she wants you back?”

“Oh come on.” Lieberman rolled his eyes and chuckled, as if they were old friends that were joking. “C’mon.”

“I’m outta here.” Frank scoffed. “Maybe while I’m gone you can come up with new ways to antagonize me with your bullshit.”

“Where are you going?”

“Imma go make sure you didn’t kill the family I got left… And then I think I’ll go see your wife.”

The next morning, you bolted upright in the bed. A hand slammed against your sternum and the other supported your weight against the mattress. Your heavy breathing stung your side and the layer of sweat across your body had your clothes sticking to you. When you glanced down at your chest, all you could see was a slight indent from laying on the zipper throughout the night. You went to rub the sleep from your eyes and one of your hands came back wet.

Were you crying?

Nothing hurt any worse than yesterday. In fact, you felt more mobile. There was a faint throb throughout the various bruises but nothing was enough to make you cry.

Must’ve been the nightmare..

“You alright?” He said from beside you, placing a gentle hand on your leg.

“Yeah, I’m..” You answered, your voice scratchier than you expected so you cleared your throat. “Just a bad dream, Ma… Billy.”

He gave you a small smile before he came around to your side of the bed. He took your hands gently and pulled you to your feet before carefully unzipping the jacket. He stepped behind you and gently slid the jacket off your arms, gingerly pressing his thumb against the bruises.

“Smart to wear the zip up.” He commented.

“You just like that I’m not wearing a bra.” You joked.

“Just a bonus.” He chuckled. “Swelling’s gone down a lot.” He explained from behind you. “Bruises don’t look half as bad as yesterday but still bad.”

“Told you.” You shrugged the material up your shoulders and turned to face him while you fixed the zipper. “It’s the cuts that my body doesn’t heal quick enough.”

“Like these?” His finger traced where the scars on your shoulder would’ve been. He looked at you with a question in his eyes and for some reason, you decided to answer it

“Russians, the Ranskahov brothers.” You explained. “Looking for information on The Devil.”

“Did you have it?”

“Even if I did, I wasn’t gonna give it.”

“Sounds right.” He gave a small smile. “And here?”

A scar on your cheek that brought you back to that trainyard. You heard Elektra’s voice in your head, I knew you’d have fun.

“Yakuza. Wrong place at the wrong time.”

“This one?”

The scar leading into your hairline that represented the fight you thought killed the Man in the Mask, the night you temporarily aligned with Fisk.

“Corner of a wooden post.”

“Here?”

Your hip, the night you spent on the rooftop with Matt and Frank that ended with Grotto dead.

“Gunshot.”

“And here?”

He sat on the bed and ran his hand over the slice across your thigh. The night Frank Castle allegedly died.

“Some guy at a diner.”

There were plenty of other scars he could’ve asked about, though most weren’t as prominent as the ones he already acknowledged. You realized he didn’t ask about the ones that followed the shape of your mask. Either he didn’t notice those ones or he had his own idea for them.

“I think that’s the most you've ever said about your past.” He looked up at you with a small, almost proud smile as his hand found the back of your thighs and pulled you closer. “I think you’re starting to like me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” You answered with a smile of your own. “You’ve got your own stories, hmm?” Your fingers traced the scar on his shoulder.

Before Billy could answer you, a quick knock came at your door.

“You should put your pants on.” You patted Billy’s cheek before shuffling across your living room to open it.

But when you saw your friends on the other side, you wished you hadn’t.

“Woah.” Foggy said to himself. “Deja vu.”

Your brows furrowed but then you realized he must’ve showed up and had the door open to Matt in familiar shape. You moved back into your apartment and gestured for them to follow you in.

“What is it?” You asked simply, resting against the back of the couch.

“Well, Karen told me you were back and I wanted to see for myself.” Foggy said honesty. “What happened?”

“Car accident.”

Foggy scoffed slightly. “I used that line for M-“

“Don’t.” You cut in quickly. “Don’t say it.”

His brows furrowed in confusion but you saw the realization cross his face as you heard Billy coming out of your room. You sighed to yourself as the awkward tension began to fill the room.

“I gotta get to the office.” Billy began and you glanced over your shoulder at him. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime.” He smiled. “Nice to see you guys.” He nodded to your friends before he took off.

“That really why you hadn’t called?” Foggy asked a minute after the door shut.

“Yeah, clearly.” You rolled your eyes.

“I guess I didn’t realize you had replaced me, your friend since college, with some guy.”

“Has nothing to do with Billy.” You shook your head. “I just didn’t wanna deal with all of this.” You gestured vaguely to the two standing in front of you.

“All of this?” Foggy repeated loudly. “All of this is because we care about you! But you keep choosing to jump into bed with some guy you barely know? You almost look worse than I ever saw Matt and that guy is the one you call?”

“Yeah, everyone says I’m supposed to stay connected to my friends. That’s what Curtis tells us, that we can have a fight and it doesn’t have to be the end.”

“It doesn’t.” Foggy agreed. “I’m always here for you, Y/N, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me anything.”

“It’s ironic that I’m the one who needs help, huh?” You gave a dry chuckle while the words started to formulate on your tongue before you could try to stop them. “Even when I say I’m fine, I can’t tell if I’m happy or I’m sad… But no one ever talks about the aftermath. No one ever talks about being the problem and trying to change everything that other people hate about yourself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can’t just run around killing people and call yourself a human being.” You threw his old words at him. “You and Matt and Karen, you all hated that I’m a killer.”

His heavy sigh almost made you laugh.

“That’s what I am, Foggy. I’m a murderer. And I knew all three of you would look at me and wonder if I would ever hurt you, so I tried to change it. Just sit back and be the good little lawyer, right? But it’s still not enough, is it?”

“So what?” He shrugged slightly. You could tell from his tone and body language that he was trying to not start a fight, but your constant pressure and challenges were making it hard for him to keep his cool. “You keep Billy Russo around because he doesn’t care to see that you’re more than that? Does he even know about everything?”

“No, but at least he doesn’t flinch away from me!” You shouted as the burn under your skin grew and pulsed in your various bruises. A strange expression crossed Foggy’s feature, a mix between annoyance, regret, and apologetic, yet you couldn’t recall hearing an apology for the reaction. “He doesn’t tiptoe around me or treat me like I’m an explosive just ticking down.. He cares about me, too. I think.”

“For argument’s sake, let’s say he does, okay? It wouldn’t be the way I do. You are the closest friend I have left and I’m not gonna let you push away the person who knows you better than anyone else.”

“You don-”

“I do.” He cut in. “And you’re not gonna convince me otherwise.”

“You know part of me. You don’t know anything about the Widow.”

“What really happened last night, Y/N/N?” Foggy asked. His tone was gentle but there was a slight urgency.

“Like I said, car crash.” You shrugged. “We intercepted a Homeland sting and the driver slammed the Homeland agent’s car. I told him not to but he was a goddamn idiot and did it anyway. I went out the window, rolled maybe a hundred feet.”

“I’m sorry.” Karen finally spoke and you nearly forgotten she was there. “Homeland? As in Homeland Security? Y/N, when I asked you to-“

“You asked her?” Foggy cut in quickly. “Karen!”

“I didn’t think it would get to this!” She argued before turning to you. “What about..”

“Wasn’t the driver.” You shook your head. “Was the one to get me home, actually. He’s fine.”

She let out a breath of relief before Foggy spoke again.

“So we’re all just okay with the fact that she’s being Exodus again?” He asked in shock.

“I’m not… Not fully at least. I don’t know who I am right now so you should go before this gets any worse.”

“I’m not leaving.” Foggy said firmly, dropping his briefcase on your table. “Not until we settle this.”

“Fine.” You said with the same tone as Karen ducked around the corner to answer a phone call. “Say what you wanna say but as far as I care, it’s settled.”

“I don’t want to fight with you about this. Come on, you saw the toll it took on me and Matt.”

“Matt this, Matt that. Matt’s dead.” You spat and the words even wounded you. Before the ache could settle, that deep hole in your heart swallowed the incoming despair. “And part of me died with him. You want your friend from college back or even her-“ You threw a hand towards the closet. “-but neither of them is what’s left.”

“So what? You don’t want us around anymore?”

“I just want to-“ You began before Karen came back and she was practically shaking with uncertainty. “Karen?”

“That um..” She began, fiddling with her phone. “That was Homeland Security. She wants me to come in tomorrow.”

“Was this she Agent Madani?” You asked tightly.

“Mhmm..”

“Shit.” You sighed and moved as quickly as you could to get back to your room so you could change. At least put on a real shirt. “I’ve gotta go. Lock up when you leave.”

You grabbed your keys and purse before shoving your feet into the first pair of tennis shoes you saw. Your friends were talking over each other, asking questions that you didn’t care to answer as you hurried out and down the stairs. Your leg buckled a few times but you pushed through it to get to your car. As you were driving, you got the same call asking you to come in tomorrow.

“Guys!” You called as you hurried into the room. “I’ve got news, that could be good or bad.”

“Jesus Christ.” Frank grumbled before he rushed to your side, reaching for your arm and you leaned into him. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I just-“ You took a deep breath and the sharp pain in your side ignited. “I got a call from Agent Madani. She wants me to come in and talk to her tomorrow.”

“What about?” Lieberman spun quickly in his chair, so fast he almost fell out of it. “Shit.. Uh, Exodus I am-“

“Shut your mouth before I kick your teeth in.” You threatened. “This is because you didn’t fucking listen to me. If you ever pull something like that, I’m collecting the pound of flesh I’m owed. Literally. Ты меня понимаешь?” (Do you understand me?)

Frank chuckled beside you and gave your arm a small squeeze in approval. Lieberman looked at you with a wide-eyed, fearful expression and nodded quickly, undoubtedly not knowing what you said to begin with.

“Anyways.” You said pointedly. “About Madani. I can only guess it’s about you.”

“Yeah, well, she was unconscious in an upside-down car. I kinda had to.” Frank shrugged slightly.

“I know… And I know you did it because I couldn’t so thanks.”

“Besides, you’re good at coming up with shit on the fly. Use that fancy law degree.”

“I’m still irritated that you blew it, yknow.”

“Yeah yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “And we got dinner plans for Sunday. Sarah Lieberman invited me and my cousin who went by looking for me the other day.”

At that, you grinned and Frank smiled back.

“I needed a way in that didn’t look insane… What’s the next move for us on this end?”

“Gunner Henderson.” Lieberman answered. “So far I’ve got that he lives completely off the grid. No phone, no internet, no running water.”

“Where?”

“Kentucky.”

“Road trip.” You nodded before turning to Frank. “Could be fun.”

“We’ll leave when you get back from Homeland.” Frank said with a small nod. “Give you a little more time to get yourself right.”

“It’s just bruises.” You rolled your eyes. “And this eye thing.”

“Oh yeah?” His brows raised and you felt his free hand feeling around your side. You opened your mouth and reached for his wrist but he had already found the break and pressed on it with a mild pressure. You cried out and fell against him, digging your nails into his skin. “Thought it was just bruises.” He mocked.

“I’m fine.” You said through gritted teeth. “I’ll figure it out.”

“This guy isn’t a joke, Princess.” Frank continued. “If he doesn’t want us there, I don’t have time to look after you.”

With that, you felt something ignite under your skin. You forced yourself to stand straight and balled your hands into tight fists, feeling your nails digging into your palms. The sensation shifted from an underlying burn to a thick feeling on top of your skin, as if someone had drawn out your hot blood and left it across your body. It coated every inch of skin that was bruised thrummed throughout neighboring nerves and you felt your breathing increasing as the heat rose.

It hurt. Every nerve in your body felt like you were holding a lighter to it, burning right through it. Every muscle in your body tightened and tried to force out the heat. You almost thought you could feel the shift in your rib cage as the bone reset but you convinced yourself you were overthinking.

You rolled your shoulders slightly and felt no pain in the movement. You shifted your weight between your feet and the new angle of your hips felt like nothing.

“Good as new.” You shrugged and lifted your shirt, turning to show your side was no longer a deep purple. Admittedly, there was a slight discoloration across the patches that had been covered in bruises just moments ago, but it was definitely better than when you had woken up.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” Frank muttered. “Still didn’t fix your eye.”

“Thanks.” You offered a sarcastic expression. “I don’t need you to look after me, Frank.”

“Yeah… You expect me to believe you’re gonna look after yourself?”

“I expect you to understand that I don’t need you breathing down my neck and micromanaging me. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Bullshit.” He scoffed. “I left you alone for one goddamn minute last night and look what happened. You let this dumbass almost get you killed.”

“Are we still-“ Lieberman tried.

“Shut up!” You said firmly and pointed at him. He raised his hands in surrender before you turned back to Frank. “It was one goddamn mistake that wasn’t even mine! Can’t you let it go?”

“One mistake.. One mistake? A mistake is turning down the wrong street. A mistake is stepping on your own shoelaces. A mistake isn’t rolling across a hundred feet of pavement and breaking your rib!”

“I don’t need you to look after me!” You shouted.

“My family is gone, Y/N! They are gone because of what I know! Do you understand that?”

“I may not have had any blood family, but I’ve lost the people closest to me, too. Red is gone because he was worried about me! He was my family, Frank!” You spat back. “So yes, I understand that!”

“I can’t let that happen to you. Got it?” He said firmly, though it was more gentle than his previous tone. “I can’t.”

“Y’know what, maybe the mistake was coming here to help you in the first place.”

“Yeah maybe.”

“Understand that I am not your responsibility.” You said simply. “You keep acting like this and you’ll get yourself killed, just like he did. And I can’t let that happen to you. Got it?”

59 notes · View notes

beanghostprincess · 10 months

Note

(Gonna dump my Dad Franky hc onto you real quick)

I like to think not only will Sanji and Yasopp not get along, but Yasopp will silently not like Franky as well. Because when they meet, Yasopp and Usopps reunion is going great, but Usopp is getting nervous. Constantly. So he keeps taking Franky with them to show his dad the cool stuff he made or his skills because he is afraid of embarrassing himself and he needs Franky there to give him confidence.

Which quickly turns into Yasopp being the third wheel at times, because he doesn't understand half of the stuff they are talking about at some points and start chatting about upgrade ideas without adding Yasopp to the conversation at some points. Purely by accident: Usopp is trying to treat it like a regular day so he doesn't let his worries take over.

Yasopp realizes after seeing the bond between the two and how Franky treats his son, he can't help but get jealous of the man. Because Franky (obviously) knows him more and has more in common with his son than him. His resentment becomes noticeable to Franky.

Franky already didn't like Yasopp after learning about him since he was also abandoned as a kid, but he was not going to give his opinion and let Usopp do what he want. After Usopp made him tag along a few times he won't lie, he's enjoying the fact that Yasopp doesn't like him.

Becomes less of a dad and son bonding time. And more of a bio dad, son, and step dad bonding time.

oKAY, this broke me because I just love Franky and Usopp's bond so damn much,, And this is exactly how I imagine things would go, honestly. Franky does love Usopp like a son, kind of. Apprentice? Both. And tbh sorry for Yasopp. Sucks to be him. Maybe if he had spent more time with Usopp he would know him better. <- Probably Franky's words, don't look at me.

#i know i said i understand yasopp and i don't hate him but SOMETIMES i hate him a lil bit #just a lil bit #i am very protective with usopp i apologize #one piece #usopp #franky #yasopp

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nejishadow · 18 days

Text

Kenjikoto / Makokenji half-drabbles and ideas I have no energy to do anything with, because I haven't written fanfic in years, that I don't want to sit in the queue for weeks so it's getting posted now

Feel free (please do!) to expand / finish / take inspo from these for this ship, and please tag me / message me / something if you do because I crave content and exploration between these two. Unhinged tags and comments about how I inspired something/anything give me the biggest amount of fuel to keep creating art!!

Do you wanna see me ramble in real time about these weirdos / pos?? Join @bakafurai 's Kenji Enjoyer Club Discord (in their pinned)!

Some get real long so it's all going below a cut!

((These are all ideas and things written as stream of consciousness to just get my ideas out in a discord channel, so don't expect the best dialogue, formatting, or anything else, I haven't finished a full piece of writing and/or fanfic in years, ha))

Seeing these screenshots my first thought - and a tag I immediately added - was 'you heard the man, Yuki, give him a piggyback ride!'

But I kept thinking like. Makoto's strong. He could? He should??

Makoto kneeling down, telling Kenji to get on then, he'll take him home

Kenji chuckle or laugh, assumes he's joking or being silly like usual, sure Yuki, you can totally do that

Makoto getting serious, if you don't pick in the next couple seconds I'm leaving you behind. Kenji panicks at that and gets on without thinking and is surprised when Makoto stands up and carries him no problem (insert "I hope this doesn't awaken anything in me")

too shocked that Makoto can even do this to be embarrassed, maybe asks Makoto why he's doing this, Kenji could've just sucked it up. Answer something like "because I wanted to", Yuki doesn't elaborate much on those things.

Gives Kenji some time to do stuff he usually wouldn't, like study Makoto's hair, hear the music spilling out the headphones etc. I like the idea he just gets so relaxed on the way home he falls asleep but Makoto keeps carrying him

It's totally just a Best Bros privilege thing, could mean nothing more!! Simply don't think about how it made you feel ever again

Bonus of

Kenji talking to Makoto in the classroom, Junpei coming up making some joke about how people saw them, asking if Makoto can do that for him too (laugh, joke, being friend.)

And Makoto boils it down to: no

That makes Kenji real happy, that he's special like that. But he does stuff only for Yuki too so it's normal!!

--------------------

"So we've all thought about how pretty Yuki is, right, like the guy catches everyone's eye when he walks in, how couldn't we? Even with his bad fashion sense he just grabs your attention"

Kaz makes the most sense to respond, they are friends just "… I have never thought that. Are you sure you're not goin' through something?"

slaps a pic of Yosuke and Kenji These bad boys can fit so much comphet and denial in 'em!

--------------------

Another idea I remembered, less fleshed but a strong visual I wanted to draw

Kenji waiting at track practice for Makoto to be done. Kenji had never seen him run so decided to wait outside for once

Of course he's impressed. Makoto seems to take his time walking everywhere, at least when they go places, but man, he can run!

Makoto flopping next to him when he's done, after everyone else disperses, small talk about how hes surprised Kenji waited out here, doesn't seem interested in sports. Kenji some speech about how he wanted to see how badly Yuki beat everyone else

it's pretty hot, and Makoto's tired, flops over into Kenji's lap. 'Let me nap here a few minutes and we can go, you're cooler than the bench'

Kenji tenses a bit, but breathes, Yuki just wants to rest, chill!… but he can't help but eventually card his hand through Makoto's bangs, pushing them up and outta the way.

Makoto opens his eyes and just looks at him, not judgemental or questioning, just observing. But oh no - Kenji had never stared at both his eyes so close oh this is a problem

quickly he removes his hand, apologizes, some comment about how Yuki just looked sweaty and he was trying to move the hair off

Makoto closes his eyes again… 'I don't mind. I am in your space, I guess…'

after a bit, Kenji relaxes and starts running his hands through the hair again, silky and feathery. He can think about how this makes him feel LATER (never), for now he just wants to enjoy this thing he likely won't get again

Tho Makoto better hope Yuko doesn't see this or she's gonna tease him about his boyfriend / biggest fan until the end of time

--------------------

Pics I drew made me think of kenjikoto train ride(s):

Makoto tired, either tucks into Kenji's shoulder or leans on his head for a quick nap

Kenji doesn't mind, knows Makoto doesn't sleep the best, even if he doesn't know why

Anytime the train jostles or moves he instinctually holds Makoto's head so it doesn't shake or fall, wants him to be comfortable

it's not until they reach the destination and Makoto separates from him that Kenji thinks… oh, that was actually nice. I wish the ride could've been just a little bit longer

a bonus if Makoto senses his change in mood and gives him a shoulder bump, trying to cheer him up. Maybe offering to hang out awhile longer at the dorm or something

Aka there is no way Kenji isn't touch starved, as are all the protags and a third of the cast pft

About Makoto being a frequent napper: Asks Kenji to eat on the roof with him almost exclusively so he can take a nap, because he's just a lil bit silly like that. Gives Kenji time to just talk to him, ramble, hard to do that when you're out eating food.

--------------------

Girl Advice made me think of a rough conversation

"Everyone assumes you're cold, man. No wonder you dont have a girlfriend! Even if they talked to you, a few words outta your mouth and they'd turn tail and leave."

"Why's it so important to have a girlfriend, anyway?" Eats some of his lunch bread

"You're such a good guy, you deserve one, man!" A shoulder tap. "If they knew the real you, they'd be falling over themselves to get your attention, I know it."

Makoto a head tilt or a look, confused by the use of 'deserve'. Kenji deciphers it

"… well a girlfriend makes guys happy, right? I want to see you happy all the time!" Putting both his hands on Makoto's shoulders and shaking him a smidge. "Doesnt it sound fun? Double dates, man, we can hang out all the time!"

Makoto blinks in a thoughtful way, meeting Kenji's eyes. "But I'm already happy, hanging out with you like this. Isn't that enough? We do things together all the time… why do we need anyone else?"

Kenji blinks a bit in surprise. Yeah, he'd never thought of that. He's also really happy around Yuki… is that… ok? For two guys to always hang out alone? Yuki never seems to think it's odd…

Makoto slowly grabs Kenji's hands off of his shoulder, Kenji swears he feels Yuki squeeze them for just a second before a wrapped sandwich is pushed into them.

"Eat, almost time for class. You can't live off ramen forever."

Kenji just nods, unwrapping it and adjusting himself before taking a bite. If Makoto feels just a bit more of their sides touching, he doesn't comment on it

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ramrage · 1 year

Text

“fitting a square peg into a square peg” or “and they both were tops”

Chapter 2: but my mother didn’t raise a quitter

chapter rating: E

characters: John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick cameo, John Price cameo

Tags: Sexual Tension, terrible flirting, Masturbation, First Time Bottoming, Fantasizing

part 1

ao3 link

———

Well that fucking sucked.

Soap thought, he really, really thought that he had a beautiful, sinful, delicious night ahead of him. Apparently not. Granted, the “no head” joke was a little tasteless given the context, but the opportunity had presented itself and he was nothing if not one to live each moment to the fullest. Also, if it landed, it would’ve been one hell of a laugh.

Sadly, it did not. Absolutely murdered the vibe, if anything

In fact, just about nothing landed. After the whole no-bottom revelation, Ghost more or less checked out of the whole situation.

“No, but really. There are plenty of other ways to fool around,” Soap offered, trying his damndest to claw the evening back in his favor. No, their favor. He made a show of thinking (but in a sexy, seductive sort of way). He tried again, “You’re always telling me to shut my mouth, yeah? How about you make me put it to good use instead?”

Oh, son of a gun, if that wasn’t the look of a starved man that flashed across Ghost’s eyes. Progress. Nevertheless, Ghost forced a disapproving exhale through his nose. “Johnny,” he warned.

Soap wasn’t stepping down with victory within reach like this, so he pushed his luck, closing the space between them with deliberate, swaggering steps. “I’m also very good with my hands,” he said, now separated from Ghost by a lean few inches. Fuck, this was actually working. Ghost’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths—dubious but potentially promising—and his jaw strained to mash his molars into each other—similarly dubious but potentially promising. The real tell was how he leaned forward ever so slightly despite the conflict wrinkling the corners of his eyes. This was a workable situation. This could be saved. “I’d love to show you.”

Or maybe it wasn’t!

Ghost retreated, the tension shattering into glittering shards that fell to the ground, very coincidentally spelling the words “John MacTavish, you are an idiot.” Crazy coincidence, that.

“Johnny, this isn’t going to work,” Ghost said with finality. As consolation, he didn’t sound particularly happy about it. Tenacious though he was, Soap knew to take the L when it was presented to him on a silver platter. It just fucking blew that the man delivering the L was tall, brooding, handsome, and dangerous beyond all belief.

“Right,” he said with a tight nod, “Well. I’ll leave you to it, then.” With that, he turned to the door and walked through it, nearly tripping on the tail between his legs.

He didn’t look back as he left. The shit show was sufficiently shit without seeing the unspecified negative emotion plastered over Ghost’s masked visage. That would’ve added insult to injury, and more than that, it would make the embarrassment exponentially more potent. No thank you.

The sound of the door closing echoed throughout the hallway, the final “boo” to convince him to retreat off the stage. Every minute he spent walking to his own room was spent considering the moments before his ultimate failure. That was the thing, though. He didn’t know why he failed. Ghost seemed to have been enticed. But then it went off with the unanticipated immediacy of a blown fuse. Weird.

Weird, but also promising. The words “down but not out” danced in Soap’s mind as he undressed for the shower, kept dancing as he scrubbed through his hair, as he lathered his body with soap (ha). The truth of the matter, despite the earlier fiasco, remained: he wanted Ghost. He wanted him more than he’d wanted anyone.

Don’t get it twisted. He’d never suffered for lack of tail, which statistically made sense given his propensity for batting in all directions. Those different flavors tickled his fancy in a variety of pleasant ways, but none burned as hot before, during, or after than whatever it was he felt for Ghost. The man got him excited. A blushing, giggling schoolgirl kind of thing. Sure, he wanted Ghost to cover him like a Snuggie and ride his dick into the sunset, but he also plain old liked hanging out with the lad. That was different, that was new, and Soap decided that was something worth fighting for.

The litany of “down but not out” reached a crescendo then, and it was with the sort of bravery known only by trailblazers such as Neil Armstrong and the like that Soap let his touch linger just a bit longer as he went through the motions of cleaning his ass.

He eked out a dubious little hum accompanied by a similarly-dubious grimace. Maybe it was the newness that put him off. “ Once more, man ,” he told himself, and circled his hole deliberately, this time with feeling.

“No,” he decided with a resolute shake of his head, shutting off the water before it ran completely cold. He toweled himself off, dressed, and climbed into bed, all the while mourning the failure of his little experiment. His bed pressed into his back, cold and unyielding, much unlike the delicious heat of Ghost’s body. Presumably, at least. He didn’t get to feel it, but following the path of reason, Ghost probably was a warm-blooded creature. A warm-blooded, virulent man with strong, capable hands. And those lips—god, remember those? Who knew the man was hiding such perfect lips under that mask? Soft, plush, the prettiest little pink. Soap groaned happily at the memory, rolling his hips.

Kissing them was a damn good time; imagine how they’d feel stretched around his dick. That tongue was awfully wicked, too, now that he thought about it. And he did. Oh, he did. The hard-on that had haunted him all day like some horny intermittent rain shower came back with a hot, aching vengeance. Soap palmed himself over his bedsheets and reconsidered his decision to throw in the towel.

Perhaps it wasn’t the newness that put him off. Maybe it was the himness. Or maybe it was both, but maybe just maybe Ghost was the gateway drug he needed to fully enter this exciting new world of bottoming. He wouldn’t do this for anyone, but Ghost wasn’t just anyone.

Blazing with the singular determination of a man looking to get laid, he threw the bedsheets off his body and marched to the bathroom in search of unscented face lotion. It was with the same determination that he marched back to bed and threw his body down, letting his legs splay open wide to the edges of the mattress.

He tried to remember what his partners of the past had done as he emptied a few pumps of CeraVe into his palm. It wouldn’t hurt to start with something familiar, he reasoned, use it as a way to sink into the scene. Right, okay then. Jerking off. It was something he knew well.

The lotion was nearing on body temperature by the time he spread it with shaking hands over the length of himself, twisting his grip around the head just so. Fuck, that was nice. Sure, it wasn’t in the way he’d been fantasizing about all day, but having something, anything, touching him like that was undeniably good. So good, in fact, he couldn’t help the upward buck of his hips, fucking into his hand and imagining for a split second that he was fucking into Ghost.

Pause.

That was the exact train of thought he was trying to hop off of.

Start again.

He took it slow, drawing his fist up and down his cock deliberately, pleasure burning white hot when a stroke produced the slick sound of sex. The slick sound of sex with Ghost—he could get that somehow, he would get that somehow. A groan fought its way out his chest and he thought back to the sounds Ghost made, how even hearing him breathe was like adrenaline to the heart. Like always, his thoughts went back to Ghost. This time, however, he had source material to work with. Like how his hands formed vices around his wrist, then his neck. Fuck, imagine them here,

It didn’t take long before he was painfully hard, precum hot and sloppy spilling over his fist. “Sack the fuck up,” he muttered to himself in a voice that was predictably fucking wrecked. Right hand still working his cock, he brought the middle finger of his left, drawing it slow and rhythmic over the head. He keened. Fuck, that was sensitive. Felt too fucking delicious to continue if he wanted to make this last long enough to. To fuck himself.

The concept lit a jolt of apprehension through his core. He was going to fuck himself on his own fingers, and he was doing it so he could fuck Ghost.

Ghost.

Just thinking of his name twisted the knot tighter, so he tested it on his tongue.

“Ghost,” he sighed, quieter than he’d like, but y’know. Thin walls. He repeated it again, coming out more as a moan this time.

It felt terribly naughty, almost like a perverted invasion of privacy. So did all of this, taking the idea of Ghost, a real human man, and using him willingly or not as a participant in fantasy. Using the fog of arousal to trick himself into believing that his hands weren’t his own, that instead, they belonged to the one person he wanted more than anything. Pass your judgments at will, but it turned him on. Severely. He’s gotten hard, gotten wet, but never like this.

At this point, he was fucking delirious with it. Maybe that’s what allowed him to draw that slick finger down, pressed the pad of it against his hole.

“Oh, fuck,” he ground out. Genuinely, truly, it was good, so very good. He stroked there in time with his fist, the dual sensations amplifying each other, leading to the conclusion of more. It made his body greedy. He begged in a tight whisper, “God, Ghost, more. Fuck. Please.”

Thoughtlessly, because he was hardly able to think, he rolled his hips against the low touch, pressing all the more insistently to take the finger in. The friction was too much. He cursed, “Damn it all.” Frenzied, he pulled away to pump lotion, falling thick and white like spill over his hand. The finger slipped in this time.

“Bleeding fucking Jesus.”

Okay, it made sense. It all made sense now. The dirty slide fucking into him, the feeling of his own slick insides, something he’d only felt in others. He wanted to give this Ghost. Wanted to see hot lust blow his pupils wide as he pistoned his fingers into the body that would only yield itself like this to him.

His forearm ached, but he couldn’t be arsed, not when his whole body was roiling with aching need, so close. And it wasn’t enough. He withdrew his middle finger just enough to add the pointer, slick them both, and bury them in his guts. All done maybe too fast, stinging on the bad side of pain, but only for a short moment. Not once did his cock soften within his grasp, disjointed and near-forgotten as his strokes were.

The sounds were incredible, so fucking filthy, and he knew this is what fucking Ghost would sound like. Half-stifled moans rolling out over panting breaths, sweat-glistening skin smacking against sweat-glistening skin. He pressed his touch up as if to drive them through the flesh his stomach and keened, “Fuck yes, Ghost. Right there. Right there, please.” He added another finger to make it ever easier to bully into that spot. It burned again, but he expected it this time and found he almost liked it.

Who was this man? Grinding his hips like a bitch in heat onto his own hand, needy, pathetic little sobs spilling down his face, merging with the tear tracks from his eyes. Soap did not know this man. Fuck that, though, he’d make friends with him because he was right there . Pressure, heat, everything soft and wet converging into an endless singularity that was seconds away from drawing in that last inch to collapse and then explode.

When it did, he was beside him—almost literally—simultaneously blacked out yet watching, feeling himself out of body writhe and weep around the ecstasy. If he screamed, it registered only half-way, plausibly a hallucination. Nothing was real, everything was nothing. Nothing was everything.

An indeterminate period of time passed as before his soul returned home, and when it did, it found him covered in sweat, panting, body still clenching around quaking fingers.

“Fuck,” Soap said around a desperate exhale. He gingerly extracted his hands, rubbing the digits together and studying their wetness.

“I need to talk to Ghost.”

PART 3

#ghost soap #soap ghost #soapghost #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #mine #my writing #fitting a square peg into a square peg

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jev-urisk · 3 months

Note

Heeyyy :> I would like the biggest infodump on Kazimier you have pls. All the details.

A 💋Kazimier💋 infodump?!? Oh goodness, where do I start 😵‍💫 (Also thank you for asking!). I'm going dump a few favorite things, if I try to dump it all in one Imma be typing instead of feeding myself today 😂

(He's tagged #7c kazi on everything I've posted on him so far if you're somehow thirsty for more after this)

💋Who:

Kazimier (Kashj-meer), an OC for my story 7 Circles

He's not sure what his parents named him, but as a kid he had this Cashmere sweater that acted as his safety blanket and eventually 'brat in the Cashmere sweater' became 'hey Cashmere'. He decided on the spelling when he learned to read/write.

💋What:

Shapeshifter Incubus Hybrid.

Genderfuid (pronouns based on appearance).

On the asexual spectrum.

Just shy of 6 feet tall.

Very likely autistic.

A bastard.

(Feel free to hit me w/specific what questions cuz this can get real outta hand)

💋Where:

He's not sure where he was born, but he's been in Du’Preve as long as he can remember.

Du'Preve is the 4th and final district of the Halkyon Empire. It's a place that's big and abrasive like New York, full of sleezy entertainment like Las Vegas, and is a trashy dupsterfire like the Jersey turnpike.

Du'Preve is home to vampires, gorgons, gargoyles, litches, and hybrids. Collectively they're called Du'Preve'd, darklings, 4th class, nightcrawlers, or just 'lowers'.

But recently he got caught by the govt system and shipped out to District 1 🫶 sucks to suck.

💋When/history:

I don't want to give up tooooo much. 🤔Hmm. He's almost 300yrs old. No clue who his parents were but was a cute kid who found means to shelter himself. A couple centuries and a lot of trauma later and he's a calculating distrustful member of the criminal underground willing to do whatever it takes to avoid revisiting the past.

💋Why (did I make him?):

The thought for my wip 7 Circles began during quarantine 2020. I had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and when my school semester ended my skin was crawling with creativity that didn't have an outlet. So I gave in and downloaded tiktak.

Im a drag persormer/cosplayer and ended up on the side of the app where folks collaborate on settings and interact in-character as their ocs to create a story. I joined as my OC Kazimier and not long after, I began interacting with the charming, dark-eyed OC, 'Klaus Calvaire'. We started messaging to plot story collabs.. then started messaging just to say hi.. then messaged our lives to one another.

This witty, handsome, well-written person was flattering me enough by collaborating so much with me- then they fell in love with me, moving 1000s of miles to live life alongside me. I'm humbled every morning that I'm dating the mind behind my internet crush, and we share whispers about our ocs as we hold one another each night.

The og tag group splintered, the clock app is no longer great for my brain, but Kazimier and Klaus are still going on adventures alongside me and my unlikely lover, 4yrs and over 100k words later. ❤️

💋How (did he come to be?):

Personality was originally based on what I thought would be interesting to write, but then I accidentally added chemical X (my truma) and ended up with a bastard.

As for his looks.. they're based off my drag performance style/makeup🫣. Like.. he was a cosplay before he was really a character. It's embarrassing and strange and delightful all at once that this mf kinda looks like me. 😳

Soooooo, Yeah! He's my most developed blorbastard so there's a lot more, but I'll leave the rest for more asks. If you have further q's feel free to send them!

Hope this wasn't too much of an overload lol if you made it this far thank you so so much, I hope the muses bless your wip 🙏

#7 circles #7c kazi #writers on tumblr #oc #blorbo #blorbastard #character design #urban fantasy #writeblr #queer fantasy #lgbtq characters #oc development #ask and you shall receive #demon character #original writing #writing template #character sheet #fuck this guy am i right?

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krsive-writes · 1 year

Text

Speedrun

Title: Speedrun

Author: krsive

Rating: T

Tags: Empty Calories, Fluff

They called him Super Rick Fan, which Morty had to admit was a fair assessment. He just couldn’t help it. Ricks were just so cool. They were tall and handsome, with those sapphire eyes and cocky grins. And Ricks could do anything, anything in the world. They made portal guns and drove space ships and captured teams of Mortys to grace them with their godly presence. Super Rick Fan would have been the best Morty a Rick could ever have if only he got the chance, but for some reason they always fled him. Even his own grandpa had pronounced him crazy and dumped him on the Citadel one day, never to return.

On a normal Sunday afternoon, Morty sat in his claustrophobic living room working on his new hat. He had designed it himself, and now he was lovingly rendering the peaks of a classic Rick hairdo in blue felt. In wandered his roommate, Mixologist Morty, late rising after a closing shift at the bar. Morty barely looked up until Mixy came to hover over him, casually holding a bowl and spoon.

"Ok, d-don't start," Morty said, watching Mixy chew on a bite of his cereal.

"This is so cringe," Mixy replied, his mouth full.

"M-Maybe I'm cringe but at least I know what I want."

"There's no 'maybe' about it.” Mixy sat on the other end of the couch.

"I can't help it. Every time I think about a big strong Rick h-holding me close, I just..." He sighed, feeling sappy.

"You're a h-hopeless case," Mixy agreed.

"I want my own Rick so bad. Is that too much to ask? I-I'd be a good Morty. No, the best Morty if a Rick would just give me a chance."

The corner of Mixy's mouth twitched upwards. "Bet you'd do anything to get a date with a Rick."

"To have a Rick pay attention to me a-a-and kiss me and..." He trailed off into private, erotic thoughts, face warming.

"So, say I had a Rick's number right here," said Mixy, holding up a folded piece of paper between his fingers.

"Gimme!" said Morty, making a lunge.

Mixy snatched the paper away. "Ah, ah, ah! What's it worth to you?"

"Anything."

"Like cleaning the food trap in the dishwasher?"

Morty's stomach soured just thinking about it. "The one we haven't cleaned in two years?"

"The one and only."

"Is it a real Rick's real number? And d-don't lie."

"It really is. Last night this guy came to the bar, and..."

The previous night...

"He was such a cute li’l shit, look," Rick slurred, waving the wallet-sized photo in the bartender's face. In it, a 6 year old Morty smiled expansively at the camera, his face smeared with blue from his melting popsicle.

"Uh huh." The bartender spared the picture a glance, which Rick appreciated. He was already planning to tip big because the 'tender was a Morty—probably exploited, poor thing—but he mentally added to the total for the kind gesture. "Tell him I said cute pic."

"He's dead." Rick's melancholy was mellowed by the haze of alcohol.

"Geez. I'm sorry. Another?" The bartender held up the bottle of run he'd been serving Rick from.

Rick nodded and nudged his empty glass towards the boy, who mixed him a new rum and coke. "I never got to meet him in person. He was 8. Car accident."

"That sucks."

"I just want my very own Morty to love." Rick gazed despondently at the photo before putting it away.

"Aren't there tons of Mortys up for adoption?"

"The agencies, uh..." Embarrassed, Rick bought himself a moment by taking a drink. "They all rejected me. Too ‘enthusiastic.’"

"How about catching one?"

"I couldn't do that to a sweet little Morty! Those manipulator chips are barbaric.” He sighed. "I would never hurt a Morty. I just want to hold one close and count his tiny fingers and smell his hair..."

"You're a real Super Fan, aren't you?"

"I'm the number one Morty fan of all time," Rick agreed

"So, actually, I kind of know a guy you m-might like."

"A Morty?" Rick couldn't hide his excitement.

"Yeah. He's really into Ricks. I can give him your number if—“

Rick was already scribbling it down on his receipt.

And now back to the present...

Morty was shaking in his shoes, pacing while the phone rang. What if Rick didn't answer? What if he didn't want to go out? So many things could go wrong. Maybe he should just hang—

''Hello?" a Rickish voice said, flattened a bit by the phone line.

"Rick?"

"Morty?"

"Is this the Rick who wants to go on a date with Mixy's—th-th-the bartender's roommate?''

"You’re the bartender's roommate?"

"Yeah. I'm..." Morty's mouth felt so dry. "I’m F-68—“

"Can I just call you Morty?"

Morty's smile was so big it made his cheeks hurt. "Yeah! I mean y-yeah. I'd like that. What's your—“

"I'd like it if you just call me Rick, too."

"I'd really like that."

"I know it's super fast, but..." Rick took a shaky breath. "Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

"Nope! I-I'm all free," said Morty, now planning to tell his manager he was sick. This was far more important.

''The Gaflorpian cherry trees are blooming. We could have a picnic.”

"I'll pack it! I-I'm a good cook," said Morty, though he had never really tried before. How hard could it be?

"We could meet at the 12th Residential District City Park at noon.”

"Sounds great, Rick."

"Yeah. Sounds great." Morty could hear the sappy smile in Rick's voice.

Cooking went very, very poorly, so Morty waited the next day at the park gate with a backpack stuffed with cheese, fruit, and crackers instead. He was wearing his new Rick-hair hat despite Mixy's efforts to make him leave it behind. It was only ll:41, but he was already crying from the stress, fearing that he would be stood up.

Then a special Rick rounded the corner, headed for the park. He was wearing a homemade felt hat shaped like a Morty's hair, As soon as they saw each other, something sparked between them. The air was electric, fizzing like champagne with barely contained energy as they made introductions. But they were both shy and relatively quiet on their way to a private spot beneath the trees.

Petals fell like rosy snow every time the wind shifted. They made bashful small talk and nibbled the charcuterie (it turned out that Morty wasn't a fan of most of the fancy cheeses, but he pretended anyway), both blushing and giggly. Soon their shoulders began to relax and their words flowed more smoothly.

"Ok, ok. Me next. favorite." color. One, two, three—“

Both answered at the same time.

"Blue!" shouted Morty.

"Yellow!" shouted Rick.

Morty fell into a fit of giggles. "We should both start liking green, then." His eyes flicked up to Rick's. The warmth he saw there gave him palpitations.

"We could live in a little green house," said Rick, though then he seemed to catch himself. "I mean if we—“

"We should!" Morty put his fingers to his lips. "I-I mean..."

Rick reached out, silent, taking Morty's hand tenderly. Morty's eyes welled with tears. This felt like a dream come true. He gazed longingly at Rick, hoping against hope.

"If you let me love you, I'll love you forever," said Rick. Morty could hear a tremble in his voice.

''Oh, Rick..."

"I feel like I've waited for you for so long. I..."

"Me, too. I love you already." Morty moved forward on his knees, and Rick held him close. "Will you be m-my Rick?"

"Of course I will, Morty. And I’ll protect you, I’ll make you smile. I'll be so good to you, Morty. And we'll run around all over the place doing Rick and Morty things, just every day, Rick and Morty stuff. Forever and ever, Rick and Morty, in the green house Rick and—“

Morty couldn't wait any longer. He threw his arms around Rick and crashed their mouths together in an inelegant kiss. Rick pushed his hat off to tangle his fingers in Morty's curls, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. Rick's tongue was so nice against his own, warm and strong and assertive. Morty let himself be kissed, let himself be lowered to the grass on his back. Rick's strong body held him down. Morty's nerves stood on end, and when Rick asked his permission to touch him all he had to say was yes, yes, yes!

Two months later, after the honeymoon, Rick and Morty sat together in a slowly cooling bath in their little green house. Rick's magical fingers were kneading the ache out of Morty's back. They had never been so happy before, neither of them.

"My Morty," Rick sighed, as he sometimes did. It was like he couldn't believe how lucky he was.

"You make me feel s-so special."

"You are special." Rick kissed the tip of his ear. "You're my Morty. The best Morty."

"My Rick. The best Rick." Morty craned around to catch Rick’s lips. They kissed, lingering, heat beginning to build.

"'You’re all..." Rick whispered.

"…I've ever wanted," Morty finished.

#rickorty #rickortyweek2023 #rickorty fanfiction #super rick fan morty #super fan rick #fluff #extreme fluff #we're talking cotton candy

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fictionkinfessions · 1 year

Note

Hey, it's that anon from earlier complaining about the tagging mistakes... I just wanted to apologize for blowing up at you like I did.

I really wasn't thinking about what I was saying, and I've just been going through it recently, so pretty much anything was about to set me off. I know that's no excuse to take it out on you, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone. In my head at the time, I was giving valid criticism, but I see that I made a big mistake going about that the way I did. I was a complete and total asshole. I understand that you're only one person running this blog, so of course you won't be able to catch every mistake, and I'm ashamed of my ignorance and the way I acted.

Everyone else, please stop dogpiling me over this. I learned my lesson, I apologized, it's done, it's over with. I get it, I made a huge mistake. It wouldn't be the first time.

Either way, I hope you can forgive me. I'm a little embarrassed that not only did I have the audacity to say all of that stuff, but that it's now just on the internet for the world to see. Not that it's anyone's fault but mine. Thank you for your time, and I'm sorry once again. /gen

I don't know if you'll even see this but I'll try posting it anyways. Sorry it took so long, I wanted to think about what to say since I'd only get one chance.

This accidentally got long so there's a summary at the bottom. I know huge blocks of text can be difficult to parse. And a read more. Tada!

I accept your apology and understand you really did mean well. I know I fuck up tags fairly often and there are ways to mitigate that on my part. Like you suggested, double checking with a search is not impossible of me. Like I mentioned in a reblog of that post, I will make an effort in the future to search names and try to get it right the first time around. You were right to have sent that message. If you noticed and got irritated, I'm sure others have as well. I'm glad you went through the effort of sending a message about it. The point of tags is to ensure people can find their confessions. They can't do that if it's in the wrong place. I would disagree a bit, regarding memorizing sources and names. Yes I can recognize most names and sources, both stated and through confession context. I have done this long enough that it's usually accurate. But there are countless sources, names, and AU / fan created sources. I don't believe it's possible to memorize all of them. I think your suggestion of double checking with a search is reasonable and I will do so in the future. You seem very kind and compassionate, and I think you could understand where I'm coming from, regarding this.

[side note. You're not wrong about memorizing custom tags. I did have a little text document with custom tags and pre-typed names and sources. But at some point I stopped adding to it when it got overwhelmingly long and out of date when people stopped using their custom tags. Johnny Americanidiot, where you go? It also had reminders for what sources needed blacklist tagss. That didn't help the huge swathes of text that my eyes kept skipping over.... Anyways]

I am sorry you got dogpiled. I can understand where they are coming from, and I think they meant well too. I am glad to see people defending me. But I think at some point it went from blunt correction to outright bullying. Considering we get shit on by everyone who thinks kin people eat real gemstones because they're dragonkin, it really sucks to do that to each other. I hope we can all keep that in mind, going forward from here.

I will admit, and I don't mean this in a guilt trip way, that yeah that message did make me step back for a few days. I was more hurt over the tone than the correction. It made me wonder if doing this for so long made people take this blog for granted. You know what I mean? I've been here since 2016, on the first fictionkinfessions blog. Hell, I was a mod on the first @/kinfessions blog for a short while. I do this for fun, as far as typing tags and posting things others sent in can be considered fun. I always thought that if it was more trouble than it's worth, I'd just quit. Someone else can handle it until they felt it was time to pass it on. I don't think I've reached that point yet. I still like reading what people have to say and seeing people reach out, make connections through ask responses or reblogs or replies. It's endearing that they have a chance to do so.

[Not to get philosophical, but has anyone considered how lucky we are to exist simultaneously in this time and place? We get to live together and connect to each other, millions of miles apart. I think that's neat. Otherwise we'd all be that one Oddball in the Village who says they were once King Arthur /joking]

Anyways. I'm ok now. There was hurt and now it's gone. We're ok.

I promise I do take it seriously and make the effort. If I tag incorrectly or fail to tag a content warning, it's never on purpose. [excluding, you know, silly tags like 'ohio cw' or 'capitalism cw'. I think that's clearly intended as humorous and not sincere trigger warnings.]

The confessions are tagged, I don't delete confessions I personally don't like, the queue is always running, the followers list cleaned of spam bots, the activity page monitored for the very rare peer abuse [bullying], ask responses and such non-confessions usually get queued up asap, etc. Sometimes I think other people might be better suited for this just because they may not had adhd rearing its head. [Also not a guilt trip, I don't talk about my medical history much and I don't expect anyone to remember this tidbit. Also not an excuse, just a explanation as to why my memory does not work sometimes. Zest la vee.]

I don't know how to end this. Here is the summary.

In Summary

I accept your apology. Thank you for coming back and talking this out. I am sorry you were dogpiled and don't entirely agree with the amount of negative attention. I think it went past a reasonable limit of common courtesy at some point. I understand where you were coming from and I agree with what you said. I was hurt by your tone but I'm not any more. I will make the effort to double check names and sources. I hope whatever you were / are going through passes quickly. We'll be ok one day! I must believe!

Connie / mod party cat!

#fictionkinfessions #mod response #not confessions #mod party cat!

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l0ve-persevering · 2 years

Text

A Bethubs fic

Full fic (hopefully) below the cut but here’s the link, I’d appreciate any comments or kudos ! :D

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42578517

Set after a session end of Double Life, Bdubs is curious to see the newly built Relation-ship... and also to ask after the relationship that built said ship. Teasing and kisses ensue!

Tags - kissing, fluff, teasing. SFW!

Homewreckers

Etho appeared silently behind him. Most people were spooked when they found him there, but Bdubs could almost sense him behind, a slight musky smell that came along with him alerting him to his presence.

“Hey buddy,” He said casually, though his hands were gripped tightly around his axe, “What’re you doing here? It is kinda the end of the session, you know.”

“I just… came over to have a look at your boat.” He gently slapped the side of it, feeling the coarse wood beneath his palm. Etho moved so he was mirroring Bdubs, now leaning against the side of his relation-ship.

“And what do you think?” His eyes crinkled fondly as he stared at the smaller man.

“It’s a… nice boat!” Bdubs spluttered, “A real nice one. I mean, it can’t do anything on a mid-century modern house, but it’s nice, I guess*.”* Etho chuckled warmly, looking happier than Bdubs had seen him this season.

“It’s a relation-ship, I think you mean. And speaking of…” He cleared his throat softly, “How’s Impulse? Strong marriage still… going strong?” Bdubs bit the inside of his cheek at the tinge of bitterness in Etho’s voice.

“We’re fine,” Etho tilted his head. If he noticed the slight hesitation, he didn’t mention anything. “Why’d you want to know?” He flashed a cheeky grin towards the taller, “You jealous?”

“You want me to be?” He shot back, his cheery tone covering the strain in his voice, “I mean, c’mon Buddy, you really think I believe you came by just to see the base?”

Bdubs folded his arms. “Maybe I did. And I just wanted to check that you hadn’t changed your clothes. Joel came by earlier,” He added in response to Etho’s confused head tilt, “With his embroidered Etho face. But- hey-” he pouted at his triumphant eye crinkle, “-that doesn’t mean I’m jealous! No, no. I am perfectly happy about your marriage.” At that, Etho sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“Bubs…” The old nickname slipped out before he could push it down: Bdubs chewed back a smile at it, shuffling his feet a little closer towards the taller, “you know I’m not married to Joel, right?” Bdubs huffed, unable to contain a bright grin of relief.

“Well, now I do! People could’ve told me, I was going crazy over here,” he said, eyes bright, before adding as almost an afterthought, voice fond and soft, “still doesn’t mean I was jealous.” Etho snorted.

“I just call it how I see it,” He hesitated as he almost reached out to touch Bdubs; at the last second, he let his hand fall, covering his embarrassment with a cough, “Are you saying that, although you’re in a ‘happy marriage’ and I’m not, you’re the one that’s jealous?”

“Hey! You’re oversimplifying here. It’s not that easy.” Bdubs blabbered, taking a step back from Etho.

“How?” The word left his mouth before he could stop it, immediately feeling guilty as discomfort flashed across Bdubs’ face. He let out a soft exhale.

”I don’t know- it-it just is.” He sputtered. His eyes were darting around the map now, a light dusting of pink settling on his face. Etho could feel his face burning underneath his mask and he adjusted it to hide the blush.

“I’m-”

“You know-”

They both started at the same time, both breaking off when they realised the other was talking. Bdubs was blushing heavily now, pulling the sleeves of his moss-like hoodie down to his fingers and stretching out the arms.

“You go first,” He offered. Etho cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Just that- y’know. Sorry for putting you on the spot like that.”

“Oh!” He said, surprise apparent on his face. “Thank you, Etho.” Though he knew that Bdubs had already lied to him more times than he could blink this session, he didn’t doubt for a second that what he said was entirely genuine with him.

“Your turn now, I guess.” He said with a smile.

“Right! Yes. You know about Cleo and Scott’s little arrangement, right?” Etho cocked his head, Bdubs blushing further and talking faster throughout the question.

“Yeah, I mean I think everyone knows.”

“They’re not with their soulmates! But they’re uh- they’re happy!” Bdubs said, his voice only getting warmed up as he talked.

“What are you proposing, Bubs?” He asked, voice soft and hiding a grin behind his mask. Bdubs widened his eyes, immediately scowling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I am- I am proposing nothing. Do you have something to tell me?” He asked accusatorily, though the quiver of hope in his voice said otherwise. Etho winked at Bdubs, leaning back against the ship. He whipped his moss-covered arms up to his cheeks to avoid Etho seeing his flush.

“Nothing of interest, Bubs, nothin’ of interest.”

“Well, great then! I was just bringing it up because- I don’t know - I always forget about it, is all.”

“Right, right.” Again, the silence seemed to stretch for miles. Bdubs shuffled around, stomping his boots against the hard-packed dirt. Etho leant his head against the Relation-ship, listening as the warped wood seemingly creaked in protest. Stupid, he told himself, wood doesn’t talk. Still, he was reminded of the days he spent with Joel, cutting the wood so that his soulmate could force them into shape.

The twinge of guilt was scrubbed away as the pine and moss scent that Bdubs had carried him back to the present.

“-Etho? You alright there, pal?” His eye snapped back to Bdubs, who was staring concernedly at him. He nodded, waving off the concern.

“Just zoned out for a second. What were you saying?” Bdubs looked around, staring up at the sky as he picked at the skin around his fingernails.

“Starting to get real dark. I wish I had my clock with me, but I left it back in my base - I was gonna head back to Hermitcraft.”

“That reminds me, actually!” Etho ran over to one of his chests, bending half over as he rummaged through the mess. Bdubs’ eyes caught onto his upper thigh. Now that wasn’t his fault. It was **right in front of his eye line. And he couldn't help that! So he tried to move his eyes away - but they were just- they were stuck right there. And then they moved further up.

And if he wasn’t complaining about his ‘forced’ view, that was simply between him and the Watchers.

Etho closed the chest with a click, holding something big and heavy in the palm of his hand. “I’ve wanted to give you this- were you just checking me out?” At that point, his glued eyeballs (he’d decided they must’ve **been glued for him to not be able to move them like that) suddenly unstuck themselves and he snapped his eyes away, looking up - to the sky, the ground, the ship, anywhere than where he wanted was forced to look at before.

“No!” He said. And then, indignant, “Of course not! What kind of gentleman do you take me for?”

“One that was checking me out just now!” Etho said, voice full of disbelief as he sat down on the chest with a soft flump. Bdubs scoffed, voice high and panicked.

“Well- okay, maybe I was! But you have no proof!” He covered his face with his sleeves so that Etho couldn’t see the spreading flush across his cheeks and ears.

Etho scoffed, though he regarded Bdubs warmly, “My eye- is it just useless now?”

“Oh-” Bdubs dismissed his qualm with a wave of his palm, “Your eye has needed checking since third life. You can barely see a block away.”

“Lies! What lies. You just liked to fuss,” He said ruefully. Bdubs sat down on the grass below him, leaning against the ship, Etho fiddling with whatever he had in his hand.

“Well that is true,” He admitted after a short pause, “If only Impulse-” Etho cocked his head up from his fidgeting: eyes alert and something that looked almost (Bdubs felt a flip in his stomach as he thought it) protective washing across his face.

“If only Impulse? He’s treatin’ you right?”

Bdubs flapped his hand again. “Yes, yes, it’s just- it’s stupid!”

“I’ve heard plenty stupid things, Bubs. Many of them coming from you,” He added, winking at Bdubs (who flushed a dark red, much to the delight of the former).

“He’s- well.” Bdubs scowled, forming a pout (clocking how Etho’s eyes drifted down to his lips when he did so), “He’s agreeable. He- he makes things real easy! He’s kind, smart - willing to go through fire for me. So it makes it hard when…” He trailed off at Etho’s raised eyebrows.

“When you miss me, the unagreeable, mean, unforgiving guy that I am?” Although the words were blunt, his tone was teasing, corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile and his ears were bright red.

“Oh, come off of it, Etho,” He said with a lopsided grin, “No Canadian is all bad.” Etho tsked in response, looking down at the item in his hands.

“For you,” He offered, stretching out his hand and letting Bdubs get a close look at what it was. He choked on a gasp - it was his clock.

But not his clock of this world.

He scrambled to his feet, lifting it out of Etho’s grasp.

“Oh, Eth…” He let the nickname slip through his lips as he ran his hands over the worn gold, intricately made. Four letters were on the rim of the clock, spelling out their old group, graffiti scratched into it on all sides (Bdubs still remembered chasing Skizz around with a blushed face and a high shout as he scratched into the gold surface an E + B surrounded by a heart). And there was a crack, too. Right across the face. Etho cleared his throat as Bdubs ran his finger down the edge.

“That was from my permadeath. I was uh-” He laughed, embarrassed for the first time in the conversation, “I was wearing it when it all… ended for me.” He glossed over the part where he was killed by his current given ‘soulmate’.

“This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” He breathed, looking up at Etho for the first time since he was presented with the clock. “I- Thank you, so much,” Etho stood up, towering over the smaller man. He hadn’t quite realised how close they were before standing, but Xisuma would have his name pronounced correctly before he’d be stepping back first.

“No problem,” He said with a chuckle, “Although after all the lies you’ve told me today, I was considering keeping it for myself.” Bdubs took a step back, reeling.

“How’d you-” Etho moved forwards, now even closer to Bdubs than before. He could feel Bdubs’ rapid breathing on his chest.

“You used the same lies for all partners, Bubs. Doesn’t take a Grumbot to figure out what you’re doing,” He said, watching in amusement as Bdubs seemingly shrunk in on himself (how that was possible, Etho wasn’t sure - he wasn’t unconvinced that Bdubs had a spine like a cat, able to stretch as he pleased), avoiding Etho’s gaze. “Wanna tell me why you lied to me?”

Bdubs retreated a little further, back reaching the hull of the Relation. Etho positioned himself so that he was leaning over Bdubs, one arm by the shorter man’s head (the other side was completely free. Bdubs could walk away any time he wanted to.)

Bdubs stayed.

“Bubs…” He said softly, hooking two fingers under Bdub’s chin and lifting it up so he could look into his eyes.

He pretended not to notice how his stomach flipped over as Bdubs melted into his touch.

“Okay, fine,” He muttered finally, sullen and pouting, “I was a little jealous.” At that Etho cocked his head to the side, “Fine! A lot jealous. Joel is…”

“Married,” Etho said firmly, “To… not me.” He dropped his fingers from Bdubs’ chin, the moss man leaning back against the Relation completely with a sigh. “Is your relationship not working out as you planned?” He asked innocently. Too innocently. Bdubs smacked him lightly.

“I could say the same thing to you! You… you Yellow Lifer,” He said the words tauntingly, “And this whole… jealousy thing is a two-way street!”

“Perhaps, but I’m not exactly in a passive-aggressive, homewrecking marriage over it.”

For some reason, he was grinning wildly.

He inched slightly closer to Bdubs, who scowled, muttering something under his breath along the lines of ‘stupid… Canadians… anime-lookin’… cocky… Redstoner.’

So nothing bad about Etho, then.

He regarded the builder with a cheeky grin, now leaning his other hand on the other side of Bdubs’ head, pinning him fully in.

Bdubs, funnily enough, didn’t seem to care.

“So, what do we do now?” He asked, brow furrowed in mock confusion.

“Go back to Hermitcraft?” Bdubs suggested, smile twisted as though he already knew Etho’s answer.

“no. Do I really need to spell it out for you, Bubs? You’re jealous. I’m jealous-”

“So we kiss and make up? C’mon, baby, I’m married.”

Etho just shrugged. “Been married before.”

Bdubs snorted. “You’re never going to let this go?”

Etho pulled down his mask, flashing him a lopsided grin.

“I think you’d better confess your undying love to me.” Etho lowered his head, so his forehead was touching Bdubs’.

Bdubs tried to murmur ‘unlikely,’ but he was already pulling Etho’s neck down into a deep kiss.

Etho tries to pull away, grinning, but Bdubs just pulls him back, kissing him harder.

“Predictable,” He whispers against his lips.

Later, as they sit together, hands entwined and heads pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle, Bdubs whispers quietly (resulting in quiet Etho giggles), “I think I like being a homewrecker.”

#hermitshipping #trafficblr #trafficshipping

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hintsofhoney · 2 years

Text

Stress Relief

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes all you need to relieve your stress is a good spanking, and Eddie knows that.

Tags: 18+, spanking, light teasing, crying from said spanking, fluff, aftercare, this isn’t a punishment though?, idk don’t read this unless you have a spanking kink I guess lmao

Word Count: 973

A/N: What happens when @makeadealwithdean texts me things. Not sure what this is, all I know is I need it to happen to me. As always, thank you to my darlings @makeadealwithdean and @deangirl93 for beta-ing! GIF is mine. Hope you guys enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

EDDIE MUNSON MASTERLIST | STRANGER THINGS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“You okay, princess?” Eddie asks, his hand on your lower back, the cold metal of his rings sending shivers up your spine.

You nod, head turned to the side, resting on the sheets. “Y-yeah,” you croak. “‘m ready.”

“Rings on? Off?”

“On,” you reply quickly.

“Okay.” He reaches down to brush some hair out of your face, bending over to place a soft kiss on your temple. “I wanna see you cry real pretty for me, honey. Can you do that?” he whispers, and you squirm underneath him, nodding.

“Mhm,” you whine.

He chuckles under his breath before standing upright, his hand on your bare ass, rubbing in circles to warm your cheeks up a bit.

The first few hits are light, you know he’s just getting started, and they send a warmth up your back that feels like it comes out of your fingertips as you grip the sheets in anticipation for the next hit.

You’ve had a stressful week. College is hard and your part time job sucks and God, you really needed this. You’re just lucky you have a boyfriend who happily obliges all your needs no matter how kinky, and you smile to yourself as you think that Eddie’s kink might just be whatever makes you happy in the moment.

You had come home from work an hour ago, exhausted, immediately crawling into his lap as he put his guitar down to greet you. You had been on the verge of tears all day; you just needed to let it out, but you were too embarrassed to ask (no matter how many times Eddie had reassured you that being spanked to tears wasn’t a weird stress-reliever — just a kinky one).

“What do you need, baby?” he had asked sweetly, and you shrugged, but he knew. “Can you use your words for me, honey?” he questioned, and you shook your head, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Okay,” he chuckled softly. “I got you.” His hand caressed the back of your head as he placed a kiss on the side of it. “You wanna go in our room, get undressed for me? Bend over the bed?”

God, he knew you too well.

His hits are getting harder, and he’s pulling moans from your throat now. You hadn’t been in the mood for anything other than getting your ass beat until now; the wetness you’re feeling in between your legs only growing with each strike. You need to cry first, though — need to get it all out, let it all go, and Eddie knows it.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he praises, adding more force behind his hits, “Getting nice and red.”

“Please,” you whimper. “H-harder.”

He obeys, and you think he might be spanking you with most, if not all, the strength he has. It’s steady, rhythmic, consistent. One cheek, then the other. Over and over and over. Your ass feels like it’s on fire, like he shouldn’t even be able to touch it without burning his own hand, but he keeps going.

You don’t notice you’re crying until the sheet underneath your face is wet, and when you realize, you let it all out. Sobbing loudly, shaking underneath him. His hits get lighter, but he keeps it up; he knows you’ll safeword if you need him to stop. It’s taking everything in him to not pull you into his arms and soothe you, but he understands the release it provides is what you need most right now.

“Good girl,” he hums softly, his hits slowly turning into rubs, and then he’s bending down to place gentle kisses on all the marks his rings have left behind. “So, so good, honey.”

You can’t stop crying, even though it’s turned silent now. You feel him hovering above you then, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Shhh, you’re alright. You’re okay.”

You nod, starting to calm down. You already feel like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

“Do you want me to run you a bath?” he asks sweetly, kissing right underneath your ear.

You nod again, one last sob escaping you. “Y-Yes, please.”

“And then how about I make some popcorn and we watch a movie?”

“Mhm,” you agree, “and then maybe we can… do something else?”

“Somethin’ about this?” he asks, one of his fingers running through your folds, spreading your arousal.

“Mmmph,” is all you can manage, closing your eyes, enjoying it, even though you know he’s just teasing.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he says with a soft chuckle, pulling his finger away. “We’ll take care of that later, I promise. C’mere.”

As much as he wants to take care of it now, he knows you’re not in the right mindset. Your stress may be gone but your head is still fogged. He needs to be gentle with you, and you trust him more than you do yourself right now.

You whine as he helps you up and leads you to the bathroom, letting the bath water run as you bend over the counter per his instruction. He crouches behind you, gently rubbing some lotion into your ass, soft “I know, baby”’s and “you did so good for me”’s leaving his lips as you hiss through the pain.

He’s helping you into the bath a minute or two later, kneeling on the tile floor as he assists you in washing your hair and body. He’s not comfortable leaving you alone quite yet.

When he’s finished, he lets you lean against the back wall of the tub, eyes closed, taking deep breaths as you let the warm water you’re submerged in ground you.

He’s watching you in awe. “I love you,” he says without thinking, leaning over, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You open your eyes and smile. “I love you too, Eds.”

TAGLIST(S)

If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name below, it’s because Tumblr won’t let me tag you!

FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @deangirl93 // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @boeshaneboy // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @katelyn--renee // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus

STRANGER THINGS: @emoryhemsworth // @whore4romance

EDDIE MUNSON: @creatively-analytical // @solarrexplosion // @rach5ive

You can join my taglist(s) here!

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader

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nessinborderland · 2 years

Text

Devil Beside You (03)

Pairing: Gwinam x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, soft!dark

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: You have some secrets you want to keep hidden and Gwinam happens to want a slave that is willing to obey his every command. You both so happen to live in the same home.

Warnings⚠️ Porn With Plot, Step-siblings, Manipulation, Horny Teenagers, Dubious Consent, step-siblings that hate each other, step-siblings that fuck, Toxic Relationship, they’re young and they’re dumb, Rough Kissing, Neck Kissing, Dry Humping, Blackmail, Dirty Talk, Phone Sex, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Fingering, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Sex, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Notes: Here is part 3! Comments and reblogs are, as always, much appreciated 💓

It's late and I'm super tired, so sorry if there are any major typos or continuation errors.

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist

You just stared at Gwinam for what felt like a long time, trying to understand exactly what he had said. He couldn’t actually be serious. You knew what the words meant, but you couldn’t consider the possibility of him actually meaning them.

“You want me to do what?”

You even forgot to lower your voice as you asked the question, the expression on your face and your tone of voice certainly doing a great job at showing how incredulous you were feeling. You doubted your parents would hear a thing – with your stepfather’s ability to sleep like a rock and your mother’s need for sleeping pills – but it was still scary to think about either of them finding you like that.

“Oh, you heard me…” the grin on his face didn’t falter as he kept petting the dog like he had just asked for something as ordinary as a glass of water. “Want to go see your little boyfriend? Then blow me.”

You closed the mouth you had opened in shock, the irony of already being on your knees not being lost to you. Gwinam wanted you to suck him off? To use your mouth on him? He couldn’t be for real. Not this time.

He had to be joking.

“Ha ha, really funny, you jerk,” you said with a snorted laugh as you moved to stand up.

The smirk on his face disappeared so fast at hearing you laugh that you were taken aback. The look he sent you left you with little doubt that what he demanded had not – in fact – been a bad joke.

“Oh, you’re serious?!”

“Yeah, I am,” he confirmed with a frown on his face, ears bright red. “What’s so fucking funny about it?”

“But I-I don’t–” you couldn’t find the words to describe how flustered you were at the moment.

You knew what a blowjob was and you knew what it involved, but everything you had done with him until now had been in the heat of the moment, something you barely considered before he made it happen anyway. It had been new and exciting and frightening all at once, but this?

This time it was both new and totally up to you.

You imagined yourself on your knees, drool sliding down your chin as you choked on his dick, his hands in your hair as he made you look at him at the same time you took him as deep as you could. He would be looking at you with eyes full of desire and mouth open in a moan, saying the filthiest things.

You shook the image out of your head as you felt a familiar warmth in your core, ignoring the wetness that was starting to form in between your thighs.

“What if I don’t wanna do it…” you said, embarrassment clear in your tone as you avoided his eyes.

He got it right about you being a virgin, but you weren’t about to tell him how inexperienced you truly were.

“C’mon, I know you wanted to touch it when we were fooling around in my room,” Gwinam retorted. “Now I’m giving you the chance to do that and more,” he shrugged, “or I can just snitch on you and watch you be miserable for the rest of the school year. Your choice.”

You thought hard about it, going back a few hours earlier to how Gwinam had touched you and how much you had wanted to touch him. Would it be that bad if you did it? You could always turn off the light, be done with it, and leave before Jihoon started calling to ask where you were.

On the bright side, you could use this as practice; you could pretend it was Jihoon in Gwinam’s place and take this opportunity to learn something that would please him in the future. Who knew, maybe you could actually give your boyfriend what he wanted tonight.

“Can I turn off the lights?”

“Nah, I wanna see your face,” the bastard didn’t even consider it, a smirk pulling at his lips as he guessed your answer. “So, do you still wanna go party? It’s getting late…”

You gulped, nodding before moving to stand up.

“Ah-ah,” he warned, shaking a finger before patting his thigh, “on your knees.”

You did as he said, hesitating a little before slowly making his way towards him, the humiliation you were feeling keeping you from looking up at the pleased smirk you knew was on his face.

Of course the bastard would be getting off at humiliating you.

You stopped when you reached his socked feet, gulping as he called your name in a sing-song voice before asking, “Do you have any idea of what you’re doing?”

You hesitated before shaking your head no, still not daring to look up at him, especially with how hot your cheeks were burning. This was probably the most embarrassing thing you had ever agreed to do, and you had agreed to a lot of humiliating things since Gwinam entered your life.

“I figured,” he sighed, “stand up.”

You looked up at him then, surprised by the sudden change; were you so inexperienced that it was a turn-off? You didn’t quite know why, but that bothered you more than you would like.

“I- I can still–”

“Nah, stand up.”

You stood up at the same time he did, trying not to cry as you realized he would most likely tell on you now, and there was nothing you could do about it. He would wake up your mom and you would have a huge fight where you would lose phone privileges and the right to leave the house except for school and you would have to hear Gwinam talk about it for as long as you lived.

Life would be hell.

“Please don’t tell my mom,” you whispered as you looked up at him with tearful eyes, trying to at least plead to the merciful side of him; if he even had one of those.

“I’m not.”

You weren’t expecting the way he cradled your cheek before leaning over to kiss you, lips moving against yours in a way that made you sigh before hesitantly kissing him back. The hand on your cheek went around to grab you by the back of the neck, his hold on your hair firm but not painful as he turned your head to deepen the kiss. His other arm was around your waist, keeping your body glued to his.

Saying that you were confused would be saying little, but you couldn’t find it in you to think much about it when Gwinam kept kissing you like that. It just felt so good – always a promise for something better – and it was only just kissing.

For now.

You whined when he pulled your hair back, forcing you to expose your throat to him before his mouth latched onto the side of your neck, making you press your legs together as he started kissing and sucking on your skin.

“Lay down,” he ordered in your ear as he pushed you back.

You hadn’t even realized you had walked closer to the sofa until you let yourself fall on top of it, Gwinam immediately following you and covering you with his body. Your arms went around his neck, pulling him closer as his lips went back to meet yours, tongue pressing against them before you let him in to taste your mouth.

Fuck, did you want him.

His growing erection was clear through his cotton pajama pants, pressing against your stomach as you felt a hand slide up your naked leg to where your short dress had crumpled up to your hips, leaving him free to grind against your panties. You barely paid it any mind when his fingers started toying with the elastic of your underwear, too busy moaning into his mouth to be aware of what was happening outside your horny state of mind.

Your mom could be in the room and you didn’t think you would notice.

“Can’t believe you’re leaving to meet him looking like this,” he said against your jaw, the jealousy in his tone not being lost to you. “You want him to fuck you on sight, don’t you?”

“Why…why do you care?” you panted, moaning when his lips started going down your neck to kiss the top of your breasts.

You looked down at him when he stopped kissing, the fire and lust in his eyes making you press your thighs together if it wasn’t for his body in between your legs. There was smudged red lipstick on his lips, and you could do nothing but stare with an open mouth as he pulled your dress and bra down to uncover a nipple before giving you a lick that made you bite your bottom lip and throw your head back.

“Why do I care?” he asked, followed by another lick. “Cause I should.”

You tried to muffle the moan that left your mouth when his fingers touched your clit over your panties at the same time he latched onto your nipple, sucking on it as he had done hours before. But now he was touching you in there, and it felt great even though there was fabric in the way.

You wanted more.

Your eyes closed as he kept pressing on your clit, thumb going up and down your slit over the now soaking wet fabric of your underwear. That mixed with his hot mouth on your tit was too much for you to stay quiet, so you forced yourself to muffle your own sounds despite how much you wanted to use your hands to grasp Gwinam’s hair.

“Could you imagine if any of our parents caught us right now?” The smile in his voice wasn’t ignored by you, and you opened your eyes to see him playfully looking up at your face, a faint blush on his cheeks and a smirk that told you he had something in mind. “Me in between your legs, you with your tits out… can you imagine the drama?”

“This isn’t funny, Gwinam,” you chastised, lightly slapping his shoulder. You moved to support yourself on your elbows before glancing at your parent’s bedroom door, apprehension in your eyes. “I-I think it’s better if we stopped…”

“Stopping?!” he chuckled, giving one last kiss to your breast before going down your body, eyes never leaving yours. “We’ve only just begun.”

You could only stare as he put himself in between your legs, giving you a wink before you felt his hands start sliding your underwear down your legs. He licked his lips as he looked down at you, and you felt yourself get even more flustered as he pressed your rolled-up panties to his nose, giving a long sniff without ever breaking eye contact with your wide stare.

“You smell fucking delicious,” he sighed, more to himself than to you. “I bet you taste amazing too.”

“W-Wait, what are you–”

Your words were interrupted by Gwinam’s warm breath on your hot pussy, making you clench around nothing as he slowly licked you from ass to clit before starting to suck on your sensitive bud.

Fuck, did that feel good.

Your body shuddered and your back arched as you let out a loud moan, your legs squeezing his head as you subconsciously tried to close them. It felt like electricity all over your body, a type of fire that you wanted to be consumed in.

It felt like heaven and hell, all wrapped up in one wet, hot, and mind-blowing experience.

And you wanted more.

You hesitantly started fondling your own tits, playing with your nipples the same way Gwinam had done before. It added to the sensation of him lapping at your cunt, the way his moans vibrated through you almost making you beg for more.

“Please… please…”

“Please what?” He raised his head to look at you, still smudged red lips now covered in a sheen of your own juices.

It turned you on even more.

“I want–”

You threw your head back in a moan as he surprised you by sliding two fingers inside your cunt, stretching and filling you in ways you had never experienced before.

“Look at this tight pussy, sucking my fingers in like that…” he looked at your core with fascination, tongue poking at the corner of his mouth as he started moving his fingers in and out of you. “Fuck, I bet you’ll squeeze my cock like you wanna milk me dry.”

You had never felt so hot in your life as you were when you listened to the squelching sounds of your arousal as your stepbrother finger fucked you on your parent’s couch. It ashamed you as much as it turned you on, but you couldn’t be bothered to worry about shame when you felt your orgasm so close.

His fingers and mouth on you, his arm over your stomach keeping you from moving your hips away, your palms as you squeezed your tits the best way you knew how… all of that right there in your family’s living room. And it felt so good.

And then it stopped.

You just stared at him with wide eyes as you saw him sit up in between your legs, the sensation of your building orgasm dissipating.

“Wanna come?” He asked as he sucked his fingers clean off of you. “Then suck me off.”

You only stared as he stood up before sitting by your head, the clear tent in his pants now looking more intimidating than ever.

“C’mon, just do what I did…” he reassured you with a low moan as he palmed his erection. “Just be gentle, no teeth, and make sure you make it wet.”

You rolled over to lay on your stomach, moaning softly as your dripping pussy complained at being ignored after so much pleasurable attention.

You were so horny your mouth actually watered as you touched him over his pants, almost smiling at the way he reacted. A light squeeze made him moan and thrust his hips up, his hand going over yours before you could do it again.

Without saying a word, he guided your hand inside his underwear, and you felt the way his dick jolted as you hesitantly grabbed it, his hand still around yours before he made you uncover it.

It was way warmer and longer than you expected, the skin soft and tight as it stood up, the head shiny with precum. You only stared as you gave it an experimental pump, not daring to meet Gwinam’s eyes as you did it.

“That’s right, gentle,” he said before you felt his hand on your hair, petting you. “Give it a lick.”

You didn’t even hesitate as you did what he said, flatting your tongue against the side of his cock and giving it a lick from shaft to tip. He tasted clean and a little salty, like licking the back of your hand would taste. You liked it.

He shuddered and moaned as you licked him again, and the hand on your hair tightened slightly.

“Good girl,” his words of praise made you send him a shy smile, happy with yourself, “now suck it.”

In any other situation his words would have pissed you off, but not now. Not when you could still remember his touch in between your thighs, his tongue on your pussy, the way he twitched as you held his dick and tasted him.

You gave him one last look before you moved so your face would be right above his cock. Your hand kept moving up and down his shaft as you opened your mouth and put your lips around the tip, giving a light suck that made him thrust his hips up.

You took even more of him in your mouth, remembering to make it as wet as you could and make sure your teeth weren’t touching him. The way your jaw opened so you could take him in your mouth bordered on uncomfortable, but you still did it, enjoying the way he reacted to your touch.

He was hot and hard and soft all at once, and you surprised yourself with how much you enjoyed having him like this, moaning because of something you were doing.

Gwinam was fucking your mouth before you realized it, his thrusts going in sync with the way you bobbed your head up and down his cock, taking more of him a little at a time. You tried not to choke, breathing through your nose like you had read somewhere on the internet. A moan from you made him twitch in your mouth, the feeling of him heavy and hot on your tongue only making you want to suck him harder.

The hand on your hair was now on your back, sliding further down before you felt it squeeze an ass cheek, making you whimper and move your hips, wishing his fingers were inside you again.

Your legs shook as you opened them wider, and soon you felt Gwinam’s long fingers sliding up and down your drenched slit before pushing in as far as they could go.

You moaned around his dick again, the sound of your joined panting breaths mixing with the wet sounds of your arousal and your sucking.

“Fuck, you’re still so wet,” he grunted as you squeezed around his fingers. “I wanna fuck you.”

Do it!

You wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him in you, desperately, screw the consequences. You wanted him now.

You released his cock with a pop, not even caring to wipe off the drool sliding down your chin as you straddled him the best you could before smashing your lips on his.

He grunted against your mouth, kissing you back just as hard, hands kneading your ass as you felt his length slide in-between your folds, the wetness almost making it slip inside you.

“Let me put it in,” Gwinam begged against your lips, voice shaking. “P-Please… I promise I’ll be good to you.”

You often thought about how you would lose your virginity. The romantic side of you always imagined it would be like in the movies and romantic novels, in a king-size bed sprinkled with rose petals. He would be handsome and loving and yours, and it would be an experience that you would treasure for the rest of your life.

The reality couldn’t be further from the fantasy.

Gwinam was handsome, but he wasn’t loving or gentle, and he definitely wasn’t yours. The bed wasn’t a bed and there were no roses, no mood lighting, no romantic nothing.

It was just you and your stepbrother, both hot, messy, and sweaty, mere meters away from your parent’s bedroom door.

Feeling his cock throbbing inside you as he pushed deeper into your pussy had to be the most pleasurable and weird sensation you had ever experienced. The way it stretched you, pulsing against your velvety walls as you clenched around him… you weren’t sure if you wanted him to pull out or never leave.

But you sure as hell wanted him to move, the fire in your core making your legs shake as you started moving up and down his shaft.

You went slow at first, muffling your whimpers against his neck as he moaned in your ear, strong hands on your hips stopping you from moving farther before he guided you back down. His lips on your neck and his words of praise as you rode him only added to the pleasure of knowing that you were the one doing this to him.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come in seconds if you keep clenching around me like that…”

You barely registered his words, too focused on finding the right rhythm and position that would make his tip press against that good place inside you.

You were soon a moaning and panting mess, the sound of skin slapping against skin sounding even louder in the late night. Still, you couldn’t be bothered if anyone found you right now. It wasn’t even something that crossed your mind when you were being fucked by Gwinam like that, bouncing on his cock and kissing his mouth like you wouldn’t go back to hating him and wishing he was gone the next day.

None of that mattered when you finally came, tired legs giving up as you let out a small muffled scream and your whole body twitched as your pussy clenched around his cock.

He moaned with you, never pulling out even when he moved you to lay on your back, now in full control as he held your legs apart by the back of your knees, fucking you at a fast pace. You could do nothing but moan, body like jelly moving every time his hips slapped against the back of your thighs.

You enjoyed the ride as you still basked in your post-orgasm glow, the burning in your newly used cunt only adding to the pleasure of having him inside you, throbbing and filling you up at every thrust.

“You’re so warm,” he panted, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, “you feel so good.”

He swallowed your moans with a sudden kiss, and you closed your eyes as you enjoyed the sensations of having him like this.

His body was impossibly warm against yours, his panting breath against your neck slightly tickling you as he went back to kissing your skin. He smelled nice, something that was his and yours all mixed with the new smell of sex. You liked it, you realized; you liked having him this close.

You couldn’t think clearly, almost feeling like you were dreaming as you felt Gwinam jerk and twitch, eyes shut and mouth open in a guttural moan before he laid on top of you, his weight surprisingly comforting as you both regained your breaths.

It was seconds after - when you felt him pull out and a rush of warmth leaking out of you - that you realized exactly what you had done.

“Oh no.”

You pushed a surprised Gwinam away before standing up and running to the bathroom, locking yourself in before he could follow you. You stared at the mirror with wide eyes as you took in your disheveled state.

Your makeup was all blurred, especially your nonexistent red lipstick on your now swollen lips. Your hair was a mess and your dress was all crumpled, barely covering your cunt, both of your tits still uncovered. You shuddered as you touched in-between your thighs, staring at your cum covered fingers.

“What have you done?” you asked your reflection, panic growing in your chest.

Tears were sliding down your cheeks before you could even realize you were crying, nausea making you kneel beside the toilet as you cursed at yourself.

You had been so incredibly stupid.

Not only had you let him fuck you, but you had also let him fuck you without protection. You were so ashamed of yourself that you couldn’t even find space to be mad at him. You had let it happen, you had made it happen.

A knock on the door made you jump and muffle a sob with your hand.

“Go away, you asshole,” you said, trying not to say it too loudly as you started undressing. You desperately needed a shower.

“Why are you freaking out, you’re fine,” he said in a gentle tone, faint annoyance behind it as he tried to open the door with no success. “Y/n, open the damn door.”

“N-No, go away,” you repeated, “I don’t wanna see you again.”

Silence followed, and you let yourself cry as much as you wanted as you turned on the shower and waited for the water to get warm.

You had been so incredibly stupid; you deserved every bad thing that happened to you after tonight.

The click of the door opening made you freeze, and you braced your naked body as you turned to see Gwinam getting in before closing the door behind him, a key in hand.

“How did you–”

“Dad has a spare,” he said with a shrug before getting close to you and cradling your face, serious eyes on your tearful ones. “You’re hurting anywhere?”

“N-No…” you said as you pushed his hands away and grabbed your towel to hide your body. Not like it mattered much now. “We shouldn’t have done this…”

“Why not?” he sounded slightly offended. “If you’re mad I didn’t use a condom, that’s fine, I’ll just get you a plan b or something. It’s not like I’m trying to knock you up.”

“But I–”

A knock on the door made you both freeze, and for a moment you just stopped breathing as you heard your mom’s drowsy voice on the other side of the door.

“Is everything okay in there, honey? It’s so late, what’re you doing up?”

You looked at Gwinam in a panic, unsure of what to do; if she found out what you had just done you might as well be dead. You rushed to put your dress back on as you tried to come up with an excuse, Gwinam beside you mouthing things you weren’t even focusing on.

“I-I’m okay, mom, just uh- feeling a little sick,” you lied, hoping she would believe it and go back to bed.

“How sick?” her voice sounded more alert now, and you cursed under your breath as you saw the doorknob jiggle. Of course that saying you were sick would only make her worried. “Do you need my help?”

“Shit,” you heard Gwinam whisper under his breath before you saw him take off his sweatshirt. “Put this on.”

“Uh uh, no mom, I’m okay!” you said as you did what he said, putting on his sweatshirt over your dress. “Now what?” You whispered to him in a frantic tone as he scrubbed the lipstick off your skin with his thumb.

“Now you go outside and tell your mom what she wants to her,” he whispered back as he pushed you towards the door. “Keep her in your room while I clean up.”

“Y/N, what–”

You opened the door before she could finish her sentence, barely allowing her to look inside before you turned off the lights and left the bathroom, groaning as you closed the door before leaning against the door frame.

“What’s going on?” your mom asked as she pressed a palm against your forehead. “You’re very warm, are you sure you’re okay?

“Yeah, don’t worry, mom, it’s just a headache,” you said, faking a yawn as you walked into your room, hoping she wouldn’t notice the clothes you had on weren’t yours (and your lack of underwear). As expected, your mom followed but stayed by the door, a drowsy expression still on her face.

“Want me to get you something?”

You shook your head, trying not to look over her shoulder as you noticed the bathroom door open before a shadow melted into the dark hallway.

“Hm, thank you, mom, but it’s okay,” you smiled, “I’ll be fine after I get some sleep.”

“Okay…” you saw her hesitate for a moment, gulping while you waited for the inevitable moment she would realize that something was wrong. But then she yawned and nodded. “Goodnight, then, I’ll be in bed if you need me.”

Thank god for strong sleep medication.

“Goodnight, mom.”

You let out a huge sigh of relief as you heard your mom retrieve to her room, only looking out into the corridor when you heard her bedroom door close shut. You half expected her to cross paths with Gwinam, but he had been as fast as you hoped he was.

The devil in question was peaking his head out of his own bedroom at the same time you did, and your eyes locked for a moment before all your anger and shame came back.

“You ass–”

He pulled you with him into your room before you could finish cursing him out, closing the door behind him before pushing you to sit on the bed.

“Before you tell me to go fuck myself, I want you to remember we just did that, so shut up and listen.”

You gasped, standing up to slap his chest and hiss in his face, “Don’t say that!”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” he shrugged before throwing something vibrating on the mattress beside you. “Tell your boyfriend you aren’t going.”

“Oh my god, Jihoon!” you exclaimed as you rushed to grab your phone, hesitating as your finger hovered over the green icon.

You had totally forgotten about him. What would he think and do once he knew about this? Not that anyone could know, but what were you supposed to do in these circumstances? You couldn’t possibly go out to meet him after what had happened just minutes ago between you and your stepbrother.

No one can know.

“What do I do?” you asked no one in specific, tears in your eyes. “What have we done?” this time you looked directly at Gwinam.

You spent a moment looking into each other’s eyes, the emotions in his too confusing for you to understand in your current state of mind. Right now, all you wanted was for him to fix this.

“Give me your phone,” he commanded with an extended hand.

You handed him the still vibrating phone, watching as he answered it before pressing it against his ear.

“Y/N, where the fuck are you?” you cringed at hearing Jihoon’s voice, nervous at how annoyed he sounded. “I’ve been waiting-”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Gwinam spoke, eyes on you. “It’s late and she has me to keep her busy.”

“What the hell? Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m- I’m her older brother,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “And you’re the guy that will stop talking to her before I make your life hell.”

Chapter 4 ->

#all of us are dead #all of us are dead fanfiction #aouad fanfic #yoon gwinam x reader #yoon gwinam #yoon gwi nam #gwi nam x reader #gwinam x reader #dby

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