#i do still have my jacket and pants at least. that shit is so heavy wtf

[taupewolfy]

i miss fencing so much....

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Nickname Runs in the Family || CL16

Summary: When you end up crying on your father’s shoulder over a boy, Kimi enlists the help of Charles to teach him a lesson. Charles Leclerc x Raikkonen!Reader Warnings: nsfw, fighting, mentions of sex, WC: 2.9k

To the outside world Kimi was known as ‘The Iceman’, garnered for his cold personality in the media and how he never let anything bother him, at home however he was just called isä or dad. You really could have done with more of The Iceman persona because when it came to his family your father was anything but cool and collected.

“Tell me what happened,” Kimi demanded, your tears only streaming faster down your cheeks.

“Nothing happened, dad.”

“Something happened, tytär, don’t lie to me.”

It was stupid to go there after what happened. You should have just returned to your student accommodation at the college but you needed the comfort of home and someone you trusted. Now all of Monaco was going to hear just how hotheaded The Iceman got while your step-mother tried to put your baby half-sister back to sleep.

“Nothing happened!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment flamed across your cheeks. “I said no, okay. I said no and he called me a frigid bitch before dumping me and leaving me at the party.”

You expected to hear something break, or at least his heavy stomps storming towards the front door. You didn’t expect your dad to throw his head back and laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed around the quiet living room. 

“Ah, that’s my girl,” he laughed as he bundled you into a hug. “I like that, Frigid Bitch. It’s good.”

You snorted a laugh despite the hurt and wiped your tears on his shoulder. “I thought you would be angry.”

“Oh, I am,” he admitted somberly. He placed a kiss on your head before standing up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. You didn’t see who he was calling so late at night but groaned when it was answered. “Hello, Charles. You know everyone in Monaco, where does Devereux Laurent live?”

“Isä! No!”

Your father ignored you as he grabbed his car keys and his jacket, his phone shoved between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m not going to kill the little bastard, fuck, Charles, I just want to have a chat.”

The door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed back onto the sofa with a groan about keeping your mouth shut next time. You were still ruminating over your life choices when the doorbell rang an hour later. 

“Charles?” You frowned at the man panting in your doorway like he sprinted across the city before your eyes widened at the split lip he sported. “What are you doing here? What happened?”

“Kimi.”

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah.”

You grabbed your purse that had been discarded on the kitchen table when you arrived. “Where is he?” 

“The police station.”

“Shit, he didn’t do that to you, did he?”

Charles reeled back, clearly offended. “No, you’re asshole boyfriend hit me.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you clarified as you dragged him inside and grabbed a tea towel to wrap a bag of peas from the freezer. Charles flinched as you gently pressed the ice pack to his lips and you sighed. “I’m sorry my dad got you involved in this.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the pack from your hand to place it on his swollen knuckles that you hadn’t noticed. “I got myself involved when I heard what Dev did. Are you okay?”

“I didn’t get punched in the face,” you said as you playfully rolled your eyes, however you soon sobered. “It's nothing a few drinks and a bad romcom can’t fix, after I’ve bailed dad out first. It’s not like we were together long enough to get heartbroken. Do you want me to drop you off on the way?”

“I’ll drive.” He snatched a set of keys from the hook by the door, but you caught his wrist and took them back.

“That’s Minttu’s minivan.” You hung the keys back on the hook and grabbed a set for your dad’s Rolls Royce Wraith instead. The empty hook beside it was where the keys to his Ferrari Pista usually hung. “She wouldn’t be happy if you crashed her car again.”

“I didn’t crash her car,” he argued as he pocketed the keys and opened the door. “You were driving!”

“I had a shit instructor. You were too busy checking yourself out in the mirror to teach me.”

His finger jabbed the call button for the elevator as he scoffed. “You only know that because you were too busy checking me out to watch the road.”

The elevator arrived but you held a hand out to block him as you stepped into the small space. “Sorry, your inflated ego is too big to fit in here.” 

“That wasn’t a denial.”

You ignored him and jutted your head to the fireproof door. “Try the stairs.”

“But we’re on the top floor.”

You smirked as the doors started to close but he darted inside before they sealed shut.

“You’re still not denying it.”

“So you really went swinging for my honour?” you deflected as he hit the button for the garage level, exposing his swollen fist again.

“You sound surprised.” He leaned back against the wall and looked at his hand, massaging the tender bruises. “When I saw he was still at the party…”

You frowned, first at the fact that Dev went back after leaving you there, asshole, then at the fact Charles knew where he was. Charles was definitely not at the party, if he was then you would have heard the women going feral for him. “How did you know he was there? You don’t follow him on Instagram.”

“Not on my main account,” he said with a shrug. Anyone that Charles followed on social media made sure to announce the news like it was an instant ticket to ViP treatment, and Dev would have been no different. It was also the exact reason you went by Y/L/N, your mother’s surname, instead of Raikkonen. You didn’t want to be used by people for the name you carried. 

“You hate him, why would you follow him?”

“It doesn’t matter why.”

“It does to me.” 

Unfortunately the doors opened and he pushed off from the wall to stride past without an answer. A flash of lights responded to the click of the button on the keys and Charles slowed his steps for you as he led the way to the sedan parked in a secluded corner, the space beside it empty of your fathers red Pista. Charles stopped at your door and opened it for you, his eyes scanning the open space that was empty and quiet save for the whine of the elevator leaving the level. 

“For you,” he admitted as you slipped into the leather seat. “I followed him to keep an eye on you.”

The door closed and you watched him walk around the car, dropping into the driver’s seat before pushing it back to suit his longer legs. He then silently adjusted the mirrors and turned down the heavy rock music that blasted when the engine started. You didn’t know what to say, all you had were more questions that could only lead to more confusion.

“You deserve better,” Charles said, breaking the awkward silence as he pulled out into the street. 

“He was just drunk.” 

“That’s not an excuse. You deserve someone who will wait until you are ready to have sex, not try it on drunk and at a party.” His words were seething by the time he finished and his knuckles turned white from the tight grasp he had on the steering wheel.

“Uh, Charles, I was joking about my honour…I’m not a virgin.”

“Wait, what?” The car slammed to a halt and he earned a toot from the Lamborghini behind before it drove around when Charles didn’t move. “Since when?” he asked as he turned in his seat to face you.

“I didn’t realise it was such a big deal. Was I meant to stand at the corner and hold a sign that said ‘deflowered’ in Times New Roman or Comic Sans?”

He didn’t even blink at your icy tone and heavy sarcasm. “But Dev said he dumped you because you didn’t want to have sex. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”

“Oh my god, no! I can’t believe we are having this conversation, Charles.” You figured it couldn't get any more awkward as you looked out the window into the sleeping city. “Sex wasn’t the problem, he was upset because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

“Oh…oh.” He cleared his throat and put the car back into drive before continuing his way to the police station. “So, uh, is there anyone you do want to, um, have sex with at the moment?” 

“Why? Are you offering?” It was meant to sound teasing but there was too much curiosity in it.

His face flushed pink and his lips parted two twice before his voice worked. “I don’t do casual.”

It wasn’t a no, and that somehow made things both better and worse as a new possibility began to worm its way into your mind. You didn’t like the hope that fluttered in your stomach. Charles was a friend. Charles was someone your father trusted after Seb vouched for him. Charles was off limits. 

By the time you had filtered through the thoughts he had induced, Charles was pulling into the police station and you hoped your dad was fairing well behind bars. It turned out you had no reason to worry as you walked inside and heard his voice from behind the glass wall. 

Kimi was being well taken care of by the officers. He had a coffee in one hand, a pastry in the other and was answering questions that had nothing to do with Dev. You cringed as he recounted why he missed meeting Pelé years ago, but Charles chuckled along with the policemen as you knocked on the door.

The Monégasques fawned over their hometown hero while you watched Kimi pull himself to his feet, cracking his back that had stiffen while he was sat down. 

“I thought you would be in maximum security by now,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. “What did you do?”

He patted your cheek and smiled mischievously. “I like Charles even more now.”

He gave you nothing else but that was expected. Whatever happened was obviously not on the record and you wanted to keep it that way, especially since he didn’t have a single scratch on him - like he hadn’t been in a fight at all. You were quietly contemplating that knowledge when you climbed into the backseat of the Wraith and your father readjusted everything on the driver's side back to how he had it.

“You took the fall for Charles, didn’t you?”

They both swivelled back to look at you. Charles’ eyes widened, while your father’s narrowed. 

“Fucking hell, I’m not going to tell anyone,” you growled as you threw your arms up in exasperation. “I just want to know what actually happened tonight.”

Charles waited to see if your dad wasn’t going to explain as the car pulled out of the station car park. After a moment of hesitation he took a breath and started to rattle off the truth.

“I called Kimi when I realised Dev was still at the party. It was only a block away so I thought I would meet him there to point him out.”

“I was just about at the address he gave me when he called. I got there as fast as I could but Charles was already inside,” Kimi said with a proud chortle. “Got a few good hits on the little bastard too.”

“Iså,” you warned as he enjoyed the violence just a bit too much and Charles looked sheepishly down at his hands. “Why did you fight?”

“You know why. I couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you that way.”

“Good man,” Kimi said with a stern nod. 

“And you, what did you do, dad?”

“What I had to do,” he said with a shrug. “I’m retired, Charles has a career.”

You stretched the seatbelt and leaned forward to hug your dad and kiss his cheek before doing the same to Charles. “Thank you.” Your eyes lingered on Charles as his eyes said everything he couldn’t with your father in the car. 

“He’s not pressing charges but there may be some questions if anyone caught the fight on camera. You might want to give your PR team a heads up.”

It took a moment to realise where you were and why the car had stopped outside the venue where the party was still in full swing. Drunken revellers could be heard behind the velvet curtain hanging over the door and your father handed his keys over to Charles with a shake. “Make sure she gets home safe. I’ll pick it up in the morning, no scratches.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles promised with a nod before getting out.

“You’re trusting him with your Pista?”

“I trust him with you, the car I can replace.”

You surprised him with another hug as your door opened, your voice thick with emotion as you said, “thank you.”

“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly. “I can make up the sofa bed.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll want to get out of my bed tomorrow.”

“Fair enough. Love you.”

“Love you too.” You stepped out and Charles closed the door, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to your father’s favourite car. “He doesn’t even let me drive this, you know.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t support Ferrari,” Charles teased as you buckled yourself in.

“I support it now.”

“What changed your mind?”

You dared to look at him and met his green eyes. “You.”

—

“Awww, she called her little puppy,” Dev taunted as he spotted Charles walking towards him.

Charles chuckled, but it held no humour and his smile was dark. You had never seen that look in his eye and your thighs clenched in response. “At least she will still call me. You just lost the best thing you never deserved.”

“Well you can have the frigid bitch, good luck getting her to put out though. Fucking cocktease.” The snort Dev made was cut off by the fist that crashed into his nose and then the both of them were going to the floor, grappling and twisting until Kimi darted into the fray and grabbed Charles.

“Go, she’s at home,” Kimi ordered as he pushed Charles back the way he came. “I’ve got it from here, kid.”

The video looped back to the start and you watched it twice more before determining you were fucked. It hit you like a train, the pressure slamming into your chest as you realised you were in love with Charles. No one had ever stood up for you like that, or taken a punch for you or risked their career. But he had.

You stayed cocooned in your blankets for most of the morning, watching the video footage from the night before and it became your new favourite binge worthy entertainment. It would probably be classed as insanity if anyone knew you had become addicted to it, but it was only the fact someone knocked at your door that you placed your phone down.

“Charles? I’m getting a little déjà-vu here,” you commented as you opened the door and found him sweating.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he blurted out. “Please.”

Your brows shot up at the outburst and you checked the student halls were empty before pulling him into your room. “Uh, you do realise who my father is, right?”

“I do, thank you for your concern,” he chuckled. “I was actually just with him. I wanted his permission to ask you on a date.”

“Well that explains why it looks like you’ve been running for your life.” You looked at your door expecting to see it kicked in. “Was he chasing you?”

“What? No, I wasn’t running. Fuck,” he groaned as he ran his hands over his jeans to dry his clammy palms. “I was just nervous about asking you out. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I will.”

“Answer the question or go out with me?”

“I will go out with you,” you clarified with a laugh.

Relieved, he took a seat at the edge of your bed and sighed happily. “I have been waiting years to ask.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded before flopping himself down comfortably and you dropped down beside him. “Your dad scared me,” he admitted as he took your hand in his.

“But not anymore.”

Charles smiled and it was one so similar to the video that was still playing on loop. He seemed to recognise the muffled sound coming from the blanket at the same time you remembered it was there and fished it out. “You’ve seen it.”

“Once or twice,” you lied. “I see why you’re not afraid anymore. That’s one hell of a right hook.”

“Oh no I am definitely still afraid of Kimi,” he corrected as he rolled on his side to face you. “But I am done watching you date assholes when I know exactly how you deserve to be treated. I want to give you the world, if you’ll let me.”

[butterfliesandblueeyes]

WORTH IT

🏏 Pregnant with Daryl's baby when Negan and the Saviours capture your family. You'll do everything you can to protect your partner and unborn child.

pairings : Daryl Dixon x reader

w/c : 2.5k

warnings : mentions of blood, major character deaths (rip Abraham & Glenn xo)

a/n : This is my first story I've written for Daryl, hopefully more to come. As always enjoy reading and thank you for the support!

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The lights of the various trucks and cars shone bright upon your group. Seated on your knees between Daryl and Michonne. Heavy breaths left your bitten lips and Daryl placed his hand on your swollen belly to help calm you down. You were around 6 months pregnant with his baby.

You turned your head to the side to stare into his cerulean eyes. A ghost of a smile played on his lips and you returned one of your own. His skin was a pale colour which resulted from the blood loss of being shot. He mouthed that it was going to be okay and you nodded in return.

A man with a moustache took a few steps forward, your group's eyes landing on him.”Let’s meet the man,” he announced before walking towards a van and knocking on the door. A few seconds later a man walked out. He was wearing a black leather jacket with a red scarf and a baseball bat was resting on his shoulder. If you squinted you could see something wrapped around the thick part of the bat. You placed your hand on top of Daryls’ that still rested on your belly.

“Pissing our pants yet?” the man asked yet it was rhetorical. “Boy do I have a feeling we’re getting close. It’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon,”. The man sauntered to the middle of your group. “Now which one of you pricks is the leader?” he asked.

“This one” the moustache man said as he gestured to Rick. Your breathing picked up again, afraid of what this man wanted with Rick and with your group. Daryl began rubbing small circles around your belly. If he wasn’t here with you, you’d be a blubbering mess.

“Hi. You’re Rick right?” The man said as he knelt in front of Rick. A few seconds passed and Rick didn’t respond so the man spoke again, he introduced himself as Negan and his group was the Saviors. He wasn’t too happy since your group had killed some of his men. You tuned out a while after that. He and Rick went back and forth but all you could think about was your baby and Daryl. You didn’t want your family to be taken away before you got around to becoming one. 

Daryl hunched further over and you took a firm grip of his arm so he wouldn't completely fall over. You didn’t dare speak to him no matter how bad you wanted to. You were fearful of this man and you had no idea what he was capable of. 

“Give me your shit or I will kill you,” the man announced. The booming of his voice took you by surprise since you weren't completely listening to what he was saying earlier. The man blabbered on some more about the new world order until something he said caught your attention.

“So now,” he paused. “I’m gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you.” A quiet gasp left your mouth and your eyes found Daryls’ again. Negan swung his bat around in an attempt to show it off. “This is Lucille and she is awesome,” he announced. “All this,” he gestured to your group and the Saviors as he spoke. “All this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor,”. 

Negan began strutting towards the opposite side of the semi-circle. He paused when he was in front of Carl. “Shit kid, lighten up. At least cry a little.”. He chuckled as he walked further up the line, now stopping in front of Maggie who was also pregnant but experiencing some complications. “Jesus, you look shitty” he commented as he took in the state she was in. “I should just put you out of your misery,” he added. Glenn was quick to his feet, running to Maggies’ aid when he was stopped by a blow to his stomach. He fell to the ground groaning. 

“Nope, get him back in line,” Negan demanded. Glenn was dragged back to his spot. “All right, listen,” Negan spoke while pacing back and forth. “Don’t any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down,” the man swung his bat around again and you flinched. Daryl noticed and you could feel him staring at your side profile. You didn’t dare look in fear of drawing attention to him.

He continued down the line and you snapped your eyes shut when he stopped in front of you. “What do we have here?” he snickered. Your eyes opened at the sound of his voice. He was gesturing towards your belly with Daryls’ hand placed firmly on top. You looked up at the man. He had a shit eating grin plastered on his face and suddenly you felt like you couldn't breathe. 

But he turned around and stalked back towards the center of the group. He gave a low whistle. “I simply cannot decide,”. He was acting like he enjoyed this. He chuckled before he spoke again. “I got an idea,”. He walked back towards the opposite side of the circle. 

He pointed the bat at Eugene. “Eenie,”. Next was Carl. “Meenie,”. Then Aaron. “Miney,”. Sasha. “Mo,”. Rick. “Catch,”. Maggie. “A tiger,”. Abraham. “By,”. Michonne. “His toe,”. You. “If,”. He paused on you, giving you a once over before moving on to Daryl. “He hollars,”. Rosita. “Let him go,”. Then finally Glenn. “My mother,”. He stalked back over to the start of the line and pointed the bat at Eugene once again. “Told me to pick the very best one and you are..”. The bat landed on Abraham. “It,”. 

The bat was in front of Abrahams’ face as Negan began to speak again. “Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boys’ other eye out and feed it to his father and then we’ll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry.” Negan inhaled. “Hell, you’re all going to be doing that.”

The sound of the first crack of the bat was piercing. There were screams and cries around you but all you could do was remain silent as tears rolled down your reddened cheeks. You felt paralyzed.

“Ho ho,” Negan laughed. “Look at that, taking it like a champ,”. You dared a peak at Abraham, blood was pouring down his face. Daryl locked his fingers with yours. “Don’t look Y/N,” he pleaded. You looked down at your lap, your free hand resting on your stomach.

“Suck my nuts,” Abraham stuttered out before the bat came down onto Abrahams’ head again and again and again. Until everything went silent.

Negan chuckled again. He turned towards his men. “Did you hear that? He said suck my nuts,”.  His men erupted into laughter. Negan swished his bat around, blood splattering on the ground, on Ricks’ face and on your baby bump. Your mouth agape, you stared down at the crimson liquid that started to soak into your lilac tank top and onto your bare skin. “Oh my goodness, look at this!” Negan shouted happily. “You guys look at my dirty girl,”. He tsked. 

He stalked towards Rosita, placing the bat in front of her face. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight but quickly lowered her eyes. “Sweetheart,” he began, “Lay your eyes on this,”. Rositas’ eyes didn’t budge from where they had settled on. Negan was growing agitated. “Oh damn. Were you together?” Negan asked but Rosita still didn’t budge. “That sucks,” he added. “But if you were, you should know there was a reason for all this. Red and hell, he was, is and always will be red,” he spoke emphasizing on the ‘red’. ”He just took one or six or seven for the team! So take a damn look,”. He thrusted the bat in Rositas’ face.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Daryl shifting on his knees, preparing to get up. Panic rose in your chest and your mouth moved before you could stop it “leave her,”. Your voice was meek and you weren't sure he heard you until his footsteps grew closer to you. You looked up just as he squatted in front of you. Your eyes made contact and a wicked smile grew on Negans’ face. “Well hello there,” he spoke, his voice a lot softer than before. 

You gulped and felt Daryls’ hand on your stomach again. Negans’ eyes followed the movement of Daryls’ hand and he scoffed. “Don’t tell me this piece of shit is the father. He’ll ruin that baby,”. Before you could even register Negans’ words, Daryl was up and already punching him in the face. “No,” you yelled as a few men grabbed Daryl and dragged him to the floor. You went to get up but Michonne grabbed your arm, keeping you in place. 

Daryl was laying on the ground with a mans’ arm around his neck. He was grunting and breathing heavily. His eyes locked on you while a man named Dwight held Daryls’ crossbow to his own head. “Do you want me to do it? Right here,” Dwight asked Negan. Negan looked up at you as he grabbed a handful of Daryls hair and pulled his head back slightly. Daryl hissed in pain. “No. No you don't kill them, not until you try,” he answered. 

“Please let him go,” you whimpered. Negans’ grip on Daryl released and he sauntered over to you, kneeling once again. Daryl was thrashing and kicking on the ground, trying to get out of the Saviors’ grip but they didn’t budge. Your eyes drifted back to your bump once again. You were afraid to look at this man. He had just killed your friend with no remorse. Now he had your love pinned to the ground, his fate falling into Negans’ hands. All your fates in Negans’ filthy hands.

Negans’ grimy, gloved fingers gripped your chin tightly and angled your face so your eyes fell on him once again. His thumb gently caressed your cheek and it sent goosebumps down your spine. Not the good kind either. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he stated. You swore you could see a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “You really think he’s worth it?” he asked you. Your eyes hardened and you answered back with no hesitation “yes,”. He shook his head at your answer. “You’re stupider than you look,” he announced. “You can come back with me, be one of my wives and raise the baby in a safe environment, Together,” Negan suggested. Your response was to spit in his face. He closed his eyes while wiping his face.

He stood up and took one more look at you “sweetheart that was a bad idea,”. He motioned for his men to drag Daryl back in line. When he was next to you again you grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, placing a gentle kiss to his palm. 

“Now I already told you people, first ones free then what'd I say? I said I would shut that shit down!”. Negans’ booming voice made you curl into yourself, shielding your stomach since you didn't know what was to come. “No exceptions. Now I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with but I’m a man of my word. First impressions are important, I need you to know me,” he stood right in front of you as his speech spilled from his lips. “And sweetheart,”. You looked up at him. “Your actions have consequences, so back to it,”. The bat was raised above his head and your eyes squeezed shut as you waited for it to make contact with your head but it never came. Instead the bat came down onto Glenns’ head. 

The scream that escaped from your throat hurt. Glenn was your first friend since the apocalypse. You two spent endless hours chatting. He knew everything about you and vice versa. He was your best friend. 

 Glenns’ last words were for Maggie. You hid your head in Daryls’ good shoulder as sobs racked through your body. Your group was paralysed as Rick was whisked away to the van with Negan. It felt like hours before they came back out. Negan was trying to get Rick to surrender and conform so he had Carl lay on the ground waiting for Rick to chop his arm off. Rick pleaded and begged and Negan told Rick he belonged to him. We all belonged to him.

“Today was a productive damn day,” Negan announced. “Now, I hope for your sake that you get it now, that you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going on that is over now,”. Negan paused his movement. “Ah, Dwight load him up,”. Your eyes snapped to Negan then to daryl. “No! No,” you yelled, grabbing onto Daryl as Dwight pulled him off the ground. You were pulled to your feet as well, your fingers locked with Daryls’ and neither of you letting go. 

“Don’t take him! Please,” you begged. You felt arms snake around your waist and roughly separate your hand from Daryls’. He was dragged off to a van and roughly shoved in the back, the doors slamming shut when he was inside. You clawed at the hands around your waist. You were thrown to the ground. The wind was knocked out of you and you gasped for air. You felt a hand grip your hair and force your head back. Negans’ mouth was in line with your ear when he spoke “If you want to try something, today, tomorrow I will cut pieces off,” he paused and looked around. “Hell’s his name?” he asked. Someone responded with Daryl and Negan was in line with your ear again. “Daryl,” he whispered, to which you responded with a whimper. “I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep or better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me,” he threatened. He placed a kiss to your hair, lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I’ll be seeing you,” he promised as he released the grip of your hair and stood up. You remained on the ground.

“I’ll leave you sorry shits a truck, use it to cart all the crap you're gonna find me, until then ta ta,”. You rested your forehead on the gravel as all the various trucks started their engines and drove away. 

The tears started to fall not long after that, sob after sob fell from your lips. You felt hands on your back, picking you up so you sat on the gravel. The arms wrapped around you and pulled you into them, comforting you. You cried and cried. Cried for Abraham. Cried for Glenn. Cried for Daryl. You cried for your life and your unborn child's life. You wondered if you would ever see Daryl again. If your baby would ever know their dad. No, you knew you would see him again. You knew he would be here for your babys’ life. You knew it. You'd make sure of it.  Because Daryl was worth it.

[chelseeebe]

dirty little secret.

NOT MY GIF!

summary: a babysitting gig at one of your dad's employee's houses leads to a filthy affair of secrets with a certain mr. harrington.

a/n: i have not proofread this one bit, i just wanted to get it posted so i could start on some ghostface!steddie hehe. i suppose this is another installment of the older!steve/mr.harrington saga though in my head they're different people.

he's a scummy scumbag but that's okay because it's sexy (don’t do this irl) smut and inappropriate relationship dynamics. r is 23/24 and steve is mid 40's ish.

it had all started fairly innocently.

a simple phone call asking if you could do some last minute babysitting. sure. easy enough.

earn some extra cash for doing absolutely nothing.

your dad had recommended you. someone who worked for him, steve or something or other, you’d met him before but that was years ago when you were much younger.

christ, you had a degree now. navigating the post-grad world. not with much luck.

the actual babysitting had been simple enough, feed the kids, put them to bed and now you could just relax.

the house was huge. obviously not decorated by a man, or at least not on his own. it was all meticulously designed, you’d never know there were kids living here. or anybody at all for that sake.

you’re lounging on the sparkling white couch waiting for this illusive steve to get back from wherever. your dad had said eleven but it was well past.

he makes an appearance at quarter to twelve, sighing loudly as he steps into the large hallway. the door makes you jump, sitting up straight on the sofa as if it were illegal to be sitting comfortably on such an expensive piece of furniture.

you peer over the back of the couch as he walks into the living room. finally putting a face to the name. you’d gone to his wedding reception so many years back, unhappy and moody as you’d been dragged along.

‘i am so sorry,’ he says, shaking his head and removing the tailored suit jacket, slinging it over a chair, ‘the dinner ran over and then it was just awful traffic.. how were they? i hope they didn’t give you too much shit,’ chuckling deeply.

‘no.. no, they were great,’ you nod, smiling weakly, standing up to gather your things and finally leave.

you couldn’t help but notice how tight his shirt was, clinging onto his defined arms. you draw your eyes away quickly, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

‘good,’ he breathes, pouring himself a glass of whisky out of the obviously insanely expensive bottle, ‘d’you drink?’ offering a glass to you.

‘uhh.. not whisky,’ laughing quietly, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the obscenely large room.

‘it’s good stuff,’ he shrugs, still holding the second glass to you.

‘i’m okay.. thank you though,’ you nod, stepping closer to him. he smelled great. expensive.

‘fair enough,’ he laughs, taking a short sip, ‘right.. you wanna be paid,’ digging around his pocket for his wallet.

his pants also incredibly well fitted. there’s no need to mention what they were showcasing.

you give him a tight lipped smile, looking anywhere but his crotch.

his wallet is almost overflowing, stuffed with notes and various cards. you try not to gawp at the sight. your dad most definitely did not flex like this.

he hands you four fifty dollar bills, holding the pile in your palm. fingers clasping your hand. the sensation alone is enough to give you butterflies.

‘that’s too much,’ you shake your head, trying to refuse. a whole two hundred dollars to make mac and cheese and watch television.

‘no no, take it, thank you for coming so last minute, have you got a ride home? i can get you a cab?’ he nods, maintaining heavy eye contact, honestly making you squirm.

‘i drove.. thank you so much,’ placing the notes into your bag, still under his heavy gaze.

‘okay,’ he smiles, ‘i’ll uh- i’ll get your number from your dad for next time.. if you don’t mind?’

‘uhh..yeah sure.’

‘great.. thank you, again,’ his hand brushes against your arm, causing the goosebumps to rise instantly.

you give him one last shy smile and walk to the oversized front door. baffled by the things you were feeling. the small yearning feeling bubbling in your stomach. a man god knows how many years your senior. it felt wrong.

dirty.

-

the next time you babysit for him, he’s prepared. a bottle of fancy vodka left next to the whisky.

‘you’re a vodka girl, right? i can tell,’ he winks, a deep laugh erupting from his throat as he pours the clear liquid into a glass.

‘ahh.. how’d you know?’ you smile, not wanting to refuse the man, especially as he’d gone out of his way to get this for you.

he taps his temple, holding the drink out to you, ‘intuition..’

the conversation flows on, telling him about your degree and where you planned to go with it. him humbly flexing his own work, talking about the various connections he could make for you.

‘i know you’re robert’s daughter but i just.. i feel like i’ve seen you before,’ his eyebrows squeeze together, knee almost touching yours as his legs spread across the sofa.

‘i uh- i actually went to your wedding, the reception at least,’ you laugh, still heavily avoiding eye contact even though you could feel his eyes boring into your face.

‘oh my god, that’s right.. you were miserable,’ his laughter rumbles through the room, if the house weren’t so big you’d be worried about it waking the kids. not a chance they could hear a thing in this mansion.

‘i was.. i didn’t know you! my dad made us go,’ you giggle, just about meeting his dark eyes before quickly glancing down at his hand grasping the glass, noticing the lack of wedding ring.

he notices, rubbing the empty finger, ‘no,’ chuckling, ‘we’re not.. if you were wondering,’ you can’t tell if it’s a smirk or just his slightly tipsy smile.

‘sorry,’ you breathe, awkward that he’d noticed your attempt at subtlety.

‘don’t be.. we’re still married for now, but we’re not together,’ he nods, seemingly unaffected by the separation.

‘oh.. right,’ you chuckle, unsure of how you’d ended up discussing his divorce at midnight on a friday night. it wasn’t exactly anywhere near where you’d pictured yourself being after graduation.

‘d’you have a boyfriend?’ he asks, shifting slightly to face more towards you, still nursing the neat whisky.

you shake your head, ‘no.. not at the moment,’ staring just past him as to not make direct eye contact.

‘oh, i thought for sure someone would’ve snatched you up,’ his gaze falters, lingering on your exposed thigh, your skirt had slightly ridden up as you’d sat.

‘surprisingly not,’ weary as to whether you should pull your skirt down or let his eyes loiter. opting for the latter.

the attention was nice. unexpected. but not unappreciated. it made your stomach tight, slightly intimidated by his dark eyes.

‘hmm, that’s a shame,’ his tongue runs along his bottom lip, eyes slowly making their way up to meet yours.

you don’t know what to do. where to leave your eyes. his intense stare only worsening your composure. you’d have probably thrown yourself at him if he didn’t answer to your dad. complicating matters immensely.

‘you want another drink?’ he asks, leaning closer, shaking his own empty glass.

‘no.. thank you,’ the words struggle to come out, throat dry at the proximity of his body to yours. the smell of whisky and his cologne mixing to create an intoxicating smell.

‘sure?’ he reiterates, smirking as his eyes fall to your parted lips. mostly trying to regain air into your lungs.

your breath hitches in your throat, suddenly unable to speak, watching as he slowly moves over. cocky smile plastered across his face, relishing in your spreading blush.

he brings his face to within just a few inches of yours, pausing, ‘tell me if this is too much,’ the feel of his breath against your nose.

you shake your head slightly, almost paralysed by his eyes. it was confirmation enough for steve. his lips brushing yours softly, as his free hand moves to rest just above your knee.

your lips move with his, tasting the remnants of the expensive alcohol as his tongue glides across your bottom lip and into your mouth. a quiet gasp comes out as his fingers slide up your leg, his smirk evident against your mouth.

letting him take full control of the kiss, leaning back as his chest presses against yours. he takes full advantage of your new position, fingers creeping up your already short skirt.

you move back fully, back against the soft cushions. he doesn’t break the kiss as he moves on top, sliding between your now open legs, groaning into your mouth when your hands finally touch him.

resting on his shoulders as he manoeuvres his body, fitting perfectly with yours. he pulls back from the kiss, taking a brief moment to catch his breath, looking into your eyes for encouragement.

you haven’t enough time to process anything before his hips begin to move against yours, lips now attacking your jaw line. peppering kisses and gentle nibbles to the skin, eliciting a barely audible moan from your throat.

his hand had found it’s way to your panties, fingers rubbing against the cotton, ‘holy shit,’ he mumbles into your neck, ‘you’re already soaked.’

you recoil, burying your face into the pillow next to your head. this only makes him laugh, his body vibrating against yours as your panties are pushed aside, two fingers circling your entrance before slipping inside.

‘shit,’ you curse into the pillow, gripping onto his shirt.

his other hand comes up, coaxing your face out of the pillow with a gentle hand. when you finally emerge you can feel your cheeks heat up, his blown out pupils gazing back at you.

‘look at me,’ his voice bellows out, ensuring your attention stays firmly on him. you almost want to look away, just to see what he’d do.

there’s a small voice from somewhere up the stairs, ‘daddy,’ it whines and steve groans above you.

‘shit.. two minutes,’ he curses, removing his hand from underneath your skirt, climbing off of the couch.

you’re immediately jolted back to earth. back to mr. harrington’s living room where you were immodestly dressed. you sit up, face screwed up in disgust at your frankly whorish actions and pull your skirt down to an appropriate length.

‘fuck,’ you hiss to yourself, what the hell where you doing? screwing around with your dad’s employee who by the way, was at least double your age, was not on your cards.

you stand, frantic to gather your things and escape before he comes back down. you’d just ignore him if he called again. you could cut the loss on whatever you were owed for tonight.

you’re halfway down the long corridor when he creeps down the stairs, ‘sneaking out?’ his voice appears from behind, making you jump halfway out of your skin.

spinning on your heel to face him, every part of your body heating up with embarrassment, ‘i should get home..’

‘you don’t have to.. stay,’ he grins, walking towards you, one hand brushing against your arm.

you swallow, knowing exactly where that hand had been just minutes earlier. the feel of his bulge moving against your thigh. you almost shudder at the thought.

‘i shouldn’t..’ you manage to squeak out, mind preoccupied by what was hidden under those tight-fitted suit pants.

‘it’s late, i’m sure your dad wouldn’t want you driving at this time,’ he bargains, fingers squeezing around your arm.

‘okay,’ you breathe, relinquishing your stance, it seems it didn’t take much.

‘good,’ he nods, a smug expression overtakes his features, ‘give me two minutes,’ letting go of your arm and walking back into the dimly living room.

you stand awkwardly in the hallway, clutching your small bag and waiting for him to return from whatever the fuck he was doing. it was honestly made worse with the anticipation of what was to come. it was inevitable.

the light snaps off and he re-emerges, clutching onto a small glass of whiskey, motioning for you to climb the stairs.

you oblige as he follows closely, spare hand reaching up to rest on the small of your back.

‘ah.. i don’t think the guest bedroom has been cleaned.. i can make up the bed for you quickly if you want?’ he hushes, hand dropping to hover just above your ass.

you roll your eyes instinctively, it would seem men never grow out of the awful frat-boy tactics. he feigns shock for a brief moment before guiding you further up the hallway, towards his own room.

you hold your breath, entering the room. a large bed with silk covers takes up most of the room. he closes the door softly behind him, flicking on the lamp and setting his drink on the bedside table.

you marvel at the room, the extravagance of it all. it honestly could’ve passed as a five star hotel. he walks back over to you, running his hands around your rigid frame. unexpected overcome with nerves.

‘relax,’ he breathes, nudging his face into your neck, pressing amorous kisses down onto your exposed collarbone.

a small sigh leaving your mouth, which steve loves. taking it as a sign to continue, walking you over to the bed, hands groping any flesh they could.

your skirt flipped up over your ass as he continues the attack on your neck. your hands finally settling on his muscular shoulders, clinging on to his white shirt as you're dipped back onto the bed, his body climbing on top of yours.

'wow,' he mumbles, muffled by the crook of your neck, hands roaming the length of your body, 'so pretty.'

his large palm glides up, lifting your shirt with it, the cold air immediately leaving goosebumps over the exposed skin. only worsened by his soft fingertips trailing along behind your shirt, breaking apart long enough to pull it over your head.

your mouth falling open when his lips find their way to your neck once again, sucking on the tender skin. your fingers absentmindedly unbuttoning his shirt, defined shoulders peeking out as you gently tug it down his arms.

moving down to rid him of his pants, not ignoring how big he already felt under your palm, wondering if you'd even be able to take him all.

'y'sure about this?' he asks into your neck, fumbling with your panties as your hand tries and fails to undo his belt buckle.

you nod, cheek brushing against his mess of hair still buried in your neck. he reappears, gazing down at you as your fingers continue to fumble with the expensive, over-complicated belt.

you finally unclasp the metal, gasping as his cold hands brush against your thighs, fingers finding their way to your sensitive clit, circling around, causing a hushed moan. terribly aware that his children were not too far from you.

‘j-jesus,’ you mumble, sliding down his tailored trousers and rutting your hips against his, feeling his already very erect cock against your centre.

he’s still staring down at you, inches away from your face, unable to decipher the look on his face, a mix between animalistic desire and lust.

your legs lock around his torso and he wastes no time in aligning himself with your entrance, only breaking eye contact to look down at the space between your bodies before sliding in, a raspy moan vibrating from his throat.

hand sliding from the back of his already moist neck, down onto his shoulders, his shirt half-off as he thrusts in and out, pressing his forehead against yours. it feels incredibly intimate, his hot breath brushing against your cheek, the sounds of his balls slapping against your drenched cunt.

your head falls back onto the pillow, hair splayed out around you, rhythmically slamming into you. eyes fluttering closed when his thumb finds your sensitive clit once more. he grins when your hips buck against his in instant approval.

'yeah? y'like that?' he breathes, slowing his pace as you clench around him, nearing your climax. you can't open your eyes to look at him, the immense feeling of pleasure growing in your lower abdomen.

his gruff groans only accelerating your orgasm, 'sh-shit,' you babble, digging your nails into his skin as you reach your peak, waves of hot pleasure running through your body, thighs squeezing his torso, pulling him deeper as you writhe against him.

a series of expletives tumble from your lips, loosening your grip on his skin as he continues thrusting into your now sensitive cunt. the sound of your sweet moans pushing steve to his own orgasm, hips stuttering with his final few strokes before pulling out, painting your thighs with his load.

his mouth hangs open as he catches his breath, running a hand through his damp hair, watching as you come back down to earth. you brave opening your eyes, catching his amorous stare, a small smile overtaking his face.

you're unsure of how to feel, slightly embarrassed, still laid bare on the cotton bedsheets, scrambling to cover yourself as he reaches for a previously discarded towel. cleaning the mess he had made on your skin.

'well.. i'm glad you didn't sneak out,' he simpers, removing collapsing onto the bed beside you, fully removing the half-undone shirt from his body.

'me too,' you attempt to contain the smile on your face with the pillow, though it doesn't really work, exposing your smugness.

he sits up slightly, peering over you to the alarm clock on the bedside table, 'it's late, y'should probably just stay here.. just say i got back super late,' falling back onto the mattress.

you nod, not wanting to defy his suggestion. not that you wanted to leave anyway, fairly happy to stay right here with him.

steve pulls the satiny covers fully over the both of you, turning on his side to face you. dimly lit by the definitely overpriced lamp in the corner of the room. his hand comes up to your waist, pulling your body into his.

you're clueless as to how this had all transpired. now in what was technically your bosses bed, falling asleep in the older man's arms with no idea how you'd explain this to your dad in the morning.

-

steve's lips wake you in the morning, his stubble brushing against your shoulder as you blink, remembering where the hell you were.

you hadn't woken when he'd got up earlier to get his kids ready for school, probably for the best. not wanting to answer questions as to why their new babysitter was still here in the morning, dressed in their dad's shirt.

'good morning,' he breathes, nose nuzzled into the back of your neck, strong arms snaking around your waist.

'hi,' you respond, slowly coming to, relaxing into his embrace.

'nancy's taken the kids to school.. we've got a little time before i've gotta work,' you can feel his smirk, wandering hands already finding themselves between your thighs.

'your ex-wife was here?' sounding slightly panicked, knowing deep down that whatever had happened last night would land the both of you in serious trouble.

steve picks up on your worry, planting a wet kiss to your shoulder, 'don't worry.. she just picks them up, we're good,' reassuring you only slightly.

before you can dwell on the thought too much, his erection presses against your ass, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. you giggle, moving your leg to allow further access.

not quite sure what exactly was going on but absolutely elated to be involved.

-

your dad always had an extravagant party for his birthday. like, unnecessarily big with far too much money poured into it. you’d had to miss the last few years as his birthday fell in finals week.

the last time you remember going was when you were seventeen, you’d sat in the corner for the entire night watching as everyone danced and got drunk. wishing you could’ve been literally anywhere else in the moment.

this year, you’d have to go and deal with the fact steve was also there. in his best suit with those sickly fitting pants, hair perfectly styled and smelling like that intoxicating cologne you loved.

and you’d have to do it all without giving any inclination as to what was going on between you. it was about to be the hardest night of your life.

steve had even helped you pick out your dress. obviously opting for the most revealing option, trying to play it off as just liking you in black. you’d sworn there was a teenage boy alive inside of that man.

the last few weeks had been spent with him, mostly under the guise of babysitting. spending days at a time in his glorious house, waiting for nancy to collect the kids so you could leave his room. indulging in luxurious breakfasts, sharing clothes and enough sex to keep you satisfied for life.

not without plenty of gifts, hand-crafted pieces of jewelry and god knows how many bright bouquets of flowers now littered around your room. even adorning the beautiful diamond necklace you'd received last week, tonight.

your sister had questioned the sudden abundance of gifts but you'd carefully brushed her off, putting it down to some new guy you'd been seeing, she wouldn't know him.

the start of the party was absolutely fine. sipping on some rather expensive white wine, listening to your father go on and on about his life, never missing an opportunity to talk about you and your sister.

it was inevitable that at some point you would have to speak to steve. especially as you were his new babysitter and seemed to be over there a hell of a lot, working.

‘she’s great, isn’t she?’ your dad boasts, standing between you and steve.

your eyes meet his, a sight you’d actually missed all night. taking your bottom lip between your teeth, a small knowing smile on your lips.

‘yeah, absolutely.. i’d be lost without her,’ steve grins, nudging your dads arm. his eyes don’t leave yours, blood rushing to your cheeks, playing it off as just being bashful at all of the attention.

‘you’re over there enough, i’m surprised you let her have the night off,’ your dad laughs, slinging his arm around your shoulder and rubbing your arm.

‘ahh of course, she can have anything she wants,’ he clears his throat, continuing to make heavy eye contact, ‘she’s such a big help y’know?’

‘too right,’ your dad laughs, clinking his glass against steve’s.

you want to get the fuck out of there, unsure if you had the strength to not fucking pounce on steve the second your dad looked away.

the chat goes on for a little while, switching topics to unimaginably boring topics like whatever it was they did for work. steve had attempted to explain it to you, not that it was much help.

the small group disperses into their own groups and you’re left stood opposite steve, clutching onto your wine glass trying your damn hardest not to let your eyes falter to his package.

he leans in, whispering into your ear, ‘come and find me in five minutes.. there’s an empty meeting room down the hall, you’ll know which one,’ before pulling away, you suspect to go to said room.

you almost don’t want to. let him sit there waiting on his own as revenge for the flirtatious words he’d spoken about you to your dad. you don’t. obviously.

there was not a chance you could leave him be, especially not with the way he looked tonight.

besides, it was kinda fun. risky. there wasn’t much risk involved when you were at his house. other than dodging nancy in the mornings and hoping praying that the kids wouldn’t walk in in the middle of the night.

you give a quick look around, patting the older woman on the arm as you break away from the conversation you were only half-included in. trying not to trip over your feet as you exit, trying to find this meeting room.

there’s a row of almost identical doors and you want to curse him out when the last door in the corridor is adorned with a large, silver 69 nailed to the wood.

you open the door slowly, edging your way into the room when you’re pulled into the darkness. large hands grabbing at your waist holding your body against his chest.

‘oh my god,’ you say, almost too loudly, holding yourself steady as you grip onto his shirt sleeves.

‘shh..’ he hushes, you can just about make out his features from the small amount of light being let into the room. half of his face engulfed in the shadows.

‘you’re a child,’ you smirk, slightly tipsy and very much desperate for his touch.

‘i knew you’d find it,’ he chuckles, fingers digging into the fat around your waist, eager to feel the skin beneath your dress.

‘you’re not fu-,’ you’re interrupted by his lips crashing against yours, trying to pull you even closer. he’d mesh your skin with his if he could.

your hands move to cup his face, palms running against the stubble on his cheeks. jesus christ he could have you right here. you wouldn’t even care at this point.

his fingers inch your already short dress up, riding to the top of your thighs. you slip your tongue into his mouth, the one tiny bit of dominance you had in this situation.

a low groan rumbles into your mouth as one hand glides down his torso, stopping just above his belt. he manoeuvres both of you backwards, crashing into a rogue desk, fingertips surely leaving bruises as they clutch onto you.

‘we can’t,’ he mumbles, lips resting on the side of your mouth, leaving small, wet kisses as your fingers work on undoing his belt buckle.

‘we can,’ you nod frantically, aching to feel him inside of you.

the metal clanks together as you get it unbuckled, sliding a hand into his pants, palming above his boxers at his growing cock as he grunts into your mouth. falling apart at your touch.

the hallway light flickers on fully, footsteps leading up the corridor, stopping just before the room you were in. you pull your head back, eyes wide, just about seeing his worried expression.

‘well we’re about to do the cake, where is she?’ the voice you now recognise as your sister’s echoes in the hallway.

hand still comfortably dipped into his trousers as your head snaps to the door, making desperate pleas to god and anyone else above that she’d turn back around.

‘shit..’ he whispers, pulling your hand from his boxers by your wrist, distressed as your sister walks further up the hallway and back down.

you’re confident she’s back in the main hall as you exhale, relief washing over you, ‘oh my god,’ you giggle slightly, it was pretty funny now the immediate threat had gone.

steve does not share the amusement, his face straight as zips his pants back up, pulling away from you. you screw up your face in confusion, yanking your dress back down to an appropriate length.

‘jesus fucking christ,’ he huffs, tucking his shirt back in.

‘oh c’mon.. it’s fine, she doesn’t know.. no one knows,’ you frown, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to reassure him.

‘this was a stupid idea,’ jerking his arm away.

‘this was your idea,’ utterly dumbfounded by his attitude, nothing bad had happened so was the annoyance really necessary?

‘i know that- look, you should get back out there,’ he shoos you off to the door.

‘why are you being so weird? it’s fine,’ you breathe, now slightly offended that he was being so mean.

‘go.. they’re looking for you,’ patting your back, ‘i’ll slip out in a minute.’

one of the downsides to an older man definitely included his lack of a sense of humour. you didn’t appreciate having to explain simple jokes or why you found something funny. it was as if he felt the need to be serious about everything.

you shake your head as you slip out of the door, making sure the hallway was empty. there’s a lump in your throat. he still clearly thought of you as a child. someone that needed to be told what to do.

steve doesn’t make eye contact with you for the rest of the night. carefully averting his eyes when you’d try desperately to garner his attention. you don’t even notice him slip out of the door, deserting your plans to go over when the party had ended.

it all felt terribly embarrassing. not that you’d even done anything wrong. it was his idea to go to the room. nothing had even happened, your sister still had no idea anything was even happening between you.

you call him when you’re eventually home and sure everyone else was asleep. sitting cross-legged on your bed, the phone pulled over and resting on your lap.

‘hello?’ he speaks groggily into the phone. you’re shocked he’d even answered.

‘oh hello, d’you remember me?’ you reply, still slightly tipsy and now sharing the anger he’d obviously felt earlier.

he sighs and you can hear him sit up, bedsheets rustling in the back, ‘i’m sorry.. it was just- that was too close.. i can’t lose my job, you know that.’

‘nothing even happened, steve! you’re not gonna lose your fucking job,’ you snap, gripping onto the plastic receiver.

‘i know.. i just have to be careful- we have to be careful,’ once again trying to spin it as if you’d been the one to drag him into the damned room.

‘we are,’ you swallow, vision blurred as the lump in your throat reappears, ‘i know you’re scared but you don’t have to take it out on me.’

he exhales, ‘okay, i’m sorry,’ sounding only slightly remorseful.

‘i wanna see you,’ you sniff, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, ‘can i come over?’

‘it’s late,’ he notes, you can hear the sheets rustle again and the soft padding of his feet as he gets up.

‘that doesn’t answer my question,’ deepening your frown, picking at a loose thread on your shorts.

you can still hear him doing whatever the fuck he was doing in the background, ‘i’ll be there in fifteen.. round the back.’

your frown immediately disappears, ‘okay,’ putting the phone down and jumping from your bed, getting your stuff ready to go.

you’re there waiting for him around the back of your house, an empty dimly lit road. you practically ran to his car when his headlights turned the corner.

sliding into the seat, slightly damp from the rain that’d started, he looks over quickly before speeding off. not giving anyone the chance to spot you.

there’s a small silence before you speak up, ‘i’m sorry,’ apologising for seemingly nothing. it didn’t matter, really. as long as he wasn’t mad anymore.

his hand comes over, resting on your knee, ‘we just have to be careful.. i wasn’t really angry.’

‘i know,’ you nod, though you didn’t. he seemed angry enough. enough to outwardly upset you.

you swallow any feelings of dejection. he'd apologised after all. what was the issue?

-

steve had been awfully quiet. suddenly not requiring your services as often. being overly cautious about your relationship, calling every few days and only inviting you over when the kids were with nancy.

you’re not afraid to bring it up when you do eventually go over. he was faffing about with some paperwork, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as you sit and watch.

‘why are you being so off with me?’ you speak up, curling your feet up underneath you.

‘hmm?’ he hums, barely lifting his head to acknowledge the fact you’d just spoken to him.

you huff, ‘you’re not even listening,’ crossing your arms over your chest.

‘i am,’ he slowly tears his eyes from the paper, looking over at you, ‘what’d you say?’

‘i said, why are you being weird with me?’

‘what?’ shaking his head, looking back at the numbers on the sheet.

you want to scream. tear the piece of paper into tiny shreds and sprinkle them across the living room.

‘you don’t call me, you don’t want to see me.. i don’t understand what i’ve done,’ you frown, shifting your position to face him fully.

he sighs, long and exaggerated, ‘that’s not true, nancy’s had the kids more.. i just haven’t needed you here as much,’ shrugging you off.

‘oh, so now i’m only your babysitter? you only need me here to fuck, is that it?’

‘you’re twisting my words,’ he finally puts the paper down completely, taking his glasses off and placing them on top of the pile.

‘so what am i? your babysitter or your girlfriend? i’m getting confused,’ sarcastic as you were losing your temper. he was great at evading the question at hand.

he blinks, ‘i’m not gonna argue with you, if that’s what you’re looking for,’ rubbing his temples.

‘answer the question.’

he’d never explicitly called you his girlfriend. you’d just sort of assumed that your relationship had gone past secret hookups. what with all the time spent together, the long hours spent chatting and the occasional, far-too-expensive gifts he’d gotten you.

‘you’re my.. i don’t know, my girlfriend?’ he’s so nonchalant with it all. only pissing you off further.

it was blatantly obvious just why his previous marriage hadn’t worked out.

‘do you want that?’ you ask earnestly, narrowing your eyes at him.

‘well not when you’re like this.’

it must’ve been a skill of his, to make you feel so crazy. so guilty for just wanting some clarification on your relationship.

you’re left speechless, opening your mouth to reply but nothing coming out. you look down, trying not to let him see your tears.

‘you know how i feel about you,’ he sighs, caressing your cheek, running his thumb over the blushed skin.

you nod under his grasp, squeezing your eyes to stop them from leaking.

‘yeah? you gonna stop being silly?’ he says softly, moving in closer. your eyes meet his, watering as a rogue tear slips out and rolls onto his hand.

you felt like a petulant child. like you’d just been told off and needed to be comforted. except, you only wanted to be comforted by him. his touch being the only thing to settle you.

you’d do anything to keep that. even if it meant biting your tongue and being ignored a few times a week.

he smiles when you place your hand above his, leaning into his touch. accepting that to have this, you had to take whatever he would give you.

[waratah-moon]

can I request some Eddie x cheerleader reader but she isn’t like the other cheerleaders kinda thing and ahhh

7. Have you seen my sweatshirt? (changed to fit Eddie's wardrobe obvs) I love cheerleader!reader so much she's such a sweetie pie. 🎂 join my birthday week celebration! 🎂 masterlist / send me a message Warning: judgemental '''''friends''''' wc: 1k

Mornings with Eddie were the best. For one thing, Eddie preferred to wake up with the sun, instead of doing the responsible thing and setting an alarm. Every morning light would stream through his bedroom window, illuminating his soft features; his warm arms wrapped around your waist, his mouth slightly open as he slept. You always woke up before him without fail, taking those few minutes to admire him before you woke him up by peppering his face with kisses.

He also insisted on showering together, and he'd made a pretty solid case, saying "it saves time and water, babe." An argument you didn't bother poking holes in as you let him lead you into the shower, taking way more time than was necessary to get clean.

Unfortunately this morning things hadn't gone to plan. You'd still woken up before Eddie, but you'd woken up late.

"Shit, Eddie," you shook his shoulder, pushing the covers back as you jumped out of bed. "We're late."

"No morning kisses?" His eyes were still shut, but he was pouting.

"No time. I'm going to have a shower."

"I'll come," he sat up, slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Nuh-uh. I don't care what you say, showering together does not save time. You get distracted."

"Not my fault you're distracting," he dropped his head back on the pillow.

"Don't you dare go back to sleep, I'll be out in a few minutes and then it's your turn."

After your shower, Eddie had blocked the bathroom door, refusing to let you pass until you'd given him at least one good kiss. The first kiss hadn't been up to his standards apparently, and neither had the second. He'd finally deemed the third acceptable, letting you back into the bedroom to get changed.

You had a pep rally today, so you didn't have to think about your outfit, one of the few benefits of being a cheerleader. But the weather outside was still cold, and your cheer cardigan wasn't where it normal was; folded neatly with the rest of your uniform. You rummaged through the section of the closet Eddie had put aside for you, finding only a couple of dresses and a pair of track pants, but no cardigan. You didn't even have any of your jackets in the wardrobe.

You grabbed Eddie's leather jacket off the hanger and slipped it on. You had a spare sweater in your locker at school that you could change into once you got there, in the mean time your boyfriend could deal without his favourite accessory.

You'd rummaged up some breakfast, making Eddie some toast to eat the on the drive when he called out from the bedroom.

"Babe, have you seen my jacket?"

"Uh," you started, the leather feeling comfortably heavy against your shoulders. "Yes?"

"Why did that sound like a question?" He stuck his head outside the bedroom door to see you sheepishly buttering toast. "Oh, because you're wearing it."

"Sorry, I was cold and I couldn't find my cheer cardigan."

"'sfine, princess. Looks better on you anyway. You ready to go?"

It turned out that your cheer cardigan was in Eddie's van, but when you started to take off his jacket, Eddie had stopped you. "You'll be warmer in that, plus you look insanely hot."

Eddie's black leather jacket that smelt of tobacco and weed definitely went against your cheer uniform code. But your boyfriend said you looked insanely hot, so you were willing to bend the rules a little.

"What are you wearing?" Jessica asked as you sat down at in your seat for homeroom. She had her cheer cardigan on, her name embroidered neatly on the front panel.

"I couldn't find my cardigan and I was cold," you shrugged, tightening your ponytail.

"Is it your boyfriend's?" You didn't miss the judgemental lilt in her voice.

"You know his name is Eddie. And yes, it is." You were relieved the conversation was cut short when Mrs. Click waltzed into the classroom and began taking attendance.

You were glad when the day came to an end, wanting nothing more than to go back to Eddie's, cuddle up with him on the couch and watch TV. Your day had been filled with lingering stares, whispers, and judgemental questions. But you were used to it, dating Eddie.

The two of you didn't parade your relationship around the school, but your friends knew you were dating him. Not that they didn't question it every chance they got. Sarah Perry had even tried to set you up with one of the basketball players, telling you, "but your relationship isn't that serious. It's just a fling, right?"

That was three months ago, and they still didn't seem to accept that you were happy dating the town freak. You spotted Eddie waiting by his van in the parking lot.

"You should wear my clothes more often, sweetheart," Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss.

"I'm going to have to soon. I'm running out of clothes at your place." You pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent; it was grounding, standing like this in his arms. "Can we stop by my house on the way home?"

"You sure? I'd love to see you in my Metallica tee-shirt."

You smiled. You would love nothing more than to walk the halls of Hawkins High wearing an outfit that clearly said 'I'm dating Eddie Munson', but part of you wasn't ready for it. "Yeah, I better." But you could always compromise. "But maybe you could help me make a necklace like yours?"

"You want a pick necklace? Turn around." He reached behind his neck, unclasping the chain, and you turned your back to him. "I wanted to buy you a special one, like a silver heart or something cliché, but this is even better." He brushed your hair to one side, clasping the chain around your neck. "Now there's no doubt that you're my girl."

"Was there ever any?"

[youngbuckisms]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a reader and Darby allin and reader is at reader and Darby home watch an AEW Dynamite the reader is pregnant and then the reader goes into labor and then Darby tells Tony Khan that he wants to leave Dynamite to be able to be there when the baby is born?

sorry I don’t know if you wrote this kind of stuff

Wouldn’t Miss It For The World (reader x Darby Allin); drabble

Word count: I forgot

Warnings: pregnancy, going into labor

Notes: Never wrote a pregnancy drabble as far as I can remember, or really anything like this? So, I apologize if it’s not that great. Didn't proofread this one, so defiantly some mistakes, but I hope you enjoy!

In all fairness, you weren’t due for another 2 weeks. Both you and Darby thought you had time and Darby was able to wrestle this match to tie off a feud, then come home for the next couple of weeks to help with the baby. But life has a funny way of throwing thought out plans out the window and leaving both you and Darby scrambling.

It was shortly after Dynamite had started when Darby got the call. With his match being second, he had time to gear himself up, adrenaline already pumping, and mind running one thousand miles a minute. He assumed you called to wish him luck or ask something quick, but hearing that your water broke had left his breath hitched in his throat.

“Shit .. just stay calm and I’ll be there as fast as I can, I promise.” As much as you wanted to keep him on the phone, you had to go to the hospital and couldn’t exactly wait for Darby, even if the show was only an hour away.

“I love you. I’ll be there, I swear.” Darby spoke in a reassuring tone, but you could still hear the panic lingering in his voice, the worry he wouldn’t make it.

As the call ended, Darby was left to run around the building to find Tony. Always there when people didn’t need him, but never around when they did, it seemed. He knew his match was starting soon and he would probably get hell from the locker room for missing his match, but it didn’t matter in that moment.

“Tony! Shit, been looking everywhere.” Darby panted softly, not realizing just how out of breath he was from running around, probably looking like a mad man to people he passed by.

“Darby, you’re supposed — ”

“I know, I know! My fiancé just went into labor and I have to go if I’m going even think of making it in time. Thought you could figure something out if I found you sooner, but couldn’t find you anywhere.” Darby relaxed a little seeing Tony’s face shift from confusion to a more sympathetic expression. Unexpected things happened all the time, in people’s real lives and on screen, he could understand. Still, Darby’s heart pounded, rattling his ribcage as the anxiety and panic ran through his body.

“Go ahead and I’ll find something to fill the time.”

Putting his hands together and giving a slight bow of his head as way of saying thank you, Darby was quick to run out of the building, leaving his things behind. He would text Moxley as he drove, asking him to get his bag and board for him for him to take at the next show — a quick apology sent directly after. He wasn't even sure if Moxley had responded or agreed, but it wasn't as though he could turn back back.

The one-hour long drive felt like twelve, his fingers tight on the steering wheel the entire time as he used the inside of his jacket to wipe off the facepaint he already had put on. It didn’t get all of it, of course, but it was much better than walking into a hospital with half a skull painted on. He was already going to a hospital in ring gear and only a black jacket now covered in white paint covering his torso, it was the least he could do to look presentable.

Of all the people you texted or called, Darby was the first to show up, clearly ignoring any speed limit signs and running the risk of being pulled over, but he was there.

"I thought you weren't going to make it." You spoke through heavy breaths, spotting your fiancé who was ring ready rush to your side the moment he knew what room you were in.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world, Y/N. I promised."

He was with you the whole time after that, his hand in yours, letting you hold on tight enough during your labor that he swore you could have broken his hand, but that didn't matter all too much to him in the moment.

A night of stress, one the two of you would never forget for a multitude of reasons. But for Darby, the most memorable part of all of it was being able to hold your baby girl for the first time, blue eyes turning glassy as he kept her so close to his chest as if he was afraid of her leaving his hold. You got to wake up to the side, Darby sitting beside your bed with your girl, a permanent smile on his face.

"If there is a next time, you're staying home with me for at least a month before my due date." You spoke, bringing Darby out of his thoughts, piercing blues staring at you with that big smile.

"Already thinking of next time?" He teased, getting up so he could carefully hand over your little girl.

"If." You argued, but Darby only chuckled quietly under his breath, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. He didn't plan on going anywhere for a very long time, that was for sure.

[umnitsa]

Santa has had enough of Christmas

Summary: Santa Claus is really frustrated with your behaviour.

A/N: So, yeah. There we are. More questionable porn with Santa Claus. I’m not even sure this is a bad thing anymore xD This is the moment I must admit I really loved Santa calling kids ‘little shits’, and it’s totally inspired by that line. XD Hope you enjoy this one!

Pairing: Santa x Naughty!reader

CW: degradation, mostly. Santa is angry on this one. This is dirty, so please beware xD

Santa materialized in a tiny living room in a tiny apartment, in a big city, in a big country, and he immediately felt something was wrong.

No Christmas decorations.

He squinted behind his glasses, adjusting to the light in the room, and the second thing he realized was that he occupied most of the room. That made him chuckle low; the one getting the present was very, very short, indeed.

Huffing, he turned around, looking for a tree or a stocking or wherever the fuck she placed her gifts. He found a place of cookies, a thermos, a bottle of beer, and a card on the dinner table.

“Sorry, Santa. I forgot to buy milk, so I am offering you my favorites. Beer and coffee.”

He laughed, a sad laugh. He knew you didn’t really believe in him, that this was just a joke for you, but it was ok. You were a grown-up. Grown-ups have a hard time just believing. The important thing was that you were on the nice list and deserved your gift. And your wonder.

He opened the beer, scoffed at the thermos, and grabbed one cookie. It wasn’t that good, but at least it was homemade.

He then saw the small gift close to the plate—the one you had bought yourself. With a grunt, he picked your present from the sack, but he heard a humming sound before he could place it on the table. The bedroom door must be open.

Santa moved quietly; there was a covered body in the bed, facing down, moving slowly, rhythmically. The humming came from right there. He stepped to the door, trying to make sense of the situation, when he heard a whimper, then a soft moan.

He felt the gift heavy on his hand. And the list became warm on his belt. You had just lost your place on the nice list. He had watched you all year, being sweet after a lifetime of perversion. Every moment, he watched you behave, being a good little girl… He got invested!

“What the fuck you think you’re doing, you little shit!” Santa raged, slamming the light switch. You scrambled, sitting down, the covers sliding.  “So fucking close, now I'll have to get you coal." He grunts. "It was already done and wrapped, you little pervert."

You had the audacity to look at him and moan, the vibrator still lodged into your body.

"I work all year, and you spoil everything in the last minutes of the day. Unbe-fucking-lievable." Santa growled as you scrambled, pulling the vibrator out and covering your breasts. “You leave that plate of cookies every year as a ridiculous little internal joke, and the year you’ll get the fucking present you spoil everything like this? What were you fucking thinking?”

“I… I was thinking of you, I guess…?” You said hesitantly. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you’re gonna be sorry.” He grinned, placing the present back in the sack and tugging on the jacket. You just watched him, mouth half open. By the time he was through with the jacket and started tugging on his vest, your hand was moving under the covers again. He growled, angry. “This is so disrespectful.”

You quietly watched him, your hand moving gently under the covers. That infuriated him.

“And you just keep going!”

“If this is a dream…” You babbled, trying to look innocent but clearly hiding something.

“I’ll show you the dream. You’re gonna get exactly what you were thinking of.” He spat, taking the rest of his clothes. You gasped, leaning forward when he took off his shirt. Your hand speeded up; Santa Claus growled, quickly getting rid of his pants.

For one second, you looked genuinely scared, but it quickly turned into lust. You licked your lips, thinking of how it would hurt.

“Look at that. The little pervert got turned on by my size.” He mused, almost to himself, his face in a snarl, his voice showing some disdain. He placed his glasses at your bedside, then pulled the covers to expose your body. He hummed, looking at your breasts, your hips, the expanse of soft skin. “Is this what you want for Christmas, you horny little shit?”

“Please, yes.”

“On fours.” He chuckled darkly, climbing into the bed and grabbing your arm to turn you around.

“But I want to see you…”

“Tough luck.” He growled; you got on fours, trembling, your arousal explicit by the glistening on your thighs. “You’ve been naughty; you don’t get what you want. Now it’s my turn; now I get what I want.”

You lowered your shoulders to the bed with a moan, pushing your ass up. He made a disapproving noise and grabbed your hips. He took a moment to rub his cock against your pussy, enjoying your slick feel, the way you squirmed, rubbing your ass against him. His cock lined with your hole for a moment, and he gently pushed, enjoying the way you gasped, holding your breath.

He trusted into you, slowly and relentlessly, until you felt your hips against his. You whined, squirming; his big hands grabbed and squeezed your hips, your asscheeks.

“I’m curious.” He slid his hand up your back, then grabbed your hair, pulling you up. He sat on his heels, hugging you against his chest, cock firmly into your pussy, immobile. “Why? Why did you behave all year and just now… Relapsed? I’ll only move if you answer me. And tell me the truth; I know when you’re lying.” His voice sounded like a growl, an angry, rumbling growl.

“I saw you a few years back.” You panted, trying to grind against him, to little success. “Bringing coal. I saw you choosing the beer. And how you grunted and sighed eating the cookies. You looked so good… I wanted to fuck you, but the only guarantee you’ll visit is by being a good girl. So I did it.” You moaned. “I just… I thought if you saw me, if you liked what you saw, you could join me.”

“Fuck!” He trusted up, a sharp, hard thrust. “You were trying to trap me? You pervert! Naughty little slut.”

You moaned even louder, his hands squeezing your breasts. His anger was starting to melt with pleasure, and he had to admire your courage in setting everything up. He had to respect that even being naughty, you believed in him so much... You behaved, your true nature hidden in the process. He started thrusting, not so hard now, enjoying the feeling of your body against his.

“You feel so good.” You sighed.

“Christmas magic.” He chuckled, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Nooooo. It’s you.” You whined, looking back over your shoulder, your hands over his. He nuzzled your cheek, enjoying your sighs and your whimpers. You raised your hand to his head, a soft whimper escaping from you as you buried your fingers into his hair.  He then nuzzled your ear and hair, taking deep breaths as he moved. “Thank you…”

“You’re so fucking naughty.” Santa chuckled, pushing you back on fours, his big hand sliding over your back. He took a moment to squeeze your hips, then pushed back to watch his cock disappear into your pussy.

You propped your head on your arms, whimpering, then turned your face to see him. Such a beautiful sight, his big body dwarfing yours in proportion, the tattoos adorning your chest and arms. As he growled in exertion, his blue eyes focused on the place your bodies met.

Santa didn’t look like he was paying any attention to you, but he was trying to commit that image to memory, your supple body, your soft skin, the way you were squeezing him, your moans and whimpers. He just couldn’t keep mad for long. You couldn’t be so naughty if you could make him feel like that.

The thought itself made him grab your hips harder, diving into a deep, hard thrust that made you howl in pleasure.

"Oh, is that how you like it? I see. Pervert.” He grunted, watching you tremble with his words. “You like when I point out you’re a naughty slut. What a delightful little shit you are!” He laughed, caressing your back ever so gently. He sounded dismissive and cruel, but the soft look in his eyes betrayed him. He was doing that for your pleasure. “I can’t say I’m not enjoying this.”

He pulled your head back by your hair, noticing how you whimpered and grabbed the sheets. He kept thrusting progressively harder and faster until you came, body going slack under him with the force of your orgasm. It didn’t take much for him to join after that, with your moaning and the way you weakly pushed against him. Santa just loved the way you reacted to him.

”That was a horrible thing to want for Christmas.” He said, his voice breathless and gruff, as he threw himself into the bed by your side, his arm still around you. He caressed you soothingly, especially your hips, which he had grabbed so hard just moments before.

“Sorry.” You lowered your head, chuckling giddily, your whole body tingling from the afterglow. “But that’s the only way I can get filled with Christmas cheer. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You know I have to give you what you ask for, even if you’re a naughty little shit taking advantage of the rules. You have to stop writing me dirty letters, though. The elves keep stealing them.” Santa chuckled, kissing your shoulder.

“You really want me to stop?” You asked softly.

“No.” He chuckled, his whole body shaking. You ended up laughing too.

[gravegroves]

I've been spending quite a lot of my time in hospital lately, it's not been a fun time. I recently saw a post floating around about what would have happened if Billy had died the night he was injected (if anyone knows of it, feel free to message me so I can properly credit). Seeing as I have nothing but hours laying in hospital beds, I wrote this thing.

Where Billy basically turns into a vengeful ghost. Not happy, you've been warned. CW: death, disturbing imagery, revenge, vengeful ghost!Billy

*****

They drag his body out into the woods.

No one cares to check to see if he's even still breathing. The blue of his lips would have been a dead giveaway, but the dark of night hides a lot of things.

Like a goddamn body.

He walks beside the kids, watches his own booted heels carve a groove into the earth because even between the four of them his body is too heavy to lift, so they drag him through the undergrowth like a sack of shit.

Not far. But far enough.

Maybe they do know he's dead. Maybe Max meant to kill him all along.

They get his body away from the house and the road, deep enough into the woods that no one would have a hope in hell of spotting him unless they went looking.

And they leave him there.

"Asshole can walk home when he wakes up." Max pants before they sprint back the way they came without a backwards glance. Billy wants to run after them, scream, demand that they come back and do something, but he knows with a soul deep certainty that whatever force is keeping him in this limbo is also keeping him tethered to his body. Knows this because the second he woke up in this new state he immediately tried to turn around and leave. Got as far as the driveway where the groove of Harrington's ass-print was still visible in the dirt, when he'd realised he had walked through the Byers's front door, right before he then walked into an invisible but impenetrable wall.

He'd gone back inside —through the door again when reaching for the handle had been the same as reaching for air— just in time to see the little shits preparing to drag his body out into the woods.

No one had noticed his entrance or the screaming that followed.

He wonders if they'll drag Harrington out to join him. If they'll remember that the night is fucking freezing and to bring Billy back a jacket. If he wasn't already dead he could've easily died from hypothermia.

They never do.

He hears the distant sounds of cars occasionally, of people, of things he can't quite place.

But no one comes back for him.

Not for a long, long time.

*****

The circle gets wider the more his body decomposes.

He can't stand to look at it. The sockets sunken. His long eyelashes fanning over milky, half-lidded eyes staring unseeingly up at the treetops. Gangly, awkward sprawl the same as the day he'd been left there. The cold winter does a good job of preserving his body. No roiling maggot infestations or flies to drive him more insane than he already feels.

When he stops actively working against it, his apparition changes to match that of his physical body, slowly rotting along with it. Losing pieces of himself.

Every time he feels a loose bit of skin sloughing off, it takes everything in him to force his form back to the one he had on the might of his death. He'd joke about looking his very best that night, that at least he had that going for him, but all it takes is for his mind to wander for a moment and the effect slowly wears off again.

Nowadays, Billy's mind does almost nothing but wander.

He's circled the impenetrable wall more times than he can count, looking for a weakness, a tiny crack that he might dig his rotting fingers into and tug to grant him an extra bit of freedom. Every time he walks out to check again, the circle is a couple of inches further out.

Weeks pass.

The circle gains six feet.

He's going fucking insane.

With nothing but anger and betrayal and his own rotting fucking corpse for company, he stews in a broth of raw, hateful emotions for so long it feels like there isn't much left of him besides the fury and the need to check his circle.

He won't see California again for sixteen-and-a-half thousand years at this inch-an-hour rate.

Billy calculated that.

He cries. He begs. He screams. His throat never tires and he never runs out of air, and the forest simply continues to calmly exist, undisturbed, because Billy Hargrove is a goddamn ghost.

And ghosts can't do shit.

*****

It's a particularly fucked up kind of torture that Billy can hear the louder going-on's at the Byers house, a tantalising break in his monotony hovering just beyond his reach. He can't see the house for the thicket yet, instead he stands as close as the ring allows him when he knows the mother —Joyce— leaves for the day to go to work and again when she comes home. Or when her eldest boy Jonathan plays his music loud enough to be heard throughout the entire area.

Billy hopes every time to hear even just a hint of something to keep him grounded in reality.

It doesn't work. (Jonathan's taste in music is pretentious at best, depressing at worst, Billy almost prefers the silence.)

One time he thinks he hears the kids —MaxMaxMAX— come to visit Will and he howls in anger, throws himself against the circle and claws at the invisible limit to get at them all.

I'm here! I'm here, right where you left me you fucking shitheads!

No one comes to check, which means that no one hears him.

Billy thinks about what he's going to do to them all once his circle is wide enough.

He smacks his head violently against the invisible wall.

There is no pain.

His teeth sure do look white against rotted leaves, though.

*****

By the time Hopper finds him, his circle is about to breach the treeline by the road.

Billy feels the man the second he steps into the circle, like a spider's Web, the very air buzzes closest to where he pushes into Billy's territory, needling at his mind until he goes to check on the intruder and does something to make it leave.

Make it stay.

Make it pay.

He's been so focused on that widening ring —staring at the last mark he dug into the ground to indicate his limits and checking obsessively for new inches gained— that he hadn't even heard the new car pull up into the Byers' driveway.

He moves back from the treeline —so tantalisingly close to where he might get to see people and cars again— and stalks through tree trunks, branches and leaves without disturbing a single one and finds police Chief Hopper bent over something on the forest floor.

"Hey!" Billy barks, momentarily stunned by the warped tone of his own voice. The man doesn't react, still bent over what Billy now realises is the matching heel grooves from when Billy was dragged into this torturous corner of the shittiest town in America.

Hopper's eyes follow the trail until it disappears behind a tightly knit group of trees and looks tempted to follow it.

Billy almost vibrates with excitement.

"That's it piggy," He hisses, voice the groan of trees cracking in a storm, circling the oblivious man like a starving lion with no teeth or claws to make a meal of him. Blood oozes from his gaping maw like drool.

"Follow the fucking trail and get me the hell out of here!"

The man doesn't hear a word of course, and he sure does take his sweet time. Checking the trees of all things —for what, Billy doesn't know— and using a stick to poke the dirt in front of him like he's expecting it to cave under his weight. Slowly, though, he makes his way closer to where Billy's body lies forgotten.

He's so close.

Just a bit more.

"Don't you leave me here you dumb bastard, don't you fucking leave me here," Billy rattles over and over again, a curse and mantra all in one, anger turned to simmering. If the cop doesn't find him now, it may be months or even years, before someone comes this way again and Billy doesn't know how much more of this hellish existence he can take.

He wonders if Max really could be stupid enough to think he'd wake up and simply run away without the camaro.

She must know. She left me here without even coming back to check. She knows where I am and told NO ONE.

Just a little further...

Hopper stops again.

The anger boils over.

Billy strides right up to the man and lashes out, but his hand connects with nothing. Billy howls in frustration, but watches as a meaty hand comes up to absentmindedly scratch at the place Billy had tried to tear open with his useless ghost hands.

Something cocks it's head in Billy's mind.

But then Hopper turns the corner.

And things go pretty quickly from there.

*****

The chief calls in his find to the station.

He doesn't touch Billy's body, but he doesn't leave him there alone, either. Billy appreciates it in a way, it feels like something he would do when he was alive, yet it does nothing to calm the ever burning pit in his belly.

Hopper sits himself down on a fallen log and stares down at Billy's corpse with tired eyes and Billy can't tell if they're sad or if the man is simply annoyed about the extra hours he's gonna have to pull tonight.

It doesn't really matter.

Billy begins circling him again.

It feels like Hopper is prey, but Billy still can't quite figure out how to eat him.

The pit burns hotter. The anger yawns wider.

Hungry.

He brings up a finger to dip in the blood around his mouth and grins wider than humanly possible, splitting the sides of his face when a bloody B.H. slowly stains black against the dark blue of the back of Hopper's officer jacket.

Billy can work with this.

*****

The morgue is a dismal fucking place, filled with geeks too excited about dead people for Billy to stand hanging around, no longer than it takes for his body to get stored away with a tag around his big toe.

His circle thankfully keeps it's distance and continues to grow.

It almost feels like tending to a garden, the way he runs his palm against the smooth surface of the invisible wall as he walks along it, encouraging it with soft hisses of the names of all the people who are going to pay for what has happened to him.

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOM—

On and on it goes.

He checks out the neighbourhood after another round along the circle's edge, weeding out the people all buzzing in his web. None of them ping his radar quite like Hopper did, but they are more than good enough for a little practise.

Billy needs to be ready.

*****

"He appears to have been injected with quite a high dose of sodium thiopental. The extremely high dosage coupled with a quick injection can cause extreme respiratory distress," A bead of the mortician's sweat makes its way down his face towards his nose to hang precariously at the tip.

If it lands on Billy's body, Billy will have another name to add to his garden.

"He suffocated before the drug overdose even had the chance kill him. Then he was left outside with barely any clothes in the winter. This kid was triple dead. If it wasn't one, then it was the other two."

Billy watches Hopper massage the bridge of his nose for a while, his shoulders slumped. Then the man seems to pull himself together with monumental effort and reaches for a folder marked with Billy's name.

"Billy Hargrove. Age 17. Lived with his father, step-mother and step-sister at 4819 Cherry Lane. Last seen by Karen Wheeler on the night of November 5th getting into his Camaro and heading out to the Byers residence to pick up his step sister Max Mayfield. According to the family, the car has been outside of their residence since the day after he was last seen."

"Last seen by Max Mayfield, dead in the fucking woods," Billy spits. A tiny droplet of blood sprays onto Hopper's face. The man absentmindedly wipes it away, unaware of the streak it leaves behind on his cheek.

He flicks to the next page. Clears his throat.

"Drag marks at the crime scene indicate he was dragged from the road into the forest and then dumped..."

"Liar!" Billy roars, "they led into that goddamn house, you know they did!"

He sweeps a hand over the scalpels and instruments lying on a tray next to the guerny and watches in fascination as they all go tumbling to the floor.

Hopper and the sweaty mortician freeze in place.

Oh.

After a second of stunned silence, Billy pounces.

Hopper takes the full brunt of his attack right to the chest, toppling backwards and landing half on top of Billy's corpse while Billy's spirit sits on his chest and squeezes down on his throat.

"Liar!" Billy wails, "you fucking LIAR! Why are you lying?! They killed me! You know they killed me!"

Liar Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Beside them, his corpse opens it's mouth and screeches with whatever vocal cords it has left.

"LIAAAARRHGG."

"Jesus Christ!" The mortician stumbles back into the corner of the room where he cowers in fear. "Chief Hopper, are you--"

The lights start flickering.

"Let's see how you like it," Billy hisses and squeezes down as hard as he can.

The hunger is worse than ever, he needs to...

All of a sudden, whatever source of power Billy manages to tap into vanishes, leaving him standing half inside the guerny and half inside Hopper who is gasping for air and clutching at his throat.

Billy reaches out as if on instinct and plunges his claws into Hopper's very soul. Latching on like a fucking parasite and begins to feed on the fear he can feel coursing through him.

Billy laughs.

Oh yes, this he can definitely work with.

*****

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMHOPPER—

*****

His circle is still there. Ever-growing. Calling out to him, but Billy can leave it now if he attaches himself to someone else, someone living who leaves it.

He digs his claws into Hopper with a fierce cruelty, sits on his shoulders and hopes the man can feel the weight pressing him down like gravity.

Like a bad conscience.

Hopper knows something is wrong, but he seems to be determined to power through the incident at the mortuary. Billy can feel the weariness. Maybe he's been through something like this before?

Billy doesn't care.

He can manipulate his world now, as long as he maintains his hate with every fibre of his being, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Easy fucking peasy.

*****

Hopper drives to Cherry Lane and Billy howls with hunger the entire way there, digging his fingers deeper into Hopper with excitement, enough to have the man rubbing at his shoulder every few minutes.

They're almost there.

He can't wait to stuff his fingers into Neil's mouth and rip his jaw from his face. Tear his heart out and smear it along the walls with dents in them that perfectly match parts of Billy's body. Maybe make Susan scream before he rips out the tongue she never did find a use for when it counted.

And Max...

She answers the door when Hopper knocks, looking so fucking normal it burns Billy to look at her.

You killed me and left me where no one would find me and told NO ONE.

He decides she will be first after all.

And slowly let's himself be revealed to her.

She stares at him, perched on Hopper's shoulders, coiled around his head, twisting his neck unnaturally to whisper spitefully into the man's ear.

Hopper rubs at his neck.

Billy makes sure to catch Max's gaze, lets her see his form morphing, slowly rotting to match that of his corpse, blood dripping from his mouth down onto Hopper's shoulder, milky eyes staring at her with all the hatred she left him to stew in, boiled down to a lava-like sludge in the pit of his soul, about to set hard like glass and shatter just as sharp.

Max gasps a sob.

Billy smiles and lets a few teeth scatter to the floor.

This is where it'll start.

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMHOPPER—

They're all going to fucking pay.

Billy pounces.

[elvenbeard]

Blank Canvas

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic Summary: Mr. B has called, and V and and Kerry follow his invitation. The man who claims he holds the solution to V's problem in his hands, has yet to deliver the proof and keep his word... This is truly V's last shot at a long and happy life, and he sacrificed so much to get here... it better be worth it. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 8/?, 7542 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V, content warning for mild body horror and canonical disgustingness! - notes at the end >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

V’s Kenshin tech pistol rested heavy in his lap. The sharp, cold metal ridges of the word “arasaka” engraved into the barrel bit his tracing fingertips. His eyes were pinned to the building not far ahead, casting an ominous shadow on them in the late afternoon light.

“Got the sneakin’ suspicion we’ll lose contact as soon as you go in,” Rogue said on the holo, “So if I don’t hear back from you within an hour…”

“Send in the cavalry,” V chuckled, as did Rogue on the other end of the line. She sighed.

“Don’t think you gotta worry as much as ya do. They’re shady motherfuckers… but that’s what’s gonna be your protection. They wouldn’t wanna draw the attention hurting you would get ‘em… and even more so, fuckin’ Eurodyne.”

“Good point,” V said, but he couldn’t quite shake the impression that Rogue herself wasn’t so sure about this, deflecting, relativizing a little too much. She’d been in this business more than thrice the time he had, knew what she was talking about. Usually. But even she didn’t know more about these people than V did.

“Ya really think it’s a good idea to take him along?” she asked after a short pause.

V kept his eyes straight ahead, to not give Kerry, on the driver’s seat next to him still, any indication that they were talking about him.

“Well, what do you think?” he said in a tone as neutral as he managed.

“That he’s almost as fuckin’ stubborn as Johnny,” Rogue said, “I get it, really do. Still… Y’know what happened last time I took a rockerboy to a gig.”

“Yeah…”

This knowledge, this memory, was exactly why V did not want Kerry here with him, amongst many other reasons practical, logical, and probably also irrational.

“I’m not sayin’ that lightly,” she said, “But be careful. He might be doin’ this for you, and it could make all the difference. But they sure as fuck know he’s your biggest weakness while you’re in there together. They’re not gonna hesitate to use that against you if they gotta.”

There was a short, heavy pause.

“C’mon now, go, kid,” Rogue then said, ordered almost, “Lemme know how it went… And don’t worry ‘bout the Afterlife. We’ll cope with not havin’ ya around a little while longer.”

“Still not a fan of my optimization plans, hm?” V grinned.

“Fuck off. And move your ass. I’m not gonna come over and kick it for ya.”

She ended the call and V sighed.

“So… she got any final words of wisdom?” Kerry asked, fingers gently drumming on the steering wheel. They had swapped cars at home, and with what Rogue had said just now V wondered if it might not have been better after all to use Kerry’s Aerondight to get here… But then again, if shit hit the fan in some way, he didn’t want any more unnecessary negative attention drawn to him.

“Not really,” V shook his head, “Nothin’ I didn’t think of already at least.”

“Told ya so,” Kerry shrugged, pulling out his cigarettes at the same time. He only paused when he noticed V’s stern stare.

“Ah, fuck,” he mumbled and then got out of the car. They had not only swapped cars, but also changed clothes quickly while at the penthouse. As he slipped from the driver’s seat, Kerry’s black bomber jacket rode up briefly, revealing the gun tucked into the waistband of his cargo pants.

“You shouldn’t do that,” V said as he got out himself, “Posers in action films keep their gun in their pants. In the real world that’s gonna get you shot in the ass faster than you think.”

Out of reflex V closed the passenger side door with his left elbow, flinching at the pain shooting through his shoulder and chest. He took a deep breath, then adjusted his own gun holster worn snugly under his coat.

“Fiiine,” Kerry sighed, lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, and he put the gun into his jacket’s pocket. Not ideal still, but better. V smiled at him, and then slowly turned to look down the short, narrow side street they were parked in. They were close to the Santo Domingo district border, in the middle of the industrial area at the edge of the city. The location coordinates Mr. B had sent him laid not far ahead. A new, sleek white building, curved and modern in design, rose at the center of what he remembered to be factory grounds formerly. V guessed it around seven stories tall and it was far from imposing, a little bit lost on the large lot even, but it blended in well with the surrounding corpo complexes. The entire compound was fenced in. V spotted cameras and security turrets near the reinforced entrance gate. No security staff though, not even mechs or drones, much to his surprise. Or maybe they were simply not out in the open, or cloaked, or, or, or...

“I’d like to have a short look around before goin’ in,” V said, turning back to Kerry, “You wanna wait here?”

“I’d rather tag along,” he said, then added, “If I’m not in the way.”

Kerry’s tone was off, he stood slightly hunched over, as if to make himself smaller.

“You’re not,” V quickly said, forcing a smile as he reached out to tug on his sleeve briefly. Kerry really wouldn’t be a bother for some casual scouting ahead of time. He might even notice things V didn’t. Four eyes, and all that.

“I’m just asking ‘cause I’m still not sure what to really expect. Give you the chance to back out, y’know?”

“V, how many more times do I gotta tell you you’re stuck with me?” Kerry asked sternly, then slowly started walking towards the compound and V followed. As soon as they’d reached the end of the side street though, he hesitated and turned back around, downplaying his uneasiness with a brief smirk and cocky shrug, as if to say, “after you”.

“Let’s go for a short walk around the block,” he decided, nodding to have Kerry follow him around the corner. To look around, and to maybe walk off some of their nervous energy.

They headed along the main road in northern direction, “Francis Street” said the small buzzing signs at the intersection. The building was to their left now, and they’d slowly surround it counterclockwise. Kerry stayed close, V had his scanners active and investigated the security setup, looking for weaknesses in the system or structure, and anything out of the ordinary they could potentially use to their advantage.

“Isn’t it, dunno… suspicious to walk around out in the open like this?” Kerry asked shorty before they’d turn around the first corner, “I mean, not tellin’ ya how to do your job, but…”

“No, you’re not wrong,” V said, “But this is not a stealth job. If we had to sneak in quietly, I would’ve parked the car somewhere else to begin with. Do the reconnaissance from further away, over a longer timeframe. But since they expect me, and we got an access token…”

“Then… why make the effort?” Kerry wondered.

“Can’t hurt to know what we’re up against if something goes wrong,” V said, “I don’t know this area well, and it’s good to have a rough layout of everything in mind at least. ‘specially since the place doesn’t seem to have regular windows.”

They stopped briefly on the northern side of the compound and V nodded into the direction of the building. So far, he had noted nothing out of the usual, nothing he wouldn’t have expected in one way or another.

“See that?” he pointed to a gate on the side of the building blending in so well with the exterior walls, it was barely visible without a scanner, “Could be a garage entrance, and going by the size it’s big enough for a small tank. Could even lead underground. And the lights on the roof, the colors, and the way they’re arranged, suggest an AV landing pad. But can’t tell from here if there’s one there right now or not. No big communication towers or anything though, so this is all pretty closed off, which fits their secrecy and posing as an independent little lab with no ulterior motives. The security tech I’ve seen so far… all Arasaka, even if they removed the branding for most of it to make it less apparent.”

No wonder, his former employer’s name wasn’t well-liked in Night City once again.

“Huh,” Kerry pondered V’s explanations for a moment, looking the building up and down, “Wouldn’t even know where to start, like… sure, there’s security turrets and cameras but, what to do with that info…”

V had been uncertain about whether or not he wanted to… but in the end, he was convinced that Mr. B would expect him to check out their security upfront.

“Can you keep an eye out for a moment?” V asked, “Just out here on the street. Make a note of anyone passing by or giving us weird looks.”

“What’re you up to?” Kerry wanted to know, shoulders tense, but voice relaxed.

“Check the cameras. Just a minute or so, don’t wanna push it,” he said with a grin, hacking into the CCTV at the same time. His vision blurred and he gained control of the camera nearest to their position. It was attached to the corner post of the fence surrounding the compound.

“Oookay…” Kerry said reluctantly, and through the lens V saw themselves, Kerry looking around with his hands in his pockets, surely clinging to his iron.

“Don’t worry,” he tried to soothe him, “I’ll be quick and then we continue.”

The cameras on the outside of the building were all part of a separate closed-circuit network, and V couldn’t find an easy way to gain access to any internal systems. Not that he had expected to. He switched through the various cameras, most of them on the fences, around the gate, then surprisingly one surveying from the rooftop. He panned it around.

“Huh, no AV on the roof,” he informed Kerry, “Also, nothing out of the usual… apart from all security completely automated it seems. No illusive private security firm like the Peralezes had to deal with…”

He logged out of the system again, blinking a few times until his optics had refocused.

“Let’s move on.”

They completed the rest of their lap around the compound in a little less than ten minutes overall. There was not much to discover, nothing out of the usual, and V had to shut up the nagging voice in the back of his head complaining that all he did was procrastinate the inevitable.

“Last chance,” he said quietly, turned to Kerry, who shook his head sternly, eyes narrowed and dark.

“The only way I’m not going in there with you ’s them draggin’ me back out by my feet.”

V more mouthed than said “okay” in response, but still his whole body screamed to put Kerry back into the car and lock the doors until this was over. Instead, he stepped down from the curb onto the dusty tarmac. Crossing the few yards now separating them from the compound entrance seemed to be an insurmountable distance, while with each step V’s dread grew.

The gate at the center of the lot was heavy black metal, just like the fence. V recognized security scanners embedded into the floor. A couple of signs attached warned of trespassing and lethal force being used, the usual markings one could find to the entrance of every corporate- or government owned facility like this. Only now V finally noticed the nameplate above the entrance. It was somewhat subtle, fine silver letters engraved into white marble-like material, mirroring the design of the building.

“Beyond?” Kerry muttered as if he’d read V’s mind. V glanced at him also reading the sign, then Kerry looked at him.

“Heard worse names for a startup,” V shrugged. Very faintly below the “Beyond” a tagline stated “Technologies” in a spaced out, heavier font.

“Guess time will tell if they’re beyond awesome or beyond awful,” Kerry muttered, and V chuckled.

“Beyond belief, maybe?” he said, and Kerry groaned.

“Beyond belief how many bad puns this will lead to…”

They both snickered, briefly forgetting why they were here, that there was nothing really to joke about just yet.

V looked around for an intercom or something comparable, but there was nothing.  Security cameras, yes, but even as they finally stood right in front of the gate, there seemed to be no immediately visible way inside, nothing happened.

“Hello?” he asked out loud, for lack of a better idea in the moment, his heart beating in his throat, “I’m here… For Mr. B?”

Nothing.

Kerry stepped a little closer, hands still in his pockets, and looked around, over his shoulder, at V.

“Gonna try and call him,” V said after a couple of moments, but then a soft crackle of static somewhere above their heads made them both look up.

“Welcome,” a voice said. Not Mr. B’s as far as V could tell, probably an automated receptionist. He still couldn’t tell where exactly it was coming from though, it seemed to be all around them with no discernible source. Not loud or otherwise attention-drawing, only just so they could hear it.

“Please step into the scanner,” the voice ordered.

V did as he was told, somewhat reluctantly, and he flinched slightly when suddenly Kerry grabbed his hand. Not to hold him back, just to hold on as he followed. The scanner activated, blue lights flashing and surrounding them completely for a few seconds.

“Firearms detected,” the voice said, “Combat cyberware detected.”

“A cyberdeck is classified as a weapon now?” V muttered under his breath as the scan completed.

“Ezaki, Vincent, 28. Fixer, Afterlife-Merc. Ex-Agent, rank III, Arasaka Counterintelligence. ‘King of the Afterlife’, wanted in Night City for - …”

“The fuck, you wanna yell my whole biography across the street?” V complained and almost simultaneously Kerry also started berating the voice.

“Shit, how do you even know - …”

They looked at each other, as the voice continued. Then it dawned on V. He only heard it in his head.

“Fuck me sideways…” Kerry muttered quietly, coming to the same conclusion, “That’s not creepy at all...”

“Scan complete,” the voice said before they could even recover from their realization, “Token verified. Visitor access granted.”

There was a loud click and a thud, and then, like an ancient creature awaking from its slumber, the massive gate crawled open.

“What the fuck was that?” Kerry asked, both of them hesitating to enter.

“Intimidation tactics,” V said sternly.

“If that’s how they treat their guests I don’t wanna know how they treat their enemies,” Kerry mumbled. V wondered if concepts like “friends” and “enemies” really mattered all that much to these people.

“Stay behind me a bit, just in case,” he said, still convinced that any moment now someone would open fire, or snatch Kerry away from him, that he was not wanted here after all. Reluctantly Kerry let go of his hand as they entered the compound, the gate rattling shut behind them again. Mr. B had sprung one of his may traps once more.

A white-tiled path wound its way between coarse dark gravel towards the entrance of the building, framed by freshly planted, synthetic bonsai trees that were all a bit too uniform, too perfect. V and Kerry were not even halfway there when the tall black entrance doors slid open, revealing a sprawling hall beyond. A handful of flat steps led up and into it, and the hair on V’s neck stood up when they stepped inside.

“Got a bad feeling,” Kerry uttered out loud what V was thinking.

Describing the entrance hall as imposing was an under- and overstatement at the same time, somehow. Its dimensions were certainly breathtaking, encompassing at least half of the building’s height and width. A smartglass ceiling projected the endless night sky above them, cosmic clouds swirling between sparkling stars and far solar systems, the logo “Beyond Technologies” floating among the digital nebulas. The darkness of the ceiling was reflected in the black marble flooring, while the indirectly lit walls were white. Decorative silver lines crawled between earth below and sky above, reminiscent of circuit boards. “We reach for the stars” seemed to be the message here, and the first impression was certainly something. Apart from that though, the room was disappointingly empty, almost as if the budget had run out mid-furnishing. No desks, chairs, decorations. No people, either, and the security systems, which certainly existed, were well-hidden. On the inside the building was just as devoid of actual life as its surroundings.

The only outstanding architectural element was a large glass tube housing two separate elevator shafts at the center of the room, the only other visible ways in and out. Just as V had finished the thought, an elevator came into sight from above, within the familiar face of Mr. B.

“That’s him,” V whispered, and Kerry shuffled, whether with unease or to ready himself he was not certain.

The elevator stopped on their level, the door slid open elegantly. Mr. B, dressed in a white blazer combined with sleek, silvery pants today, stepped out towards them.

“So glad you could make it this soon,” he said, tone overly friendly, “Although you look somewhat more roughed-up than Saturday…”

“Nothin’ to do with the gig,” V quickly deflected.

“Didn’t think so,” Mr. B said with a nod. He slowly, steadily walked towards them, but stopped retaining about three yards of distance – respectful or distrustful? Arms behind his straightened back, he held his head high, and blue glowing eyes looked V up and down briefly before wandering to Kerry.

“Mr. Eurodyne,” he hinted a bow, “A true honor and pleasure to meet another Night City legend in person.”

V half expected a snarky response like “wish I could say the same” or “can we just skip the pleasantries and get down to business”, but in fact, Kerry remained quiet. V looked over his shoulder, just to make sure he was still there.

“So, you’re the guy claimin’ he can save V’s life?” Kerry then finally said, the tiniest, most gut-wrenching tremble accompanying his last few words.

Mr. B’s smile grew slightly wider.

“I’m not just claiming it,” he said, oozing confidence.

“How?” Kerry asked promptly, “’Cause - …”

Mr. B raised his hand to stop him, and Kerry scoffed.

“I think it is easier to show you than to explain,” he said, “Follow me, please.”

He half-turned and elegantly gestured towards the elevator. V and Kerry exchanged a quick glance. V could sense Kerry’s nerves, his nausea about this whole situation. Every cell in V’s own body warned him about stepping into that elevator and yet… Was that Johnny’s lingering influence, his aversion to corporations and slimy bastards like Mr. B, or really V’s own instinct speaking? Also, Mr. B seemed surprisingly relaxed about Kerry even being here… V had expected more of a resistance, more hoops to jump through. And now they were invited in just like that?

Mr. B led the way and V and Kerry felt they had no other option but to follow, as if they were being pulled by an invisible leash. There was no way for them to speak, communicate what to do if something went wrong. V did a quick scan of their surroundings as they walked, noting that there really were no doors beyond the entrance and the elevators in this whole cathedral of a room – was this really built just to show off, impress the – presumably – rare visitors?

“After you,” Mr. B said and V stepped into the wide, circular elevator, closely followed by Kerry, glued to his side.

“I know everything is a bit bleak still out here,” Mr. B then said with a glance over his shoulder, right as he joined them. V shivered.

“Not at all, it is impressive,” he flattered, “But yes, you mentioned this building is brand-new?”

Blue-Eyes nodded.

“You are among the first of our… clients to walk within these walls,” he said, “For lack of a better term.”

The doors slid shut with precision. V couldn’t see a control panel, and yet the elevator just seemed to know where they were headed, ascending towards the galaxy ceiling, and then passing through. Remote controlled, probably. Blue-Eyes had to be stock-full of chrome capable of little tricks like that, nothing that impressed V too much just yet.

“Who are your other ‘clients’, apart from people you invest in,” V inquired instead. Unable to hide his curiosity he deliberately used Mr. B’s terminology, even though he’d always hated to be treated as some corporation’s investment. Kerry’s stinging stare was like a knife to his throat, but V kept his eyes on Mr. B as they ascended slowly. The elevator shaft was only see-through on the ground level, further up the futuristic magic of it all was somewhat diminished, replaced with run-of-the-mill skyscraper interior aesthetics.

Mr. B turned to look at V, smile as piercing as his eyes.

“So far it is only people we invest in – in one way or another,” he said.

The elevator came to a halt, the doors slid open again, revealing a long, bright corridor that screamed “lab”. There were doors left and right, but V could not make out identifying markers, nameplates, or anything else to give an indication of what lay behind them as they followed Mr. B to the end of the hallway. The silence, apart from their echoing footsteps, was thick, and V counted the doors, memorizing how far apart they were and approximated how long it would take to run the entire distance to the elevator, how quickly they would be able to find cover.

Mr. B opened the tall white door ahead of them. They entered a large office, its shape followed the curve of the building’s exterior walls, and V roughly knew where they were now. Somewhere above the large garage gate they’d seen from the outside.

The room was about twice the size of V’s old Megabuilding H10 apartment. The entirety of the curved wall was covered in smartglass displaying once more the name “Beyond” on a minimalistic, slightly animated white and silver background. It provided enough illumination to bathe the whole room in soft, almost-natural light. A large white desk sat roughly at the back center of the room, a modern art piece of its own volition. There were two comfortable armchairs for visitors and a large office chair behind it, all white leather. In fact, the whole room was so bright, so white, so immaculately clean that it made V dizzy. As if he’d walked right into the afterlife – the literal one this time, not the bar. And again, apart from the desk and seating, there was nothing else in here. Some modular shelves built into the walls that weren’t covered in screens, but no decoration, no sliver of personality. Smooth, cold, bright, blinding, corpo-chic… in a way, it did make sense after all that this was Mr. Blue-Eyes’ office.

“Please, have a seat,” Mr. B said as he sat down in the office chair. V and Kerry obliged, Kerry still with his hands in his pockets, slumping back, legs spread wide, right one slightly bouncing. He never took his eyes off Mr. B. The latter pulled up a holographic screen in front of him, top-notch tech if V had ever seen any. Arasaka’s collapse was probably what had made the setup of this lab possible in the first place – certainly the security measures, so why not the tech on the inside as well? In a way, V was suddenly thrown back into Jenkins’ office, the many lengthy private meetings either with just V alone or the other agents on his level invited.

“I take it Mr. Eurodyne has been brought up to date on why you’re here today?” Mr. B then asked, catching V completely off guard. Blue-Eyes tapped around on his screen briefly before leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, and hands folded expectantly. Only now Kerry briefly glanced at V.

“Wish I was being brought up to date still if I’m being completely honest,” V said sternly, “I’ve kept my word, no mention of what I did for you until it was done.”

“Who else knows?” was the counter-question.

“No-one that wasn’t directly involved,” V replied fast and truthfully.

Blue-glowing eyes stared him down intensely, certainly equipped with the tech to read intention and recognize lies. But V was a good liar, and in this case, for once, he even told the truth, had nothing to hide. After a couple of moments, Mr. B’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, but V’s heart continued to run a marathon in his chest.

“I’ve left him in the dark long enough. Your turn now,” he added sternly.

Mr. B slightly tilted his head, and his smile returned.

“You remember our conversation at the Afterlife?” he asked, “I promised you something beyond your wildest imagination… An instant and permanent solution to your medical issues.”

He cleared his throat briefly, then continued. V had to force himself to relax his own posture, mirroring Blue-Eyes’ now with his legs crossed, as if they were having a nice dinner date to talk business.

“The way I see it, having known you and your condition for a while now, your problem has always been the one of an alert, bright mind, trapped in a dying body,” Mr. B said, “First it was the Relic slowly killing you, and now it’s the only thing that’s left of your life how it used to be.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” V shook his head, but he was sick to his stomach hearing what he knew deep down spelled out so clearly, with so little emotion. The doctors they’d dealt with so far had always at least somewhat tried to sugarcoat the facts, usually in medical terms. Or provided them with the same “options” Hellman had already loved to push on him, “options” to consider apart from chasing a cure that didn’t exist.

“You can sense it though, don’t you?” Mr. B continued, leaning forward slightly now, “You should, at this point. Your mind disconnecting itself, slowly but surely, from a host not fitting its specifications anymore.”

“Can you cut it out with that gross tech-jabber?” Kerry interrupted him now, “V’s not some machine, and his body is his body, not a ‘host’, for fuck’s sake.”

Mr. B briefly turned to look at Kerry, keeping up his friendly smile.

“Apologies,” he said, “I do sometimes get caught up in the technical terminology.”

“How do you know all that anyway?” V then asked, trying to maintain his relaxed posture while his head began to throb in pain once more, “The emptiness the… disconnect. Because yes. That’s how I’d put into words what I’m feeling lately. Or… not feeling, rather.”

Blue-Eyes reached out to turn around his screen for V and Kerry to see.

“We were able to get our hands on a lot of very interesting data from Arasaka’s ‘Secure your Soul’ program,” he explained, “It is far from complete, but we have access to a large database containing both simulations and clinical trials with human study participants, for both the original Relic and the Relic 2.0. With what we have, gaps were easy to approximate.”

V scanned through the data on the screen briefly, recognizing some names and information here and there from his own venture into the depths of Arasaka’s labs during that long, dark, awful night back in June.

“The 2.0 never made it to completion though,” V then said, looking up from the terminal, “I’m the first one where it… somewhat worked as intended. Failed successfully. Hellman himself said so.”

“Indeed,” Mr. B nodded, “We were able to secure many notes of Mr. Hellman’s team as well, verifying his concerns on our own time meanwhile, and reaching similar conclusions. In subjects where the Relic malfunctioned or the engram didn’t fully take, even in those otherwise most promising, there was always mentions of a growing numbness, disconnect, distance between engram and host… until the engram eventually malfunctioned and, for lack of a better word, disabled itself.”

“You mean, died,” Kerry said sternly.

“I hope you’re not implying you’ve carried on Hellman’s work…” V asked, his mind racing at the mental image of the basement levels of this building just a whiter, friendlier-looking copy of Arasaka’s labs, while containing the same or even more messed up levels of human experimentation. He did not like Mr. B’s widening, predator-like smile.

“Not in the sense you’re imagining,” he shook his head. But he did not outright deny it either.

V swallowed, he struggled to continue holding eye-contact with Mr. B, when his mind told him “Run. Now!”. Kerry looked back and forth between V and Blue-Eyes tensely, brow heavily furrowed, slowly sliding closer to the edge of his seat.

“Anders Hellman’s focus were the Relic’s architecture and the engrams themselves. Optimizing those two variables to ensure the transferred personalities were as close to their originals as possible,” Mr. B continued, “For Arasaka’s purposes that was a valid concern. Nothing worse than transferring Saburo-sama into a new host body only to have him, well… come back wrong. Not the man, the leader he is. It makes sense.”

He paused, uncrossed his legs, and got up from his chair. He turned to look at the smartglass wall behind them, the slightly pulsating “Beyond” engulfed in digital fog. Then he looked back at V.

“Your concern though, as mentioned, lies in the fact that you’re currently in the wrong kind of host body, which is actively rejecting your psyche.”

“Get to the fucking point, fucking hell,” Kerry muttered and pulled out his cigarettes.

“I’d kindly ask you not to smoke in here,” Mr. B said, tone still friendly, but he looked down on them, towered over them.

“Make me,” Kerry challenged, rummaging for his lighter at the same time, eyes electric and wild.

“Kerry,” V awkwardly placed his injured hand on Kerry’s right thigh in an attempt to soothe him. Only after staring at each other intensely for a couple of moments Kerry stopped searching for his lighter.

“I don’t like where this is going either,” V thought, hoping somehow to convey his conflicting emotions without words. He hated everything about this, but… Mr. B’s promise was his last shot at a life together. At the very least he wanted to hear all details of his offer, even if…

Kerry put his hand on V’s carefully, holding it in place. He understood.

“I know this is a lot to take in at once,” Mr. B then said, “Even more so I am glad to have you both here, as, with how close you are, my solution to your problem will certainly be a concern for each of you to consider.”

V’s stomach twisted at that implication alone. Mr. B tapped around on his screen once more, and a sudden hissing noise behind them made both V and Kerry flinch, then spin around. A previously invisible hatch in the ground slid open, steam rolling in, probably caused by the reaction of some sort of coolant with the nicely air-conditioned office. A large platform began to rise from the ground, on top of it an eerily coffin-shaped and -sized container.

“Here is my offer, my solution, my payment for you, V,” Mr. B said proudly, “And my promise for a bright future ahead.”

V’s heart and thoughts were racing. The platform came to an agonizingly slow halt, locking into place with a metallic thud. The cold steam slowly subsided, and Mr. B walked around the desk passing them, towards the container, until it sat between them. It was built from the same black metal as the gate and fence outside, as the interior of the building beneath the polished white walls and shiny screens.

“Am I gonna regret looking at this?” V asked hesitantly, still glued to his chair, as was Kerry, fingertips digging into the syn-leather.

“I think you have seen worse in your time,” Mr. B smiled, then beckoned him to come over. V rose, slowly, each movement calculated precisely. Step by step, one after the other… his feet barely obeyed him, he had to convince them to move, carry him towards this human-sized pandora’s box.

Kerry remained behind a little while longer but got up as soon as V had reached the platform.

The lid on top of the container was see-through, thick security glass, slightly covered in condensation. The interior was still clearly visible though, illuminated by the same icy light as everything in the building.

V leaned forward, daring a glimpse. He gasped, shuddered at the sight of a body laying inside. Not surprised, he was also not thrilled, but also unable to take his eyes off of it. This was not a random dead person in front of him. It appeared human at first glance, but the longer V looked the more wrong it became. It was hairless, sexless, naked, its facial features weirdly smooth and undefinable, a mannequin made to look human at best… and the worst alternatives would certainly haunt V’s nightmares in the days to come. It appeared sleeping, or dead, arms resting at its sides, its eyelash-less eyes closed. It wasn’t breathing, seemed frozen in place almost, and the container was giving off an icy cold aura.

 “What in the fuck… is that?” V finally managed to ask. Stepping away from the container he bumped into Kerry who had only just reached his side.

“Your means of survival,” Mr. B said as if they were looking at a cartoonishly colorful pill bottle, not a prop from a bad mid-last-century sci-fi horror flick.

“Sorry, but that ain’t quite cutting it as an explanation,” V said, and he was close to reaching the point of slapping the slimy smile out of Mr. B’s face. He kept his cool though, forced himself to breathe slowly.

“Motherfucker, what the hell…” Kerry hissed, now also getting a peek into the futuristic metal-casket, but he quickly withdrew again, “That a fuckin’ corpse or what?”

“What you’re seeing here is a second chance for many people in your situation, V,” Mr. B said, disregarding Kerry’s remark. He placed his hands on the rim of the container’s lid.

“People with a healthy mind that are dying of an incurable disease, whatever it may be. Let down by their own body, all options are exhausted. But they are not yet ready to give up. This is an individual, pain-free solution to live a long, healthy life, in a more natural way than any other modern therapy could offer.”

“Fuck that, nothin’ ‘bout that thing’s natural,” Kerry grumbled, and once more, Mr. B raised a hand to stop him, calm him down. Kerry glared, then he turned to V.

“You’re seeing how fucked up this is, right?”

V’s own heartbeat was so loud, he barely heard Kerry’s voice.

“This is more natural than your body is at this stage, Mr. Eurodyne,” Mr. B said, then paused briefly, “No offense.”

Kerry froze, biting his tongue certainly sharp with an angry retort.

“What exactly is it, even?” V then slowly asked, but still didn’t dare to look back inside the container, “Some kinda… RealSkinn-covered cyborg? A new kinda total body conversion, a clone, or what?”

“Neither, not quite,” Mr. B shook his head. He looked down into the coffin, bright light from within reflected in his eyes, illuminating his pale face. Then he took half a step back again and sought V’s gaze.

“This is the product of years of trial and error, research and optimization, many failures,” he began to explain, “A blank canvas comes closest maybe to what it is exactly. No conversion, but a replacement. A biological body, with slight… enhancements. It needs food, sleep, exercise, grows hair, ages, can get aroused, sick, injured, bleeds, and it will eventually die… everything a ‘natural’ body would do as well. This is not immortality, but life. The body can be pre-equipped with top-tier synthetic organs, an operating system, interface plugs, personal link, and any other cyberware the client wishes for or is used to. With the great benefit that, since the body ‘naturally’ comes with these enhancements, cyberpsychosis is almost no concern anymore, for example. On its own though it cannot survive. It needs to be equipped with a conscience first.”

“Not so ‘natural’ after all then…” Kerry muttered under his breath.

“No offense,” V said, “That’s all nice and well but…”

“You can’t see yet how this would help you in your situation?” Mr. B asked. V grinned.

“That thing’s ugly as fuck,” he said, “Adam Smasher was a beauty pageant winner in comparison.”

Mr. B chuckled, but his eyes remained coldly fixated on him.

“Can I just pick a nice faceplate to slap on, too, together with all the other fancy chrome you can stuff in there?”

“Oh, far from it, V,” Mr. B said, raising his head triumphant, “This body can be yours as much – or even more so – than your current one is.”

He walked to the lower end of the container, tapping onto a small panel there. V was momentarily scared the creepy flesh-mannequin would now wake up and emerge, to secure its spot in the top three of messed up things he’d seen this year. Instead, though, the glass panel atop the container flickered, like a screen being turned on.

“No need to be afraid,” Mr. B smiled.

“I’m not,” V quickly retorted, almost believing himself.

“Come closer, have a look.”

V swallowed, then slowly stepped forward again. When he looked in the container, his heart stopped. He looked at his own face, asleep, dead, frozen in this weird state of stasis.

“What the… a projection?” he realized as he tried to process this visual still.

“To give you an idea of what’s possible,” Mr. B nodded.

And indeed, it was still the same, blank, doll-like body, just with his face and hair projected onto it. Kerry slowly approached again as well, staring into the container speechlessly.

“The body will be yours not only in a biological sense,” Mr. B explained, “We use your DNA’s structure as a basis to shape the genetic aspects. From skin- and hair color down to individual freckles.”

The projection slightly adjusted, beginning to resemble V more and more. Describing the visuals as “bizarre” was not nearly strong enough an emotion to fit V’s thoughts and feelings in this moment.

“But we can also modify every aspect to your liking, create an ‘ideal’ you, far from what modern medicine and modifications could currently achieve in an already existing body.”

V didn’t even have to ask for clarification when the appearance of the body’s chest changed, top surgery scars gone as if they’d never existed… and its genitals definitely were different from what V was used to seeing when he looked down, when he scrutinized himself in the mirror on a bad day. He shuddered, with intrigue, horror, disgust, curiosity alike.

“You’re saying… you’re remaking my body from scratch, and ‘better’, basically…”

He barely managed to get the words out, his throat tight and dry, his stomach unhappy with the mere thought.

“Not better,” Mr. B said, marketing-voice in full action, “However you want it, whatever you wish it to be like.”

Next, V’s neck cyberware appeared on the projection, then his tattoos, in surprising detail. Even Johnny’s stupid love-heart… V didn’t want to ask or even know just how they got all of this down so accurately.

“Okay okay,” V said and stepped back from the container, before the nausea of seeing himself lying in that coffin, kind of dead-looking, got the better of him, “You got a new body for me, alright. But how do you get me in there? And…”

His breath hitched at a grim realization.

“What happens… to this body? My… real body?”

Mr. B blinked slowly, raised his eyebrows, then turned off the projection. Only the blank body base from the beginning remained in the container.

“Your new body will be more real, more you, than this one is at this stage,” he said calmly, gesturing in V’s direction, “It will be healthy, free of old trauma, and equipped with the tech to safely contain your mind and memories without the option of someone – accidentally or willingly – turning the lights off by removing the Relic from your neck slot. I hate to say it, but your current body is your greatest weakness, V, riddled with exploits. You will not need it anymore, as it is only holding you back from using your full potential.”

V's head began to spin wildly, midway through Mr. B’s explanations.

“Vince…” Kerry, who had kept himself in the background for the last couple of minutes, reached out to support him, hand firm on V’s back.

“So… what, I gotta… You’ll run me through Soulkiller again, or what?” V asked, trying to sort his racing thoughts as he spoke.

“In a way, yes,” Mr. B said, but he might as well just have punched V in the gut, “We are currently looking into creating our own version of the algorithm, a more… gentle approach. The problem of engrams created with Arasaka’s Soulkiller has always been, to more or less of a degree of severity, their emotional stuntedness. We would want to avoid a further decrease in authenticity for this transferal.”

“And my body is just… It will die?”

“It is dying this very moment,” Mr. B said, without a hint of sympathy in voice or expression, but a flat matter-of-factness striking V at the very core, “And it will take your mind along with it, if we don’t act soon.”

“Hold up, hold up,” Kerry said, his fingers digging into V’s bruised side, making him flinch, but he leaned into the touch, into Kerry for support, “Didn’t you just say you’re still working on… how to even get him into this new body?”

“Yes, and we are almost ready,” Mr. B nodded, “A few days, at most. And for the time being, we also have the option – just an option, no must – to slow down the decay. A medically induced coma, in laymen’s terms. You go to sleep in this, and wake up in your new body, without noticing anything in-between, ideally.”

“Ideally…” V repeated weakly.

“V?” Kerry said quietly, urgence in his voice. V slowly turned away from the container to look at Kerry. His eyes were wide and worried, he looked him up and down briefly. Beads of cold sweat ran down the small of V’s back, his legs were numb, his hands clammy.

“I think I need some fresh air,” was all he managed to say, trying to hold Kerry’s gaze but failing, grabbing his arm now as his head grew heavier by the minute.

“Of course. It is a lot to take in at once,” Mr. B said. With that and a loud clank the body container started to slowly disappear into the floor again, locked away behind shiny white tiling, like a well-hidden dirty little secret.

“Let me accompany you outside,” Mr. B suggested, and now it was Kerry to raise his hand at him.

“We’ll manage, thanks,” he said, mimicking Blue-Eyes’ overly friendly tone.

“As you wish,” Mr. B nodded, opening the office door for them at least, “As I said, at the latest in a few days we are ready to receive you here, but you can come in any time from now on to get the procedure started. It’s the least we can do to ensure your wellbeing for the future, V. That you even get to see a future… both of you together.”

“Sure, thanks,” V said tersely, Mr. B’s voice muffled and distant as Kerry half-dragged, half-pushed him out of the office, through the endlessly long white hallway with mystery-doors left and right. The open elevator awaited them, miraculously took them to the ground floor without them having to push any buttons or even say a word.

“We’re outta here in a moment, don’t worry. It’s all good,” Kerry said, hands cupping V’s face, but every time their eyes met, V reflexively looked away at the stinging flash of blue.

The elevator doors snapped open, and V and Kerry marched across the huge, empty, echoing entrance hall to the already open exit. The sun had almost set when they stepped outside onto the flawless path ahead, sand and street dust swirling across the courtyard. V stumbled down the steps by the entrance, almost pitched forward, breath shaky, knees trembling. For a moment he thought he’d be able to regain his composure, taking a few deep breaths… but his headache, the nausea that had been riddling him the whole time they’d spent in that building, took over. Right on Mr. B’s doorstep, between neatly trimmed fake bonsai trees, V puked his guts out onto the pristine white marble tiles.

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

>> Next Chapter

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

Notes:

Last time there was smut, and now here's the promised angst... HHHH I was really really nervous about posting this, cause we're entering straight-up sci-fi territory now and my Cyberpunk lore knowledge is not as deep as I would like it in some regards sometimes XD But yeah... V's problem is, his body's letting him down, is dying... time for a new one right? Simple! Easy!

What would you do in his situation? I'm honestly curious (as I'm unsure how I would even feel like xD)!

I hope you enjoyed reading this, I think this was the longest chapter so far... and the angst will continue for a bit next time but maybe... maybe (I'm really not 100% certain yet, depends really on how V and Kerry are gonna behave XD), we'll have a little cameo of someone coming up soon 👀

Requested Fic Update Tags:

@humberg @r3d-f0x-blog @thatinternetwanderer @localtranspigeon @xtaiyo  @kharonion  @genocidalfetus  @seeker-of-truth 💜

If you’d also like to get tagged when I post a new chapter for this fic, leave a reply on [this post] or send me a DM!

If you do not want to receive further notifications, shoot me a quick DM and I’ll take you off the list again!

[cassandrajoybellbittner]

Runaway Wolf - Chapter 25a

*Warning: Adult Content*

Levi Blackman

My shaky hands fumbled with the gold tie around my neck.

I glanced up from what my hands were doing in the full length mirror to see my light grey suit making my already pale face seem paler.

Was I really going to do this...?

I laughed shaking my head, hell yeah I was.

But I've never been so nervous in my life as I was right at this moment.

Taking a deep breath I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself with images of my beautiful mate which usually did the trick but this times it caused more butterflies to go fluttering around in my stomach.

"I think I'm going to throw up," I muttered to my reflection.

Reaching up I smoothed my long gelled hair back with an unsteady swipe of my hand when I noticed a shadow in the background lurking in the mirror and turned around.

A smiled grew wide on my face.

"What's with that nervous face? You look like your gunna shit you pants," Caleb said from the doorway.

He was dressed in a navy blue tux and his hair was gelled back.

"Caleb," I cried and ran to hug him.

It has been forever since I've seen him and it was a good thing he was here because I was in desperate need of his presence.

"How you been, Levi?" he muttered hugging me back.

"I've been well," I said shakily.

"I can tell from the 'I'm about to faint' expression," Caleb chuckled clapping a hand my shoulder.

I smiled before it fell and Caleb shook his head with amusement.

"Come here," he said reaching out and straightened my disaster of a knot.

"You look very handsome, Levi."

I met his gaze

"I still can't believe it."

"Me either," I said letting out a heavy breath.

"At least Kyle's seen the error of his ways," Caleb said give the tie a final tug before brushing his hands down my jacket smoothing out the wrinkles.

"You can say that," I mumbled to myself dropping my eyes to the ground.

'I just wish he hadn't been tortured to see the errors., I thought.

"I heard about what happened to him."

I glanced up to meet his eyes and I could see the concern and anger in them from what Kyle went through.

"I wish I could help him get past it but I can't. I can only help those with mate problems."

I nodded in understanding.

I remember when I though Kyle had left me, Caleb had help me and my father get past our grief of the loss of our mates.

"I know," I said hugging him again.

There was a knock on the door and we both looked to see my dad in the doorway in black suit and a smile on his face.

"Are you ready?" he asked me.

I bit my lip and glanced over at Caleb who nodded and pushed me towards my dad.

"Let's do this," he said, closing the door behind me.

As my father, Caleb and I walked down the fancy hallway of the hotel we were staying at I couldn't help but think about how this all came about.

I smiled as memories of that night came back to me.

How Kyle had confessed his love to me in out bed.

I remember how I thought my heart would explode just from the overload of feelings I was getting.

How I couldn't speak a work as he let me know his heart in that special moment we had together.

I though nothing could top this feeling of love and safety he was giving me and I him when he whispered those few words to me and I couldn't believe them.

We had moved up in our relationship in these last few months but what really made me believe that was the day I confessed to Kyle about the marks on my wrist.

I knew he had seen them but made no move to mention them which I was grateful for.

I told him about the way I felt the time I though he had left me and went to finish my pain in the bathroom thinking that is want he wanted.

I felt ashamed of my actions as I told him my darkest secret.

I thought he would be mad at me for being such a fool but unexpectedly he had grabbed me close and cried on my shoulder apologizing for all he put me thought and I joined him as I told him that I should have searched for him and not have given up like I did.

I remember how my heart ached as he gathered my wrists in his hand and pressed soft warm kisses on each scars.

"You will never have to go through something like this ever again, I promise," he told me and I truly believed him.

Mere days later he told me he loved me and made an even bigger leap and asked me a question I never thought I would hear.

[happy-and-gay-tortoise]

hey sorry to basically be on 'anon' bc i really can't send asks from my main account lol but ANYWAY i'm sorry it looks like someone made u feel like shit about posting in the crust tag but i wanted to mediate if thats ok. im sorry someone made u feel you couldnt post in there but at the same time i get it, if ur not reaaaally into crust then it's weird to establish yourself within such a politically vocal and tight knit community.

i know if you go to them with open hands about how into crust u are they would welcome you and give you recs and support you, you just have to show u are into crust. there are a lot of people that come into crust punk without knowing what it is except for 'fashion', and crust punks are actively trying to remove 'fashion' punks from crust, so it doesn't become corporatised like punk rock did.

so i think with ur jacket not having any crust and your outfit of the day posts being non-crust music and your playlist not having crust on it until i assume someone said some horrible shit i think that becomes a point where the fear is realised as 'oh my god, here's another fashion-only prson who doesn't know/doesn't want to know what this is' and it puts this very tight-knit community on edge

that didn't give any one the right to be horrible about it tho like there are better way to do these things but crust is a negative-type community that is very violent? maybe? in various ways. full of people with big problems with a real hatred of the world. which is where that reaction came from. i honestly wouldn't take it to heart too hard and i know ur only a kid so that'll be very hard. but if u ever want to get more into crust i promise ask people for recs and they will help you and be so kind.

it's just worth remembering, sub cultures don't like to be stepped on bc the world is hellbent on making it digestible and corporate for the masses so you gotta come at it honestly. ok anyway sorry for pseudo anon again and have a nice day

(The pseudo anon is ok dw)

I appreciate this ask a lot! Funny thing is I'm mostly just not rlly labeling myself as crust anymore bc I'm not the biggest fan of the music in general and I don't wanna use the tags that are not accurate to me! I respect the crust community a lot and yall are always welcome here, I'm just more personally into what a lot of my asks have called "easier to listen to punk" I love the noise not music movement and I do listen to some death metal n stuff, but ska and ska punk are more my cup of tea yk!

The crust community is also, as you said, very full of (most of the time justified) violence and hatred, and as someone that is like an eco-anarcist, optimist punk, and just trying to consume as much positive content/ neutral content as possible it tends to not be my vibe! I totally understand why yall have the community tho as someone who is that kind of angry a lot if the time, yall are the people that make change, and when it is needed I join you, but at least rn, I won't be engaging with that (also due to personal circumstances)!

Also I understand how it gave that impression, I want to make it clear I understand that crust punk was/is a movement centered around the music, the heavy emphasis on politics, and the anger towards the systems that push us down. "Crust pants/jackets" are just things to show that! I very clearly do not fit one of those criterias tho and that's ok! I don't have to use the label crust punk to still be someone who is a valid member of the punk subculture! Plus, yall don't need to know what exact labels I use anyway lol. You are a community that has been fucked with and torn apart for years, and it's not my place to call myself a part of that community when, frankly, I'm not! Again, I am in full support of the crust punk movement and stand by your sides, any crust punk that comes onto this page is fully welcomed with open arms! <3

[joeyskattebo]

Here Comes the Future! chapter 1 part 1

Portland, Oregon

1989

1

A man in his early twenties is smoking a cigarette and walking down the street that cuts through the neighborhood park.  He has long hair and is wearing a flannel shirt, ripped up blue jeans, and big black boots; he soon sees a man at least ten years older than him, wearing a full suit and carrying a briefcase, approaching him on the sidewalk. When he sees him, he begins to laugh as the other man glances at him then continues to walk past him. After he passes, the young man feels guilty as he continues down the sidewalk. On the other side of the street is Katy, who also saw him, and chuckles a bit. She is waiting for Nick her boyfriend to come out of his house; they were both attractive, and in their early twenties. Katy and Nick love the color black, as shown their clothes and hair. Once he arrived they embraced, and then walked to the river front, which is close by. They smoke a joint, and then sat together and held hands when a group of loud homeless people came, and sat on a park bench next to them. They got up to leave and a man, who is staring at Katy and Nick said:

“Hey before you leave, let me tell you a joke!” The couple stare back at this man, and they both look at him and nod. The man is wearing a black stocking hat, a heavy green jacket and black pants with big black boots:

“What’s a pirate’s favorite beer?” Neither of them said anything, so he gave up the punch line:

“Pabst Blue Ribbon, Mother Fucker!” They both smile, and then walk away. They walk a bit and Nick said:

“I’m sick of them!”

“Sick of who?”

“Meth heads!”

“I didn’t hear them talking about meth.”

“One of them said, “do you have crystal?” and someone said: “Yeah””

“Shit, I didn’t hear that! Do you still do that, from time to time?”

“I did last month.”

“How did you do it?”

“I shot it, can’t do that anymore,” Nick said as he shows her his arms. “Gotta put the guns away, no more shooting. What happened was, I sold my amp and the woman that brought it said: “Well I can’t give you any money, but I can give you that amp’s worth in speed!” And then we shot up together.” Katy stared at him; she cared about him and didn’t think he would stop if she told him to. They walked several more blocks until they reached a warehouse with a loading dock, which they both sat down on. They both pulled out heavy beer from their backpack and began to drink them, when Katy asked:

“Why do you so many drugs, honey?”

“I’m a needy person.”

“That’s not good for you hun.” She said in a quieter voice.

“I know sweetie; it’s taken me to lows I never thought I would descend to. I shot up a bunch of it, and then went to Derek’s house and and I went fucking crazy! I ran outside, and I ran into the graveyard and I thought the cops were chasing me, and I kept running. And then I was freaking out because I was in a fucking graveyard. Then I finally got to a sidewalk, but then I thought I saw cops again! Anyway, I kept walking for a while and I was so fucking scared that they were following me but I finally turned around and saw they weren’t. And then this middle aged woman saw me, and the look in her eye said that I was a crazy person. I walked away and I thought I saw the fucking cops again! So then I ran all the way to the river and I was so tired that I slept under the bridge. When I got there I ripped off my shirt because I it was covered in sweat. I felt uncomfortable because I thought if the cops found me that would arrest me and test the sweat in my shirt for drugs; it was the worst night of my life,” Nick said looking at the ground, when Katy grabbed his arm. The couple finished their beers and went their separate ways: Katy is walking back to her apartment smoking a cigarette when she sees a woman talking to herself heading her way on the sidewalk. This woman is in her late forties, had tangled brown hair, and is smoking a cigarette and dressed in a dirty movie theater uniform:

“And then I go to jail for answering the phone! He’s a Kennedy! You know what that means! They kept me for a couple of days, and then they let me go!” She passes by Katy as the two walk down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.  Katy walks down the block and walks up her driveway, unlocks her door and enters her home. She lives in a large house with four other roommates; Katy walks down the dark hallway and into her room, the light is on and she is sees her roommate Martha. She is reading a psychology textbook and has a bottle of pink lemonade and vodka sitting next to her:

“Katy Kate!” she says with a smile. Martha is pretty, and also in her early twenties. Katy smiles bright while walking in to say:

“What are you drinking liquor at home now?”

“You know it! Hey I’m not Suzy Q at works who comes in to work today drunk as fuck, and she’s only 19!” Martha says loudly as Katy jumps on her bed that is across the room for Martha’s bed.

“I’m not trying to get on your case Marth, I’m just saying,” Katy said happy to be home. Martha works at a local burger joint, while Katy works at the nearby library.

“I’m not going to be drinking hard liquor at home all the time Kate, I usually just drink beer or wine,” she said defending herself as Katy pulls a small joint out of her purse. She lights the joint, takes a hit and walks across the room and hands the joint to Martha, who meets her at the middle of the room. Martha takes a large hit and then hands the joint back to Katy; Martha loved mixing pot and booze, just like a lot of people do.

“Do you ever have cigarette chest Kate?” Martha asked while blowing white smoke out of her lungs.

“What do you mean Marth?” Katy asked while hitting the little joint.

“You know, painful,” she said while taking the joint and hitting it.

“Yeah sometimes.” They soon put out the little joint, and turn off the lights and go to bed.

“Do you remember your dreams Kate?” Martha asked not sounding tired in the slightest.

“Sometimes,” Katy said without thinking, even though that was the truth.

[soulofgenocide]

Personal Time

“Look honey, I’m not saying we can’t go to the sweets shop by the station, but for just right now you’ve gotta chill in the hotel room for a bit while daddy goes to do some work.”

“We’re going before we leave!”

“Yes, yes you little terror.”

Richard ruffled Naomi’s hair before closing the hotel room door behind him, locking it and then making his way toward the elevator, zipping up his jacket as he walked and tucking the room key into a hidden pocket. His threads slithered across the fabric, forming his usual spiderweb design, before one reached out and cracked the lens of the camera in the elevator. A distorted humanoid shape now all that was visible as his threads moved up his throat, compressed his hair and formed a mask covering every detail. Once at the third floor Richard stepped out, reached in to press every button available, and then slipped back out and started down the hall. He walked past the doors, staring at the numbers before finally landing on the number 303, with a quick glance down the hall both ways he placed his hand on the lock and his threads shot through the metal like it was clay.

“What the fuck!”

A mans voice quickly came from deeper in the room as Richard opened the door and slipped inside, he turned his back to the room and bound the door shut with his threads as he was quickly approached.

“This isn’t your room, what do you think you’re doing, are you staff or something! How dare yo-”

“Rebar. Ex-sidekick, right?”

There was a long silence, eventually replaced by panicked attempts to get words out, which was also then replaced by pants of terror as Richard turned to face the man, his threads parting over his eyes to reveal his amber glare.

“Oh Rebar, how far you’ve fallen. Quirk that turns your flesh to concrete and bones to rebar, that shield of his agency, able to take any hit and get right back up again. Tell you what, there’s plenty of flesh to turn now, going on the run seems to have given you an excuse to eat like shit.”

“H-How?! I’ve only been here a week, I s-stayed still for a week!”

“What can I say, always wanted to visit Aomori, so I just jumped on the chance for a reason to come on up, you really should’ve known better Rebar. When getting hunted, don’t ever think you’re safe enough to relax.”

“It’s been y-years!”

“Yes, and your continued survival, along with the other sidekicks who managed to run away, has haunted me for all those years.”

“W-we had to do it, do you think we could go against the s-star hero of the agency?! His r-reputation was on the line and no matter w-what we had to defend him!”

Richard took a long, deep, inhale before the threads covering his face slowly unraveled, revealing a twisted look of pure rage underneath, but it quickly faded to a neutral expression.

“Defend him? My dear Rebar, you didn’t defend him, you vilified an innocent man, my father, in an attempt to get your ‘hero’ leader out of paying what I’m sure was only a weeks worth of money for him.”

“But if he just gave in he’d look ba-!”

His skin was turning to concrete the moment Richard made a move, but even with a hardened body that didn’t stop the sidekick from going down, Richard on top of him gripping at the collar of his shirt with heavy, angry, breaths escaping his lips.

“God forbid, the murderer who THREW a car full of civilians at a villain be held RESPONSIBLE for his actions, god forbid a little DIRT appear on his record and his VICTIMS AT LEAST NOT HAVE TO ENTER DEBT TO COVER THE DAMAGES HE CAUSED!”

“It was collateral damage!”

“IT WAS A FUCKING CHOICE, HE SAW US, HE KNEW WHAT HE WAS DOING AND DID IT ANYWAY! HE THREW IT SO FUCKING HARD AND FAST THAT MY FATHERS QUIRK COULDN’T EVEN PROTECT HIM, WE WERE A GODDAMN BULLET!”

“I d-don’t expect a villain like you to understand, but for the greater GOOD sometimes you have to make hard choices! Imagine how many people would’ve died if he had-”

“IT DIDN’T EVEN DO A GOD DAMN THING, HE THREW IT AT SOMEONE WITH A REINFORCEMENT QUIRK! WE WERE A FUCKING FLY TO HIM AND MY FATHER WAS SPLATTERED!”

“Cry me a fucking river like I’m supposed to care about the person who murdered my friends! You’re a savage, a monster, he should’ve aimed with the passenger side in mind so you’d be crushed instead! You weren’t happy with just him, no, you have to hunt us all and force us away from our lives! Go fuck yourself, here I am, what’re you gonna do big boy punch me until your knuckles bleed?”

“You forget Rebar, my father had a reinforcement Quirk a bit like yours, and he told me exactly how I should deal with someone like you. Your bones became like rebar, flesh like concrete, but all that hard material is doing is protecting the soft, squishy insides that you still have.”

“Sick mother fu-”

Richard jammed his right hand into Rebar’s mouth, and instantly his threads began pouring out from his wrist and straight down the man’s throat, desperate gags filling the air as he began to thrash under Richard. Concrete covered punches connected with his sides, shattering bone, but Richard just wore a wicked grin while staring directly into the sidekick’s eyes. When he tried to look away he grabbed his head with his free hand, forcing him to stare back as the grin just continued to grow.

“You called me a villain, nah, I’m not some pissy shithead going around slaughtering civilians because I’m mad at society, my rage has a very specific target. Call me a serial killer, Yakuza clean-up expert, extortionist or whatever the fuck you want, but not a villain, just like I won’t call you a hero. Just a murderer in tights, protected by their pure image, and will do whatever it takes to keep that image pure. Goodbye, Rebar, say hello to Gizmo and Dallas for me.”

Rebar’s panicked noises grew louder for a moment before Richard suddenly ripped his arm back, a repulsive sound of tearing flesh filling the room as all of his threads retracted on his command and pulled every pound of soft meat from inside his hard shell out through his throat. He stood silent for a moment, staring at his work, before digging his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and dialing one of his contacts.

“Detective. One more down, two to go, thanks for the heads-up makes this a lot easier. Yeah. Yeah don’t worry, when this is all over, I’ll give you what you want. Until then keep your boys away from my kid, if she says an officer is following her one more time I’ll hang them from their balcony. I don’t give a shit if they’re not on your orders, find out who is doing it and either give me their name or deal with it. Until next time.”

He hung up and then with a loud sigh shook off the blood from his right arm.

“Where’s the bathtub, I’m not enough of a monster to make the cleaning crew find this.”

[m0chaminx]

Miles Morals | Cold

*•.¸♡Request : Hello I was hoping it was okay if I requested a fic with your prompts 48+37 for Miles Morales. Reader is another vigilante/spider-person but have some type of fire powers (meaning naturally being warm to the touch) and they're both on night patrol in the winter, reader sees Miles shiver so they stand a little closer to him just to radiate some heat then fluff ensues! (Maybe even some teasing from Peter) i hope this isn't a big ask and it's okay if you don't want to do it! Have a great day/night!

*•.¸♡Prompt : ” It’s too cold! Come back! “ , “Can you hold my hand?”

*•.¸♡𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 : Cuteness, soft, one swear word

*•.¸♡Paring : Miles Morales x GN!reader

This could be Spider verse or the game Miles it doesn't really matter, but I based it off the game

*•.¸♡𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : Its cold, thank god Miles has a hot friend

p.s I imagined the Red Widow suit is basically the full red iron spider suit x the silk suit, but I don't describe it so go wild

*•.¸♡Words : 549

Miles swung to the edge of a tall building already smiling seeing you sitting on the edge of the building. Miles landed on the edge with a grunt, sticking just beside you, "Hey Spider-Man," You teased fixing the half mask you wore.

"Why do you have to tease me? At least I got a superhero name," Miles complained flipping himself to sit next to you the way Peter always did.

"Well for your information Morales, I got a name and a mural," You snarked pushing yourself to copy Miles's stance. "Brody added to the one in Hell's Kitchen. We should swing by, plus we can give the devil time to breathe."

Miles nodded getting ready to swing but quickly stop. "Wait, what about Peter?" Miles questioned halting his movements.

"He's helping MJ with feast stuff I think. I told him we could handle soloing tonight," You explained with a shrug. You stood up shooting a web to the side and falling off the building. Miles jumped off following after you.

-*-*-*-*-*-

You and Miles landed on a building a few blocks away from the downtown Spider mural, Miles chuckled seeing your half masked face blending into the red and black schemed painting, your super name Red Widow in block letters behind your face. "You look awesome, they even put flames in your eyes," Miles said proudly.

"Yeah, the same way they put the venom around your hood," You smiled fondly standing, teetering on the edge of the tall building.

Miles nodded, pulling his mask off and running his hands along his face. "Yeah, wish I brought the hoodie today, it's freezing out here," Miles complained trying to run his hands on his legs to warm up.

You looked around, seeing the people in heavy jackets and baggy pants. You never had to do that, not since you got bit, the flame punches you could make always heated your body. Most of the time you could leave the house in a simple t-shirt. "Shit, you must be freezing," You said in realization, you moved closer to Miles so your sides touched letting Miles catch your body heat.

Miles sighed, leaning into your side. “Can you hold my hand?” Miles asked softly toying with his fingers. You smiled pulling down your mask before reaching over to take Miles hand in your own. Miles blushed softy, and slowly lowered his head to rest on your shoulder. You hummed resting your head on top of his head.

"Oh aren't you two adorable," A familiar voice teased behind you. Miles jumped turning back to look at Peter standing there in complete smugness.

"How was MJ?" You teased, looking over your shoulder at Peter, still keeping your hand in Miles. Peter stumbled over his words flailing his hands in defense. "That's what I thought, Parker."

Peter sighed hanging his head back, "You're so annoying," Peter looked squinted his eyes looking over the code in his mask. "Let's go, the app got an alert. All spiders needed." Peter jumped off the building swinging to the location Peter put in the Spider database. You stood up following after Peter.

"It’s too cold! Come back!" miles yelled pulling his mask on and trailing behind you. "Y/N!"

You sighed dramatically, echoing through the coms, "Don't yell my name dumbass!"

ﾟ°☆Page navigation

[kirishimasensei]

The Hero’s Shoulders

author :: KirishimaSensei (Misha) pairing :: Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader  word count :: 2k+ tags :: sexually explicit content, adult characters, subby Bakugou, handjob, praise

You tap a curt knock on the door to Bakugou’s office, but walk inside before you can get a response. You know you would’ve been met with silence, especially after a day like today. You’ve also learned that when it comes to your boss, it’s better to impose yourself than to interact with him with any kind of timidness.

His suit jacket is thrown across his desk and he’s sitting in an armchair facing a wall made up entirely of windows, looking out over the top of the city. He’s still wearing his grey vest and suit pants, crisp white button down shirt that still looks immaculately pressed, even with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

“How was the meeting?” you ask, walking towards him.

You should’ve been there. You would have been there were it not for his outburst earlier in the morning. Instead, it was just him, his hero union rep, and his attorney who met with the commission. To say the least, he had no support. Not emotionally, anyway. And, really, he shouldn’t have to go through all alone.

“I don’t feel like doing this right now,” he says, not even turning to face you.

“Then don’t,” you reply, sinking to your knees in front of him.

He seems stunned for a second, shocked into stillness. But you ignore his reaction. You ease his tie - red, which you chose to compliment his eyes - out of the top of his vest. Without any preamble, you wrap the tie around your hand until you get to the knot at his throat. 

“It would be best for you to just sit there and listen, anyway,” you say to him, your voice pitched soft and low.

Bakugou’s breathing gets heavier, but only slightly. You would’ve missed it were it not for your close proximity, your knuckles against his chest from where you’re gripping his tie. You pull him forward by it, gently, not enough to move him but enough to prompt him to move himself, and he does. He leans forward and brings his face down just a little, just so that it’s fractionally closer to yours.

“I know you’re upset,” you continue. “You’re upset and you’re pushing anyone away who might be able to see it. What you said to Kirishima yesterday was not nice. And he didn’t deserve it.”

His jaw clenches, and he actually looks a little contrite as his gaze pulls away from you and to the side. You pull on his tie again to get his attention and his eyes snap forward, back to yours.

“And I didn’t deserve how you treated me this morning. Just know, if you ever pull that shit again, I will leave. And you’ll just have to find someone else who’ll put up with your surly ass. Not an easy task, if I may say so myself.”

He scoffs, but he doesn’t deny it, and you give him a soft, closed-lipped smile. You lift up on your knees so you’re even closer to him, noses nearly touching. A gentle hand finds his face as you cup his cheek in your palm.

“I don’t want to leave, Katsuki.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he replies, almost a whisper.

You nod your head and sit back on your heels, slowly unfurling your boss’s tie from your hand. Bakugou sits back, too, with a heavy exhale like he was holding his breath that entire time. 

“Tell me about the meeting,” you say, casually. 

You loosen the knot at his throat, gently pulling on the long end of his tie. You reverse the loop and ease the neck open with your fingers. Once the hole is big enough, you bring the tie over Bakugou’s head and sit it to the side.

“The commission is a bunch of dicks,” he says, and you hum in response. “They already have their mind made up. My lawyer’s not having that shit, though.”

“You pay him enough,” you reply. “This whole thing should be over soon.”

“Damn right.”

You unbutton his vest, from top to bottom, slowly opening it to reveal his white shirt underneath. You bring yourself back up on your knees so that you can slide it from his arms, your hands running over the right muscles of his shoulders, the back of his arms, his elbows. Bakugou leans forward to help you undress him. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, once his vest has joined his tie.

“I want to take care of you. Will you let me?” you reply. He nods his head, but that won’t do. “Say ‘yes’ if you mean yes, Bakugou.”

“Yes,” he sighs, and you gift him with a smile. 

You relieve him of his shoes and his socks. The buttons of his shirt are pooped open, one by one. You lean in to press your lips against the hollow of his throat and he gasps. You like the sound, so you let your mouth follow the path of newly exposed skin, kissing down his chest to his stomach, until you get to the top of his pants. 

Bakugou’s hips jerk, and when you look up at him from behind fluttering lashes, you see that his head is tilted back, eyes closed. His lips are parted, heavy breaths leaving his mouth with every contraction of his large chest. 

You pull the tail of his shirt from his pants and when it’s free, you slide his shirt sleeve down his arms like you did his vest. But, instead of taking it off, you keep the shirt trapped between his body and the chair, binding his wrists behind his back.

“Are you alright like this?” you ask him. 

“Yes.”

“If you tell me you want free at any time, then we’ll get you out, ok?”

“Ok,” he repeats back to you. 

His eyes are glassy and his body sways a little, the tension he had before slowly dissipating. You smooth his hair back from his face, tuck little tufts of it behind his ears. Your hands continue to move - down his jaw, his neck, his chest. His skin is so warm, his body like something out of a dream. 

The muscles in his stomach jump as you trace the line between his abs, down to the hair that disappears beneath his waistband. He’s already hard, even with so little effort on your part, his dick bulging against the expensive fabric of his suit pants. 

You unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants. Like the good boy that he is, Bakugou lifts his hips off the chair so that you can slide the pants off of him, down his thighs, his legs. He brings up one foot at a time so that you can take them off of him, and he squirms in the chair as you nicely fold the fabric and sit it with his tie and vest. 

Bakugou is left in just his black boxer briefs, his button down still holding his arms behind his back. He truly is immaculate, a work of art. Every part of him deliberate and created for strength. You place your hands on his thighs and knead the hard muscles there, more than satisfied with the way he moans and rocks his hips up toward you. 

“Wow,” you sigh, in love with the sight before you. “You really are the best, aren’t you, Bakugou?”

He shivers and lets out a pathetic whimper. 

He’s fully hard now, dick curved up against his stomach, straining against the black fabric of his underwear. Softly, you run two fingers up the underside of his cock, all the way up to the head, where it’s leaving a mess of precome that’s soaking through. 

He hisses your name, pants out half-articulated curses. He sounds so pretty like this, so desperate and touch-starved. You wonder what other noises you can pull out of him. And as you take his cock in your hand and give it a few pumps, forcing the fabric of his underwear to rub against the sensitive skin, you don’t have to wonder anymore. 

“Fuck, fuuuck,” he groans. “Just touch my cock, goddamnit.”

“I am touching your cock,” you tease, looking up at him with an innocent expression. You stroke him harder.

“No,” he replies, voice higher pitched. “Touch it. Touch it.”

Bakugou really does seem desperate and you take pity on him for it. You take his thick, hard cock out of his underwear and wrap your hand around it. He hisses and jerks like he just got burned.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, slowly stroking, skin to skin. “Is this how you wanted me to touch your cock?”

He doesn’t respond, too busy panting and moaning. You didn’t expect him to, anyway. 

You lean down and slowly run your tongue up the underside of his cock to get it wet, a long line from base to tip. Bakugou shivers and whines, thrusts his dick up to get more friction. You pull your mouth back, though, and wrap your hands around the thick girth of it. You move one of your hands clockwise, the other counter, then reverse and back again, all the while watching him as he lets his eyes close and head fall back in unbridled bliss.

“When was the last time anyone has touched you?” you ask.

“Long time,” he chokes out. “Too long.”

“OK. We’re going to go slow,” you tell him, still stroking his dick. “When you feel like you’re going to come, you tell me. And I’ll tell you whether I’m ready for you to come or not, alright?”

Bakugou swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and nods.

“Good,” you reply. “You’re doing so good. You are the by far the most beautiful thing I have ever seen”

Bakugou gasps and hunches forward, back bent off of the chair. After a few hard pants, voice ragged, he says. “Ever … ever look in a mirror, sweetheart?”

You smile and place a hand on his chest, your other hand still on his cock, and push him back until he falls against the chair again. You lift up on your knees and run your palm from his chest up to his throat, squeezing with just the barest hint of pressure as you stroke him in a constant, steady rhythm. 

“You have a smart fucking mouth, Bakugou. Maybe everyone else is too scared to tell you that, but I’m not.”

His eyes roll back and he sags in the chair.

“I like it, though,” you continue. “You’re smart --” you say on the upstroke, twisting your wrist. “And strong and brave and so … fucking … good.”

Bakugou’s eyes clench shut and he bites down on his bottom lip, hard. He gives his head the smallest shake like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying. 

“Look at me,” you tell him. “Say it back to me.”

“Please, I --”

“You’re smart, Bakugou. Say it.”

“I’m smart,” he parrots back. That one’s easy for him. There’s no denying his intelligence and anyone who’s ever met him knows that he’s one of the smartest people in any room.

“I’m strong.” And that one is easy, too. “And brave.” A little harder, you can tell, by the way his voice wavers. “And… and –”

 You put more pressure on his throat, but not near enough to keep him from talking. Just enough for him to know that you’re there. That you’ve got him.

“And what?” you ask. “Say it, Dynamight.”

“And good!” he moans.

“So fucking good,” you say, your hand leaving his throat to grip his hair in the back. “Especially for me, isn’t that right? There will be no repeats of what happened this morning, isn’t that right? If you’re feeling that low, you talk to me, ok? Kirishima, Deku. You talk to someone.”

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes.”

You lean forward and run your nose up the length of his jaw. “You come to me, and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel better,” you tell him, your voice low in his ear. “I promise.”

With your hand in his hair, you maneuver his head so that he’s facing you. You give his bottom lip a small, sweet kiss, and that’s what sets him off. 

“I’m gonna – fuck!”

You pull back and quirk an eyebrow as you watch him, hips thrusting up as he fucks his dick into your fist. “Ask me,” you demand. “Nicely.”

“Fuck,” he moans, and you can tell he’s trying to hold himself back.

“What was that?” you ask.

“Can I… come? Can I come?”

His whole body is moving, hips jerking, thighs flexing. His pink mouth is open, panting. He looks so good. So beautiful. How can you deny him?

“Yes, Bakugou. Come for me.”

He moans, loud, almost howls. You’d be worried if you didn’t know his office was sound-proof, but even then, you wouldn’t care. You stroke him through his orgasm, using both hands now, pumping him, meeting his thrusts, as he comes all over his stomach, making a mess off all that gorgeous bare skin. 

You continue to touch him, even as his hips slow to a stop. Even as he shivers and tries to squirm away. He’s still half-hard, dick soaked with his own come. He looks absolutely delicious like this.

“Next time,” you tell him, “I’m gonna make you beg for it.”

a/n :: This was literally me just key smashing a thought that was running through my head. I’m so sorry if it seems kind of rough. I hope you enjoyed it, though!

@simpforsadbois @cyancherub @kingkatsuki @prettyboykatsuki​ @ihatebnha​

[spiciespencie]

Sharing a room with baby Spencer, you're not together yet, and so you want to change that, so you start undressing in front of him, to take a nice bath, and then you invite him and tell him to go with you

baby spencer is the most adorable yet fuckable character known to mankind.

CW: fingering, kissing. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

you had obviously known he had a big crush on you since you joined, and that was 7 months ago. every time you would wear something low cut or tight to work, he would run to the bathroom the second he saw you and avert eye contact once he would return. each conversation you had with him would begin with a series of stutters from the nervous doctor until you would calm him down with a light touch on his arm or chest.

and now that hotch paired you two together on this case, you knew it was your chance to make your move on him.

what can you say? you were more than fond of the kind doctor.

perhaps hotch had wanted the two of you to work through the obvious tension that radiated every time you were in the same room together. and maybe this would work. regardless, you would have spencer to yourself for the night.

after finally closing the case, a quite easy one at that, you were all allowed to return to your rooms for a good nights rest before leaving promptly the next morning.

“i don’t know about you, doc, but i’m so ready to relax,” you chuckled as you came out of the bathroom, having started the water to fill up the tub for a bath.

“uhm, yea. that-that sounds nice,” he agreed, kicking his shoes off before sitting on the bed, still facing you.

“y’know what else would be nice?” you began to take your jacket off, followed by unbuttoning your shirt.

spencers eyes widened as he tried to move his eye contact elsewhere, failing miserably, “what-what else?”

“some company,” you finally shrugged your button up off your shoulders, leaving you in your deep purple bra before you began to work at your skirt.

“like in the-in the bath?” he questioned as he began to squirm on the bed, adjusting the bulge in his pants.

once you were down to your underwear, you walked over to him on the bed and placed yourself between his legs. grasping his tie, you pulled him closer to your face and went to whisper in his ear.

“come with me, doctor reid,” you ordered softly, trailing your hand down his chest and to his arm, finally grasping into his hand and leading him into the bathroom behind you. “i need your help.”

“with what?” he looked at you confused.

“removing the final layers,” you turned your back to him, moving your hair to the side and presenting the clasp of your bra to the man.

“oh-right,” he cleared his throat as he placed his hands on your shoulder, trailing them down to your back and unclasping your bra.

when you turned around, you noticed his eyes were clenched shut. you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to loosen his tie for him. his hands were able to find your waist from memory, and they squeezed your bare flesh as if that was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“if you don’t want this,” you told him in a stern voice, “we don’t have to do anything. i’ll stop right here. you could turn around and leave and we’ll act like this never happened.”

“and if-if i do want this?” he asked in return, his brows relaxing a bit before you explained.

“then you’ll get in the bath with me, and we’ll go from there,” you smiled when he opened his eyes, a slight grin plastered across his lips as he focused on your face. his eyes didn’t roam your body, they were in a trance with your own. “i like you - a lot. i know you like me too.”

“i was pretty obvious, wasn’t i?” he scoffed as he bit his lower lip.

“you aren’t the best at hiding your emotions, at least not from me,” your fingers began to unbutton the rest of his shirt.

“why did-why didn’t you do anything sooner if you knew?” he slid the shirt off of his arms but made sure to quickly place them back on your waist as you began to unbutton his trousers.

“i guess i just wanted to be sure,” you shrugged. “and i wasn’t really sure how to approach it until hotch paired us together.”

“that was very fortunate for the two of us,” he chuckled, letting his hands roam up and down your waist, exploring the soft skin carefully.

“indeed, it was, doctor,” you sighed as you looked at him one more time for approval before sliding his pants and underwear down his hips, he nodded.

you tried to avoid looking at him how he avoided looking towards you, wanting to respect his privacy. until he grabbed your hand, tracing your skin down his torso until you were met with his hard cock. his hips rutted into your hand before he let his head rest in the crevice between your neck and shoulder.

“it’s okay,” he assured you.

“you can look at me, y’know,” you brought to his attention. “and you can touch me - anywhere you’d like.”

“i don’t really-i don’t really know what to do,” he whispered.

“if you don’t want to you don’t have to, doc,” you reminded him, bringing your free hand to cup his face gently. “you can always say ‘no’ to me. i won’t be upset if you do.”

“no, no, i want to. i really, really want to,” his eyes went wide. “just let me know what… feels good?”

“mmkay,” you smiled at the man before stroking him once more, effectively distracting him from the stress you might’ve caused.

his head went back to its place on your shoulder. the hands that were on your waist were now cupping your ass and grasping your shoulder. he began planting open-mouthed kisses on your neck, his heavy breathing making you more wet than you’d like to admit. it was as if his very presence ignited a fire in the core of your stomach, one that only he could extinguish.

“y/n,” he moaned against your neck. “i-i want to make you feel good,” his hand on your ass went to the front of your torso. his soft touch trailed down your stomach before his fingers raced your soaking slit, “so wet.”

“it’s all for you, doc,” you moved your hand to the back of his head before grasping at his hair, a small whimper leaving his lips.

“fuck,” you swiped the tip of his dick, wiping the precum from the silky skin and bringing it to your lips and tasting it.

“tastes good,” you smiled at spencer before turning around and getting into the tub, turning off the water and moving the bubbles around your body. “join me?”

he stroked his dick once more before walking towards you, almost tripping over the side of the tub before you giggled and grasped his arm.

“you’re so cute,” you brought his hand to your lips to kiss it. “which reminds me,” you moved to the side to allow him room beside you.

you turned your body towards him and pressed your hand to his cheek, letting your other one move his hand to your waist. spencer eyes moved between your lips and eyes before meeting them together softly. his lips were soft for him biting them all the time, they were attentive and careful as his tongue poked between them. you moaned into his mouth as your tongues danced together.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for forever,” you laughed against his lips as your foreheads were pressed against one another.

“i’ve wanted you to do that for forever,” he reiterated, his hand trailing back down your torso.

your hips bucked up into his hand the closer he got to your center. once he did, his thumb began tracing circles on your clit. you gasped into his mouth, the action bringing a smile to spencer’s face.

“shi-shit,” you pulled his lips to yours once more to cover another moan. “you’re doing so good for me.”

tentatively, he brought his other hand down and his middle finger to your slit and carefully entered it. he thrusted it inside and curled it once he found that spongey spot inside.

“how-how’d you know about that, dr. i-don’t-really-know-what-to-do?” you chuckled as your body began to succumb to the pleasure, slightly trembling in his arms.

“so i take it that feels good?” he smugly announced, repeating the action while his thumb continued its ministrations.

“shut-shut up,” you sighed before placing your lips to his neck, sucking a mark into his shoulder as an attempt to not make much sound. “fuck, baby.”

“you’re getting so tight,” he whined. “are-are you close?”

“yes, please don’t stop,” your breath began to pick up and your nails dug into his shoulders. “oh my god. don’t stop, spence.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a tone all too sweet.

“i’m cumming,” you breathlessly announced. “oh fuck, it’s so good.”

“oh my god, it’s so tight,” he awed as he worked you through your high, taking this moment and committing it to memory forever.

all he could think about was if, maybe, one day, that tightness was around his cock. you, sprawled out underneath him or sitting perfectly in his lap. your breasts bouncing in front of him. and that’s when, with one last jolt of his hips, he came.

“fuck, spencer,” you smiled. “such a good boy,” you reached your hand down to stroke his cock, working him through his own high.

“so-so good,” he panted as his high slowed down.

“you’ve got that right,” you kissed his red lips once more. “now, how does a shower sound?”

“sounds great,” he agreed, beginning to stand up from the water.

-

the next morning, you awoke with spencer sleeping on your chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your torso and waist. he stirred slightly, his head nuzzling further into your bare chest.

“g’morning,” he mumbled, pressing a light kiss to your breast.

“good morning is right,” you ran your hands through his now dry hair. “you should wear your hair like this more often, loose.”

“really? i’ve always thought it wasn’t very professional,” he mentioned.

“i love it,” you tugged it gently, bringing his chin up to meet yours so you could kiss him properly.

“so what does-what does this mean for us?” he questioned, an obvious look of hope in his eyes.

“if you’d want,” you sighed, “this could be… serious for us?”

“i-i do want. i definitely want,” he nodded with a chuckle, sitting up and grasping at your waist to bring you closer to him.

and you stayed that close until morgan knocked on your door, announcing that ‘the lovebirds are gonna be late for the jet’ before walking away.