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apocalypseornaw · 7 months

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Us Again

Sam Winchester x Reader

Needing help on a case you're forced to call in the Winchesters. You never thought it'd end with you and Sam finding your way back together.

It's like 90% smut

The solid wall connecting with your back knocked every ounce of breath from your lungs. You groaned and rolled onto your hands and knees, struggling to get air. You heard Sam and Dean both shout your name and saw the creature moving towards you. You grabbed your discarded machete and pushed yourself to your feet, eyes on the monster you yelled “GET THE KIDS. I GOT THIS”

This thing was something new, none of you had run across it which was why you'd called the Winchesters in to begin with. It was taking kids, feeding off their youth. You were hoping decapitation would do the trick. You flipped the long blade in your hand and waved a hand at it “C'mon then ugly. I don't got all night”

You winced a bit as you followed Dean into the door of their hotel room. Yours was adjoining and you'd left the door unlocked between your rooms. Dean eyed you as he dug a first aid kit out considering he'd gotten a slice across the arm and Sam had gotten caught across his left shoulder.

“How ya feeling?” He asked and you nodded “Right as rain Winchester. Now sit down and let me see about that arm” you glanced back at Sam “and I need to check your shoulder too” Sam gave a sharp nod, lowering himself into a chair at the table opposite Dean.

—-----------------

You hadn't wanted to call them in, years had passed since you hunted with them. The last time had been about a year after you and Sam broke up. You could feel his gaze on your back as you began cleaning the wound on Dean's arm. It wasn't too awfully deep but it might do for a stitch or two just to make sure it stayed closed.

You busied yourself with the task at hand in an attempt to ignore the memories flashing through your mind. You still loved Sam just as much as the day you'd left but you couldn't tell him that. Too much time and too much pain had passed. The two of you had only recently gotten back to the point of talking as friends. You couldn't risk losing him again or Dean for that matter because regardless of how close you were with the eldest Winchester he'd choose his brother every time.

You finished Dean's stitches and taped over it so he could shower then stepped back from him “All done” he nodded, his eyes flickering between you and Sam. The question was clear in his eyes so you gave him a small nod before turning to face Sam “Ok, um you're gonna have to take your shirt off for me to check that shoulder”

He met your eyes for a second then cleared his throat and looked away before standing to take off his flannel then slipped his shirt over his head. It had been a while since you saw Sam shirtless and christ he'd put on more muscle than before not that he was lacking then. You had to mentally kick yourself to not stare at his chest.

He sat back down, turning the chair so you could get to his shoulder. You cut your eyes at Dean and he was watching the two of you with something near amusement written across his face. Damn him shouldn't he be playing the protective brother at least? You and Sam had broken each other's hearts at one time.

—---------

You gingerly touched the area of Sam's shoulder that was sliced. It was deeper than Dean's but should only take a couple stitches. “Just sit still, I need to clean it” you nearly whispered before grabbing the wound cleaner.

Sam sat silently as you cleaned his cut. The feeling of your hands on his skin was nearly overwhelming. He was glad Dean had stayed in the room because this entire hunt had been hell on his psyche, from the moment you called for help he knew it would be. The kids you all hadn't been able to save, the new creature that needed to be added to the lore, the way he felt seeing you get tossed to how he now felt with you bandaging him up like old times except now you wouldn't kiss the area after bandaging it.

“You ok?” You asked once you started stitching him. He nodded “Yeah, I'm good” he felt when you snipped off the thread and taped over it like you had Dean's. The fingers of your right hand lightly teased through the hair at the nape of his neck and he sucked in a harsh breath at the familiarity that wracked through him. Fuck he missed you.

—----------

You weren't sure what had driven you to run your fingers through Sam's hair but it was almost as if your body had run on muscle memory alone. You'd heard the way his breath caught and your knees had weakened. You needed to get a shower and go to bed so you could hit the road bright and early.

“You can um put your shirt back on if you want” you spoke then began packing up the first aid kit. Before you could finish Dean's hands covered yours “Uh uh sweetheart. You took a hard hit one of us needs to check you over” you met his eyes and saw the unspoken challenge there.

Either you put you and Dean both in an awkward position by having to take your shirt off in front of him or you ask Sam to check you. “I'm fine Dean” he raised an eyebrow then leaned up to speak around you “Sammy why don't you go in her room with her and check her back out. If something seems broke holler for me but I think it's better you do it since you have seen her naked after all”

“You're as subtle as a heart attack” you mumbled then looked back at Sam who seemed determined to look anywhere but at you “I'm fine Sam really” he finally raised his eyes to you “Are you afraid your boyfriend may find out?”

You felt your face warm at his words. You and Marcel had broken up nearly a year ago. You hadn't loved him, hell you hadn't loved anyone since Sam. Marcel and you were still friends even if when the two of you broke up his reasoning had been “Baby you never got your heart back from Sam. I can't compete”

“I haven't had a boyfriend in a very long time, Sam. You want to check me out and confirm what I already know, come on then” you grabbed the first aid kit and turned on your heel. Before you made it into your room Sam was catching the door.

—---------

“Go!” Dean urged Sam, who nearly jumped out of the chair, to follow you. You were single? Why had you broken up with Marcel? You'd seemed happy with him.

He followed you into your room and watched you slam the first aid kit down on the table then start to strip your jacket off. He shut the door behind himself then was acutely aware of your actions when you slipped your shirt over your head and stood facing him clothed in just your jeans and a dark green sports bra. It took everything he had to not let his eyes graze over your body.

“Sam? Are you gonna touch me or stare?” You asked after a moment and he knew he had blushed lightly. He hadn't touched your skin in a very very long time and wanted nothing more than to but the thought of touching you only to see if you were hurt then the two of you going separate ways come morning hurt.

“Yeah, sorry” he said and you turned with your back to him, moving your hair out the way. Purple bruises had formed across your back already so he started at the nape of your neck with intentions to work down, checking everything.

—-----------------

Sam's rough fingertips started at the nape of your neck. His thumbs worked the base of your neck, feeling for any cracks and effectively massaging the sore muscles there. Your eyes fluttered shut and you bit down on the inside of your cheek to not moan.

Damn him he knew your body so well even after this long. He worked down further, kneading the flesh and checking across your ribs and spine to ensure nothing was broken, asking every now and then if anything hurt.

When he reached the top of your jeans he tapped your hip “Everything looks good” you swallowed hard twice before turning to face him “Told ya”

His eyes went from your face down to your chest and the realization you were still in just your bra hit you “Guess on that note I'm gonna shower” he nodded “Ok” neither of you moved, frozen to the spot.

—----------------

“Sam” you spoke his name in nearly a whisper and the next moment your lips were crashing against his. You were sure who initiated it but his hands went to your hips pulling you flush against him as your hands slipped around his neck pulling him down closer to you.

When you broke away to catch your breath the two of you stared at each other, chests heaving “Tell me you don't want this. Tell me to walk away” his voice was deep with lust and made your stomach do a flip “No” you replied pulling him back to you.

He groaned into the kiss before picking you up in one fluid motion. His hands hooked under your thighs so you wrapped your legs around his waist grinding down against him. He carried you over to the bed and laid you down gently before slipping his shirt back over his head and tossing it.

You worked to kick your boots off as he did the same. Once you were both down to jeans he climbed onto the bed hovering over you as he claimed your lips in a bruising kiss. You barely remembered his injured shoulder as you clung to him, wanting him as close as possible. You loved this man with everything you had, you'd left because he couldn't say he loved you and it hurt too much but being away from him for so long had hurt too so you decided to give yourself this.

He moved from your lips, kissing down your jaw then to your neck when he sucked on your pulse point hard enough to mark you your back arched off the bed pressing your breasts into his toned chest. His hand touched your bra and he glanced up at you for permission. You smiled and pulled it up and over your head, baring your chest to him.

He lowered his mouth to your left breast, rolling the nipple between his teeth and you moaned loudly. His right hand came up to knead the other breast, the action pulling another moan from you. He knew you too well. His mouth, the size of his hands, the tickle of his hair against your skin. Everything had your nerves in overdrive.

He released your breast then kissed down your stomach, stopping at the top of your jeans. “Tell me you want me” He spoke against your skin, eyes holding yours. “I want you” you whispered and his eyes shut for a moment and you saw him swallow hard before he nodded to himself. When his eyes opened there was that same hunger there but mixed with a need you felt in your soul.

He made quick work of your jeans and panties before continuing his path. When his tongue barely grazed your clit your fingers flew to his hair tangling themselves in it.

—---------------

Sam wasn't sure what was sweeter, your taste or the sounds falling from your lips. He knew what it took to push you over that edge and enjoyed feeling your body shake and you came on his tongue. He worked you through it until you pushed his head away. He leaned back from you, slipping a finger into you to replace his tongue. You clenched hard around his fingers, cursing lightly when he added a second and curled them up to hit that spot inside of you that he knew would have you seeing stars.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, the sound of his name being moaned from you was everything. He could feel when you were close right before you came, soaking his fingers and the bed under you. When he pulled his fingers out he held your gaze and he slipped them into his mouth, licking them clean.

“Sam, take your fucking jeans off please” you begged and he could feel his cock twitch at your words. He stood up and slipped his jeans and boxers off. Your eyes trailed down his body and he saw you lick your lips “I want to return the favor but fuck I need you inside me”

—----------

He groaned at your words “I need to be inside you” he replied climbing back up your body. When he reached your lips you pulled him into a kiss, rolling your tongue against his, tasting yourself on him. When you felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance you clenched. He eased into you, both of you moaning at the sensation “Fuck you're so damn big Sam”

He buried his face in the bend of your neck, laughing lightly against your skin “I'd say sorry but I'm not” after a moment the pain of the stretch gave way to pleasure. You rolled your hips up to meet his and he groaned “Fuck baby” you smiled when he looked up at your face “I've missed hearing you call me that” he grinned before leaving a rough kiss on your lips “Hold onto me baby. I want to feel that pretty little pussy come around me”

—-------------

The only sounds in the room were skin meeting skin and both of your needy moans. Your nails dug into his forearms as he drove into you from behind. You were on your stomach, pillows under your hips to give him just the right angle as he drove into you. He'd already made you come too many times to count. You were breathless and could feel your body shaking but you were taking everything he had to give.

His thrusts were starting to falter and you knew he was close. Sam had always had a remarkable stamina and the ability to hold his own release in favor of pleasuring his partner but you needed to feel him come, to have him fill you completely. “fuck Sam. Please tell me you're close” you sounded wrecked, completely fucked out.

He moved the hair from your neck, kissing your pulse point “getting tired baby?” You nodded “I need to feel you please” he groaned at your words his thrusts getting harder and harder “Fuck I've missed you…I love you baby fuck I love you”

Before you had time to realize what he said he buried himself deep inside of you, coating your walls as he came. The feeling pushed you over that edge one last time. You knew every muscle in your lower body would be jello. When he pulled out you gasped from the sudden feeling of emptiness.

He kissed your shoulder “Gonna clean you up” you felt the bed dip as he stood up. A moment later he was back and you felt a warm washcloth between your legs. Once he was sure you were cleaned he discarded the rag and helped you turn onto your side.

He laid down next to you, pulling you over on his chest “Need anything?” He asked and you shook your head sleepily. “Just sleep” he chuckled and kissed your forehead “Get some sleep darling. I'm right here”

The first thing you felt when you woke was the delicious soreness throughout your body. Christ, you'd forgotten Sam's stamina. You moved around but felt a strong arm tighten around you. Memories of the previous night flooded your mind. Had Sam meant it when he told you he loved you?

As if your thoughts got too loud he stirred behind you so you turned in his arms to face him. The uncertainty on his face seemed out of place after how he'd fucked you the night before “Why'd you leave me?” He asked and you sighed “I thought you didn't love me. You would never tell me you did and after a while that wears on you”

He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them the sadness hurt your heart “I've always loved you just after Jess I was just so afraid to lose someone again” “I never wanted to force you into anything” he nodded then smiled “I meant it last night. I love you, I've always loved you and always will. If you give this a second chance I promise you'll never doubt my feelings again. You're it for me. My heart is solely yours”

You were silent for a moment then smiled “on one condition” he nodded “anything” “You always talk to me about what's going on in your head, you trust that I can take care of myself and if I get hurt you try not to blame yourself” “Deal” you nodded “In that case kiss me” “Yes ma'am” he laughed before pulling you into a kiss.

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 9 months

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Ooh! A wonderful interview with Rich Keeble who played Mr. Arnold (the one with the Doctor Who Annual :)) in S2! :)❤

Q: In Good Omens 2 you play Mr. Arnold, who runs the music shop on Whickber Street. Were you a fan of Good Omens before joining the cast, and is it challenging to take on such an iconic story which is already loved by a huge fanbase?

A: “There’s always pressure if you’re working on something with an existing fanbase and people might have an idea already as to how you should be approaching something. To be honest I was aware of the show but I hadn’t actually seen it before I was asked to get involved. I knew it was something special though! I remember talking to Tim Downie [Mr. Brown] about how when you tape for certain things you know if something’s a “good one”. Of course by the time I was on set I’d watched Season 1 and read the book.

I had an interesting route into the show actually: I was asked at the last minute to read the stage directions at the tableread on Zoom, and Douglas [Mackinnon] the director called me up to discuss pronunciations of the character names etc. To prepare further I quickly watched the first episode on Prime Video, and I was very quickly drawn into it. A couple of hours later I was on a Zoom call with David [Tennant], Michael [Sheen] (with his bleached hair), Neil [Gaiman], Douglas and the whole team, including Suzanne [Smith] and Glenda [Mariani] in casting. After that readthrough I asked my agent to try and see if she could shoehorn me in and she came back with a tape for Mr. Arnold saying “you play the piano don’t you…?” They wanted me to demonstrate my musical playing ability, so I rented a rehearsal studio room in Brixton for an hour and filmed myself playing piano (and drums just in case), then I did my scenes a couple of different ways and I guess it wasn’t too terrible!”

Q: During episode five you mimed to music written by series composer David Arnold alongside a real string quartet – this must have been very immersive! How did it feel to work with David, and bring the ball to life?

A: “I actually didn’t meet David Arnold sadly, but I did work with Catherine Grimes, the music supervisor who is lovely. David was at the London screening but I missed an opportunity to go and say hello to him which I kicked myself about.

I remember before I was in Scotland there was a bit of uncertainty as to whether I would need to play anything for real or not, so I practised every day playing loads of Bach and other music I thought was era-appropriate just in case they asked me to do anything on the fly. So yes, it was very immersive as you say! They sent me three pieces of music to learn which I practised in my Edinburgh apartment on a portable folding keyboard thing I bought. They introduced me to the string quartet (John, Sarah, Alison and Stephanie) and I tried to hang out with them when I could. On the day we all had earpieces to mime to. I had to mime while listening out for a cue from Nina [Sosanya] from across the room, then deliver my dialogue and carry on playing, which was tricky! The quartet and I helped each other out actually: Douglas would say something like “let’s go from a minute into the second piece of music”, I’d look at the sheet music and whisper “where the hell is that?” and one of the quartet would say “we think that’s bar 90” or something. Here’s a little bit of trivia: the shooting overran and the string quartet couldn’t make the last day, so they found some incredible lookalikes to replace them for the scene when we get lead out of the bookshop through all the demons, although I think they also kept them deliberately off camera.”

Q: What did you think of your music shop when you first saw the set? Did you have a favourite poster or prop?

A: “I thought it was incredible! It could’ve been an actual music shop with all the instruments hanging up with the “Arnold’s” price tags on. The attention to detail was incredible, well IS incredible as I understand it’s all still there. It’s hard to pick a favourite to be honest. I did a little video walkaround on my phone at the time so maybe I’ll post that if I won’t get in trouble. Interestingly the shop interior itself was elsewhere on the set to the shop entrance you see from the street. You walk out of Aziraphale’s shop, over the road, through the door of the music shop and… there’s nothing.”

Q: Mr. Arnold is tempted into the ball by a Doctor Who Annual and is playing the theme in the music shop scene – are you a fan of Doctor Who in real life? And what was it like making those jokes and references in front of the Tenth Doctor David Tennant?

A: “I’ve always dipped in and out of Doctor Who over the years since Sylvestor McCoy, who was doing it when I first became aware of it when I was growing up. Even if you’re not a fan it’s one of those shows you can’t really get away from, so doing that particular scene in front of David was really fun, and of course Douglas had directed Doctor Who as well. Apart from the amusing situation of two supposed Doctor Who fans talking about Doctor Who without realising they’re in the company of a Doctor Who, I also seem to remember Michael being the one to suggest that he would deliver his “due to problems at the BBC” line directly to David.

Oh, and I think it was actually my idea to grab the annual off the harpsichord before joining the queue behind Crowley at the end of the ballroom scene (which we’d shot weeks earlier at this point). When we were blocking it out and rehearsing I knew I had to leave my position and get to the front for my “surrender the angle” line, and then later it just felt like I wouldn’t leave without the annual so I ran back through everyone to grab it. Nobody seemed to have a problem with me doing that so I just carried on doing it when we shot it! I do remember it being a fun set with Douglas and the team being very open to suggestions.”

Q: How did you balance filming both Good Omens and BBC Ghosts at the same time?

A: “Luckily both shows were a joy to work on, and everyone seems to know about both of them. We were shooting them in early 2022 and I also had a little part in an ITV drama called ‘Stonehouse’, starring Matthew Macfadyen. I usually never know when I’m working next so to have three great TV jobs at once was very unusual. There was all this date juggling and I actually almost had to turn down Ghosts due to clashes. Luckily both shows had to move some dates so it worked out. But yes, I spent two weeks up in Scotland shooting all that Good Omens ballroom stuff, then I came back down to London to do Ghosts, knowing I’d be back up to shoot my scenes in the music shop in a couple of weeks. Now, when I found out who was playing my wife in Ghosts I couldn’t believe it: Caroline Sheen – Michael Sheen’s cousin! She was amazing and that was another great set in general. I say “set”, but it’s all filmed in that house which surprised me. I’d worked with Kiell [Smith-Bynoe] and Jim [Howick] before, and Charlotte [Ritchie] was in the Good Omens radio play a few years ago and a big fan of the book. Charlotte’s very musical of course and we got talking about my folding keyboard I had for practising my Good Omens stuff, and she ended up setting it up in the house for us to have a play on!

Now, when we’d shot all our internal scenes there was this big storm forecast, and our external scenes were scheduled for the day of the storm, so that had to be moved into the next week. It meant I ended up shooting those scenes outside the house, then going straight back up to Scotland to shoot the Good Omens music shop scene the next day! When I mentioned to Michael I’d just worked with Caroline he said “ooh she’s in Ghosts is she!” and revealed that she’d texted him about me which was rather surreal. Then later after the Ghosts wrap party Kiell gave me a part in his Channel 4 Blap, so at the time I felt like I was killing it career wise, but the industry quietened a bit after that and my workload eased off over the year so I was in my overdraft by November.”

Q: What are your plans for the future – can we expect to see you in something else soon?

A: “This year, after a bit of a quiet start, I was very fortunate to work on a Disney+ show called Rivals which stars… David Tennant! I think I’m allowed to say my character is called Brian, and I shot five episodes so that was another really amazing job, and great to work with David again (I told him he must be my good luck charm, although I hope he’s not sick of me). That should be out at some point in late 2024. Other than that I’ve filmed a few other bits I presume will be out next year, one of which is called Truelove on Channel 4 which actually looks really good. That starts early January. Of course now Season 3 of Good Omens has been greenlit, I would love Neil and the gang to have me back on that… but I can only keep my fingers crossed!”

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supernovafics · 21 days

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series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k words

warnings: explicit language, angst, mentions of reader’s strained relationship with her parents

summary: the first night in mexico with steve is not as weird as you thought it would be, but it’s hard to avoid thinking about everything that happened with eddie

CHAPTER TWELVE | ❝𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖❞

Fall Semester 2016

You figured that the first night was weird because the first night in a new place was usually always weird.

But then the next two nights were somehow worse. Alone in a room that you were slowly starting to wonder if it would ever feel like “home.”

You sat in your bed and stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours, but when you looked at your phone, you saw that only twenty minutes had passed since the last time you’d checked it. An annoyed sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes again, willing sleep to come.

Unsurprisingly, after another few minutes, it didn’t, and that made you grab your phone and call the one person that you wanted to talk to at that moment.

When Eddie answered with a soft and tired “Hi,” you asked, “Hey, are you busy right now?”

“At one in the morning? Not really, no.” When you didn’t laugh at his joke, he became serious. “You okay?”

“This is probably dumb and I already feel that way for asking this, but can you come over?”

“Yeah, of course,” He didn’t hesitate to answer and then things got quiet for a second before he asked again. “You okay?”

“I’ll explain when you get here,” You said, not wanting to go on what you felt like would be a neverending ramble about your current thoughts over the phone. “You can even take the bed if you want. I’ll sleep on the floor. Doesn’t matter to me.”

“I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed,” You could practically hear him shaking his head at your offer. “I’ll be there in ten.”

He actually made it in five minutes and you were greeting him with a small smile and a promise to give him as many blankets as he needed to be comfortable on the floor when you opened your door.

“So, what made you wanna do this impromptu sleepover?” Eddie asked once he was settled and you were back in your bed. You knew what the lighthearted question was really saying, What’s wrong?

“I feel dumb because I should’ve known that this was gonna happen,” You said, starting your answer in the middle because you knew that he’d catch on immediately. “We both know how I am when things are too quiet. But, after my roommate situation last year, I thought this single dorm thing would be better. But, actually, it sucks. Now, I weirdly miss the nights where I had to fall asleep to the sound of her talking on the phone.”

“You’ll get used to this,” He said, but you weren’t entirely sure if that was possible. You did appreciate how encouraging he sounded, though. “Hey, do you want this old TV that my uncle’s been meaning to get rid of? It’s just sitting in my room back home collecting dust right now. You can leave it on all night and it’ll probably make it easier to sleep.”

“Shit, that makes so much sense,” You said. It was the easiest fix and you were now realizing that it probably should’ve hit you before.

“We can get it this weekend,” Eddie told you. “I’ll even give you the old VHS tapes I used to play on it all the time. Lots of horror movies.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t know if falling asleep to Friday the 13th or Halloween every night is the greatest idea.”

“Okay, yeah, makes sense. There are also some cartoons.”

You smiled then. “Now that sounds great. I get to find out what cartoons Eddie Munson loved as a kid.”

He laughed. “It was a lot of things that were just weird knockoffs of Barney because that’s all my uncle would buy.”

“That sounds very cute,” You said, still smiling. “Thank you, though. Seriously. And thank you for being here right now too.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

Not even with Chrissy? You wanted to ask that, but you didn’t because you had a feeling what his answer would be and you didn’t want to make things weird or awkward.

So, instead, you said, “Thank you for ruining your back for me.” You shifted a bit, turning on your side toward him. “We can still switch if you want. I’m fine with taking the floor.”

“Not gonna happen,” He told you and you decided against once again trying to convince him otherwise.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

There was a mourning period that came and went. And it didn’t even feel that overdramatic to call it that.

Stupidly, you expected to wake up the day after the moment you had with Eddie at his apartment and be completely over him— because you now knew that he’d never see you as anything other than as his best friend. There was no point in having even a little bit of hope for something equivalent to “a fairytale ending,” so you expected every other part of you to understand that too. But, apparently, an almost three-year-long crush couldn’t end that easily.

A part of you felt like you were back to Freshman year— pretending that everything was fine and normal. When, in reality, nothing was fine, and instead your life now felt like you were stuck in a really bad movie or nightmare.

You didn’t just feel hurt by the rejection— which technically wasn’t an outward rejection, but it felt just the same— you also felt embarrassed about everything you’d done over the past month. Even when days passed and the hurt faded into a wholehearted acceptance that still also felt a little sad, everything else stayed.

Steve was the only person that you could possibly admit any of this to since he was a part of the whole fake dating thing. You could tell him that it all ended up being an entire waste of time for you. However, somehow the thought of telling him only made you feel even more embarrassed.

He was so settled on the idea that this would work for you, and he continued doing things in hopes of making something happen over the last few days. It all felt so wrong now, but you simply pretended that it didn’t because you found it too hard to be honest.

You instead actively forced yourself to stop thinking about how everything had changed and how you were the only one who was aware of that fact. And it actually wasn’t the hardest thing to do. Except on the nights when it seemed as if there was nothing to do but think.

It was usually easy to drown out your thoughts with the sounds of whatever was happening within your apartment, but the circumstances were different at this moment since you weren’t in your room or the apartment at all. Instead, you were in a different country in a random bed with Steve sleeping right next to you.

You’d been exhausted after the flight and the hour drive to the fancy resort, but once you were actually settled in the huge bed that barely filled out the even bigger room, you couldn’t seem to sleep. Neither you nor Steve had been able to figure out the TV, you couldn’t even find the remote, but you figured that was fine because you thought you’d fall asleep easily. Clearly, you were wrong, though. And you now couldn’t stand to lay in the silence anymore.

You slowly pulled the blanket off of you and got out of your side of the bed— the left had been designated as yours and the right was Steve’s. The bed was also big enough that you had declined his earlier offer about putting a sort of pillow divider to make things more comfortable for you. In your head, sharing a bed with him probably wouldn’t end up being the weirdest part of this trip.

You maneuvered pretty well in the dark. Finding your sneakers that sat by your already haphazardly picked through suitcase and slipping them on, and then grabbing your phone and room key off of the nightstand and slipping both into the small pocket of the pajama shorts you were wearing.

It would’ve been easier if you just left without saying anything to Steve because you’d probably be back before he could even notice that you’d been gone. But, for some reason, it didn’t feel entirely right to do that.

“Hey,” You whispered as you stepped a little closer to him. “Steve?”

His eyes didn’t open as he shifted a bit and let out a soft, “Hmm?”

“I’ll, um, I’ll be right back.”

“Where you going?” He asked, words quiet and slightly mumbled.

“I can’t really sleep, so I think I’m gonna check out that twenty-four-hour buffet for a bit. The one that they mentioned when we were checking in.”

“Okay,” He said, eyes opening and he rubbed them for a second before pushing a quick hand through his hair and getting out of the bed.

You shook your head at his actions. “You don’t have to come.”

“I know,” He said but kept moving, standing up and going to grab his sneakers.

“You really don’t have to come,” You told him. “I already feel bad about waking you up.”

“It’s the middle of the night, and Robin told me that if anything bad happens to you during this trip, she’ll kill me.”

Hearing that made you laugh, and it didn’t entirely surprise you. “When did she say that?”

“Yesterday, when we were all watching TV at your place,” He answered as he grabbed his phone and pocketed it in his sweatpants. “It reminded me a lot of the game night conversation.”

“It also felt like The Godfather to you?” You asked, pulling open the door as he walked over to you. Abruptly going from the darkness in the room to the harsh and bright lighting in the hallway made you squint.

“Yeah, it did,” Steve told you and then rubbed his eyes again. “Jesus, it’s really bright out here.”

“Please go back to sleep. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Wow, good to know that you want me to get murdered by your friend,” He joked.

You smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I promise I’ll protect you.”

He kept walking with you, though— heading down the hallway toward the elevators— instead of turning around and going back to the room. You wondered if Robin hadn’t playfully threatened him (in your head, the only way you could imagine it was playful) would he still be this adamant about being with you right then.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Did we really come here just so you could get cereal?”

“I told you not to come,” You said as you picked around the dry bowl of Cheerios. “Also, nothing would have happened to me if I was alone right now. Unless you think that that drunk couple would’ve kidnapped me or something if you weren’t here.”

You gestured in the direction of said couple that were the only other people at this buffet aside from a few workers; they were sitting barely twenty feet away from you and Steve and looked as if they were in their entirely own world as they shared a bowl of ice cream.

Both you and Steve abruptly looked away when they started passionately making out with each other.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Wow.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve started, grabbing a handful of cheerios from your bowl. “I don’t think kidnapping you would’ve been on either of their minds right now.”

You weren’t going to admit it, but you were actually glad that he stayed with you. Sitting at this random table with him in this near-empty room was a lot better than being alone with your thoughts.

You suddenly wondered what time it was, but you also didn’t care enough to check your phone. “What time do we have to meet your parents in the morning?”

“They wanna get breakfast at eight,” He answered, and you nodded at that. “Apparently, they’re really excited to see you.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Normally, I would think that’s a good thing, but is it in this case?”

Steve shrugged. “Yes and no. At this point, I think it’s just gonna be a lot more of interrogating you— them trying to see if you’re truly the “right person for me” and all that bullshit. Pretty much the same thing that happened at the dinner, but it’ll probably feel a little worse since we’re gonna be seeing them a lot for the next few days. But still, even if they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t tell me to break up with you or anything, they’re mainly just happy that I’m in something serious.”

You nodded again. “I know your parents can be super intense and overbearing, but in some weird way, I think it’s actually kinda nice that they, at least, care, I guess, about your “love life.” I sometimes wish mine did.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, but mine don’t actually care, though. They’re only so focused on my love life because they care about themselves and their image.”

Maybe that should’ve been obvious to you. Because hearing him say that, and when you thought about all of the other things that he had told you before about his parents, it made a lot of sense. “Okay, I fully take back my previous statement.”

“What’s up with your parents, though? You never really talk about them,” Steve said. “How do they feel about you going on vacation with a guy you just met?”

You shrugged halfheartedly. “I don’t know how they feel about it because I kinda forgot to tell them. Well, not kinda, I did. I did forget to tell them about this.”

It had been the farthest thing from your mind. And deep down, you could even admit that you purposely pushed away the thought of telling them because you knew that they probably wouldn’t have cared that much about it, anyway.

“Oh,” Steve said, and then things became quiet. You wondered how insane you probably sounded to him right then, or how fucked he must’ve thought your relationships with your parents were if you didn’t tell them about this. “Okay, so if I don’t end up getting murdered by Robin after this trip, it’ll definitely be your dad then.”

You were immediately grateful for his lighthearted comment. You could feel yourself inwardly sighing in relief. The tenseness— that was probably only firmly planted on your side of things— quickly washed away. “That would never happen, but if it did, I’ll once again protect you.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask,” He joked, smiling at you.

You were abruptly reaching over the table to fix his hair, there was a part of it that was sticking out weirdly— it was the bedhead, you figured. “Sorry, that was kinda bothering me. Anyway, this is very random and a complete one-eighty from what we were just talking about, but do you ever think about how different some things in your life would be, maybe even how better they would be, if certain things had ended up working out, or if they had ended up happening?”

Maybe it was the slight sleep deprivation that made you ask that question— that felt like it was the only thing that could correctly explain the abruptness of it. A similar version of that slightly confusing question had also been the exact thing that you’d been wondering about barely thirty minutes ago before you refused to continue to sit in silence and in your thoughts about Eddie.

You were pretty certain what your answer to it was— a resounding yes; you thought about “what-ifs” a lot, probably too much.

A part of you expected Steve to ask why you were asking that question, but he didn’t. “In what way do you mean?” He asked instead.

“Romantically,” You didn’t hesitate to answer, and then you shook your head at yourself when you realized what you were saying. “Actually, that’s probably so dumb of me to ask you since you don’t care about relationships and all of that.”

“I do think about it,” He told you. “Old relationships and stuff. What went wrong, what could’ve gone better…” He trailed off, letting out an awkward laugh and breaking your gaze. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, this is probably way too much for a middle-of-the-night conversation,” You said and realized just how true that was. You now wished that you had brought up some random lighthearted question about a movie or something.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve just never really talked about this before,” Steve said, and you were about to tell him that he didn’t have to talk about it now if he didn’t want to, but he continued before you could say anything. “Um, I think saying old relationships is a stretch, actually. I’ve mainly just thought a lot about the last one, I guess.”

The high school relationship that he had mentioned to you on Valentine’s Day, you remembered. It was the last serious one he’d been in. You wondered what it had been like, how equal parts amazing and devastating it must’ve been if it turned him off of relationships completely for the foreseeable future.

“This question is probably so stupid, so please feel free to tell me exactly that, but do you ever miss her?”

“Sometimes, sure, yeah. But, it never really happens that much anymore. And whenever I feel like I miss her now, I think it’s more of me just missing what we used to be instead of me really missing her specifically. Does that make sense?” He looked up at you then and you nodded. You honestly felt as if you understood him completely— missing the picture itself but not necessarily who was in it.

It was that analogy that somehow made you realize something that you maybe should’ve realized earlier. Specifically, during the moment also on Valentine’s Day when you asked him why he didn’t do relationships and he pretty much said that he didn’t want to get his heart broken again. He was scared of it now, of love and relationships. It wasn’t just about it being easier not being in relationships and not falling for someone, it was about it being a scary fucking thing to do again.

It honestly made a lot of sense. So much sense that you really didn’t understand why it didn’t hit you sooner.

You didn’t say this to him, though, because it didn’t feel right to, and a part of you also really hoped that you were entirely wrong about it. Because this would shift everything that you thought you knew and understood about him.

It would be a thousand times easier if you solely took everything that he previously said to you at face value. If your understanding of him and who he was and what he wanted was as simple as what he had told you that night outside the arcade and what he’d been telling you this entire past month. He didn’t want to get involved in anything serious for simply that exact reason— he didn’t want to.

You had only nodded in response to his “Does that make sense?” question and you knew that you probably should’ve said actual words, but you couldn’t think of what exactly to say right then. And then Steve was speaking again before you could figure something out.

“And I guess that’s when I kinda think about that question you asked— wondering about how different things would be if it all had actually worked out,” He said. You’d completely forgotten that that question had even started this conversation. “But, it’s kinda hopeless and dumb to think about it, though, right? Because the outcome can never change, so what’s the point of even wondering about it?”

“Yeah, exactly,” You said softly, abruptly thinking about Eddie again. “What’s the point…”

Steve looked at you for a second before giving you a small smile. “Why was that question on your mind at,” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “One-thirteen in the morning?”

You suddenly felt really close to telling him what happened at Eddie’s place days ago, and the conclusion that you had come to about everything; the timing honestly felt pretty perfect. But, you still couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t about you feeling sad about the entire thing, it was about feeling stupid. And you honestly didn’t even think that Steve would judge you or think that you were stupid— he’d probably feel bad for you, you realized, which somehow felt a thousand times worse.

“I don’t know… I’m always getting randomly existential in the middle of the night, I think,” You answered, and then immediately shifted the subject. “Hey, what’s the name of your cousin who’s getting married?”

“Charlotte.”

“Okay, got it,” You nodded. “I felt like that was information I should probably know.”

“And her fiance’s name is Charlie.”

A part of you wanted to laugh, but you held it back. “Woah.”

Steve nodded, also recognizing how slightly ridiculous that was. “Yeah. Once again, I’m sorry that I’m putting you through this whole thing.”

You gave him a playful smile. “As long as you protect me from any weird family members, like I’m protecting you from Robin, I’ll be fine.”

You remembered then that this fake dating thing wasn’t at all about you anymore, it was about him. And you quickly decided that you’d make sure to play the “happy and in love” girlfriend part really well— just like he had for you this past month— so that he could get what he needed out of this. Because, at this point, that was all that really mattered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You gave Steve’s hand a quick squeeze. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Your parents are looking over here. Just do like a quick peck thing,” You said, looking up at him.

He didn’t question you further and instead closed the small bit of distance between you two and pressed his lips against yours. You weren’t sure if you expected it to feel weird or unnatural, but it didn’t. Actually, it happened so quickly that it really didn’t feel like anything at all.

When he pulled away, you gave him the sweetest smile that you hoped didn’t seem too exaggerated or fake, as you two continued walking toward his parents and a handful of his other family members.

That would probably be the easiest part of the next few hours. Before you were forced to embark on a hike that you weren’t at all excited for, but Steve couldn’t get you two out of. It was during breakfast when his mom mentioned it and she was so adamant about making you and Steve come along too.

“It’s gonna be fun. According to the tour guide, we’re going to get to see the prettiest view of a waterfall,” Anne had said and you finally nodded and agreed to go because you knew that she wasn’t going to take Steve’s attempts to say no as an answer.

Now it was two hours after that forced yes and you were in an outfit that didn’t feel entirely great for a hike— denim shorts and a black tank top— but it was the best that you could do; you hadn’t prepared “hiking outfits,” or any sort of workout attire for that matter. And walking over to Steve’s parents and other family members, which he quickly whispered to you were a few of his cousins and aunt and uncle, and seeing them look a lot more prepared than you were, didn’t do much to ease your sudden out-of-place feelings.

“We still have a few minutes before we have to leave, come to the gift shop with me,” Anne said to you before either you or Steve could say any sort of greeting to her and his dad.

You gave her a small smile and let your hand drop from Steve’s. “Okay.”

You met his eyes for the briefest second and he gave you an encouraging look, and then you were following his mom to the gift shop that was right next to the lobby.

“How’s everything going?” Anne asked you as she started looking around the small shop, stopping at a shelf of ceramic mugs.

The question felt weirdly vague, but you still answered it as if you weren’t slightly confused. “It’s been good. Thank you again for everything. You really didn’t have to invite me to this whole thing.”

“Yes, of course, no problem. Tom and I are happy you’re here,” She smiled at you. “And we can tell that Steve is too.”

Inwardly, you waited for the shoe to drop. For her to suddenly come out and say that she and Tom actually hated you because you weren’t from “their world” and you hadn’t been handpicked by them.

However, with what Steve reminded you about last night, you remembered that it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about them liking or not liking you as a person, it was about them being happy that Steve was simply in a “serious relationship.” And all you and him had to do was show that.

“I’m glad that you guys approve of our relationship,” You said, looking away from the bracelet in your hand that cost way too much and made you realize that this gift shop was way too fancy. You met Anne’s eyes. “Steve was worried about that. It was why he waited so many months before telling you guys about us.”

“Well, it’s probably obvious that you’re not exactly who we would’ve chosen for him. We always wanted him to be with a certain type of girl from a specific kind of family, you know?” You nodded at her words because it felt like that was all there was to do. “But, maybe this is better for him; at least, for now. And it’s so easy to see that you make him happy— probably more than Nancy ever did all those years ago— so that’s great.”

Nancy. Finally knowing her name made her feel more real to you. You still knew absolutely nothing about her, though, aside from the fact that she and Steve had been happy and in love at one point in time.

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to Anne’s words that felt like the kind of compliment that was actually more of an insult. It was almost funny because there it finally was, somewhat of a shoedrop. She really didn’t like you.

But, clearly, the show you and Steve were putting on was working, and you were inwardly sighing in relief at that realization because that was all that mattered. Ultimately, you decided to simply smile at her. “Thank you. He makes me really happy too.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #stranger things series #stranger things fic

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last-starry-sky · 2 months

Text

let it out - pt. 3 (finale) - 141xreader

part 1 - part 2

[NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS - MDNI: 6.4k words of wall-to-wall smut, mmmmf fivesome💀, voyeurism, group sex, light pet play, fingering, unprotected piv (reader has an IUD), consent checks, prone bone, cumming inside, self-orgasm denial/edging, doggy-style, mating press, creampie.]

taglist: @princessisfinethx @t-rextyrannt @my-therapist-hates-me @soleilak @star-buck-barnes @julesneedshelp @itsdark--inside @mishaglass @sushiumex @mr-sol (sorry i forgot you last time!)

You lay panting on top of Gaz: eyes closed, chest to sweat slicked chest as he stroked at your neck and head. Silence and stillness pooled for a moment between the five of you. With your eyes closed, it was easy to pretend there weren’t three other men surrounding you.

You couldn’t see Soap begging from where Ghost had forced him to the floor, or Price with his arms crossed, leaning ever so casually against the wall, completely at odds with the tone of the room.

Ghost’s gloved hands raked down your hips, pulling you back into the present. Your skin prickled under the rough material. His weight, along with the hard line of his cock, shuffled back off of your ass. You felt one hand leave your body.

“Off,” Ghost commanded.

You turned your head, unsure who he was talking to, or about. It’s not like you had anymore clothing left to take off. Your questions were answered when you saw Soap, cheeks pink and eyelids heavy with lust, with one of Ghost’s fingers in his mouth. He undid the velcro strap across Ghost’s wrist. His jaw moved, teeth closing down gently to grip the black cloth. Soap leaned back, eyes flicking up to Ghost, pulling the glove off his lieutenant’s hand.

Ghost pulled his hand away, watching Soap obediently hold the bone-printed fabric in his mouth. He reached down and gave the man a pat on the cheek.

“Good boy,” he said gruffly, an edge of softness in his voice, as if Soap was a beloved but misbehaving puppy.

You felt him slowly trace the fingertips of his newly exposed hand down the soft skin of your ass. Sometimes you felt it was the last soft skin you had. Every place else had been toughened by the sun, the rain, and the blasting cold wind. You shivered, sighing into Gaz’s chest. His skin was rough, not just from the month-long mission as everyone else’s hands were, though. You could almost feel the whorls of his fingerprints, how the ridges of every fold of skin were that much tougher, older, worn. They were hands molded to hold weapons, formed by the grit-tape of his knives and diamond grip of his pistol. Gravel and brick dust worn into the creases. Blood underneath his short, cracked fingernails.

He palmed your cheek, running his thumb along the rounded muscle. With his other hand, Ghost lifted up your hips, tilting your pelvis and arching your spine to put your pussy on display for him. His fingers trembled, there was no denying - you could feel it, as he drew them down the crack of your ass, nearer and nearer to your core.

Ghost groaned as he plunged two fingers into you suddenly. You squeaked, burying your face back into Gaz’s chest. Kyle soothed you with a stroke down your neck.

“Fuck,” Ghost growled. His free hand gripped the globe of your ass, peeling you farther open. “Soap,” he he said breathless, fingers crooking inside, petting at your walls. “Fuckin, get up here. Lookit this.”

Soap was on his feet in a second, boots squeaking against the linoleum. You felt his weight add to the bed, the frame ominously creaking; low and metallic, in response. You felt Ghost pull his thick fingers out to your entrance before spreading them and sliding back in slowly.

“Ohhhh,” you heard Soap moan as he watched Ghost work you open. Your hands balled in the sheets. “Oh that’s a beauty. She’ll look so good takin’ ye.”

“Gimmie some room,” Ghost told him gruffly.

Soap stood up, the mattress lifting as he left. Ghost pulled his fingers from you. You heard cloth shuffling and the soft swish of his tac-pants. There was a grunt followed by a quick whistle.

“Behave,” he threatened, “or I’ll put you on the floor again,” he said as the bed dipped again slightly.

His hand palmed your ass, spreading you open again, as the blunt head of his cock nudged at your entrance. You and Soap moaned at the same time. His was low and animalistic. You could only imagine what he looked like, what he was doing now. Maybe he was leaning on Ghost’s shoulder, palming him neglected, throbbing, erection through his pants, pretending it was him sinking into your wet heat.

Your moan was high, dragging on and on as Ghost slid ever deeper. When he stopped, a soft groan ringing behind the mask, you thought that was it. That this was all he was going to give you. You just about screamed when he rolled his hips against your ass, his cock driving into your still sensitive pussy. It didn’t help that he was fucking massive. With your legs pinned together underneath him, you had no relief, no ability to regulate the position he fucked into you. All you could do was take it.

Good God did that make you wet.

You felt fingertips on your head. It wasn’t Gaz. You knew his hands were on your back, right above your shoulder blades.

“Good?” Price asked.

You turned your head up as much as you could and nodded. You blinked away the stray tears of pleasure that blurred your vision until the clear image of your captain came into view. He smiled quickly, blue eyes gazing down at you with something soft, almost loving. That couldn’t be. You knew you couldn’t trust your lust-addled brain. She was the same one who had gotten you entangled in the mess to begin with. It was gone in an instant anyway. He drew his hand away, turning back to Ghost.

“Give it to ‘er,” he said to Ghost with cold determination.

He did. His gloved hand pressed down on your back with his full weight, squashing you and Gaz into the mattress. You could feel him looming over you, could feel his stare. You wondered if he felt the sweat beading on your back as he fucked into you, if he could see the shimmer under the yellow fluorescent light. His bare hand gripped at your hip as he rammed his cock down into you at a punishing pace.

The momentum of Gaz and your bodies, with help from the springs of the bed, flung you back up into Ghost with every downward thrust. It was a delicious loop of constantly building, punishing pleasure. With every thrust Ghost pumped into you, he got back in measure. It was wave after wave after wave of his cock sliding through your well-lubed pussy, beating against your cervix at the apex, before being slung back, almost out, to repeat the motion.

With no air to speak, you were mostly mute through it all. Your only sounds were a staccato of punched out oh’s and ah’s as the massive man slammed down into you.

“Gaz,” Ghost grunted to the man below you, slowing the roll of his hips, “roll out. Need-”

“Better angle?” Gaz said, completing his sentence. You could feel his smile as he pressed a quick kiss to your sweaty temple. “Yeah yeah. Gotcha Ghost.”

Ghost sat back, pulling from you. You both groaned at the loss. His hands supported your hips, holding you up off Gaz while Kyle did the same to your upper body. Gaz slid his chest out from under you, you moaned as his skin stimulated your nipples. He set you down against the cool mattress, pulling his legs carefully from the tangle.

You looked up sadly as Gaz threw his legs off the side of the bed while Ghost repositioned your lower body. You didn’t want to lose him yet. He was so kind, so warm and gentle. Someone from the other side of the bed tossed him a dark piece of clothing that he quickly bent over to thread his legs into. Underwear. When he was done, he turned back to you, reaching out a hand to run his fingers through your hair.

“Why the sad face, love?” he asked, eyebrows pressing together in concern.

“Stay,” you whispered, trying to reach out to touch him.

Gaz spied a glance up at the man behind you then back down at you. He must have been given the okay from Ghost, because he nodded at you, shuffling his hips to sit back on the bed.

“Can’t leave yet,” Gaz said sweetly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Deciding the tender moment was over, Ghost pushed your body flat to the mattress. His hand slid up to the nape of your neck as he slowly seated himself back inside you, his knees to either side of your hips, caging you. Even still, feeling the weight of his cock rest inside was dizzying. It made you clench uselessly around him. As if you could give anymore than he was already taking. Maybe you were greedy, but you could get used to taking that monster whenever he wanted to give it, even if he used you like doll like he was now. You just hoped that you got fucked a couple times beforehand.

He kept your hips supported with his other hand, popping your pelvis up from the bed as he began to pump slowly inside. You could feel everything as the momentum built once again: the rough texture of his pants and the tense lines of muscle underneath, the cold bite of his zip against the skin of your ass.

What you loved the most was the distinctive prickle of pubic hair that tickled your skin with every thrust. That barest feel of what he kept hidden made you crave more. More of the elusive, closed off man you only knew as Ghost. He’d let you kiss him before, clearly he wasn’t-

Ghost stilled on top of you, hand clenching around your waist.

“Close,” he choked out, canting his hips forward. “Fuck, ’m-”

“Yeah,” Soap sighed dark, low and dreamy. “Do it, L.T. Tell me how she feels.”

“Heaven,” Gaz responded, stroking casually at your cheek with one finger. Soap groaned. “Gonna love it.”

“Fuck,” Soap whined as Ghost began pounded into you with no inhibition, rhythm falling off as he neared closer and closer to orgasm. “Gonna cum in her too, Ghost? Fill ‘er up? Make her nice and wet f’ me?”

That was what drove your lieutenant over the edge. Soap continued to babble in the man’s ear, but it was all lost to you. Ghost pushed your shoulders down, burying your face in the mattress as he came silently, pumping slowly three more, long, agonizing strokes into your cunt.

He leaned back, releasing your head, both him and Soap groaning as he pulled all too quickly from your freshly slicked pussy. He didn’t move as you heard him zipping up. You almost laughed. You could have guessed that Ghost was the type of soldier to never let himself enjoy something for long. A hand palmed your ass, grabbing it before releasing and giving it a light smack as it pulled away.

“What a fuckin’ sight,” Soap mumbled, words caught in Ghost’s shoulder. “Can’t wait t’ get m’ hands on ye.”

“Quit fuckin’ talkin’ about it and get to it, then,” Ghost said gruffly, long legs pulling himself off your sweaty body to the other side of the bed, freeing a space for Soap to occupy.

Your backside wasn’t left cold for long. Soap did not so much as he was told, but what he wanted. What he had wanted for going on hours now. If you had thought he acted desperate before, he was a whole new animal now.

He scrambled over you, pulling you up. His hands roamed with little to no finesse over your hips, butt and waist; eager to touch, to be free to feel you again. He wrapped himself around your body for a moment, hands carding up to grab a breast in each hand and bite kisses into your shoulder. He pulled away when you didn’t move, staying still, collapsed in his arms.

“Som’in wrong?” he asked hot breath huffing down the nape of your neck, real concern in his voice. “Wear you out already?”

You shook your head slowly. Yeah, you might be a bit sore, and would definitely feel worse in the morning, but you were just tired. You had been mentally strained for the past month, and you were well aware of that. You always forgot until a day or two after getting back, however, how badly your body needed to relax, to adjust to not going constantly. Your muscles were tense from being on constant alert, never knowing what danger was around the corner, tendons strained from crouching, crawling, carrying your pack, armor, and rifle for a month straight.

All you had wanted was a warm shower and a hot meal when you landed. Falling apart like sand in the arms of three strong men, each of whom were content to fuck you silly while your captain stood by? It was an okay replacement. Not a healthy one, by any means. Call it strange, but it was filling that need to give that had been denied to you for a month. This, whatever you could call it, wasn’t keeping them alive by any measure, but it was de-stressing. Team building, even.

You lolled your head to the side. Gaz was looking at you from across the bed, the same concern as Soap creasing his forehead.

“Jus’ catchin’ my breath,” you answered, squeezing Soap’s hand.

“‘s good,” Soap rumbled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade before gently laying you back down.

The sheets felt cool again against your cheek. You shuddered in pleasure as you melted into the bed. Soap pulled off his sweat-drenched shirt. He let it fall to your side, his musk wafting over you as it landed, before unzipping his fly. His hands smoothed up and down your flanks, gently moving aside your legs with his own as he settled in between them. You winced as his hands gripped your hips. You were definitely going to have bruises tomorrow.

“Can y’ get up on your hands f’ me?” he asked, breathing ragged as his hands smoothed up and down your spine. You could feel his hands trembling. He was so close to everything he had wanted desperately and for a long time.

You did as best you could, sharing a long stare with Gaz as you supported yourself with your wobbling arms. He reached over and ran a finger down your cheek to your lip.

“I got you if you need me,” he said, firm and warm.

Gaz continued to watch your face as Soap took his time feeling you. Gaz’s thumb kept your mouth open as a moan fell free from Soap pressing his fingers through your slicked folds. You could feel yourself dripping onto his hand. The fact that it wasn’t just you, that this mess was Gaz and Ghost: his brothers in arms, too, had Soap shaking, aching to keep touching you.

“Fuck,” Soap whined, swirling his fingers, playing with your clit as you moaned again, arms almost falling out below you as you shook with pleasure. Gaz’s hand followed your fallen head to pet across your scalp. “Feel good?” he asked, continuing the pulse of his strong fingers again and again. You convulsed below him, arms giving out, as the pressure in your cunt drew tighter and tighter. “Wanna . . . wanna feel you, hear you cum,” he said breathlessly.

“No,” you whined with the last of your breath, eyes pinched shut, hands twisted in the sheets. You were bracing for the inevitable to come. Not that you felt you could stop him now, but it was worth a shot.

“Stop,” Price commanded, voice hard, echoing around the little room.

You felt the room still around you. Gaz’s hand was off you in a second. When Soap’s hand didn’t stop immediately, you felt Price rip him away from you. Everything was quiet. You could only hear yours and Soap’s heavy breathing as you buried your face in the sheets. Everyone was still and silent for a few moments, allowing you to catch your breath and the flame of your pleasure to die down until you stopped trembling.

That’s when you felt Price’s hand card through your hair. He crouched down beside you, gently petting your head for second before asking, “Medic. Look at me,”

As much as you didn’t want to, you did as you were told. You didn’t try to wipe away the tears that had welled in your eyes. They all tipped over, streaking down your cheeks, when you closed your eyes as Price stroked a thumb down your hot face.

“All good?” he asked. “Want to stop?”

You shook your head. Words were heavy as lead in your mouth. Your brain was still swirling, but you managed out a single word.

“No.”

His fingers trailed down to you lips before pulling away. He clenched his untrustworthy hands against his knees. He was trying very hard to have that same, impassive “Captain Price” expression on his face. You could tell. His mouth set in a line, eyebrows pressed down, terse and serious. But it was all a lie. A facade. Even through your tears you could see the pink flushing the skin below his beard and down his neck. He had the same blown out pupils as Soap did moments before he had pulled you into his lap that short hour ago. For a man that had been adamant that no one could hide from him, he was having a hell of a time hiding the want written plain across his own face.

“Want him to stop?” he asked, voice cracking.

It did something to you, that crack in his voice. It made you want him more than ever. Made you want to break him. To see him fall apart as he used your body like every one of his men before him. You clenched around nothing at the thought of him, Captain John Price: over you, touching you, inside you. Fuck did you need it.

“Want him to fuck me,” you moaned, breathy and low and almost disappointed, as you met his gaze, fingers gripping the sheet weakly. Price had to break away. He bit the inside of his lip, watching the floor before returning his heated stare to you.

“Tha’s what you want?”

“Fuck, cap.” Soap whined behind you. “Said she wanted it.”

“Don’t,” you stuttered breathless, “don’t want to cum.”

You watched your Captain divert his eyes with a quick jerk of his head for a second time at your words. He pinched his eyes closed, unable to even stand the sight of the room. He was clothed while you lay naked, exposed and marked inside and out. He was powerful. You were, both figuratively and literally, beneath him. He was in control from the moment he walked in the room, but you could see his resolve was shattering apart like ice, dissolving like sand into the sea.

Like sugar on your tongue.

“Not yet,” you finished, letting your eyes fall slowly closed. You drew in another breath. “Want all of you first.”

“Okay,” Price choked out roughly. “Okay.” You opened your eyes to watch him rub a hand over his brow before giving Soap the go-ahead with a weary nod.

Soap wasted no time draping himself over you, his hands pawing at your shoulders, breasts, chest, and waist. No part of your body escaped his touch except your pussy. He wouldn’t dare with Price still knelt at your side.

“Cannae put it in?” Soap whispered in your ear, voice on the edge of a whine. He squeezed at your hips, bucking through your slick.

You rolled yourself to the side as much as you could, looking back on the man just about pulsing out of his skin to get inside you. He was sweat-slicked: beads of it shone across his dark brow, collected in the divot of his collarbones, darkened the hair that dusted across his chest, down his toned torso, to his happy trail that lead to the thick nest at the base of his cock. Fuck, his cock. You bucked involuntarily back at him at the thought of finally getting the whole of that thick thing inside you.

Soap took your actions as affirmation, holding your gaze as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance. You scrambled back into position as quickly as your sore joints allowed. Not that your pussy had any resistance left. Pooled cum in every crevice lubed your walls rain-slick. The two other cocks (from your fucking teammates, jesus) had filled you, stretched you length and width, battered your underused pussy until it suit them better than their dress blues. Still, it was obscene, almost embarrassing, how quickly you let Soap in.

“Good God,” Soap whined, choking on his words, as he bottomed out in one thrust.

A handful of short pumps followed, his balls slapping wet and full against your pussy. The sound and feeling made your cheeks flare. A moan curled out of your throat as you bowed your waist and closed your eyes. Just the thought of the unchained, feral fuck he was surely going to unleash on you - God - it was almost too much.

“Told ya,” Gaz commented, smoothly laying himself across the head of the bed to watch the two of you, head propped up on his hand. “Like heaven,” he added with a lazy stroke of his cock through his briefs.

Ghost let out a single chuckle at Soap’s strangled, mindless pleasure. He had to be right beside Soap still. He was behind you, with a perfect view of Soap pistoning slowly in and out of your soaked hole, but you could only hear him.

“Wanted ‘er wet, didn’t ya Johnny?” he asked, sarcastic and suppressing a laugh.

Soap only moaned in response. You didn’t know if Ghost saw, but you could feel Soap’s nails bite into your hips. The slow and steady smack smack smack of his thrusts were only a mask. You tested him, just to be sure. You let your hands slide up the bed, lowering your upper body until your breasts squished into the mattress. Soap’s hands followed you, gliding up your hips to the nip of your waist. It only took one thrust at this new angle to make his cock jump inside you and his hips fall out of rhythm.

“God!” he exclaimed, “Fuck!” He pulled himself back, barely fucking at you now, hands squeezing at the crease of your thigh and the peak of your ass in an attempt to ground himself.

“Already?” Ghost commented, making Gaz laugh this time. Soap, again, only moaned painfully in response. “Fuckin’ hell, Johnny. Gotta give her more than that.”

“‘s too good,” he whispered, voice cracking. “‘s just too good.”

Out of real concern you were actually about to kill this hardened soldier with your pussy, you turned to look back at him. He was more fucked out looking that even you felt. He was sweaty before, but now he was drenched. It slicked down his forehead and shimmered in a pool between his pecs, making his dark hair appear even darker. He breathed one labored breath after another, looking back at you with flushed cheeks and eyes that were nearly black.

“‘m sorry, hen,” he said softly, stroking down your spine.

Truth be told, you didn’t mind, wouldn’t have cared if he came the second he was inside you. You’d had him, had pleased him, and that was all that mattered. It fed that greedy need inside you to give and give and give, to let him - all of them - use you every way until they finally paid you back, leaving their precious payment deep inside. You knew it made you fucked in the head, but again, you didn’t care. Just thinking about having a part of them so intimate left to your care, it made you clench around the poor man behind you. You bit your lip and rolled your hips back, forcing him to continue fucking into your wet heat.

Soap let out a strangled whine, eyes clamping shut. His hands scrambled to find a place to grab and hold on as you continued to roll back to met his shallow thrusts.

“It’s okay,” you cooed, voice so soft you weren’t sure he could hear you. “Keep going. Want you - fuck -” Soap cut you off, starting to rock harder and faster into you. “Cum in me,” you whispered hoarsely, eyes falling shut, falling into the wave of his hips, the creaking mattress growing louder and louder. “Cum in me, please Soap, please.”

“Oh my god,” Kyle moaned. You smiled at the affect you had on him, but your attention was all on Soap. Or, at least it was until Price leaned his arm on the mattress right next to your head.

“Fuck me, Johnny,” you moaned, locking eyes with your captain right as they opened.

He rest his head on his hand, fingers curling around his mouth, stroking at the hair around his mouth and chin. You wondered if he positioned himself like that to keep himself from moaning like poor Kyle. It kept his hands occupied too. Nothing could keep his eyes from you, though. They were glinting, narrowed down to study the pleasure on your face: how your brows furrowed as Soap picked up his rhythm, one that peaked and quickly fell apart.

“Hell, fuckin . . . goddamn,” he whined, trembling, sweaty hands pawing over your hips. “Gonna cum. Pussy’s too good,” he admitted weakly.

Kyle keened at his words. You wished you could tear yourself away to look at him, to see his handsome face contorted in agonizing pleasure again, even just to watch him chase his own high. There was so much you wanted, so much you wanted to experience with all of them, but Price, your captain, held your stare in an unbidden, phantom grip. It’s like you were hypnotized. His hard, blue eyes, turned nearly black, combined with the back and forth glide of Soap inside you, lulled you into a trance.

Oh well, you thought, biting your lip and curling your head into your outstretched arms punctuated with a long moan. A “come-hither” look if ever there was one, aimed directly at the man in front of you. There was always next time.

Right now, you had one more man you needed to take care of.

Price caught on immediately. That, or he was done with Soap’s constant whining and moaning over the sound of your squelching pussy. “Go ‘head then,” he ordered the man inside you. “Be a good lad ‘n give the girl what she wants.”

“Fuck,” Soap cried out. You felt him flare inside you, try to pull out, and then slam right back in. You clenched around him for good measure, earning you another strangled cry as he emptied inside you. “Fuck . . . yes. Yes sir,” he huffed, trying to catch his breath as euphoria washed over him. He smoothed his hands up and down the back of your pelvis, ending with a light smack to your ass as he pulled out with a weak, “Thanks, cap.”

If Ghost hadn't been waiting beside him, you were sure Soap would have passed out the second he was free of you. You felt him be dragged and then lifted across the mattress as Ghost positioned the exhausted man in his lap. By the time you had let your hips sink down and flipped yourself around, Soap was already out. His chest was heaving, still trying to catch his breath, with his eyes closed peacefully, his head resting against one of Ghost’s massive pecs.

“Fucked y’self right out, ay Johnny?” Ghost asked the man slumped in his arms sarcastically. Still, he carded one of his gloved hands gently through the man’s sweat-slicked hair. The small, sweet gesture between the two men made you smile.

A hand on your thigh - blunt, worn fingers digging into the soft curve where they pressed together - made your head zip back over to the other side of the bed. It was Price. Of course it was Price, who else could it be? Ghost and Soap were wrapped up in each other. Gaz was stroking his own cock, lost in his own mind.

Price pulled apart your legs, urging the one in his hand to follow his silent direction and bend at the knee. You sighed as he shed his jacket onto the floor, his eyes now free to rake all over you body. You couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he seemed to circle back to your wet, shining core more than a few times. He unbuckled his belt as he stood, stopping to rest his knee on the bed as he shucked his pants to the ground.

The metallic sound of his belt hitting the floor caught the attention of Ghost and Gaz. They didn’t say anything, but there was a noticeable shift in the mood of the room. Before, it had been heady, sensual, debauched but ordered under Price’s watchful eye. Now, as your captain slid his way in between your spread legs and pulled off his shirt - revealing his broad, hairy chest, dusted with gray - the tone shifted. No longer was there room for comment or direction. This was no longer a shared experience between colleagues. It wasn’t some silly little fling between soldiers, blowing off steam post-mission. This was your superior staring down at you, mind and hands both fine tuned weapons, ready to make you his.

He took each of your legs underneath by the knee and pressed them to your chest, folding you in half as he draped over you, lusty eyes never leaving yours.

“Hold ‘em like that for a sec will ya love?” he asked you in a low baritone that felt like it was only meant for you. Everything now felt like it was only for you.

You grabbed the backs of your knees, spreading yourself open for him, as Price shuffled back, ridding himself of his last scrap of clothing. He didn’t even moan as he stroked his cock, walking back on his knees to take hold of your knees again, his gaze never leaving your pussy. You stifled a moan as you clenched, and he saw it.

“Think you’re ready for it?” he groaned, slotting his bulky body over yours. You sighed as you felt the points of your bodies touch: his cock grind through your slick core, his chest rub against your breasts, his breath ghost across your lips. All you could do was whine to answer him. This was what you had been missing all this time, what he had robbed of you once he walked in. Intimacy.

Price guided your ankles over his shoulders, to which you swear you heard Kyle choke out a soft fuck, as he pushed inside you. He took his time, a low groan caught between your lips as he teased you, rutting in and out, in and out, slowly. You moaned in frustration. As if he hadn't seen you take three other men just fine.

“More?” he asked, sliding against every sensitive part inside you with pin-point accuracy. It had you shaking in his hands. It didn’t help that he was also grinding against your clit ever so gently as well. He placed an open-mouthed kiss to your pulse as you moaned, head thrown back, pussy pulling tight and gushing around him.

“Yes! Fuck . . . Price,” you whispered in his ear. You roped him down with your arms around his neck.

“Gotta tell me you’re ready,” he said pulling away enough to brush his nose with yours. His mustache tickled your lips for a brief second before he spoke against your lips. The slow slide of his hips hitting yours jiggling your body with each thrust. “You first, love. If you want it, then that sweet little cunt a yours ‘s gotta milk it outta me.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You pulled his mouth the last agonizing millimeter to meet yours. There was no grace in it. You both groaned and whined - maybe the other men around did as well, you can’t quite remember - as your tongues met. He was just so damn practiced, his jaw, tongue, and lips following the same delirious rhythm as his hips: pumping and sucking at you. He overpowered you, of course he did. He had put himself in the perfect position to take whatever he wanted, do what ever he wanted, as he thrust - slow and steady - again and again deep inside you.

But one hand was sweeping the hair from your blissed-out face while the other was peeling apart your sweaty bodies. He bowed his stomach to make room for his thumb to circle your clit. He cared. He was gentle. You whined, not even able to open your eyes as you desperately tried to pull him back down, needing his mouth on yours.

“Lemme watch,” he groaned against your lips. “Need t’ see you cum on my cock.” He pushed your legs farther forward until your knees touched your shoulders. “Ready?” he asked looking up from the wet, lurid slide of your pussy swallowing his cock.

“Yeah,” you whined, nodding, “yeah.”

You had been teetering on the peak of orgasm since he first touched you. It had been stupid of you to think you could outlast all four of them, but you were nothing if not stubborn. You’d edged yourself this much before. It hadn't been an issue before. Soap had almost broken you though. His dexterous, experienced hands had no trouble taking care of you. The thought of it again made you whine and jump as Price sped up his swirls around your clit. His thrusts across the front of your pussy met his hand with perfect expert timing. Only the weight of your captain’s stare mixed with your lingering desire to make this special for him too had made you gasp out that no earlier.

You let out a moan, tipping your head back and scrunching your brows together, as you felt Price suck your top lip in a kiss. You grabbed fistfuls of his hair in both hands as he mumbled, “So pretty for me, medic,” against your mouth, sucking and biting kisses as you trembled beneath him, trying to meet his thrusts.

One, two, three more pumps of his hand and you were shivering, dissolving in his hands as you came. Your head blanked as you cried out, Price muffling most of them as best he could. He was doing his best considering your pussy was clamped down on him, sucking and milking his cock, just as he had asked.

The last of your high-pitched whines escaped as he broke away to groan, hips stuttering his last few thrusts into your vice-like cunt. Only the ungodly amount of cum and slick already inside you allowed him to do that much. He held himself above you as he collected himself, eyes closed and hands flexing on your already bruised hips. He looked so calm, so human, like this. Your hard worn, stalwart Captain was gone, replaced with a bear of a man ready to satisfy himself with your body for the next couple days, thank you very much. A man with flushed cheeks, kiss-bitten lips, and soft eyes that you wanted to pull under the covers and keep with you until morning.

But that dream couldn’t become reality, not here or now, at least. Price sat back on his knees, popping under his weight, dragging your body back with a knee in each hand, in order to keep himself inside.

“Gather ‘round,” he called, rather tired, to the others. His eyes were still on you, running up and down your body wherever his hands couldn’t reach. “Doan wanna miss this.”

Gaz was the first to scramble to his feet, tucking himself away as he rounded the foot of the bed to claim a prime spot to Price’s right. To Price’s left, Ghost simply pushed himself to sit upright, hauling Soap with him. With a shake of his shoulder, Ghost roused Soap with a gruff, “wake up”. As soon as Soap’s remaining brain cells saw what was going on, he pulled himself upright too, leaning over to put himself in between Captain and Lieutenant.

With everyone in place, Price handed either of your knees to Gaz and Soap. They did their duty solemnly, the room silent with the anticipation of what was to come. Legs spread, Price pulled his cock from you, the head drawing a clear, sticky line across your thigh as he pulled back. Everyone moaned: you and Price at the sensation, everything overly sensitive and needy. Ghost, Gaz, and Soap groaned at just the sight of the mess they’d made of you.

What a mess you had to be. You couldn’t see it with your arms crossed over your face, but you could feel it. Not a second after Price’s cock had left you, you’d clenched unintentionally, dribbles of your own clear, milky slick sliding out of your pussy, waterfalling backwards and down to your taint to the crack of your ass.

Gaz pressed your knee to his cheek, his mouth forming a silent oh as he caressed your thigh with his other hand.

“Wait,” Price grunted, his almost supernatural ability to hone in on his men’s actions kicking in.

He slid his large hand up through your wet folds to stroke his middle and ring fingers around your clit. A whine punched from your lungs, his stimulation making you clench again. This time, he got what he wanted. You felt the almost sickening sensation of globs of cum falling from you. A cacophony of groans and whines rang out around you as they all watched your clenching hole. Your cheeks were burning against your arms as Price’s fingers circled your clit. He teased you off an on, making you jump and clench, forcing more cum pour from your body until you were laying a puddle of it.

“What a fuckin’ sight,” Ghost grunted. You peeked out from under your arms at him. You watched as he reached in between Soap and Price to wipe a spatter of cum from your thigh with his bare hand.

“Yeah,” Gaz added dreamily.

Price shook his head in agreement, looking over each of his men before coming back to you.

“Sure is,” he said with a smile and a pat of your stomach. “Now that we’ve had our fun, boys, let’s get our medic cleaned up and taken care of.”

a/n: IT'S DONE. I'VE FINALLY FINISHED SOMETHING!!! 🥳🥳🥳 please let me know if i missed a tag or if something is horribly wrong bc my brain is toast. Now I'm going to make myself something to eat and rot my brain with video games for the rest of the day!! love you all!! ❤️✌️

#mw2 #starry writes #141/reader #141 x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod mw2 #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #soap/reader #soap x reader #price/reader #price x reader

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 9 months

Text

Phantom pain

Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot

Word; 9k

Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.

You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.

With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.

Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.

Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.

"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.

"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.

"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"

"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.

"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".

"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".

"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.

"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".

"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".

"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.

"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".

"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.

"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".

"I can?"

"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".

"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.

"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".

"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".

You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days.

It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.

Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.

Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.

You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.

When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.

With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.

Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.

"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".

"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing.

A327. That was the room John apparently was in.

You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one.

324. 325. 326.

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.

With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.

"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.

John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form.

He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.

"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.

"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.

You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.

"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.

"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.

John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this.

You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.

"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.

Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him.

"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"

"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.

"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.

John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to.

You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions.

You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards.

Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless.

Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips.

"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".

You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.

"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.

"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.

"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.

A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.

"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.

"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.

"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".

Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse.

You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong.

You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless.

Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.

When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.

"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.

"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.

You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside".

Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.

Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.

When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.

You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.

You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.

"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.

"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"

"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".

”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head.

”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.

"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".

"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".

"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.

"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".

"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.

Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen.

You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.

Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.

You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.

Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.

"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.

Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.

The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".

"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room.

"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting.

When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.

"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.

"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.

"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.

"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.

As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you.

"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".

"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".

"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.

"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.

You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season.

Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh.

Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest.

You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well.

In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same.

Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.

You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.

If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.

His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side.

Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.

As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly.

You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.

"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.

You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".

"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night".

Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".

"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.

"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.

"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.

You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.

"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.

"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.

The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot.

It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes.

When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you.

This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.

A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.

"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.

"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"

"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.

He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".

"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.

"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.

"Thank you, really".

The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.

***

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base.

You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.

It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.

Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.

You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed.

Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.

You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need.

A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.

”Good morning”.

Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”

”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.

”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.

”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.

“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.

”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.

”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.

It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.

”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.

”And you don’t have better things to do?”

”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.

”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.

”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?”

Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?”

”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.

The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.

”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.

”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.

”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.

”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.

The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door.

Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.

”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.

”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat.

”I am”.

”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.

”I-

”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.

He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.

”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”

He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress.

You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.

His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.

”When was the last time you showered?”

”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.

”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”.

A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.

”How long before you can take them off?”

”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.

You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.

”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.

”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.

"Can't wait".

It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed.

You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.

Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.

But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.

You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.

With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.

The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.

By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.

You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.

John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.

"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.

"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.

"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"

"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".

Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".

You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.

It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".

"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.

"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you".

"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.

Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.

"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.

"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink.

While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.

"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.

Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs.

While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.

As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.

”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.

The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.

With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.

"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.

When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.

Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor.

Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.

You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp.

After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.

Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.

”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.

”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.

”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.

”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.

”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile.

You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.

When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you.

”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.

”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.

”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands.

John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.

You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo.

You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.

Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard.

You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands.

As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back.

Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard.

Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously.

The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his.

Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.

John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.

He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.

John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.

”Don’t”.

"I didn’t say anythin'"

You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".

"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.

You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"

"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".

"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".

"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.

"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.

"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".

Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.

"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".

"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.

"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".

Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".

"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead.

His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.

"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.

You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".

"Where you do everythin’".

"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.

"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.

"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".

"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".

"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.

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m-jelly · 2 months

Note

actress reader x levi where reader does a seggs scene with someone else and levi sees it on film and gets jealous? all fluff!

The panting and slight hums didn't seem familiar, but it was still you. Clearly, you were wearing something to cover your body, but it was still you. The way you smiled at the alien lover was believable to everyone but Levi because he knew your real smile, but it was still you.

"Levi?" You walked into the living room with a gift you'd bought him. "Leviii?" You looked up and saw what was on the TV. "Oh, that's my new movie!" You hurried around the sofa and sat next to Levi. "What do you think?" You hugged his arm and smiled. "I finally got to do a space movie like I always dreamed of!"

Guilt hit Levi hard, he felt bad that he'd gotten jealous over a sex scene in a movie you had dreamed of doing. He knew you loved space and now you were this incredible space Captain like Commander Shepard from a game you adored.

"I uh..." He shifted in his seat. "You are incredible in this movie. You play the Captain so perfectly. Your fight scenes are so impressive. Your character is so kind, sweet, strong and fair. You're impressive." He released a long sigh. "You..." He pouted hard. "Your romance...with the handsome alien man?"

You tilted your head. "Mm?"

"It was...it..." He huffed. "Did you have to have sex with him?"

You frowned a moment. "I didn't?"

He pointed at the TV. "You're naked with him right there!"

You looked at the TV to see the morning after. "Oh, you mean the sex scene? God, those are so fucking awkward. You have to be all taped up, there are hot lights over you, lots of people watching. You get directed to do every single move. They keep saying cut to adjust makeup and hair. I had makeup in odd places. Every blemish, mole or tattoo had to go. I felt very far from me possible. Plus, my co-star's makeup and prosthetics had to be fixed cause he had them all over his body."

Levi's jealousy slowly reduced. "Really? Is it that bad?"

You whined. "Yes. I really hate doing them for movies. I ask for them to take them out. I don't think they add to the movie or TV shows at all." You hugged your legs. "Plus, it's out there for everyone to see. Makes me feel a bit sick knowing some guy has it on repeat and he's just.." You sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see it. I'm trying to stop them."

He yanked you into his arms and held you. "I didn't realise they're so awkward and what it could mean also." He kissed your cheek a few times before kissing you. "I love you."

"I love you so much."

He held you against him. "My precious brat."

You snuggled up to him. "I did love that movie. I'm excited to do a second one with the character, but it will also mean possibly another sex scene." You threw yourself against Levi. "I don't really want to."

Levi rubbed your back. "Poor brat." He massaged his fingers in your hair. "How about I be the body double?" He smiled when you gazed at him. "I know some actors and actresses get their partner to stand in for kissing scenes and sex scenes so it's less awkward. So?"

You grinned. "That'd be amazing! I'd love to suggest that." You cupped his face. "You'd look sexy as an alien." You kissed the end of his nose. "I just want to ravage you."

Levi dragged you onto his lap. "That sounds exciting."

You straddled him and cupped his face. "Levi, you're the only man for me." You gasped. "I got you a gift!"

"Really?"

You showed him a ring box and opened it. "I saw this on my way back from my interview and I thought it was perfect for you."

Levi gazed at the black ring. "It's incredible...I can't believe you're proposing...I was going to this weekend on our date!" He shifted you off him and hurried to his office before running back to you. He sat on the sofa and presented you with a ring. "See?"

You gazed at the ring, it was so perfect and delicate. "Levi..."

His smile slowly faded and a blush consumed his cheeks. "You weren't proposing."

You giggled. "Well, I have been thinking about it. I love you, Levi. I want to marry you. So, will you marry me?"

He growled as he said your name. "Will you marry me? I was thinking it first."

"Yes."

He kissed you. "Yes." He slipped your ring on your finger. He took the black ring and put it on his hand. "I can't believe that a sex scene led to our engagement."

You dove at him as you giggled. "Yes. My handsome Levi. I love you."

He gripped you tightly. "I love you more."

Tag list under the read more.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity

@nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08

@levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife

@demonic-bird @searriously

#levi ackerman #levi #aot levi #snk levi #aot fanfiction #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi fanfiction #fanfic #levi x reader #levi x yn #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #jelly fanfic #jelly fanfics

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

just saw your last post about Lando filming and now I need to read a smut fic about it like him trying to control himself but he just has to fuck reader so he stops filming and she's like "why'd you stop" and he's like "you're too hot babe" or something along these lines

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

Lando didn’t have many regrets in his life, but this was definitely up there.

To be fair, the tripod you had bought had been on its last legs for a while (no pun intended), and you had been meaning to invest in a new and better one for a while. But like most things, you had kept putting it off until eventually the tripod fell apart and you were left with finally purchasing a new one after so many weeks of hoping tape and books tucked under the legs would be good enough.

The issue was that it wouldn’t arrive for another few days, which left you tripod-less when you were scheduled to release a video in the next two days. You had tried balancing it on the edge of your nightstand, on a massive pile of textbooks and even a chair.

But the angle was never right and it was starting to frustrate you.

So, Lando being the good boyfriend he was and being home in between races, he offered to be your cameraman. It would be a different angle, a more perspective side rather than your camera being set up at the end of your bed. It would be good, or so he kept telling you. And he wanted to help you, he really did.

But he really didn’t think his offer through because now he was standing at the edge of your bed, gripping your camera between his fingers and pretending like his cock wasn’t rock hard and straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Fuck,” you cried out, your head thrown back against the pillows.

You looked wrecked. You had been teasing yourself for the better part of the last half an hour, and he was forced to watch every single second of it. He was forced to watch the way you laid across your silk sheets in the white two piece lace set that he definitely had never seen before. He was forced to watch you tease and play with yourself, a vibrator placed over your clothed cunt as you whined and preened until you soaked through the material. He was forced to watch as you sunk your fingers inside yourself, letting out needy gasps that he just wished was his name.

He was forced to watch and he was quickly losing his patience.

But his breaking point was when when you looked at him, your lids hooded and your lips swollen from biting on them so much—-and he just couldn’t take it.

You barely had time to take in the fact he shut the camera off, placing it on your desk before he was crawling over you, his lips pressed against yours in mere seconds. You instantly sunk into his embrace, moaning in relief as you felt his tongue swipe along your bottom lip.

“What are you doing?” you murmured breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut when he began to leave a trail of kisses down the column of your neck.

“Couldn’t fucking take it anymore,” he grumbled, his teeth scraping along the spot at the base of your neck that had you arching into him. “Watching you in this little fucking number, whining and begging and looking so pretty.”

“Lando,” you gasped.

“I needed to taste you, Angel,” he mumbled as he pulled back enough to look down at you, to take in the way your needy eyes looked up at him. His eyes never left yours as he reached for your hand, your fingers still wet and glistening with your arousal. His head dipped down, his mouth wrapping around your fingers as he licked them clean, a low moan sounded from the back of his throat.

“Lando, please,” you whined.

“That’s right, baby,” he murmured as he moved to rest between your legs, his arms curling around your thighs and his hands pinning your hips to the mattress. “Say my name, Angel.”

Your fingers gripped the silk sheets into tight fists. “What about the video?”

His grin was boyish as he looked up at you. “We can make our own video first, Angel. A lil’ thing for me and you.”

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bjtch-craft · 9 months

Text

"I'm a Rockstar Babe"

Todd Ingram X Bottom Male! Reader

☆ Summary: [Name] reunites with an old high-school friend turned rockstar things take a turn when they restart their old high-school ways.

☆ NSFW

☆Request: Yes or No

☆ Word count: 2,836

☆Genre: Angst to Smut (Kinda)

☆Warnings: Smut, degradation, manipulation (kinda, tbh I just tried making him cocky but rereading it it sounds like bro is manipulating), Bl♡wjobs, slapping, just douchy rockstar things, spitting (he's one of those ppl)

☆Authors note: Dude, I rewatched the movie and reread the novels, and why is Todd so mf fine like WHAT? And why are there no stories about this man? Anyways enjoy!! (P.s this has been in my drafts for like 2 months now and I've never finished editing it for some reason...)

Also look at the comic version of him like WHAT A CUTIE like yeah sure he's arrogant, narcissistic, uncaring, and may or may not be a pathological liar, and a walking red flag but like that red looking a little orange so??? PRAYING SOME OF YALL READ THIS!!

Did this count as being a groupie? No. It's not like I'm some obsessed super fan like Joseph I mean for fucks sake I knew Todd in high school [Name] thought as he lay on the mattress of the cheap motel room waiting for Todd to get out of the shower.

10:15 P.M. - some time earlier

[Name] was shoved and pushed around by the hundreds of thousands of fans who had gathered to watch the band play. The band in question was none other than The Clash at Demonhead. [Name] new one of the members (while technically two if you count Envy but they didn’t know each other. They were more of acquaintances really.) Todd Ingram who he was close friends with. Really close.

He'd given him head a couple of times (and slept with him too) but that didn't mean anything to them (yes it did.) it was what Todd considered a "bro-job" whatever the fuck that was. But that's not important (yes it is) what is important is how quickly their friendship ended after he got with Envy. They tried to keep in touch but after the band blew the absolute fuck up he cut ties with him.

Did it hurt? Yes. A lot. But [Name] didn't let it get to him he still supported Todd even if Todd himself didn't know it. [Name] bought every CD, vinyl, and cassette tape, and got tickets to most shows. He even tried to get backstage passes to rekindle his relationship with Todd but the prices were far out of his price range.

There have been times when for a quick second he'd seen Todd after a show or two and waved to him or said a quick word but he didn't recognize him. Which also hurt. How can you not recognize someone you spent almost TEN YEARS of your life with? But [Name] was determined to catch up with his best friend so after pulling a couple of night shifts and saving up some money he... still didn’t have enough.

10: 50 P.M.

"Todd's so hot!"

"Jesus Envys even hotter in person!"

"Why's that chick got a robotic arm?"

These are just some of the things [Name] heard throughout the event which was on the verge of ending.

12:10 A.M. - Later

The concert was over and [Name] pushed and shoved his way out of the venue and quickly rushed towards the back of the building looking for the band.

"Come on please don't tell me I missed them!"

His shoes thudded against the gravel, and as he rounded the corner a gate came into view.

"No. No, no, no, no!"

The gate door was slid open. How safe right?

"Envy? Do you wanna get a bite to eat or something?"

[Name] stopped for a moment as he saw Todd standing there his guitar case in hand talking to Envy. He took a deep breath and stepped through the gates. Fuck?

"T-todd?"

Todd turned to look at him a look of shock and anger upon his face.

"Who the hell let you in" Todd asked as he stepped closer to [Name] his voice coming off as aggressive as his eyes and hair started to glow.

"N-no one the gate was open."

"So you just snuck in?"

"I'm [Name], [First name], [Last name] we went to high school together. Remember?"

Todd's eyes and hair stopped glowing as his hair drifted back down in front of his face.

"You're kidding?!"

Todd dropped his guitar case and ran up to [Name] his tough guy rockstar persona shedding completely. He threw his arms around [Name] and pulled him into his chest. [Name] could feel the heat rising to two places as his face was smushed into Todd's rather large pecs.

"Todd you're squishing me..." [Name] said his voice muffled.

"Sorry!" He pulled away. "Jesus it's been a long time since we've seen each other... I'm a Rockstar!"

"I can see that!"

"Todd, what the fuck is going on," Envy asked?

Todd turned to look at them wrapping his arm around [Name's] waist. "This is [Name] from high school! He's my best friend remember?"

"While to me he looks like a fucking groupie! Let's go" Envy replied.

"I'm not a groupie..."

"Do you think he can come back to the motel with us?"

"No."

"Find some other cheap motel to fuck in," The Bionic arm bitch said.

"He's not a groupie and we're not gonna fuck! He's my friend and I wanna catch up with him!"

"Find. Another. Motel." Envy said the tone of her voice showed her annoyance more than anything.

12:30 A.M.

And they did find a cheap motel in an extremely unsafe part of town. Fits the stereotype, huh? A rockstar takes one of his fans to a cheap rundown-looking motel just to get it in.

[Name] once again was hugging Todd but this time was looking up at him.

"I'm so sorry for ghosting you [Name]."

"It's fine."

Todd's hands traveled down [Name's] back and reached his ass and groped it firmly, making [Name] let out an involuntary yelp. He pushed Todd off of him, causing the blonde boy to let out a laugh.

"What's the matter [Name] just like old times!"

"Todd aren't you dating Envy or something?"

He shifted his weight on his feet annoyingly.

"I'm a Rockstar babe we don't date," Todd said cockily.

"Oh?"

"I'm gonna hop in the shower. I know I reek of sweat... care to join me?"

"Smooth Todd.... real smooth."

He winked at [Name] and waltzed into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. After a minute or two he heard the shower go on.

"Do I wanna do this... again?"

The first time [Name] and Todd ever did anything together was on his eighteenth birthday. They were both unbelievably drunk, and both were bored lying on Todd's bed in silence. One of them now and then would say something, and they would have a short conversation.

"H-heyyy~ [Name] can I ask you for a favor," Todd asked his words coming out slurred.

"Yeah- hic! What'sss ~'s up?"

"Do you think you could um... s-suck me off?"

"Why?"

"Well, I'm one drunk! And two horny as fuck~! So can you?"

"You know what fuck it! You are my best friend!"

[Name] slid his basketball shorts off and then his boxers and grabbed at his length.

"I've never done this before so um... bear with me~."

Todd nodded his head a goofy grin on his face. "Do it as if someone's doing yours."

[Name] took him into his mouth slowly going down inch by inch the girth was almost too much to handle. Almost.

But that was years ago. They were two dumb eighteen-year-olds who were just helping each other out. But [Name] didn't feel that way anymore... but reminiscing on their old days made [Name] slowly begin to get hard in the shorts Todd had given him.

[Name] rubbed himself through the fabric and pushed down on it, making him release a soft moan. He needed Todd he didn't realize how badly he did until right then and there. The door opened to the bathroom, and [Name] quickly through the blanket over his lap.

Todd walked out with just a towel around his waist, his bulge catching [Names] eye as well as his body, which was still wet and glistened in the light.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting another pair of boxers, I forgot to bring them into the shower..." Todd looked at [Name] and noticed the tent that was forming underneath the blanket. "Aw, are you happy to see me like this again, baby?"

"What! No!"

"Come on..." He said huskily. The cockiness was back. "I heard you moan... were you thinking of the times I fucked you? The times you begged me to fill you up? The times I came on that pretty face of yours?"

[Name] could feel his cock growing harder with each question.

"N-no" [Name] whimpered out.

Todd walked to the side of the bed grabbed [Name's] hand and placed it on his groin.

"You miss my fat cock don't you," He asked his voice sounding oddly humiliating.

"I don't have to say anything."

Todd started to move his hips grinding his bulge against the palm of [Names] hand.

"Todd we can't... you have a girlfriend."

"I told you we rockstars don't really - truly date, and if anything, it's just another bro-job, remember?"

[Name] pulled his hand away and sat up and using both hands opened Todd's towel up causing his cock to pop out and slap against his happy trail.

"Fuck~," [Name] whispered out.

[Name] reached out and pumped his cock twice.

"Yeah that's it~ I know you fucking missed it haven't you?"

[Name] let go of Todd's cock and adjusted his position so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Todd backed up a little.

"Please don't like- hurt me that much. Please?"

Todd chuckled and ran his hand through his wet hair.

"You sweet dumb thing, you know I can't promise that."

[Name] grabbed Todd's cock once more and spat on it and stroked him off spreading the saliva over his cock.

"I haven't done this in a long time... so I'm a little rusty."

Todd smiled down at him. The grin was a mixture of amusement and humiliation.

[Name] placed the tip on his tongue and licked it gently before wrapping his lips around it and slowly going down on it.

[Name] couldn't lie he truly did miss this. Not only did he enjoy it, but it honestly made them closer as friends.

[Name] gagged on the base as he looked up at Todd with tearful eyes.

"Aww you look so cute with my big cock in your mouth," Todd said softly his voice coated in lust as he gently patted [Name's] cheek.

[Name] began to slowly come off his cock before Todd placed a hand on the back of his skull and slammed him back down causing him to gag and for drool to pour out of the sides of his mouth.

"Mmm-hmm-agh." [Name] groaned out.

Todd pulled his cock out of the boy's mouth and slapped it on either side of the guy's cheek.

"You took it so well [Name]~."

[Name] looked up at Todd with innocent eyes, his tongue sticking out a little as he gasped for air.

"Jesus you look so fucking gorgeous."

"I-I think you bruised the back of my throat!"

Todd grabs [Names] chin as he angles his head straight aligning his cock with [Names] lips.

Todd spat on his cock (and on [Names] face) and slammed it down [Names] throat before pulling out. [Name] stuck out his tongue and licked a stripe down his cock.

"You're such a fucking slut baby. I bet you've been craving my cock since you heard about our band haven't you?"

[Name] nodded his head embarrassingly. Todd placed a hand on the back of [Names] head and leaned in, planting a kiss on his lips as his hands traveled down his body. His hands reached the bottom of the boy's shirt and began to pull it up over his head, breaking the kiss in the process.

Todd pushes [Name] down onto the bed by his chest and crawls on top of him, attacking his neck, causing [name] to let out a soft moan. Todd kisses down his neck while unbuckling [Names] belt and gently pulls them off along with his boxers.

"I don't reckon you have a condom do you?"

"I have one in my wallet in my left pocket," [Name] says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Todd grabs [Names] jeans off the floor and pulls out the condom from the wallet before discarding them back onto the floor.

Todd rips the wrapping of the condom off with his teeth and slides the rubber on. He places [Bames] legs on his shoulders and lines himself up at his entrance.

[Name] squeezes his eyes shut as Todd pushes himself into him. A sudden wave of pain and pleasure washes over him, causing him to grab onto the sheets, twisting them in his hands. A soft whimper escapes his lips as Todd continues to push deeper into him.

"Shit- Todd, you're so fucking- ngh~ big!" [Name] whimpered out, causing Todd to look down at him with a cocky grin.

Todd had pushed himself into the other boy and slowly began to pull back out, only to slam back into him, which earned him a low groan.

"Does that feel good?"

[Name] nodded his head and let out a whimper. Todd began to rock his hips in and out of him, the tip occasionally brushing against his prostate. His thirst got faster and quicker he reached down and grabbed [Name's] hands and placed them above his head.

Todd began pounding into [Name]. The sound of skin against skin filled the room as well as screams of pleasure from both boys.

"Ugh~ F-fuck! You're going to har-!" [Name] wasn't able to finish his sentence as Todd delivered a gentle (but still hard) slap across his face.

"Don't tell me what the fuck to do!" Todd growled out.

[Names] cock twitched as pre-cum drizzled down his cock causing a moan to escape from his lips.

"Don't tell me you're into this shit you slut?"

"S-s-shut up Todd~"

Todd smirked and began rocking his hips.

"How bad do you want it?"

"W-what?" [Name] stuttered.

"I can pull out right now and leave and not let you finish you."

"Please don't~ I'll do anything!"

"Then admit it.'

"What?"

"Admit you're a filthy whore" Todd said his voice thick with lust.

"I'm not going to- ah~!"

Todd pulled out of [Name] leaving him feeling empty and somehow even more fucking desperate.

"Todd please" [Name] begged.

"Then say it."

"I-I’m a whore okay? Is that what you want to hear from me? I'm a fucking slut for you okay?!"

Todd looked down at [Name] with a cocky grin.

"Good boy."

Todd leaned back over [Name] and placed a soft kiss on his lips before pushing himself back into him. He wrapped his hand around [Name's] throat and began pounding into him. The sounds of skin against skin filled the room once again.

Todd raised his hand and brought it across [Names] face with enough power to cause a sting of pain leading [Name] to let out a dry moan.

"I can't believe your into this shit!" Todd said with a cheesy grin.

"Shut up!" The boy underneath him whined out.

Todd smirked and removed his hand from [Names] neck and grabbed him by the waist and slowed his thrusts.

"What are you- agh~!"

Todd pulled [Name] into him driving his cock deeper into him pushing past his prostate. [Names] jaw dropped as the sudden feeling causing a high pitched moan to erupt from his throat. Todd took this opportunity and grabbed his jaw holding it open and dipped his thumb into his mouth.

"Don't close your mouth got that?"

[Name] replied with a whimper as Todd's thurst became annoyingly slow as a string of spit slowly began to fall from his lips and landed in [Names] mouth.

[Named] closed his mouth after Todd gave him a look that practically yelled at him, too. Todd's slow thrust became faster and faster. Todd wrapped his hand around [Name's] dick and began jerking him off as [Name] placed his palm at the back of Todd's head.

"I'm so close!" Todd groaned out as his rhythm began to go out of sync.

His movements became harder and harder as he felt himself getting closer and closer to finishing.

"W-where- fuck~ where do you want it?" He moaned out.

"On me..."

Todd placed a hand behind [Names] head as his thurst became sloppy he spat once again at [Name] the salvia covering his face before pulling out and jerking himself off.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With one final moan ropes of cum erupted from his cock covering [Names] body in white ropes. Todd pumped [Name's] cock for a minute before he came their cum mixing on his stomach. Todd scooped up some of his cum off of the boy's body with his index finger and popped it into [Names] mouth.

"How's it taste?"

"Salty... can you get me a towel?"

1:35 AM

[Name] lay on the cheap hotel's mattress, his head on Todd's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Hey, have you ever thought of being a roadie?'

"A what?"

"A roadie helps the band set up... you could be one for us so we could keep in touch and..." He wrapped his hand around [Names] body and groped his ass "Have some more time to ourselves."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THIS MAN IS SO FINE ARGH. I NEED HIM SO BAD LIKE I WANT HIM TO FULLY REARRANGE MY INSIDES.

Authors note!!

Again, sorry for the break. School is still once again kicking my ass :) I do plan on writing more over Christmas break, but I do have like half-written stories in my drafts, so here are some of them. (Some of them have titles, but they are to be determined, so kill me or wtv) .

Darry Jenner x Male reader (Fluff)

Miguel Ohara x Male reader (Smut)

Chad Meeks x Male reader (TBD)

Simon Kalivoda x Male reader (Fluff)

#Spotify #scott pilgrim #todd ingram x male reader #brandon routh #i need this man so bad #scott pilgram vs the world #lgbtq #gay #todd ingram #todd ingram x reader

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honey-crypt · 2 months

Note

I was wondering if I could request stardew valley fic of a farmer with chronic vertigo and Sebastian alongside the ✨DISABILITY PRIDE MONTH WRITE-A-THON✨ (honestly gonna be my favourite write-a-thon) though idk if it’d count as much of a disability other than the balance issues, but at least a walking stick can be used to help balance if ya want ideas for it

a/n: i kinda struggled to write this, hence why it's a short fic. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: medical crisis, mentions of puke/puking

word count: 757

summary: sebastian is here to support you through another vertigo episode.

★ i got you, angel - sebastian x farmer who has chronic vertigo ★

Your eyes stared up at the ceiling while you remained motionless in your bed. The world around you appeared as if it was stuck on a bad tape rewind, your vision tripping and tripping. A burst of nausea struck you and you promptly vomited in the puke bucket on your nightstand. Trip, trip, trip, that was how the world went. Spin, spin, spin, you were trapped in that bed until the episode was over.

Down in the kitchen, Sebastian stirred the cup of tea, a blend of ginger and peppermint. He wasn’t sure if it was the antiemetic effects that made you enjoy it during your vertigo episodes, but nonetheless, the black-haired man knew that you loved that blend. Sebastian blew the steam off the tea and deemed it safe to consume, walking up the wooden steps into the bedroom.

“Hi, baby,” he greeted you with a small smile, “I brought you some tea, need me to set it down on the nightstand?” to which you answered with a weak thumbs up. Sebastian placed the cup of tea on the nightstand and laid down beside you, holding you close to his body. You curled up beside him and buried your face into his chest, the hoodie blocking your eyes from the spinning world.

Sebastian adjusted his position and secured you with an arm wrapped over your back. With his free hand, he reached out to the small radio on the other nightstand and turned the knob to the classical music station. A soft melody began to play and enveloped the bedroom in a symphony of violins and flutes. You nuzzled against Sebastian’s chest, the music gently lulling you off to sleep. You liked sleep, sleeping meant not dealing with the nausea, the blurry vision, and the fainting.

Sebastian rubbed your back with his hand, occasionally tracing shapes and patterns against your thin pajama top. Sometimes, Sebastian wished he could go into your brain and recalibrate everything; after all, he was a programmer at heart. He despised when problems couldn’t be solved. He wanted to fix you, to make you better.

Sebastian remembered the first time he saw you have a vertigo episode. It was early on in you two’s friendship, you moved to the valley only a month or so ago. The two of you were just chatting by the lake outside his house. The birds were chirping, the trees’ leaves rustled against the cold fall breeze.

One moment, you were fine, you were getting up from the ground; next thing he knew, Sebastian had to catch you in his arms, as the world around you turned into a never-ending carousel ride. You looked more embarrassed than scared, meekly clinging onto Sebastian like a small child. He carried you off to the clinic without a second thought, trying to mask his concern.

He looked back down at your sleeping form, feeling you inhale and exhale. Sebastian leaned forward carefully, not wanting to disturb your slumber, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The radio station switched to the next song, one featuring a full fledged orchestra and accompanied by a piano backtrack.

Sebastian struggled to understand the pain you went through every time you had a bout of vertigo. Sure, he experienced it before, usually when he got ear infections as a kid, but this was different. It was like you were a ticking time bomb and no one knew the next time the vertigo would strike.

He wanted to take away your pain. The doctors didn’t have any answers, they ran every test imaginable to try to find a diagnosis fitting of your condition. It was simply chronic vertigo, they said, and oh Yoba, how their indifference made Sebastian’s blood boil.

He knew that you were capable, always strict with yourself to make sure you attended your appointments with the vestibular disorder specialist and the otolaryngologist. He knew that you could handle yourself, but Yoba, did it shatter Sebastian’s heart into pieces when he would find you collapsed by the toilet after vomiting from the nausea or when he would see you cry your tears out because everything around you was moving too fast.

Sebastian peered down at you, his angel. He grabbed the discarded blanket from off the floor and covered the two of you with it. The song slowly came to an end with a final piano and violin harmony. Sebastian’s eyes grew heavy with sleep.

“I got you,” he mumbled aloud, “I got you, angel,” he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

#honey crypt disability pride month write a thon #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #stardew sebastian x reader #stardew sebastian x farmer #stardew valley sebastian x reader #stardew valley sebastian x farmer

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brewsterispunkk · 1 year

Text

THE TUTOR

eddie munson x reader

part 1/4

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader, eddie munson x shy!reader (only one use of y/n and I cringed writing it)

rating: 18+ mature! minors be gone!

summary: reader has had a secret crush on Eddie Munson for months, only she has been too scared to tell him. When she’s forced to tutor him, she lets it slip that she feels like she’s missed out on the normal “high school experience.” Eddie aims to change that.

A/N: this has been in my drafts since LAST MAY!!! & i am just now finishing it jfc. this is part one to a series I’m looking to make three parts! I’ll finish it if it’s the last thing I do!

You hated first period. Always had, ever since sophomore year when you’d had AP literature with the juniors and Carol Perkins had made it her life’s work to make your life a living hell.

You didn’t know exactly what you had done to make her hate you so much, but early on in the year, she’d made it abundantly clear that you were going to be her new target. And you, being the only awkward, braces-faced sophomore in the class, had elected to suck it up and take the bullying.

After all, she was telling you everything you already knew; your hair was frizzy, your teeth were crooked, your acne was ugly and awful. The usual things that you, with the same awful self esteem that was characteristic of every knobby-kneed 14-year-old, had already heard and already believed.

Eventually, when your study-buddy and the only other underclassman in the class, Nancy Wheeler, found out about the full extent of the bullying, she’d done something about it. She had just started dating Steve Harrington at that point, and despite his larger than life hair and not so great reputation, he was nice to you by association. He was the one who got Carol to stop.

Still though, you thought that that god-awful year of excruciating first-period classes had ruined them for you for good; conditioned you somehow into expecting the worst from your first class of the day so that now, as a senior, you still dreaded it.

Today was no different.

You tapped your foot distractedly in the back seat of Steve’s car as he pulled out of your neighborhood.

“For the last time, Robin, no you cannot play the new Clash cassette. Put it away—“

“Oh come on, Harrington. It’s good.” Robin sighed exasperated. She’d been your next door neighbor since you were five, and your best friend ever since.

“Oh, oh! Like the new Madonna album?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at Robin in the passenger seat.

“Or the Duran Duran one?” You piped in, biting your nails and looking at her expectantly. Immediately, her head whipped back to you, mouth open in a silent gasp.

“Wha—“ she made a choked sound, looking between you and Steve before bringing her gaze back to you, narrowing her eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

“Uhm, the side of good music.” You countered, playfully sassing your best friend.

“Wow..” she drawled dramatically, interrupting you.

“And right now,” you continued. “Harrington has the better mixtape. Sorry!” You batted her hand away as she reached back to smack your arm.

“Boom!” Steve declared triumphantly, raising his hands from the wheel for a split-second. “Sorry, Robs, we love you but if I have to listen to one more of your mix tapes, I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, yeah! I get it.” Robin was silent for a moment before turning around to glance between the two of you. “You know, every day I remember how it was me that got this little group together, and every day it comes back to bite me in the ass.”

“Oh right,” Steve scoffed. “You’re forgetting, I’ve known y/n since junior year, and I’ve only known you for like, I don’t know, nine months.”

“Okay, but you two weren’t friends.” She gave Steve a pointed look. “It wasn’t until I convinced her to come work with us at Scoops Ahoy that we all started hanging out. So what I should be hearing is ‘thank you Robin.’”

In the rear view, you saw Steve roll his eyes at her antics, a smirk on his face.

“Actually,” you pointed out. “Steve and i hung out almost every day sophomore year.”

“Yeah,” Robin pressed. “But that was because of miss prissy-pants, Nancy Wheeler, not because you two were friends.”

You bristled a bit at your best friend’s name for Nancy. You knew she probably didn’t mean anything by it, but still. She didn’t know Nancy like you did. And Nancy had been nice to you when you didn’t have many friends besides Robin. She’d made it her problem when you were being bullied and did what she could to stop it, when she didn’t have to.

You and Nancy hadn’t really talked much since she and Steve broke up. Even after the whole ordeal last summer, with the mall “fire,” and Russian agents in Hawkins, you two hadn’t really reconnected. But there was no bad blood there. You wished her the best.

“I don’t know, Robs,” Steve interjected. “I think she gets bragging rights for knowing me longer.”

You laughed at that.

“Oh whatever,” Robin shook her head, leaning her elbow on Steve’s open window, bopping her head to the music pouring through the speakers.

“Good god, I don’t wanna be going back there.” She groaned as Hawkins High came into view. “It’s not too late to skip you know.” She craned her head back to look at you, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“I’m highly considering it.” You bounced your knee, trying to relieve some of the tension in your limbs.

“Ugh, no I can’t.” Robin exasperated. “My moms gonna kill me if she finds out I skipped again.”

There goes my chance, you thought, knowing there’s no way you’d skip without her.

“Yeah, I do not miss this place, gotta say.” Steve mused as he pulled into the parking lot. Robin rolled her eyes at him. You chuckled. They fought like an old married couple.

“I have Ms. Taylor first period,” you groaned at the memory of the stern, mean older woman who you had for home room this semester.

“Oh god,” Steve laughed. You smacked his shoulder. “Well, good luck with that. I’ll see you two at 3.”

You and Robin begrudgingly exited Steve’s car, facing the pit of despair known as Hawkins High School.

Thank god this was your last year, you thought to yourself.

As you eyed down the beige brick building, you could’ve sworn you felt a bit of your soul get sucked out. It may sound dramatic, but it was true. You felt yourself retreat into yourself the closer you got.

Something about Hawkins high just did that to people. Made them retreat and put on whatever mask they had to go get through the day. You were no exception.

“Let’s get this over with,” Robin mumbled beside you, beginning to walk toward the doors.

“Let’s.” You sighed back.

- - - - - -

There was one aspect of first period English with Ms. Taylor that you considered a saving grace—not that you’d ever admit it out loud.

Eddie Munson.

You weren’t sure why it started, if you were honest with yourself.

In fact, at the beginning of the year, you, like everyone else, were actually a little bit terrified of the lanky, tall metalhead that the rest of the school had dubbed “the freak.”

Before this year, you hadn’t really had many encounters with Eddie Munson. You’d known of him, sure, but never really interacted with him. Besides the few random outbursts he’d have in the cafeteria, and one time when you’d given him a pencil in your art elective freshman year, you’d kept your distance. Most of what you’d heard about him came from the kids; which meant they were lies, at worst, and exaggerations at best. You could tell they admired him from the way they spoke of him—Dustin in particular, who had spoken of Eddie in the way he’d only ever spoken of one person before: Steve. But that was the extent of your knowledge.

Eddie had been two years ahead of you technically, although now he was a senior, same as you, and stuck in the same miserable first period English class with Ms. Taylor.

It had started out innocent enough, you liked to tell yourself. You weren’t always swooning over him and his leather jackets or studded rings. It had just snowballed.

It had begun like this: it was the first day of your senior year, and to add to your nerves at a new dreadful year, Ms. Taylor had given you, and all your classmates, assigned seats.

Great, you’d thought. Just great. Now you had to sit next to a complete stranger while also being a complete ball of anxiety all class.

You were early. Much to your chagrin, Steve had insisted on picking you and Robin up earlier than usual because it was your first day, and what if you have trouble finding your classes. Completely ignoring the fact that you and Robin had gone to Hawkins High for three years and knew it like the back of your hand.

Still, it had gotten you here, 15 minutes early to the first bell, trapped in a room with no one other than Ms. Taylor, and Eddie Munson himself.

“You’ll be right there, beside Mr. Munson.” Ms Taylor had drawled monotonously, eyes focused on a stack of papers on her desk.

You froze, looking over at Eddie, who was scribbling down in a notebook in the second to last row of desks from the back. He looked up at you for a moment before going back to his writing.

“Did you hear me?” Ms Taylor said your last name. You snapped out of it, smiling over at her and gripping the strap to your backpack before making your way to the seat.

“Yeah. Sorry, Ms. Taylor.”

You sat down rigidly, looking anywhere but at Eddie. Ms Taylor left the room to refill her coffee cup in the teacher’s lounge, leaving you and him the only people in the room.

You felt your hands begin to shake at the impending doom of first period rolling around. You knew it was dumb; it’d been two years since the first-period-from-hell, and you still couldn’t shake your fear of home room. You clasped them together, folding your fingers on top of each other on the desk, trying to calm your breathing. Your heart pounded in your ears.

“Look, you can relax, okay,” Eddie’s annoyed voice beside you snapped you out of it. “I won’t bite.”

You looked over at him, his face looked impatient, though if you looked closely, you thought you could detect a little bit of hurt there too. Your eyebrows furrowed, before you realized what he must have been thinking.

He thought you were scared of him.

It made sense, though that was far from what was going through your head.

“No,” you began quietly, before clearing your throat. “That’s not what I—that’s not—that’s not it.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbled, eyebrows raised as he continued writing.

That was the day it started. The watching him.

It’d begun as a way of coping; a way to distract yourself from Ms. Taylor’s droning on about Shakespeare, or the whispers of the two mean girls who sat at the front and liked to glance back at you and snicker.

Your therapist had mentioned the method to you a few months before, a way to maybe cope with your anxiety in anticipation with the upcoming school year. It was a method that your shrink had described as a way of ‘hyper-focusing’, or concentrating on one thing until the anxiety wore away.

And in the haze of your first day, you’d focused on Eddie.

But eventually, as the year wore on, it developed into something different.

You began to notice his hair; how it would fall over his face as he frowned in concentration at whatever he was writing in that book. His hands, big and flanked with gaudy silver rings. You began to wonder how they’d feel on your skin, running through your hair, over your stomach.

It was almost a type of game you played with yourself; a form of escapism. On days your anxiety got too much, the days your hands would sweat and your feet couldn’t cease their tapping, you could look beside you and focus on Eddie. And it would all fall away.

You supposed that’s why you kept your little obsession a secret; it was embarrassing.

Not the fact that you were infatuated with him, but the fact that you’d been using practically a complete stranger to talk yourself down from anxiety attacks. You hadn’t even told Robin, the person you shared everything with. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that this wasn’t some little crush or admiration—it was more than that.

But you refused to admit that to yourself, because there was one huge, glaring problem. That being that Eddie Munson hated you. You were sure of it.

It was as if after the awkward encounter you’d shared at the beginning of the year, he avoided you like the plague. Not looking, talking, or even so much as breathing your way once. And the one time when you’d gotten the nerve to ask him a question, he’d barely grunted out a response before the had rung and he was gone.

That had been the first and last time you’d attempted to talk to Eddie Munson. Your crush was doomed, you knew it. Not only were you convinced he couldn’t stand you, you also were almost positive that he still thought you were scared of him, like he did at the beginning of the year.

Which, to be fair, you were. Just not in that way. As far as Eddie was concerned, you were scared of him in the judgy, superficial, ill-intentioned way that the rest of Hawkins was, not in the butterflies, tongue-tied, make-your-hands-sweat way that you truly were.

Besides, even if you were the most confident person in the world (you were far from it), and if Eddie didn’t, for some inexplicable reason, hate you, you were sure that you would have absolutely no chance with him anyway. Because why would Eddie Munson, all crooked smiles and sure steps and kind eyes, be even the least bit interested in you? It was inconceivable. Because you were shy and scared and binary and everything he was not.

So, you’d deduced that you were doomed to wait out this life-ruining crush the same way you’d been doomed to wait out countless other things in your high school life: silently.

- - - - -

Today was no different than the other nearly insufferable first periods you’d endured this school year, aside from the fact that today was Monday, which brought with it a more tired you, and a much, much more irritable Ms Taylor.

She’d assigned two detentions so far this period, to Bradley Green and Doug Mitchell, two boys from the basketball team that had been throwing spitballs and harassing Eddie, who merely smirked at them in response, effectively egging them on.

You glanced at the clock, tapping your foot subconsciously on the off-white tile below your feet.

5 minutes left, you reminded yourself, watching the clock tick down. Your hands started to clam up. Perfect.

You let out a shaky breath. A few rows in front of you, Pam Simpson and Diana Fiorelli glanced back, eyes zeroing in on you, before Pam snickered and leaned over to whisper into Diana’s ear.

This wasn’t new; they always had some off-color remark or an unnecessary eye-roll to throw at you ever since they found out about your close friendship with Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High.

How two nerds like yourself and Robin Buckley had managed to bag someone as popular as Steve the hair Harrington as a best friend seemed to be beyond them, and they sought everyday to punish you for it.

The truth was: Steve had left all of that behind. From the wake-up call that was his break-up with Nancy, to the whole fighting-monsters-from-another-dimension thing, he didn’t really care about it anymore. He’d found better friends in you guys. The whole Russians-in-Hawkins, and Starcourt “fire” helped too.

It was true what they said about trauma: it brought people together.

You tried to ignore their whispering, like Robin had encouraged you.

She was absolutely livid when she’d found out that Diana had “accidentally,” spilled her yogurt parfait over your new blouse last week. It had taken a whole five minutes of both you and Steve talking her down from her stupor to stop her from marching straight to the gymnasium, interrupting cheer practice, and giving Diana a black eye. After though, when you’d managed to calm your best friend down, she’d gone off—trying to convince you to stick up for yourself, to say something. If not to the mean girls themselves, then to Ms Taylor at the very least.

But that was the difference between you and Robin; where she would act, you would listen. Remain passive. It was a trait that served you well when it came to retaining information or solving upside-down-related issues, in situations like these, it kind of screwed you over.

You turned your head from the front of the classroom, blocking out Ms Taylor’s lecture on T. S. Elliot and instead turning your head to the desk beside yours. Eddie’s desk.

He was hunched over, head on his hands, which were crossed and folded on top of the desk in front of him. His chin rested there, and his dark eyes were focused on the board, squinting, as if trying to make out what it said.

He seemed to be trying to pay attention, a stark contrast to how you usually saw him hunched over around his worm notebook, scribbling or drawing.

He wore dark blue jeans today, instead of his usual black ones, and a Quiet Riot band T-shirt . His leather jacket was draped over the chair behind him, as Ms Taylor’s room was hot today. His hair fell messily over his back and in front of his face. His ringed fingers tapped on the desk—he was evidently as anxious for the class to end as you were.

You knew he had trouble focusing. You’d picked up on as much throughout the school year, watching him try and try and try to stay locked in to whatever Ms Taylor was teaching.

So many of your classmates had written him off: cult leader, satanist, idiot, freak, but you saw something different. The Eddie you knew (well, not really knew, more like observed) was none of those things. He was different, yes. Flamboyant, sure. But he was not an idiot. Nor was he evil or freakish or anything of the sort.

The ringing of the bell snapped you from your thoughts. You jerked your head back to your desk as your classmates began to pack up and bustle out to their next classes, the sound of backpacks zipping and chatter filling the classroom.

Per usual, Eddie was the first out of his seat, already packed and ready, before leaving the classroom with long strides, eyes trained on the floor, narrowly avoiding your gaze.

You shoved your notebook into your bag, bending over to zip it up and run like hell out of the classroom. You hoped to avoid any unnecessary contact with Pam and Diane. Ms Taylor cleared her throat, before saying your name.

“I’d like to see you for a moment, please,” she said monotonously, eyes focused on the grade book in front of her. A shot of anxiety spread through your stomach.

“Yes, Ms Taylor?” You asked quietly, noting that you were the only two people left in the classroom.

“You have one of the top grades in the class, second only to Mr. Levy, did you know that?” She asked, still not looking up. You puzzled. So you weren’t in trouble?

“Uh-I-no, I didn’t, actually.” You mumbled, brows furrowed.

“Indeed,” she hummed. “I also have been made aware that you are lacking an extracurricular for graduation, is that correct?”

Shit, you thought. She was right.

Last summer, you’d been set to take a summer gym elective; the ones that the school offered during the school year were too crowded and made your anxiety act up, so you and Robin had both signed up to take summer gym. However, the upside-down and the Russians’ presence in Hawkins at Starcourt had had other plans, so both you and her had failed the class, due to bad attendance. And while Robin had made sure to complete her gym credit last semester, you’d completely forgotten about the whole debacle until now.

“Yeah,” you breathed, in shock that you’d managed to forget about something so important when graduation was only months away. “I-I forgot—“

“I figured as much,” Ms Taylor cut you off, finally looking up at you. “Well, seeing as it’s too late in the semester to sign you up for any electives, it would seem that you’ll be having to repeat your senior year.”

Your breath left your lungs.

No, you thought, no, no, no. The last thing you could handle was another year stuck here. In this high school, in this city. You felt your breathing stutter at the thought.

“Luckily for you,” Ms Taylor continued, refocusing you on the moment. “I have a solution that may just save you from that.”

You blew out a breath between your lips, looking at her anxiously.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Anything— I completely forgot about—“

“I trust you’re familiar with Mr. Munson?” She interrupted you. Your brows furrowed. What did Eddie have to do with this?

“Yes.”

“Well, then I’m sure you’re aware that this will be his second time repeating his senior year.” Ms Taylor looked up at you now, her beady eyes laser-focused. “If he fails again, the school won’t be giving him another chance. It would seem that this class is one of the only things standing between him and a one-way ticket out of this school.”

“I dont think I follow—“ you began.

“You will tutor Mr Munson.” She clarified, face stoic as ever. “From now until the end of the spring semester. If you do this, and if I see improvement, I will make it count as your extracurricular. You’ll be able to graduate on time, and he will get the hell out of my classroom for good.”

You were stunned—not only by the fact that you’d be forced into proximity Eddie Munson for the rest of the year, but the fact that Ms Taylor would speak so candidly about a student.

“I—I-“ you tried to articulate what to say next, but found you were unable to gather your thoughts.

“I can’t,” you finally managed, dumbly. Ms Taylor raised a thin eyebrow at you.

“Well,” she said. “It seems that unless you want to repeat your senior year, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“But, Ms Taylor, I—“

“Look,” she sighed your name. “You’re a smart girl. Mr Munson may be… a handful, but I promise he’s harmless. You will be fine. You can even meet on the school premises, if you’d feel better about that.”

Dear Lord, you didn’t know how to tell her that the reason why you couldn’t tutor him was not because of his reputation, or that you were scared of him, it was because you could barely form a coherent thought in his presence.

“Are we clear?” She asked, arms crossed. You tried to speak, but your mouth was dry. You just gulped and nodded.

“Good,” she smiled tightly. You sighed, turning to leave, already knowing you’d be late to your next class. She called your name as you began to exit, your hand on the door handle.

“Just know, I will be checking weekly with Mr Munson to see how tutoring is going. So don’t think that if you fail to show up I won’t know.”

You nodded, shutting the door behind you as you left.

Great. No escaping it. What if you embarrassed yourself? What if he really did hate you? What if—

“Hey.”

You jumped, too caught up in your thoughts to even notice the tall, lanky figure leaning up against the lockers next to Ms Taylor’s classroom.

“Jesus, sorry.” Eddie looked at you with wide eyes, an arm coming to steady you on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

When you just stared at him, he cleared his throat, removing his hand from your shoulder. A part of you mourned the loss.

“So, uh,” he began, looking down at his feet as he walked alongside you. You tried not to notice the faint scent of his cologne that sent a thrill through your gut. “So I guess she told you? About the tutoring?”

When his curly head snapped up to meet your eyes, you quickly faced forward, realizing that you’d been ogling his side profile while he was stumbling over his words. You nodded in confirmation.

“Ok,” he said, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Ok,” he repeated, stopping and turning to face you. “I’m just gonna cut the bullshit: I really, really need the help in this class.” His eyes were a bit wild, panicked. Like he thought you were going to run away from him the moment you got a chance. “Like, ‘really,’ as in, if I don’t pass, I don’t graduate. And I know you really don’t wanna do this, and she’s forcing you, and that you hate me, and you’re scared of me, and all that, but if you could please—please— just help me get through this class, I will make it as painless as possible spending all the time with me.”

By the end of his little speech, he looked frantic, like he was pleading—and you suppose he was. And before you could stop yourself, you just nodded, looking at him dumbly, before remembering to speak.

“I’ll help you pass.” Was all you could manage.

He sighed a breath of relief, running a hand down his face.

“Thank you,” he said, and you could’ve sworn it was the most sincere you’d ever heard him. “Thursday after school in the library sound good?”

- - - -

You arrived early, because, of course you did.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement; you were terrified. Mostly of making an even bigger fool of yourself than you had earlier in the week.

You’d spent the better part of the last three days poring over your last interaction with Eddie in the hallway, when he’d begged you to tutor him, and you’d gotten about five words in edgewise.

He’d practically accused you of hating him, and instead of correcting him—like you’d been dying to do for the whole semester—you stood there like an idiot.

You wished you’d told him then and there in that hallway that he was wrong; that you weren’t scared of him, and that you didn’t hate him. That you were just shy and awkward and he unnerved you. So, you decided to do just that.

Last night, while finally talking through the whole situation with Robin, you’d decided that the first words you’d say to him would be: “I’m not scared of you and I don’t hate you.”

It was a bit abrasive and to-the-point, you knew that. But, you also knew that if you let him get a word in before that, you’d lose your nerve. At least this way, you got your point across.

Your eyes ran over the page of your book for what felt like the fiftieth time. You sighed, throwing the worn novel down on the table.

There was no way you’d be able to get any reading done, not with your nerves eating you alive.

The book wasn’t that good anyway. You had no clue what Robin meant when she said Hemingway was ‘profound.’

You sighed again, eyes finding the clock in the library.

He was five minutes late.

You felt something deflate inside you. Maybe he’d been bluffing about the whole thing, or maybe he’d changed his mind and wouldn’t show. Your mind ran with the possibilities.

The library was sparse at this time.

It was just past three, and most students had already rushed out of the building. It was Thursday, which meant that the town was just waking up for the weekend. It wasn’t uncommon for friend groups to have small get-togethers, or even for one of the bigger cliques to throw a party.

In fact, Steve had managed to convince Robin and yourself to attend one later that night. Which was a feat, because you didn’t make a habit of going out.

It was at Darren’s house: one of the few friends from high school that Steve actually kept up with after, y’know, everything.

Robin was hoping Vicky would be there. You were just hoping to let loose a little.

With all this business with Eddie and your impending (maybe) graduation, your nerves had been through the roof. A party was just what you needed to calm down.

“Sorry,” he appeared out of nowhere, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped.

“Sorry!” Eddie rushed out, slumping down in the chair across from you. “Really, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you all the time. Sorry I’m late.”

You stared at him.

God, he was pretty.

His hair was big and frizzy, per usual, and fell around his face as a halo. His brown eyes were wide and almost doe -like, and his cheeks were rosy with exertion.

He must have been running, you thought. But why? He wasn’t that late.

“Were you running?” You blurted before you could think. Your brows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I ran into some trouble getting here.”

“What trouble?”

“The usual.” Eddie rubbed his eyes, and for the first time since he’d sat down, you noticed how disheveled he looked.

His white tee shirt was stained on the shoulder with what looked like… fruit?

“Is that… food on your shoulder?”

“Shit,” his gaze snapped to his shoulder. “Yeah, uhm. It’s jello.”

Eddie looked… embarrassed. For the first time in the time you’d known him, he looked sheepish.

“Was it Jason?”

“That obvious?” He laughed mirthlessly. In fact, it was a little menacing.

“He’s a dick.” You said without thinking.

Eddie just nodded, staring down a place on the table.

“Are you okay?”

He looked at you, dark eyes guarded.

He seemed to be sizing you up, eyes following you up and down. But his usual playfulness was gone. Instead, he looked almost… forlorn.

“Uh, yeah.” His lips lifted into a humorless smile. “Just done with this bullshit, I guess.”

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“I’m tired of people looking at me like I’m a freak. I’m tired of not behind able to fucking walk to class in peace, I’m tired of people being fucking,” he slammed his hands on the table in front of you. When you jump, he throws them up. “Scared of me!”

You stay silent for a moment, letting him stew and collect himself. After a few seconds, Eddie sighs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“I’m not scared of you, and I don’t hate you.”

“—mean to—what?”

“I’m not scared of you.” You repeated, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans. “And I don’t hate you, like you said on Monday. I’m Im just,” you stopped to take a breath. “It’s just hard for me sometimes. With… new people.”

“You sure? Because you look scared to me.”

“You aren’t helping.”

Eddie shivered, rubbing at the jello-colored stain on his shoulder.

“Do you… want to change?” You asked shakily.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” you rushed out, shaking your head. “It’s nothing. You just—looked cold. I have an extra sweatshirt.”

“And you think it would fit me?”

“I like to wear them a few sizes too big.” You added lamely.

Eddie contemplated you for a moment, before sighing.

“What the hell,” he said half to himself. “Why not?”

After he pulled the lilac crew neck over his head, he smiled.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry. Thank you for doing this. I know it can’t be great for your…image.”

You snorted at that.

“Yeah, my image isn’t exactly suffering.”

“Yeah?” He leaned forward, setting his chin on his fists.

God, his forearms. You forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah. Not exactly prom queen here.”

“Eh, prom queen is overrated.”

You laughed, your own crinkling eyes meeting his. You thought you saw his eyes soften as they looked at you. The vision of him there, in front of you, made your stomach flip.

You cleared your throat, turning to your notes in front of you.

“So,” you straightened your notebook. “Ready to talk about T. S. Elliot?”

- - - -

The party was loud. Mötley Crüe boomed through the speakers that Darren’s rich family had in what seemed like every room.

You silently thanked Darren for having good music taste. The party would have been unbearable otherwise.

You sighed as you walked out the back door of the house. The inside had gotten a bit too stuffy for you, and with Robin trailing after Vickie and Steve reconnecting with one of his old flames, you were flying solo for the time being.

You brushed your jeans with your hands before sitting down on the back step, a lukewarm rum and coke in the solo cup in your hand.

You felt yourself deflate.

As a senior in high school, this was the closest you’d come to actually living.

While Robin had had her fair share of secret flings and parties and Steve had lived a wild four years of high school, you were just… there.

At eighteen years old, you felt like you’d missed out. Been robbed. The Upside Down had something to do with that, you supposed. Fighting for your own and the kids’ lives from Russians and other-worldly demon creatures tends to do that. Still, it didn’t stop your friends from living. You felt like you’d let your teen years pass you by, but mostly, you felt pathetic.

Sure, you had the grades, but rather than that? You had nothing to show for your time at Hawkins High.

“Hey tutor,” the smooth drawl came from the side of the house. You’d know it anywhere.

Eddie rounded the corner of the house, approaching where you were sitting on the back step.

He wore the same black jeans he wore earlier today, but his jello-stained shirt and your lilac crew neck were gone, replaced by a t-shirt with what looked like Judas Priest’s logo. His arms were crossed over his chest, covered by the black leather he wore more often than not.

“Hey,” you offered lamely, rubbing your hands together.

“What ya doing out here all alone?” He came to stop in front of you, his chunky combat boots taking up your line of vision.

“Just…taking a breather.” You smiled up at him, tight-lipped.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Scoot over, then. It’s a little too… preppy for me in there.”

You obliged, scooting over a few feet so he could sit next to you. As he dropped down on the concrete step next to you, he was close enough that you caught his scent.

It was deep, some kind of cologne, mixed with cigarette smoke and a hint of what you knew was weed.

“So…” Eddie bumped his shoulder into yours. “Thought this wasn’t your crowd?”

“It’s not,” you pressed your hands between your knees. “Robin and Steve dragged me here. I thought it would help me… unwind.”

“Robin… she’s in band right?”

You nodded.

“And Steve… I don’t think I know that one.”

You chuckled.

“You definitely do,” you peeked over at him, eager to see his reaction. “Uh, Steve Harrington?”

Eddie looked at you like you grew a second head.

“The hair?” He asked incredulously.

“The very same,” you nodded.

“God, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m beginning to question the company you keep.”

Your heart leapt at what he called you. Sweetheart.

“I know, I know,” you held out your hands. “He was an asshole. But he’s different now.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“He is!” You turned to Eddie defensively. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if he was still the way he used to be. He isn’t like…”

“Jason?” Eddie raised an eyebrow at you. “Like Pam and Diana?”

“Exactly.” You nodded. “He’s still… peppy. He just lost all the bad parts.”

“Hmm,” he crossed his arms. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, the only sounds being your breath and the roar of the party inside. Your breaths swirled in the chilly air around you.

“Why are you here?” You spoke finally. “You said this wasn’t your scene.”

“It’s not,” he shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little baggy filled with green substance. “I’m, uh, supplying the party favors.”

You snorted at that.

“These things good business?”

“You have no idea.” He nodded to the inside of the house. “A lot of these kids’ allowance is more than what my uncle makes in a week.”

You hummed, content to just sit in silence.

Eddie tilted his head at you, leaning his chin on his hands again like he did earlier in the library. He tilted his cheek toward you, an easy smile on his lips.

“So, why are you really out here, tutor-girl?” He looked at you curiously. “You look upset.”

You drew a heavy breath, before sighing.

“It’s dumb.” You picked at your nails.

“Try me.”

“I feel like..” you looked up, before turning to Eddie. “I feel like I’ve missed out. I’m a senior, I’m graduating this year, and I have done nothing.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t move to interrupt you. He only leans further toward you, spurring you to continue. The alcohol gave you the rest of the confidence you lacked.

“All my friends have had their little rebellions. Their flings, all of it. And I have done nothing, except drink shitty booze and nearly lose my mind.”

You blew a deep breath once you’d finished. Somehow, you felt even worse—more pathetic—now that you’d vocalized it.

But Eddie didn’t look at you like you were pathetic. Instead, he looked pensive, hand on his chin as he contemplated. It was your instinct to backtrack.

You moved to stand

“Sorry. That was a lot. Nevermind. Let’s just forget I—“

“No, no, don’t apologize.” He grabbed your arm and gently pulled you back to sit beside him. “Especially after what I dumped on you earlier.”

Your cheeks were red, you could tell. Whether that be because of the combination of the alcohol and the confession, you couldn’t tell.

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed, still thinking. You snuck a glance over at him and noticed a wry smile on his face. “Let’s fix it then.”

“What?”

“We have til May, don’t we? That’s eight months. Your senior year isn’t over yet.”

You laughed nervously.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that—“

“You’re not! I’m offering. Consider it payback for all the hours you’ll be tutoring me in Taylor’s class.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.” Eddie smiled. “It’s a deal, then .”

#eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #hawkins indiana #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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snowdropluck204 · 1 year

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How They React To Their SO Getting Stalked

PART 1

Sero Hanta

I feel like Sero would be the person to immediately comfort you, screw the person following you for right now! His baby is upset and he needs to take care of you!

~ Sero was out with the guys, they were hanging out at the mall after school, he got kind of sad sometimes knowing that you didn't go to UA, but he also knew that being a hero was dangerous and he didn't want you to get hurt. ~ He and his friends were laughing and messing around, when he got a call, looking at the screen, he saw My Love was calling him, he gave a bright grin to his phone, answering promptly. ~ "Hey darlin'! What's up with my angel today?" He asked cheerfully. ~ "Hanta..." You were whispering, sounding close to tears, the smile left Sero's face in less than a second. ~ "What's going on angel?" His voice was hard and tense, causing his friends to look up at him, the smiles leaving their faces too. ~ "Someone's following me, I just needed to hear you, I'm freaking out right now!" You were still whispering, but he could hear just how frightened you were. Could hear your walking speed up. ~ "Okay honey, take it easy, are you nearly home, turn on your location and I will be there, I promise." ~ He lived up to that promise, he met you just as you were walking up the street near your home, he saw a guy wearing dark clothing following fairly closely behind you, using his quirk, he wrapped the guy up in tape and called the police. ~ You looked up at him, surprised and grateful that he was there. You ran to him, jumping into his arms and attaching yourself to him like a koala. ~ "I'm so glad you're here," You whispered in his ear, trying your hardest to hold back a river of stressed tears. ~ Sero held you close to him, running a hand up and down your back, "I'm here angel, everything's gonna be okay," He kept his voice down and took you inside and up to your room. ~ Making sure you were comfortable and cosy in a mountain of blankets and cushions, he then went to different rooms of the house and collected what he though you could use. ~ "Alright gorgeous! I have some snacks, a hot water bottle, some of your favourite movies and this!" Sero told you, leaving a trail of things on your bed. In his hand, he held a warm face cloth that he brought to your red, tear stained face. ~ "My poor angel, I know today was scary, but I'm always going to keep you safe."

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinso wouldn't take any chances in a situation where you had been stalked. He would be attached to your hip at all times, to the point where it was annoying to every other person involved.

~ About a month ago, you and Hitoshi were going through some hard times, everything between the two of you was great! But unfortunately something bad happened to you. ~ Someone from school had begun following you, from school to home, to work and when you went out with friends. Then there were pictures and threatening, creepy messages, not only to you, but to Hitoshi and your parents! ~ Eventually, the stalker was caught but a lot of damage had already been done, your family was forced to move and you didn't want to be alone at any point. ~ Honestly, the dorm programme came at a perfect time, your parents jumped at the opportunity to move you into the dorms, protected by pro heroes and in the safe hands of your boyfriend (your parents loved him). ~ Hitoshi trusted you more than anybody and he knew you would be a fantastic hero, but he wanted to take care of you in what can only be described as a vulnerable situation that only you, him and your family knew about. ~ So after that incident, Hitoshi was with you at all times. Which was originally fine, until it got in the way of classes. You couldn't leave him for battle training, the two of you had joined your desks together and had to be touching at all times. Your boyfriend was either holding your hand, or playing with your hair, had a hand on your knee or your back. ~ Aizawa had had enough, this was in the way of the two of you learning and eventually, if it continued, could tank your careers! ~ "Shinso." Aizawa called, separating the two of you, keeping him behind after class. ~ Hitoshi looked back at you, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek, "Stay in the hall, I'll be right there." ~ Turning back to his mentor, he watched the tired man sigh. Hitoshi was getting nervous, tapping his feet, scratching his neck and running his hand through his hair, he needed to be with you. ~ "Shinso, you need to be less codependent with (l/n), it's becoming tedious." Aizawa began. ~ Shinso snapped. ~ "Tedious? Tedious!? My partner was stalked for over two months! Their life was uprooted, they felt scared and unsafe every time they left the house and trying to protect them is tedious to you!? I'm terribly sorry teach!" His voice was rife with sarcasm. ~ Aizawa was shocked. He didn't know something so awful had happened to one of his students, or that it was affecting the life of his protegee... He felt guilty, angry and... Useless. ~ Aizawa didn't really know how to apologise, so he simply placed a (hopefully) reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder, guiding him to the door of the classroom, where you were stood patiently, but were so obviously nervous. ~ He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed, that the massive change in one of his best student's behaviour had gone under his nose. ~ You were stood against the wall, eyes flitting constantly, monitoring the hall for any kind of danger, you were nervously wringing your hands and playing with your fingers, you seemed to almost be in tears. ~ "Go and help them, I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious and extra security will be placed around the dorm." Aizawa spoke quietly, not wanting you to realise he knew, he was under the impression that, if you wanted him to know, you would have spoken to him about it. ~ Hitoshi looked at his mentor, grateful that now he could at least sleep soundly knowing his partner had more security. ~ Once he left the room, you were on him instantly, hand around his and an arm around his waist, both of which he reciprocated. ~ He whispered in your ear that everything would be okay. ~ "I'll never let you get hurt, you believe that, right?" ~ You nodded, of course you did.

Tokoyami Fumikage

Tokoyami would be a slightly different situation, he knew you could handle yourself and you did, but the idea of it happening again made him terrified, so he went overboard with his security measures and actually winds up annoying you (in a sweet way?).

~ You loved your boyfriend and Dark Shadow, but this was getting ridiculous! ~ You were a very logical person, so when you began getting creepy messages and pictures of yourself at times when you weren't aware you were being photographed, yes, you were scared, but you were also determined to be strong and fix it. ~ Obviously you told Fumikage that the stalking was happening, he was the first person you'd told, but you asked him not to go to anyone, that you had a strong feeling you knew who it was and how to handle it. ~ He had reluctantly agreed. ~ Dark Shadow was adamant that you needed help! He was begging Fumikage to check on you, help you, keep you out of sight and away from anyone who wanted to hurt you, or worse. ~ But he was your boyfriend, he trusted you, the way he wanted you to continue trusting him! If he took over and ignored what you'd asked of him, he was worried he would lose that trust. So he left you to it. ~ Less than a week later, police were outside the school, arresting a student who had admitted to sending you threatening messages, as well as other people in the school. ~ You were so smart, you followed the text messages, hacking and just being a genius and finding whose phone sent them. ~ You involved the police and Principal Nezu, who quickly looked over your evidence and made the correct assumption, calling the police and having the guy arrested. ~ You felt a lot safer now and were considered a bit of a saviour for the other students the boy was frightening, but Fumikage couldn't get it out of his mind that something similar could happen again. ~ Without you knowing, he placed tiny cameras outside your dorm room window and in the hallway (obviously he wasn't going to put cameras in your room, cause creepy), he wanted to make sure you were alright. ~ But you weren't stupid, as he now realised when you burst into his dorm room, holding his devices. "What the hell is this!?" You shouted. ~ Fumikage went silent, shocked that you'd even seen the cameras, he tried to explain but just released sputtered apologies. ~ "I-I just wanted to m-make sure you were safe!" ~ You looked shocked now, looking at your boyfriend who was now looking down at the floor, Dark Shadow curled up on the bed behind him, looking forlorn. ~ "Someone was following you and I didn't know, you're the most important person in the world to me, if something happened to you again and I could have stopped it, I would never forgive myself." ~ Looking calmer and sympathetic for the poor boy, you sat next to him on the bed, cupping his face and tilting his head to look at you. ~ "I know this was hard for you, but I'm safe and I can handle myself, you know that. But I know for a fact, you would never let anything happen to me, if you think this was a dangerous situation, then you feel free to take all the crazy security measures you need to. But I'm fine." ~ Your voice was practically a whisper, as you leaned in and left a soft kiss on Fumikage's feathered cheek. Then on Dark Shadow's, because he got jealous.

Shigaraki Tomura

This one seems pretty obvious, Shiggy would go nuts! Screw All Might and the plan, he had a new target to deal with, someone hurt his darling and there is no way in hell he was going to let them get away with it!

~ When Tomura got back to the bar, he was expecting the usual greeting, he had his gloves on already, preparing to be jumped on by his beautiful little love, but as he entered through the door, you weren't there. ~ He searched through the building, almost ready to tear off his gloves and disintegrate walls on the slight chance you were inside of one! ~ But then he heard you sniffling, he knew it was you, you cried that way when you were reading or watching one of your favourite shows, it was coming from Toga's room. ~ Bursting through the door, he saw you, being cradled by Toga and Dabi, he would have been upset that Dabi was anywhere near you, but he was more focused on the fact that you were crying hysterically. ~ Trying to get close to you, he stood on one of the many pictures he hadn't realised were strewn across the floor, they were of you. ~ Of you at work. Of you at the store. Of you out to dinner with your parents. That dinner had happened two nights ago. ~ "Where did these come from?" He asked, voice slightly raspy after his assault on the building. ~ Toga was the one who responded, for once, her crazed smile was missing, replaced with a scared frown. "Someone slid it under her apartment door, with this." She handed Tomura an envelope that had writing on it. ~ 'YoUr'E MinE' ~ The writing was scrawled and messy, the person who sent this, who took the pictures was obviously deranged. ~ You were being stalked. ~ Rage filled Tomura, who dared to come close to you, to believe you were theirs!? Hell no! You were his! His darling! ~ But he pushed the anger down so he could look after you. ~ Once you realised he had come home, you reached out for him, desperate to feel close to him, to feel safe. ~ He scooped you up, sitting next to the other League members as he cradled you in his lap. ~ "My poor baby," He whispered, leaving kisses on the crown of your head as you buried your head in his shirt. ~ "Kurogiri, you know what to do." ~ He did know what to do, he was under the command to follow you around, keeping you safe and find the stalker. ~ Tomura would have the joy of taking care of them...

#bnha #bnha x reader #x reader #sero hanta x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #tokoyami fumikage x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #love #cute #stalker #comfort #good ending #headcannons #bnha headcannons

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