#i don’t remember if they were on the live aid one i have a feeling they weren’t

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[autism-disco]

sometimes i wonder why i am the way i am and then i remember that the penultimate track on the summer 2014 car cd was ben folds five boxing. and yeah no that adds up

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[ironunderstands]

These Aventurine, Topaz and Jade comparisons are getting out of hand…

As much as I adore both of them, I think it’s very disingenuous to compare Aventurine and Topaz’s lore and be like “but they are the same!!!! If people like Aventurine and dislike Topaz that’s just misogyny!!! and like… no?

Topaz’s whole thing is that she doesn’t know the extent of the IPC’s evil, and believes that what she’s doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Even if she never had a choice in joining the IPC, she (incorrectly) believes what they did to her and her planet is justified, logical and moral, and for those reasons she stands with them. Part of this is likely IPC brainwashing, as she was probably very young when she became an indentured servant to them, and someone living on a planet on the brink of destruction would likely view anyone who stepped up to save them as heroes (imo the IPC likely waited for the point of no return to establish contact so her people had no other choice to except).

However Topaz got best end of the proverbial stick, her planet and its people were deemed useful by the IPC, and didn’t fight back, even if in the end they were still exploited.

Unfortunately, we have seen through Boothill, Belabog and Aventurine what happens when that isn’t the case.

Boothill’s planet got bombed and people genocided because they had a resource useful to the IPC, but were unwilling to cooperate with them or hand over their home, so the IPC decided to eradicate them.

Belabog had a debt owed to the IPC that was ridiculously high and very unfair to expect them to pay back, and had Topaz not convinced the higher ups to give them some time (which she got demoted for), the IPC would have taken Belabog by force

That leaves us with Aventurine, whose story is in no way on the same level of bad as Topaz’s. Unlike her, he has witnessed and experienced firsthand the truly awful shit the IPC can do.

They took custody of Sigonia and promised to offer the Avgin aid in their fight against the Katacans, at the very least protect them from harm. (Sidenote, since the IPC held control over Sigonia, they should have stopped the fighting in the first place). However, they simply stood by and did nothing, resulting in the deaths of around 6,000 Avgin, with around 3,000 went missing (or injured, I don’t remember, either way it’s bad).

But wait! It gets worse! Aventurine when he was still known as Kakavasha referred to the IPC as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, and his first master says he bought Aventurine from “the men in black/the men in black suits”, likely mocking the way he referred to them. Therefore THE IPC TOOK PART AND LIKELY EVEN CREATED A FUCKING SLAVE TRADE IN SIGONIA

Look being made into an indentured servant isn’t fun, but idk personally I’d take that any day of the week OVER BEING ENSLAVED

That’s not even to mention how horrible of a reputation Sigonian’s have in the galaxy, one likely spread by/resulting from the IPC themselves, as at least on Aventurines planet they do not have the mobility to make a name for themselves. (Honestly it’s a mini theory of mine that Aventurines scam is what partly contributed to this reputation, and his status as a slave is something the IPC conveniently left out in their broadcast about it-)

But, you might be saying, didn’t Aventurine have a choice to join the masked fools and leave the IPC, isn’t he free now? And to that I say, it’s complicated.

Considering the amount of suicidal shit Aventurine has done while being part of the IPC, he clearly hasn’t been having a fun time as a member of one, so why does he stick around, especially with the Fools invite? Even if he was a slave, does that absolve him of the crimes he’s committing now? What could justify his actions?

Revenge, plan and simple.

This is going to delve into some spoiler territory for the end of the Penacony 2.2 quest, something which I didn’t feel like mentioning earlier because I’m sorry but everyone and their mother already knows Boothill’s lore. Now, let’s get into it.

Aventurine accepts Jades offer to join the IPC, and when he becomes a Stoneheart, the first thing he asks about is the fate of the Avgin, to which he then learns that besides him, they are all dead. You see, from birth Kakavasha was pushed onto a pedestal as the savior of the Avgin, but now that there are no more Avgin to save, his primary motivator in becoming a Stoneheart (beyond not being enslaved anymore) is gone.

So what does he do now?

Simple, try to kill the motherfuckers behind it.

That’s why he takes on such risky gambles still, and why he wagers and wants Diamond to promote him to rank p46. The higher Aventurine gets the closer he gets to his goal of taking down the IPC for good.

Which is why his meeting with Boothill is so meaningful. I think Boothill is going to “kidnap” him and together they are gonna take down the wicked bitch that is Oswaldo Schneider for his literal crimes against humanity.

Mark my words, an IPC downfall is going to happen, and I think Topaz, Aventurine, Boothill and Ratio are going to be at the forefront of it.

However, Topaz and Ratio (and by extension the rest of the galaxy) have to learn/realize the true horrors of the IPC (although I can sense Ratio doesn’t really like them, and he’s learned a lot from Aventurine, I doubt he knows the full extent of the situation or is in any way happy about it). Therefore? Topaz mental breakdown arc? Ratio lore? PLEASE??!? The IP3 compliment one another so well and god I can’t wait for that to come to fruition.

I really want to see a Topaz and Ratio centered story leading up to an IPC smackdown, and I think we are gonna learn a lot more about how shitty they are in the later half of 2.2 and in 2.3 when the interlude and Jades release arrive.

As for the aforementioned Jade, she’s gonna need a Aventurine squared amount of trauma or reasoning behind her actions to seem in any way sympathetic, because right now she just seems like an evil bitch (in a semi good way, I will always respect the commitment to the bit) who loves her job and would make Machiavelli weep over how hard her ends are trying to justify her means.

[lesservillain]

v. i want to hold the hand inside you

summary: a collection of moments through the holiday season. also a little bit of insight into eddie's pov. cw: smut (not with eddie), male masturbation, sexual fantasies, two idiots in love trope, eddie's mental anguish a/n: hi i'm back. missed you all and this series. hope it lives up to the hype. around 12.5k words. please continue reading after the fic for an important message regarding this series.

Shuffling down the stairs, you're greeted by the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying in the kitchen. The grumbling in your stomach reminds you that you’d eaten way too much candy the night before, and that real food was much needed if you were going to get through the day.

When you rounded the corner into the kitchen, you were expecting to be greeted by the master chef Charles at the stove. But instead you were greeted by Tonya’s beautiful, slightly confused face. With a rag slung over her shoulder and spatula in hand, you watched her attempt to flip what looked like a very, very fried egg.

“You need some help?” You ask. Tonya jumps, hand on her chest as she catches herself. Clearly she had been in the zone, focused on the task at hand. Although, that didn't seem to keep help her in her food making endeavors.

“Jesus, can you be a little louder when you walk in the room next time?” 

“Sorry Tonnie,” you laugh, moving around her to get a drink from the fridge. “Been working on walking around as quiet as possible so I don’t wake Ed—everyone up when I’m working.”

Tonya's whole demeanor suddenly shifts. After plating the eggs and setting them aside, she turns her whole body to face you. Your eyes go wide as she takes the stance you know so well; the one she takes before she’s about to lecture you.

“While you’re working?” She asks, an eyebrow quirked in a suspicious fashion.

“Y-yeah…" you respond, not liking the way she starts to slowly saunter towards you. "Okay, can we skip the games, please? What’s wrong?”

“Why was there a red cape in your car last night?”

You feel like the room is going to spin. Not wanting to fuss with it you had thrown the costume cape in the back seat when you left Eddie’s last night. By the time you got all of your overthinking in, you’d completely forgotten to grab it and bring it inside. 

“Wha—I, uh—”

Tonya says your name to cut off your babbling. 

“If you wanted to go out and spend Halloween with Sam you could have just told me that.”

“What? Oh, god no.” Your nose scrunches in offense at the mere suggestion until you remember that it’s probably normal to want to spend time with the guy you’re dating. “I mean…I didn’t spend Halloween with Sam.”

“Okaaaay?” She draws the word out, head bobbing as she waits for you to explain yourself. You breath in, looking at her carefully before exhaling with a sigh.

“Promise me you will listen to what I have to say before coming to any conclusions.” 

Tonya says your name with a serious tone. You can see the anger starting to brew in her, and you can only hope that once you tell her everything that’s been going on for the last two months that she’ll understand. The need to rip the band aide off was becoming more apparent, especially when you needed her guidance on some of the thinking you had done.

“Promise me?” You say again, not backing down.

“Ugh, fine.” She walks over to the table and sits down, motioning for you to take the seat across from her. 

“So, I think the first thing I need to clear up is that…I don’t actually have a night job. At least, not in the sense that I’m getting paid. It’s a volunteering position.”

You watch the way her mouth tightens, nostrils flaring as she expresses all her unspoken words with her face. But, she doesn’t say anything so you keep going.

“It’s something that I signed up for at the very beginning of the semester. Granted, it wasn’t supposed to be an overnight thing...but the person I’m taking care of needed overnight care and I just—I couldn’t say no, Tonnie.”

Air blows out between her lips like steam, and you can tell you need to get the rest of the information out to her before she can’t hold it in anymore.

“The reason why I even hid any of this from you is because the person I’ve been taking care of was turned down by everyone else at sign ups…because he was a murder suspect.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Her hands wave in front of her and she shakes her head. “I’m really hoping that I did not hear you right. Because there’s no way you’re telling me that, you, of ALL PEOPLE, have been spending the last two months babysitting a MURDERER?!”

“He didn’t actually murder anyone!” You shout back. Tonya’s eyes roll as she throws her hands up dramatically. 

“What does that even mean?!”

“Eddie was accused of murder, but he didn’t actually do it!”

“Eddie?! Eddie who?!”

“His name is Eddie Munson,” you say, “he was actually framed by the real murderer. The guy tortured him, Tonya! His…his body is covered in scars and…and he ended up loosing his leg. Like, from the knee down. And he was so sick when I got there. He’s come such a long way since then…”

Tonya’s face is like stone, blinking slowly as you go on about Eddie and all the things you’ve helped him accomplish in the last two months. You hadn’t even realized that you’d been rambling until the sound of her bedroom door caught your attention.

“Charles is here?” You ask her quietly after the bathroom door closes. You're shocked when she confirms that he had stayed the night. He'd never stayed the night before, at least while you were there.

“We had a fun night,” Tonya says with a sly smirk. “He’s probably feeling it this morning.”

“Ah, I see,” you nod. The sound of retching coming from the upstairs bathroom had the two of you giggling. Tonya leans in towards you, resting her chin on her hands as she looks at you.

“So,” she starts, “Can I ask you a side question before we get into this Eddie guy?”

“Sure,” you say suspiciously.

“Is Sam real?”

“What?” You chuckle. “Yeah, he’s real. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a lie you made up to go see your little criminal boyfriend.”

You reel back, shocked by the accusations of her statement.

“Eddie’s not my boyfriend,” you assure her. But the look on her face tells you she’s not buying it.

“Really? Because you just talked more about this guy in the last 20 minutes than you’ve talked about Sam since you two started dating.”

“Well…I spend five days a week with him, so of course I have more to say about Eddie than Sam. But…”

“But…?”

“What bit you in the ass this mornin’?”

Eddie stirs his coco wheat's mindlessly as the Andy Griffith’s Show plays on the TV. If you were to ask Wayne, he’d say Eddie was acting like a cat after it got caught in the rain, all pissy and ready to swat and anyone who looked at him.

“Nothin’,” Eddie grumbles, not bothering to look at his uncle as he spoke. Wayne sighed, grabbing the TV remote and turning it off. He shifts forward on the couch cushion until he was sitting on the edge.

“Did somethin’ happen at the Trick r Treat thing?”

Eddie exhaled, slumping back in the recliner dramatically before finally facing his uncle.

“Nothing happened. I just—Did you know she has a boyfriend?”

Wayne’s head tilts to the side. “What? No she don’t? Told me when she started.”

“Well, she must have lied to you because she told Harrington last night that she was seeing some guy named Sam from her school.” Eddie’s arms cross over his chest like a child with an attitude.

“Why’d she tell him that?”

“Because, in typical Harrington fashion, the guy flirts with any girl that crosses his path.”

“So she told him she had a boyfriend?”

“Yep.”

“Maybe she was lyin’ t’em.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. He hadn’t thought about that. He just assumed you hadn’t told him because you knew he liked you by now and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“But what if she’s not?” Eddie’s voice is soft in his vulnerability. He’d told Wayne about his growing feelings for you about a month ago. About how he thought you were beautiful from the first time he’d seen you, but he’d stuffed those feeling down immediately. 

He tried his best to push you away, hoping that you’d run with your tail between your legs after how rude he’d been to you. But you didn’t seem to budge, so he tried to ignore you instead. That obviously didn’t work out either. His hopes went up when you saw him on the floor that faithful night. He thought that you’d be so repulsed by him that you’d turn and run on the spot. 

But, of course you didn’t.

You looked at him as if he wasn’t a broken man who’d been beaten and almost eaten alive by supernatural bats. Who’d been abused and almost murdered by hospital staff who were supposed to be in charge of his life. Who was sent home to a place he didn’t know, with barely anything to his name after the Upside Down swallowed his trailer whole.

In hindsight, he almost wishes you had ran. Because this feeling that he’s had every day since has been more painful than any of his scars or shredded limbs. He wishes you had been shallow and vapid, because he would have a reason to hate you, rather than feel lonely whenever you weren’t around. 

And maybe he’d feel less bad about the times he’s touched himself while thinking about how your body presses against his when you help move him to his chair. Or the way your chest brushes against his shoulder when you’ve put your arms around him while you watch their DnD games. 

Shit, he’d only agreed to do physical therapy in the first place because you’d leaned in front of him and practically begged him. Did you know that he could almost see perfectly down your shirt when you did that? He was glad he did it, though, because the strength that’s slowly being restored to his hands was making it easier to jerk off to the thought of you.

Eddie tried to pushed those thoughts back. He didn’t want to feel that way about you. Well, not in this gross, perverted way at least. You didn’t deserve that. 

“If’n she’s not lyin’, then…well…” Wayne settles into a silence. Eddie feels himself getting upset, head titling back to push the impending tears away before they could spill over. 

It wasn’t fair for him to feel this way. He wouldn’t have had a chance with you even before everything that happened to him, so why was he getting all worked up as if you’d ever seen him as anything other than a pitiful shell of the man he used to be. No matter how much you poured into him, he would never have enough to return the favor.

Eddie had been distant the last few weeks. Not back to his grumpy self, but more closed off than he had been with you lately. Any time you touched him unprompted, he would pull away or make an excuse to move away from you. He still talked with you, but that teasing banter that he would throw your way was few and far between. 

It hurt to feel like you were being locked out again, but you didn’t question it. Eddie didn’t owe you any explanations anyway. But you still couldn’t help to over analyze his behaviors every night before falling asleep.

Even now as you sit with him and Wayne and sort through old pictures that Wayne had found after going through their storage unit. Wayne is doing most of the talking, with Eddie chiming in here and there to give short interjections.

“Eddie, you’re joking,” you gasp.

It was just a shoebox, but it was filled to the brim with pictures of Eddie when he was little. The picture in question that you were absolutely gushing over was of Eddie and a woman that you’d assumed to be his mom by their matching chocolate button eyes. Her hair was wild like Eddie’s; long red curls teased to high heaven that framed her delicate face. Toddler Eddie was on her hip in a Christmas themed outfit, a huge, baby toothed grin plastered on his face as beamed at his mother. The back of the picture read ‘Eddie & Flo Christmas ‘68.’

“I’m not,” he says with little enthusiasm. “Unfortunately, I look just like my dad, besides my eyes. Wish I looked more like her, though.” 

“No, look,” you say, pointing at his moms smile. “You have her smile, too. Dimples and all.”

“Hold on,” Eddie says, taking the box and sifting through the pictures. It took him a few minutes to finally pull out a picture before handing it to you. 

What you weren’t prepared to see was a picture of a man who looked practically identical to Eddie, sans the long hair and clad in a military uniform. Next to him was a younger Wayne Munson, dressed in a leather jacket and with a much fuller head of hair. You studied the picture a bit before flipping it over.

‘Allan and Wayne April 1970 Day of Departure’

“Your dad was in Vietnam?” You ask, looking at the picture again, still mesmerized at the resemblance.

“Yeah, he got drafted and shipped out a month before my 5th birthday,” Eddie said with indifference.

“I thought you could be excused from the draft if you were married with kids?”

“Al and Flo weren’t married,” Wayne interjected. “And Al was dead set Eddie wasn’t his so he didn’t even show up to his birth. I’s there, though, cause I knew Flo wasn’t like those other girls he was chasin’ after. And when I tell you I wanted nothin more's to kick my brother’s ass as soon as I saw that little face for the first time.” 

Wayne grabs the box from the coffee table and shuffles around it a bit until he found a picture. He looks at it for a moment before handing it to you. “Poor Flo did all that time cookin’ that one there for him to come out lookin’ exactly like his daddy.”

The picture was of Eddie’s mother in her hospital bed, wild red hair tied up and looking exhausted. But her smile was wild, and she was flashing a peace sign at the camera. An even younger Wayne was holding a bundled up new born Eddie proudly in his arms, holding him up in a way that shows off Eddie’s chubby baby face. He really did look like his dad, the Munson genes definitely being more dominant.

You flip the picture over to read the back.

‘Florence, Wayne, and Edward May 13th, 1965.’

Wayne fished out more pictures of Eddie as a baby, and you cooed over every single one, much to Eddie’s dismay. Through this you discovered Eddie’s middle name was James after his late grandfather that passed on the strong Munson genes to his father.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for Eddie’s mother, though. She was only 17 when she had Eddie, and her strict parents kicked her out because of it. Thankfully, Eddie’s grandparents took her in and Al apparently came around and stepped up when he held Eddie for the first time. 

They stayed living all together until Al was drafted. But not long after, Eddie’s mom got really sick. She had been hiding it, hoping that it would go away on it’s own, until it had suddenly gotten worse. Wayne moved back home to help raise Eddie when his mother started getting sick. She died in 1971, a week before Al was set to come home from Vietnam. 

“That’s when he started gettin’ in trouble. Flo had whipped him into shape in a way not even the military could accomplish. And when she was gone before he could say goodbye—”

“Can I go outside?” Eddie’s hand wipes over his eyes harshly. He scoots to the edge of the chair and reaches out for his wheelchair. You jump up at his request, getting his chair situated for him before helping him into it. He clung to you for a moment longer than he normally would, but you didn’t mind.

“Let me get your coat,” Wayne says, pushing off the couch. When he’s just out of earshot, you look at Eddie, his eyes glassy and downcast as if deep in thought, and tap him on the shoulder.

“Hey, do you think that when you have kids they’ll be clones of you, too?”

Eddie’s posture straightens, his eyes wide when he meets yours. 

“What? I, um, I don’t—” He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I haven’t really thought about it. Didn’t really plan on kids anyway.”

“Oh, really? I guess that’s understandable. Not everyone wants kids.”

“Do you?”

“Hmm, maybe one day,” you shrug. “Not really rushing to have one right now or anything. More focused on school and taking care of you.” Eddie smiles, but ducks his head to hide it from you. 

“Well, I guess I’m good practice for taking care of one,” he says.

“No, you’re way harder to take care of.” He barks out a laugh, rolling away from you to meet Wayne half way to the door. 

While the two of them go outside to smoke, you busy yourself in the kitchen putting away the Thanksgiving dinner you and Wayne had put together, with Eddie’s help on stirring duty. Ben had come by and ate with all of you, seemingly more comfortable being around while you were at the Munson’s residence with his more frequent visits.

It didn’t take you long to clean up. Wayne had apologized all morning for the dinner not being anything fancy, and you reassured him every time that you didn’t care. You’d been used to spending Thanksgiving with just your grandparents, and then just your grandma for so long that you’d never made much of a big deal out of the holiday like others do. 

Sam specifically told you on multiple occasions about how everyone in his family makes a very big deal about holidays. Apparently they were also looking forward to meeting you, which came as a shock considering he hadn’t even asked you to go, he just assumed you would. When you told him it felt like it was way too soon to meet his family, he seemed bummed but thankfully didn’t press further.

“Damnit, I told ya she’d be in here cleanin’ up, Eds,” Wayne hollers from the living room.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!”

“We’re gonna have to start paying her if she’s gonna start doing the maid’s job,” Eddie says, rolling into the kitchen and up to the fridge. He goes to grab for a beer, but you call for him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Eddie, if you have a beer this late you can’t take your pain meds.”

“That’s fine,” Eddie says, plucking the beer from the door and presenting it to you. “I wasn’t gonna take it tonight anyway.”

“What? Why?”

“Wanna try and get used to not having it.”

You want to argue with him, but he’s giving you that wet, sad look that he knows will get you to fold. And you do, snatching the beer from his hands and popping the tab open. 

He holds his hand out to grab it from you, but you decide to fuck with him a bit and take a sip of it yourself. It tastes like nasty cheep beer, but you do your best to remain as neutral as possible, even letting out an “ahhh” after you swallow.

Eddie looks up at you with pure shock, frozen in place like he was petrified. It makes you laugh as you place the can back in his hand, waiting a moment for him to grab it before letting go.

“Y-you can have it if you want,” he stutters, not moving.

“It’s okay, Eddie, I was just messing with you,” you say, placing a hand on his shoulder as you walk past him out of the kitchen.

Eddie thrusts sloppily into his folded pillow, held together by his body weight as he lays on top of it. It took a lot of trial and error, but Eddie’s found this to be the most effective way for him to get off when his hands are too sore to just jerk off. 

He didn’t mind it though, because this set up made it feel more real to him. He didn’t have any frame of reference to know what it felt like to fuck a real pussy, but the friction of his pillowcase felt good enough that he was able to bypass the texture if he just focused on the fantasies in his head. 

All of them revolved around you, of course. He tries to stave off of giving into his urges. Especially considering he usually had to look you in the face at some point after. He felt like he was going to give himself some kind of pavlov response if he allowed himself to jerk off from any small domestic gesture that you threw his way.

Today was a bit too much for him, though. He’s happy you came over since he fully expected you to ditch him and Wayne for some other plans.

But you didn’t.

Not only did you come over, but you came over early, dressed up in an outfit that had Eddie fighting off a hard on from the moment you arrived. And basically acted as if you’d been part of the family for years rather than only knowing them for a few months. You were a natural addition to the Munson clan and that played on Eddie's mind a lot when he thought about you like this.

And when you took a sip of Eddie’s beer before giving it to him…Eddie was ashamed to even think about how much that affected him. Not only was it practically an indirect kiss, but he’d never seen you let loose like that, even if it was just a sip. You felt comfortable around him to blur that line of professionalism that you tried to keep up when you cared for him, and Eddie was letting the delusions run rampant.

“Haaa, fuck,” he whines into his other pillow as he ruts into the makeshift pussy that he desperately wishes was yours. He’s imagining you lying under him, his bare chest pressing into your back as he plows into you from behind. He thinks about how you’d be calling out his name. Are you vocal in bed, or would you be biting into his pillow like he is now to keep himself quiet?

Eddie pulls his shirt back up to his nose and your scent that rubbed off on it filled his nostrils, sending him over the edge. He cums suddenly with a low groan, spurts of white cum spilling in between the fold of the sandwiched pillow. His breath hitches, eyes going in and out of focus as he cums harder than he ever has before. 

After catching his breath, Eddie pushes himself over and onto his back. He lays there, waiting for the guilt to creep in like it always does. He thinks back to your conversation earlier, about him wanting kids. It kills him. 

Did you really think he would ever have the chance to have kids? Besides not knowing if his swimmers even work after what he went though, he would have to meet someone who would treat him with even a fraction of the kindness you give him. And then he’d have to convince them that he was worthy enough for their love and not a burden. 

You saying you want kids one day hurt even worse. It was a feasible dream for you, to start a family with someone you loved. Eddie had barely thought about kids, but now he’s laying here thinking about what a normal life would be like with you. A house with a white picket fence, two kids, a dog…

Tears rolled down Eddie’s temples and disappeared into his sweaty hair line. He grabbed the soiled pillow and pulled off the pillowcase, carefully pulling it inside out and tossing it into his laundry basket. He pulled his comforter over himself to hide away from the world. 

The bed shakes as Sam lands on his back next to you. He says…something, but you’re too busy in your own head to catch it. The ache between your legs tries to get your attention as well, but you would rather listen to Sam speak than address that right now.

“Hey, are you okay?” Sam’s hand waves in front of your face and you force yourself to smile when you look at him. “Did I really blow your mind that much?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” you nod enthusiastically, probably overdoing it. You feel an ick wash over you when he smiles triumphantly. He leans in to kiss you and you turn your head so that his lips hit your cheek.

“I’m gonna go get us some water. Feel free to use my bathroom to clean up.” You lay still until Sam leaves the room, holding your breath until you’re sure he’s gone. 

Jumping up from the bed, you grab your clothes and quickly redress. You can’t find your tights but at this point you don’t even care, you just want to get out of there as fast as you can. Sam is standing in the hallway with a glass of water when you open the bedroom door. He looks at you up and down with confusion.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, I, uh…I forgot that I promised to help Tonya put up Christmas decorations tomorrow.” You move past him, but he grabs your arm to stop you.

“Do you have to leave right now?” He asks, a distressed look on his face.

“I’m sorry, but I probably should. Tonya likes to get up early to start the process and--”

“Okay, I understand,” Sam says, taking a deep breath in. “Can I, um, I want—I need to ask you something before you go.”

Your heart feels like it’s dropped into your stomach, nauseating you instantly. You have a sneaking suspicion that you know what he’s going to ask, but you really don’t think you can do this right now.

“Can we talk about it later? I think it’s supposed to start snowing soon,” you say, pulling your arm from his grasp. “Really want to get home before the roads get bad—”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

The reaction your body had to his question was similar to one you would have if you heard nails on a chalkboard. If the ground opened up and swallowed you whole right now you’d be thankful for a quick escape from this situation. 

You relaxed your body and looked at Sam. He’s a nice guy, truly, but after everything that transpired in his bedroom…

“Sam…”

“Yeah?” His puppy dog eyes are making this harder than you want it to be.

“I….” You sigh, “I need to think about it. I’m going through a lot with finals coming up and taking care of Ed—I mean, Mr. Munson--”

“But you’re almost done with both of those? Christmas break is just around the corner, and I really would like you to meet my family.”

“Wait, what do you mean I’m almost done?”

“Well, you’re finals are, like, a week and a half away. And next week is your last week for the volunteer program so you won’t be needing to go to Hawkins anymore. We called all the families and let them know so that they could make other arrangements a week or two ago.”

All the air around you felt like it was sucked away. Wayne didn’t tell you that he had gotten a call. Was he even going to bring it up? Did he just expect you to up and leave him and Eddie?

“Sam, I really need to go,” you say with a strained breath. You don’t give him much of a chance to answer before you’re grabbing your coat and heading out his front door. Snow was already starting to stick to the ground as you got to your car. Sam stood at his front door, still in his boxers as you got in your car and drove off.

Driving on autopilot, your brain began to recall and process exactly what happened while you were with Sam. He had been off putting ever since you saw him after Thanksgiving, but you almost felt bad for him. All this time you convinced yourself that this really attractive guy was giving you attention and you just we’re being grateful for it. 

But today solidified for you that you couldn’t deny the way you were feeling anymore. Not when the whole time the two of you were having sex, you couldn’t get Eddie out of your head. Every touch, every thrust, you could only think about Eddie being the one on top of you making you feel good. You’re pretty sure you would have cum if it was actually Eddie.

The feelings you had for Eddie sat behind a glass wall inside your mind ever since you were able to pour your heart out to Tonya. But, no matter how much you wanted to, you knew you could never act on them. It would go against every code of conduct for you to have a romantic relationship with a patient. You could potentially get kicked out of nursing school if you were ever found out.

Not to mention you had no idea if Eddie would even accept your feelings. Sure, he has come out of his shell and let you into his life in more ways that you had imagined when you first met him. But, you didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking it was anything deeper than an appreciation for the care you’ve given him. Eddie and Wayne were good people, and you didn’t want to mistake that kindness for anything more than what it was.

But, fuck, did it suck to find out you might only have one more week to spend with them.

Between the thick snowflakes and the racing of your mind, you didn’t notice the way the road was getting icier as the snow continued to fall. A turn snuck up on you in the heavy snowfall and you slammed on the brakes to slow down, but your car continued to slide across the snowy road. 

Your car fishhooks before the back end whips around, sending you spinning into a ditch. It’s not a deep one, but the lack of traction under your tire sends them spinning with barely any movement from your car. You curse under your breath, all of your emotions bubbling up until you smack your steering wheel out of frustration.

After taking a few minutes to cool off, you take a look around you to assess your surroundings. It’s hard to see much, the back road you’re on has no streetlights and you’re not sure if you’d be able to see any house lights even if you were in someone’s yard. You start to panic, unsure of what you’re next move should be. You don’t have enough gas to wait out the night, but you should still have an emergency blanket in your trunk.

You have to hype yourself up to leave your car, moving as fast as you could to the back. As you went to open the trunk, fumbling with your keys lead to dropping them in the white snow at your feet. Your eyes stung as your tears began to gather, the cold wind instantly chilling them. 

Without a second thought, you let out a loud scream into the dark night sky. You felt around for your keys, the cold metal biting your already cold hands as you finally opened your trunk, only to find it empty. That’s when you remember that you had taken the blanket out of your trunk and thrown it in your back seat for the trunk r treat night.

The trunk of your car slams hard enough to make the car shake, and you practically rip the door off the hinge when you grab the blanket.

Just as you’re about to get back in your front seat whe a light comes into view from the down the road. Relief washes over you when you can see it’s a car coming your way. You jump up and down, waving your hands around to get the cars attention, the big truck rolling to a stop next to you.

“Are you okay, darlin’?” A little old woman’s voice calls from the rolled down window.

“No,” you yell with a pathetic sniffle. The driver side door of the truck opens and a little old man jumps out and rounds the front. He lets you inside and you slide into the bench seat between the two.

The couple apparently heard you scream from their house and came out to check what was going on. The snow was so thick you didn’t even realize their house was only a few hundred feet away from your car. The woman made you a hot drink as you used their phone to call for someone to pick you up.

“Hello?” Wayne’s gruff voice could have been intimidating to hear if it was anyone else calling the Munson house this time of night.

“Wayne, it’s me.”

You thank the older couple profusely for everything before bounding out to the truck waiting for you in their driveway. It had taken Wayne almost 45 minutes to get to you with all of the snow, but he promised he would get to you even if it took hours.

When you pulled open the passenger door, you were surprised to see Eddie sitting there with a worried look.

“Eddie, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Boy was worried sick ‘bout’cha,” Wayne calls from the other side of Eddie.

“Wayne,” he groans, scooting over on the bench seat to make room for you. 

“Aw, that was really sweet of you to be worried about me,” you tease, leaning your head on his shoulder to push his buttons a little bit more. Eddie adverts his gaze, mumbling a whatever under his breath making Wayne chuckle.

Wayne backs out of the driveway and starts the journey to Tonya’s. The conversation is light until Wayne asks what you were doing out so late at night during a snow storm.

“I was out with some of my classmates,” you lie, not wanting to bring up being with Sam. The thought of him only brought all of the thoughts you had earlier in the night to the forefront of your mind, and you were suddenly very aware of how much of your body was touching Eddie’s in this cramped seating arrangement. 

The chill of the night had been cut by his natural body heat against you, making you subconsciously curled into him at some point during the drive. You went to pull away, but his body started to move with yours until he was leaning into you.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to adjust himself, “I usually lean against the door to keep my balance.”

“Oh my god, Eddie, I’m sorry,” you say, moving closer to him again. “I would have sat in the middle if I had known.” 

“It’s okay,” he says quietly before you felt his body weight leaning against you again. 

The small talk dwindled into a peaceful quiet as Wayne drove the country road with ease. The snow has started to ease up, almost completely stopped by the time you saw the city marker indicating you were close to being home.

As you were leaning into Eddie’s shoulder, you felt a bit of weight fall on top of your head, your vision slightly obstructed by curly brown hair that fell over your face. Eddie’s light snores next to your ear was all the confirmation you needed that he’d fallen asleep and was using you as a pillow. 

A warm, bubbly feeling filled you at the sudden closeness. Even a small interaction like this made you feel a million times more exultant than you’ve ever felt with Sam. Or anyone for that matter. 

“Wayne,” you called to the older man, wanting to distract yourself from your thoughts. He hummed in response, his hat covered head tilting slightly in your direction while his eyes remained on the snowy roads. “Tonight one of my…friends from class, they mentioned something about this week being the last week of our volunteer work.”

Wayne went rigid in his seat, shifting to sit upright again. He cleared his throat, visibly becoming more distraught with each passing second.

“Yeah, I guess that’s right, isn’t it? I, um…” Wayne ran a hand over his mouth, rubbing it back and forth against the stubble before it landed back on the steering wheel. 

“’ve been-- been trying, ya know, to get someone to take over nights. I thought about askin’ Hop, but he’s done enough for us. Plus he’s got family now, so s’not fair to ask him. Could come off the nights, but that shift diff is really gettin’ us by.” Wayne nods his head to the side, “Ed says he can stay home by himself, but I just…I can’t have em fallin’ and not bein’ able to get emself up. Lord forbid he fall and break his hip er somethin’.”

“So…it sounds like you haven’t found anyone?”

Wayne sighs, shaking his head. “Well, that’s not…” He pauses, letting out a huff of air through his nose. “There is someone who is willing to come a couple nights a week if we need ‘em…”

“But?” You press, curious as to who this person might be.

“But…I’ll just say he’s not my first pick to take responsibility for anyone.”

“I see,” you say, looking down at where Eddie’s thigh is pressed against yours, the end of his jeans smoothed over the amputation spot where you’d sewn the end shut for him.

“Can I ask why you didn’t ask me if I could keep coming over?”

Wayne was still, like he was holding his breath. 

“I, um, we…”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. If you don’t want me to keep coming I totally understand--”

“No, no! That’s not it at all,” Wayne says defensively. “We both kinda assumed that you weren’t…allowed to.”

“Oh…well I don’t think there’s anything that says I couldn’t keep coming over? It’s not like I’m being paid, so I don’t think I’m violating any of my school’s rules. And he’s been doing so well, it wouldn’t be any different than if anyone else came over to stay with him.”

The truck was quiet for a moment, except for the directions you gave Wayne as he turned into Tonya’s neighborhood. Once he pulled into the empty driveway, he shift the old beater truck into park and turned to look at you. You must have been quite a sight sitting there with his nephew practically on top of you as he snoozed away. But you still smiled up at him, even as he shook his head at the two of you.

“So, I don’t want you to say yes just because I told you I was havin’ trouble. Okay? Promise me if you say yes that it’s not outta pity.”

“I promise,” you say, crossing your fingers for him to see.

“Alright, well, if it’s not gonna cause you any issue, would you be able to keep comin’ down to stay with Ed at night? It doesn’t have to be every day. Like I said, I got someone who said he can stay a night or two a week if we need ‘em—”

“Can I ask who it is you’re talking about?”

“It’s, uh, it’s a guy Ed went to school with. He’s a little older--names Rick—they’ve been friends since Eddie was a freshman—”

“Rick? Like Reefer Rick?” You question, Eddie’s weight on you being the only thing keeping you from jumping out of your seat.

“Well, yeah, that’s him. I guess Eddie must’ve talked bout him by now.”

“He hasn’t told me much about him. But, he did come over one day after you’d already left for work when the boys were over.”

“Ah, yeah, I forgot Eddie told me he came by,” Wayne nodded.

“I guess I understand why you don’t want him to be the one to stay over.” 

“Yeah, he’s just…not a very responsible kid,” Wayne says with a shake of his head.

“That’s like…the nice way to put it, I suppose.” 

Eddie suddenly lifts his head from your shoulder, his tired, confused eyes scanning his surroundings before looking at you. He smiles, breathing in harshly as he stretches, one arm going forward and the other behind you. 

“Hi,” he breathes out, his voice groggy and low from just being asleep. It does that thing to you where it goes straight from your ears to between your legs. 

“Hi Eddie,” you giggle, looking up at his dopey, half asleep still expression. Wayne clears his throat and Eddie’s whole body turns to look at him, then all around once more as if he’s only just noticing his surroundings for the first time.

“Where are we?” He asks with pinched brows.

“My house,” you say, taking that as your cue to grab your things and exit the vehicle.

“Shit, that was a quick drive,” Eddie says running a hand over his eyes.

“Quick only cause you used that poor girl like a mattress while you slept,” Wayne quips. 

“I did? Damn, I’m sorry,” Eddie apologizes, his eyes wide as if panicked.

“Oh, I didn’t care,” you say as you opened the car door, the cold air hitting you straight to the bone and making you shiver. But even with the winter air trying to turn you into a popsicle, you still took your time getting out, not wanting to make Eddie lose his balance and fall. 

Once Eddie was situated back in the passenger seat, you gave the two men your goodbyes, promising Wayne to finish the conversation when you come by on Monday.

The Munson men waited in the drive way to make sure you got inside okay, waving back to you as they took off down the road.

Every day for the next week felt like a rollercoaster. 

Sunday consisted of Tonya taking you to get your car and you ignoring phone calls from Sam. You and Tonya also decorated the house together, so you technically didn’t lie to Sam when you left.

Monday you were almost late to class, doing your best to wait until the last second to pull into the schools parking lot so as to avoid Sam in case he was waiting for you. You felt bad for not giving him an answer before you left him on Saturday. But after an all day conversation with Tonya that started with telling her that you couldn’t get Eddie out of your head while you were having sex with Sam and ended with you guys talking about what colours you think Eddie would like if you ever got married one day, you figured you should probably cut things off with him.

You were never good at telling anyone no, this much you knew about yourself. And if you were completely honest, you were a little worried that if you didn’t wait until the right time that Sam might puppy dog eye you into changing your mind. But, you had to be strong. If you could just get through until next Wednesday after finals…

Speaking of finals. After some discussion with the Munson men, it was decided that you would keep coming to stay with Eddie over night until further notice. Both of them seemed to be relieved, although Eddie did say he wanted to keep working on building his strength so that Wayne would feel comfortable enough to let him be alone at some point in the future.

Once that was settled, you immediately made a deal with Eddie, making him your personal exam study buddy. Every day he quizzed you, went through flash cards with you, and looked over your homework for you, handing it back if he didn’t think the answer you gave matched what the textbook said.

“I feel like I could be a nurse after all of this,” Eddie said, placing the thick deck of flash cards down on the side table. The flipping between the cards had been serving as a good exercise for building up his hand dexterity, but often left them a little sore by the time you’d gone through all of them.

“I think I’d pay good money to see you in one of my school’s nursing uniforms,” you tease, standing up to refill his cup.

“Good money, huh? Like, maybe a college tuition’s worth?” He calls back from his chair. You bark out a laugh.

“You’d have to put that uniform to good use for me to shell out that kind of cash, if you know what I mean.” Eddie howls at your suggestive words.

“Don’t know how good of a dancer I’d be with only one leg, sweetheart!”

After a long week of studying, Friday finally rolled around and it was time to fulfill your part of the bargain. 

With Eddie in the passenger seat, the two of you set off towards Castleton Square in Indianapolis. The roads were busy, full of people with the same idea as you and Eddie; last minute Christmas shopping. 

You’d lied to Wayne about where you were going per Eddie’s request. He knew that if he told Wayne where he was going that he would try and give him money to buy his gifts. 

But ever since his disability checks (finally) started coming in, Eddie had secretly been saving some on the side so that he could get some things for everyone for Christmas.

That included Wayne, and he wasn’t about to use the man’s own money to buy him a Christmas gift. So, as far as Wayne knew, the two of you were going to see Grant and his girlfriend's new apartment. 

“Damn, this place is packed,” Eddie said, head on a swivel as you tried to navigate the mall’s parking lot without taking out a pedestrian. 

“No kidding,” you say, pulling up towards one of the mall’s entrances. 

“I’m gonna let you out here,” you say, flipping on your blinkers. Once Eddie is situated in his chair, you wait for him to wheel inside the first set of doors before taking off to park. 

After 20 minutes of searching and briefly getting into it with a 70 year old over a handicap spot, you finally make your way to the mall entrance. It was just as crazy inside of the mall as you’d expected it to be with Christmas only a few more days away. People of all different background suddenly become unified by their arms being full of copious amounts of shopping bags. 

Eddie sat just inside the doors, eyes flickering across his surroundings, as if anticipating something. But as you enter into the crowded mall, his anxiousness seems to melt away as soon as his gaze meets yours. 

“You okay?” You ask, grabbing your purse from his lap. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving his hand at you. “I’m just…scoping the place out. For stores to shop in.” He saves himself at the last moment and you decide to let that excuse be enough for you.

To say the mall was pure chaos was an understatement. Many of the stores were restocking shelves at a record speeds, people fighting over toys and clothes and shoes that they HAD to have, lest little Tommy or Susie not get everything on their Christmas list. Every bench was filled to the brim with husbands and dads left in charge of bag duty while their wives wrack up their credit cards in the name of Christmas spirit.

Thankfully, no one wanted to be the person that's a dick to the guy in the wheelchair during the holiday season, so navigating the crowds was a little easier than you anticipated. The two of you bobbed and weaved through the stores, picking up a few things here and there for your respective friends and loved ones. Eddie was even brave enough to do a little shopping on his own while you ran to the bathroom.

Once the two of you regrouped, you took in Eddie’s haggard appearance and decided to call for a cookie break.

“Damn, what do they put in these things?” Eddie asks, his eyes closing as he takes another bite of his double chocolate cookie.

“I don’t know,” you say, sitting on the edge of a cement planter, not a single available seat in sight, “but whatever it is should probably be illegal. I could probably eat 10 of these things.”

“Mmm, agreed,” he says with a mouth full of cookie. 

The two of you sit and enjoy your treats in silence. Not out of neglect for the other, but out a mutual curiosity as you people watch.

 It was interesting to come to your own conclusions about people with only a snapshot of their lives like this, and it makes you wonder how people must be perceiving you and Eddie together. Are people assuming the two of you are dating? You couldn’t blame people for thinking that, but what else were they thinking about you? Do the two of you even look good together?

“Look mommy! What is that?”

The voice of a little boy catches your attention. A small pointed finger in your general direction makes you feel uneasy as you automatically assume the child must be pointing at Eddie. Sure, a man in a wheelchair has the potential to puzzle a child, but you didn’t know how Eddie would react to this kind of attention in a raw, childlike form.

“That’s called a mistletoe, dear,” the stressed mother answers, eyes looking your direction for a brief moment. Except, you notice her gaze lands just above you, prompting you to tilt your head back. And you’d be damned to find a small mistletoe handing from a thin string from the ceiling tile above you. 

“Huh,” you hear Eddie say next to you. The sudden realization that the mistletoe is hanging above yours and Eddie’s head has heat rising to your cheeks. You keep your head locked while your eyes shift to look at Eddie out of your peripheral. 

Sure enough he was looking at it, too. 

“Didn’t see that there before.” The words spill from your mouth without much forethought. Eddie clears his throat, and you steal another quick glance at him. His cheeks have an ever so slight pink tint to them, which only makes your stomach do flips.

Eddie has play flirted and said his fair share of raunchy jokes with you in the recent weeks. Never really giving as much of a hint of embarrassment in his actions, you assumed that he felt comfortable enough with your…friendship? That he didn’t care to treat you like one of his boys.

Given your newly realized feelings, it’s admittedly stung a bit. However, the reaction he’s giving now at being caught under a mistletoe with you is only fueling any delusions that you’ve ever entertained between the two of you.

“Me—me either,” he stutters, his eyes shifting down to the floor tiles beneath him. His bashfulness drives you crazy, and you have the sudden intrusive thought to just kiss him. And you almost consider it, if it wasn’t for the potential awkwardness that would result from your potential misreading of the moment.

“Have-have you, um, ever…you know?” Eddie chokes on almost every word, leg bouncing against the pedal as he speaks.

“I’m sorry, have I ever—?”

“Ever kissed. Like, under the mistletoe or whatever.” Eddie clarifies, gesturing to the decoration while still avoiding eye contact.

“O-oh, um,” you think for a moment of every kiss you’ve ever had in your life and suddenly blanking. “Maybe once or twice. In, like, middle school or high school. What about you?”

Eddie shifts in his chair, “No, no, it’s…I’ve not before. Not that I wouldn’t,” Eddie looks at you, then turns away again. “I mean, I’ve never been under one with someone before.”

“Do you want one?”

Eddie stills, blinking slowly as he processes your words.

“Do I want a kiss?”

You nod.

“I mean I guess I wouldn’t be against—”

Eddie is quieted by the sudden contact. You press your lips against his cheek, landing on the edge of the large scar. It’s only for a moment, but it feels like a lifetime to Eddie. 

When you pull away, you do your best to maintain composure. Giving him a forced smile, you rise from your seat to look at him straight on.

“There you go,” you say, hands landing on your hips. “Now you can say you’ve had your first mistletoe kiss.”

“Eddie, Eddie, shhh it’s okay.”

Pulling him into you, you run a hand up and down his back soothingly in an attempt to calm Eddie’s still sleeping form. Screams of terror begin to fade out into small moans and whimpers the more you comfort him. 

Slowly he wakes, his arms wrapping around you as he begins to sob. You don’t ask him about his dreams, or rather, his nightmares. You’re sure that it would only make things worse, so you just let him cry himself back to sleep against you.

“—Oh, shit, sorry.”

Your eyes shoot open at the sound of Wayne’s voice. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, still leaning against the head of Eddie’s bed as he snored in your lap.

“No, it’s okay,” you whisper yawn, gently lifting Eddie’s head until you could place a pillow under it. Tiptoeing out of Eddie’s room, you join Wayne in the hallway, who looks like he just got home.

“Sorry if I woke ya,” Wayne says in a low voice.

“It’s okay, really,” you say rubbing your eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. He had another night terror so I was just trying to settle him down s'all.”

Wayne hums, a hint of disbelief in his tone. You thought about pressing the matter, but figured doubling down would only push Wayne into believing whatever he already convinced himself more. Besides, getting a couple more hours of sleep before the weekend officially started sounded like something you wanted to take advantage of.

When you did finally wake up, you did your normal Saturday morning routine before your morning shift at the coffee shop. After getting dressed, you place a full glass of water and a little cup full of his morning meds on Eddie’s nightstand and pull out a fresh pair of clothes for him to put on after he wakes up. As you go to leave, you glance over to the newly wrapped gifts that sit below the Munson’s Charlie Brown inspired Christmas tree and think about how you wish you had seen Wayne’s face when he saw them earlier. 

Your work day flew by. The nonstop in and out of shoppers getting their morning caffeine fix or their afternoon refill kept you constantly moving. And before you knew it, you were grabbing your own cup to go and heading out the door to trek the the almost 3 hour drive from work to your home town.

Once you made it to Anderson, you stopped by a local flower shop, one that you’d been going to since you were a kid, to pick out some nice flowers to leave at the graves of your parents and grandparents. The owner made some small talk with you, asking about school and how Tonya was doing.

The mentioning of your friend reminded you that you still needed to give her the gift you’d gotten her before she left to visit Charles' family for the holiday. You were thankful that the Munson’s asked you to join them Christmas day, otherwise you’d be spending the holiday by yourself for the first time in your life.

With your flowers in hand, you placed each bundle at the graves. You spent a good amount of time with each one, talking with the markers as if your loved ones were there and listening. You’re not sure how long you were there. But eventually the cold became too much and you had to leave. 

Driving out of the cemetery was always really hard. Your parents had been gone long enough now that you’d come to peace with them being gone. It still hurt, but didn’t feel as much like salt in a wound as your grandparents. But, the deep sadness you normally felt was lighter than usual. The thought of your next destination—back to the same mall you had spent the evening with Eddie in—made you feel like you had a purpose for the first time in a long while.

You’re sure he hadn’t noticed, but you had kept your eye on Eddie as he shopped around. Anything he took interest in as the two of you perused the mall you took note of, fully planning on returning to pick out some to gift him. You doubt that he go you anything, but that didn’t really matter to you. You wanted to get him things he wanted, knowing he wasn’t going to spend the money on himself.

“What’s W.A.S.P?” Tonya mumbles through a mouth full of sugar cookie as she flips a cassette case in her hand. Her eyes go wide as she reads the track titles on the back.

“They’re a metal band,” you say, grabbing it from her and centering it the middle of your wrapping paper. “Jeff gave Eddie a shirt of theirs, so I’m guessing he must like them.” 

“Girl, one of those tracks was called Ballcrusher,” she says with a concerned look that made you laugh.

“Hey, I’m not here to judge,” you shrug, wrapping the cassette nicely and laying it next to a few more that were already wrapped. “It’s cooler than the ovenmits you got Charles.”

“Excuse you, he asked for new mits.” Tonya points her half eaten cookie at you before taking another bite. “And I think they fit his personality very well.”

“They’re plain beige,” you say monotonally.

“Exactly,” Tonya nods with a smile. “Plain and beige, and safe.”

You tsk and roll your eyes, mumbling a little whatever as you organize your gifts. Some might say you went a little overboard for someone who you’ve only been taking care of for just shy of 5 months. But, it was hard to narrow anything down when you envisioned Eddie’s face as he opened all of his new possessions. It was enough to justify the…8…9…11 things you got for him. 

“Can I tell you something…”

You look over at Tonya, who seems to be unable to contain a smile as she waits for you to answer.

“Of course,” you say, turning to give her your full attention.

“Okay, so, I know it’s the holiday season or whatever, and I could totally be wrong. But…”

“But?”

“But…” She takes a deep breath in. “...I think Charlie is going to propose to me at his family’s Christmas.”

You shoot up straight in your chair. A few months ago you might not have been so keen on this speculation, but the last few months Charles seems to have loosened up a bit. You also stopped caring about him taking your parking spot considering you were hardly here much anyway between school, work, and being at the Munson’s. 

“Oh my god. What? Why do you think that?”

“So, we went and did some Christmas shopping at that new outlet mall the other day. And while I was in the bathroom, he thought he would be slick and went into a jewelry shop. When I came out I saw him through the window and I’m, like, 99 percent positive he was looking at rings!”

The two of you gush and squeal over the prospect of Tonya’s future nuptials. Talks of colours and styles of dresses fill the room as the two of you talk for hours. 

“You know,” Tonya starts from the other side of the shower curtain, “Even if you are the maid of honor, I’m putting my foot down about one thing.”

“Oh, yeah,” you ask before spitting out your tooth paste into the sink, “And what might that be?”

“If you plan on bringing Eddie as a plus one, I have to at least meet him once before the actual wedding.”

You feel your cheeks heating up a bit. “I…I don’t see why that couldn’t be arranged—”

“Ideally, I’d also like the two of you to have confessed your love for each other by then, too—”

“Stoooooooop, you don’t know that he’s in love with me. This could be totally one sided.”

“Or,” Tonya pokes her head out from the curtain, “he could be completely head over heals for you and one of you just needs to make a move already.”

“What the—do you need help?” Dustin moves towards you to help with the balancing act of carrying all your presents into the Munson house. He grabs a few gifts and ushers you inside. 

“Thanks Dustin,” you say, heading towards the Christmas tree that is filled even more so now than it was when you left Saturday morning. “It’s starting to look like Santa wont have any room to bring presents.”

“We’re going to take care of most of that tonight,” Jeff says with a smile as he pushes Eddie’s chair into the living room. 

 Eddie looked very handsome tonight in his red sweater and black slacks. It even looked like he took his time to properly do his hair today. You loved when Eddie would let you get his curls looking just right with a little product and styling.

“Hey,” he waved to you, more reserved than his normal goofy self.

“Well, hey there hot stuff. You look really nice tonight,” you say, leaning in to give him a hug. He went rigid for a moment before melting into the embrace. 

“About time you got here,” Mike calls from the kitchen, causing you to jump back. “You better hurry up and get some of this pizza before Gareth freaking eats it all.”

“Dude, I’m hungry!” Gareth shouts defensively. Will puts a hand on his shoulder to comfort him as everyone laughs them off.

“Where’s your friend,” you ask the room, scanning it for a new face. The boys said they had convinced their friend Lucas to finally come to a Hellfire meeting after several long months.

“He should be here soon,” Dustin says in an overly reassuring way.

“Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Mike scoffs.

“You were there, dude. He said he would come.”

“He said he would think about it. Never said he was gonna show up for sure.”

“If Sinclair shows up, we’ll greet him with open arms,” Eddie speaks up, “And if he doesn’t…well,” the room stills,”...there will always be other Hellfire Club meetings.”

Before the game begins, the boys take turns passing around gifts to each other. You’ve never seen so many sets of colourful dice in your entire life, but they all seemed very excited to receive them. Eddie was given a few band shirts and some cool looking records as well. He was so grateful for each gift he was given, a constant roll of thanks coming from him.

For a moment, you thought he might be getting overwhelmed when you saw a him wipe away a tear. You rest your hand on his arm, but he waves you off and reassures that he’s just really, really happy. It made your heart feel full to see him in such a good place. The amount of growth he’s done in such a short time never ceases to amaze you.

Eventually the game started rolling. You took the opportunity to clean up the mess of wrapping paper that was littered across the living room. The boys tried to get you to join them, but you told them that you wouldn’t be as fun to play with since you’d ask so many questions.

But Eddie still managed to keep you returning to the table. A few beers deep, he decided to skip his nighttime pain med. This led to his hands starting to ache (allegedly), which meant he needed you to roll his dice for him. Even if you knew it was just his way of getting you to hang out and avoid the pile of laundry that was staring you down, you let him have his fun and played along.

“Another 20!” You shout, jumping up and down. Eddie laughs manically while the rest of the table groans and protests.

“Maybe it’s a good thing she didn’t play with us,” Dustin says shaking his head. You stick your tongue out at him and he makes a face back at you.

But the feeling of something touching your back pulls you from the playful banter. Looking around, you realize Eddie has his hand resting on your lower back, rubbing small circles there as he refocuses on the game. It’s not an unwelcome touch by any means, but it does feel very intimate all things considered. 

And it’s only made worse as his hand moves completely across your back, not stopping to trace back and almost hooking you around the waist. He pulls you closer to him until your bodies are flush, besides where the wheelchair separates you. His head rests against you, all of his attention on the game, making the action feel like a subconscious move. 

You weren’t going to make a scene about it, so you instead embrace the affection and let your hand rest on his opposite shoulder. From the corner of your eye you see the smile on his face grow until his dimples are on full display.

At the end of the night, the boys made their exit, leaving the pizza and drinks for you and Eddie to indulge in for the next day. Lucas never showed, but Dustin and Mike seemed determined to make him come out soon.

Once the boys were loaded up and down the drive way, you went straight to the sink to get to work on the dishes. But, before you could get passed the threshold of the kitchen, Eddie gently grabbed your wrist to still you.

“What’s wrong Edward?” You tease. His flush cheeks told you that he let himself go a little more than usually when he drinks.

“Shhhh don’t say my name like that,” he says with a slur of his words.

“Why not? It’s you’re name isn’t it?”

“Makes me feel like I’m in trouble or something.”

“Oh, do you feel guilty about something?”

You didn’t think that your words would hit any chords with Eddie. But the silly outward expression suddenly turned into one of shock. The air shifted in a spit second and you were instantly on damage control.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, fully facing him. Eddie looked like he was on the verge of tears, eyes getting glassier by the second. His body moves as a sob escapes from him, and any resolve Eddie had was gone as he lets everything go.

You crouch in front of him, hands on his shoulders as he begins to wail, body shaking as he lets everything out.

“H-he didn’t--did’t-didn’t show--show up because of me!” The shaky words come out, and you instantly realize the error of your wording.

You pull him into you, letting him cry into your shoulder as you pet his hair, holding him tightly to comfort him

“Shhh, Eddie, nooo,” you speak low next to his ear. “You’re not to blame for what happened. You were a victim, too, Eddie. There isn’t anything you could have done—”

“If I had just died—if Dustin had just left me there instead of finding Steve and Robin…They-they—” 

Eddie starts to hyperventilate. His head lifts from your shoulder as he struggled to get his breath. You jump to your feet and run to the kitchen to grab a paper bag that had been left from the gas station beers. You run back to him and instruct him to breath into it, coaching him to imitate you as you demonstrate taking deep breaths.

After a few minutes, Eddie is able to somewhat calm himself down. Tears still rolling down his cheeks, he leans back into his chair, running his hands over his face and through his hair. You can tell he’s avoiding looking at you. But you’re not sure if its out of shame or if he’ upset with you.

“Eddie?” You ask quietly. He flinches, but slowly lowers his head until he’s facing you, his eyes looking downwards rather than at you. But it’s good enough for you.

“Eddie, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t.” His voice is still wobbly, eyes closing again as he breathes in.

“No, Eddie, you need to listen to me. Okay?”

Eddie looks at you, almost through you, but you take the silence as the signal to continue.

“Eddie…I know it might be hard to understand. But…whatever happened back in March…it’s not your fault.” His eyes shift and he starts to blink rapidly, but he doesn’t speak. “I can understand why you think that your friend is mad at you, but I think you know he’s not. He’s just worried about your other friend, Max. And whatever happened to Max…you didn’t force that monster to do that to her. Nor did you make him hurt the other victims.”

Eddie takes in a sharp breath, coming out haggard as you can tell he’s trying to hold back from crying again.

“And whatever happened to you…” You take his hands in yours, looking at the scared skin that decorates it. You let your hands fall against his thighs, just above where his leg is amputated. “Was not your fault.”

“You’ll never understand,” he says suddenly, catching you off guard. “You don’t know what actually happened.”

“Then, tell me Eddie. Help me understand.”

Eddie’s eyes scan your face. Then his head shakes, his curls whipping around as he does.

“I can’t. Even if I wanted to I…I just can’t.”

You nod, “And that’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. Because I don’t think my mind would change even if I did know.”

“Can I go outside?” He asks, pulling his hands from yours.

“Sure,” you say with a smile. “Maybe we can get you showered and ready for bed after?”

“Yeah, okay,” he says, pushing himself to the door. 

“Just hand me the lighter, asshole.”

Gareth’s hand reaches across the coffee table impatiently for Eddie to hand him the bright red lighter after the joint they were passing around had gone out.

“Nope, only people who tell the truth get to use my lighter,” Eddie says holding the lighter to his chest.

“Eddie, don’t press him. He doesn’t want to talk about it,” you say, taking a sip from your concoction of a drink that Grant’s girlfriend, Tina, made for you. You lean into him so that only he could hear you. “How would you feel if someone was pestering Wayne about Ben like that?”

That seemed to shut Eddie up. He finally tossed the lighter to Gareth, who wasted no time in lighting the joint back up.

“So, how did Christmas at the Munson’s go?” Jeff asks, plopping down on the couch next to Eddie, handing him another beer.

“It was, and I am not exaggerating,” Eddie starts with a slight slur of his words, “probably the best Christmas I’ve ever had. Like, this one right here?” He points his thumb to you. “I didn’t think I’d ever know what it feels like to be spoiled, but that’s definitely how she treated me.”

“Wait a second,” you scoff, “I did not spoil you. I just found some things that I thought you’d like and figured I’d get them for you.” You shrug, giving Tina, Grant's girlfriend, a look of feigned innocence as you turned to face her. The two of you had been doing quite a bit of chatting since you arrived, instantly clicking as you two seemed to have a lot in common.

She did ask you how long you and Eddie had been together, however. And you had to awkwardly explain that you were just his caregiver. It made you wonder what Grant had to be telling her about you and Eddie for her to think that the two of you were together.

“Did you get her anything?” Grant asks, nodding to you.

“Of course,” Eddie says with faux offense. “I bought her some of the lotion that she keeps in her bag, some of her favorite snacks, a copy of her favorite movie that she said she lost when she moved, and a study book for school.”

“You also got me a whole box full of snacks,” you say, nudging him.

“That was just because you are constantly talking about how you wish you had this or that when we’re watching a movie or something,”

“Are you sure you are not dating?” Tina leans in and asks you with genuine curiosity.

The guys laugh, but you reassure her that you’re not.

“When you spend as much time together as we do, you tend to pick up on each other’s interests. I’m sure you and Grant are the same way.”

“We are,” she says with an enthusiastic nod, “Because we are dating.”

“Shh, hey, the ball is gonna drop!”

The small TV in Grant’s living room shows that only 15 seconds remain until the ball is about to drop. You move closer to Eddie to see the TV better, and he wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you into him. 

Everyone’s eyes are on the TV as the countdown begins. As the numbers go down, you rapidly reflect on 1986. 

The beginning half of the year seemed uneventful compared to the latter in the grand scheme of things. You recall all the highs and lows that you and Eddie have been in together since you first met, when you realized that what you were feeling was more than it should ever be and how you’ll likely never get the chance to do so. 

But you also reflect on the wonderful new friends that you’ve made, including Wayne, who you hoped was having a good night with Ben. And the younger boys, who said they were going to the hospital to spend the new year with Lucas and Max. 

Only a few seconds remain, so you turn to face Eddie, whose eyes were still on the small screen. An idea came across your mind. You pucker your lips, gearing up to plant a fat kiss on his cheek once the ball dropped. You were sure we would be embarrassed getting a cheek kiss in front of his friends, but doubted he could keep a grudge long. 

As the room cheered at the end of the countdown, you closed your eyes and leaned in. 

But you instantly knew something was off once your lips made contact. Instead of the textured skin you were expecting, you felt softness against your lips. 

And when you opened your eyes, you were met with chocolate brown ones looking right back at you. Eyebrows raised into bewilderment, it took you a few seconds to process what was happening. 

Then it hits you. 

You were kissing Eddie. And he wasn't stopping you.

thank you for reading!

a/n: hello! I wanted to make all of the readers of this series aware that I have decided to change up the direction I’m going with it. I feel like I’m straying away from some important elements and I want to try and regroup starting from part 6 and onwards. I plan on keeping some plot points I previously had planned, but they may just be executed differently than I intended. I dont believe the changes will have an affect on the story so far, but still felt that I should mention it.

Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I hope to have the next part out here sooner than later <3

[prentissluvr]

but daddy i love him — sam winchester

cw : gn!empath!reader, light angst, fluff, some canon typical violence, demons, mentions of weapons, emotional manipulation/some emotional abuse in reader's past/presence, dean's kinda mean for a bit, kissing, food/drink mentions, poor editing, 11.3K words. listen to but daddy i love him by taylor swift. requested !

summary : you were raised sheltered from the world, but once you meet sam, you come to understand what freedom means. ౨ৎ . . . [ empath : has the ability to read and manipulate anyone's emotions. not the psychology kind lol ]

you’re not a demon, though you’re certainly no angel. in all technically, you suppose that you’re closer to a demon since they used to be human. not that you’d want to be put in the same box as any single demon, but you know that they feel some emotions. angels, you’re told, do not. to you, that’s quite a strange concept. someday, you’d like to meet one to see if it’s true.

and though you are not a demon, you’ve learned very well how to be like one, or at the very least how to feel like one. this is only helpful because your uncle, the demon who raised you (who is not your real uncle, nor related to you at all) wants you to be just like him. that implies being entirely uncaring and mostly unfeeling, with the exceptions for feelings being guiltless, hatred, annoyance, generally anything negative and parallel with aggression, and pleasure in the face of enacting pain or evil things upon somebody else.

having been surrounded by exactly that for as long as you can remember, you have no trouble pretending to be that way. in actuality, you find it totally impossible to embody it in truth. you, opposite to demons, are especially in tune with all aspects of your humanity. this does include the bad, but you’ve spent your life clinging to and longing for the good. plus, you don’t particularly enjoy experiencing the constant negativity that rolls off of most demons and right onto you. although your powers are geared towards other humans and you can’t read or manipulate demons’ emotions as easily, you learned to use your powers on them before anything else.

today, you accompany a crossroads demon, as per usual. your uncle has you trying a new tactic to aid in soul-collection. unfortunately for you, it's been working well and you have to pretend more often than not that your powers are failing you when they’re working just fine. you feel like a door-to-door salesman for guaranteed painful death and torture until one’s humanity is ripped away, all under the guise of pretty or petty dreams come true.

your accompanying demon, russell, is one of your least favorites. you don’t really like any of them, but unfortunately, russell is one of your uncle’s most trusted. you think it’s stupid, because you’re able to tell that he’s a coward and most likely not as trust-worthy as your uncle thinks. personally, you just find him annoying.

russell approaches the next house, knocking on the door as you lag behind. the man at the last house sold his soul in exchange to look ten years younger. not everyone exchanges their lives for such stupid reasons, but when they do, it makes you feel extra disgusted by the work you have to participate in. but for the sake of fooling your uncle, you pretend to enjoy it. someday, you might get away… you just don’t know what you’d do or how you’d survive.

the owner of the house opens the door, and the second she sees you and russell, dressed in suits and smiling all fake, her annoyance and skepticism immediately become apparent to you. your first order of business is to push that away and replace it with openness, curiosity, and a little bit of desire to get her to listen to you. since you “failed” at the first three houses and were successful at the last one, russell expects you to make this one work as well. it takes a bit of concentration to keep everything subtle and slow so that she doesn’t notice anything too strange.

when she greets you, she smiles a little and you know that you were successful. you let russell do all the talking as you continually feed the woman more desire and assuredness. little by little, you tug at her hesitation, pulling it away as russell gives her his pitch.

“anything you could ever dream of for the small price of your soul!” he lies about how small of a price it is and you mask your abundant discomfort. the more and better you do for your uncle, the more he lets you off of your figurative leash. the woman, mrs. hadley, as she introduced herself, is on the verge of saying yes. you’re seated in the living room as she goes on about how her one wish is for her young son to be treated well at school. you debate sabotaging the deal to save her, when the door bangs open and two men burst into the house, both sporting various weapons.

mrs. hadley screams and your concentration snaps. immediately, her fear and confusion wash over you, along with everything else that the two men and russell are feeling. suddenly quite overwhelmed, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment before remembering you’re under threat. russell curses loudly, and when you snap your eyes open, he’s halfway across the room as he sprints full speed for the back door.

“sam!” shouts one of the men, nodding towards you and the frightened mrs. hadley as he takes off after russell. the other man, now dubbed sam, points his knife at you and begins rehearsing a latin exorcism.

“i’m not a demon, i swear,” you say, slowly standing and putting your hands up in surrender. his eyebrows furrow in confusion. you also sense his urgency and protectiveness, but you don’t sense as much aggression in him as you’d expected. the rush of that which you’d felt before must have been from the other man.

“then what are you?” he asks, voice gruff as he slowly approaches, trying to carefully manuever in between you and mrs. hadely.

“i’m human,” you answer, honest but withholding the full truth. “i promise,” you plead, trying to gauge his reaction without actually manipulating his feelings. when sam reaches mrs. hadley, he holds his arm in front of her protectively. there’s still fear and utter confusion rolling off of her.

“wh–what the hell is going on?” she asks, voice panicked.

“it’s alright,” sam reassures, trying to be as gentle as possible. “you just can’t make that deal. it’ll get you killed.”

“what? killed, i– but it seemed– it seemed fine?” you can feel doubt creep into mrs. hadley as well as she questions why she trusted you and russell so much without any real reason.

“trust me, whatever they promised you, it’s not worth it,” sam emphasizes. mrs. hadely goes to speak again, but sam returns his attention back to you. “what are you doing with a demon?”

“i… they have me trapped,” you say in a half-lie.

he clenches his jaw, but most of his distrust subsides because he feels more concerned for mrs. hadley than you. he tucks his knife somewhere accessible, and turns to the woman to comfort her. he tries to explain without too much detail that she should never sell her soul to anyone, but that it’s best if she tries to forget this all. but it’s clear to both you and him that she’s just panicking more and more. you easily read the way that sam wants to help her and it makes you want to do the same.

you mean to just send mrs. hadley a touch of calm and comfort, just so sam can get through to her. but you yourself are panicked and overwhelmed, never having been in such an out-of-control situation, and your strong desire to help her comes out unfiltered and unhindered by your usual careful control when you deal with humans. suddenly, mrs. hadley is grinning from joy, even laughing a little. for a moment, this seems fine to you. you fixed her fear, didn’t you?

but sam turns even more confused and worried. this, in turn, confuses you and breaks your concentration, and she falls back into an even stronger fear as she realizes starkly that she’s been experiencing emotions that aren’t her own.

she bursts into tears. “what– what was that?” she cries. you feel quite overwhelmed by her strong emotions.

you frown deeply. “i– i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to– i mean, i was just trying to help. i didn’t want want you to feel so afraid. i can help, though, i promise. i just– i was distracted and humans can be so sensitive.” you begin to approach with your hands still in the air, but you halt when her fear spikes even more and sam’s hesitance returns in full. they don’t want you near. you consider manipulating both of their emotions, just to get them to allow you closer, but you think better of it at the last second. they might grow even more wary if they notice the change in their own feelings.

“did you do that?” sam asks.

you deflate in guilt. “i’m sorry,” you say again, filling your voice with sincerity, “i didn’t mean to scare you,” you look at mrs. hadley, then proceed carefully, “but i can help, just a little, i won’t do anything crazy– i– i can’t do anything crazy, i promise. and i can make sure that no one ever bothers you again. you don’t have to let me close if you don’t want me to, but i really can help. just to… to calm things down a little and– and leave a little room for you to process. or, of course, i can just go and you’ll never see me or that guy again.” you look between sam and mrs. hadley, trying to calm yourself so you can get a proper read on both of their emotions without overloading yourself with all the information. mrs. hadley is just about as confused and scared as before, but you think that sam’s reassuring presence is helping her. you’re not so sure that your words have done anything to help. sam himself is still hesitant, but as some of his wariness slips away, you think he might be willing to hear you out or at least let you go unscathed.

“oh, you’re not going anywhere,” comes a gruff voice from behind you, along with the kiss of cold metal on the back of your neck. it’s a gun, you presume. you slowly lift your hands back up, having forgotten about the other man’s presence when he disappeared to take care of russell. you turn your attention to his feelings instead of the other two in case you need to use your powers to try and save yourself. he’s got aggression, calm anger, and a whole lot of protectiveness practically spilling out of him. he thinks you’re dangerous. he’s not necessarily wrong, but you really aren’t a danger to them, not unless you have to be.

“i’m telling the truth, i swear. please, just– just let me go.” you keep your voice steady, but pleading, trying not to let on just how scared you are but also appeal to their sympathy. you’re in danger, something that you’re completely unused to despite the way you grew up all around it.

“and let you get back to those demon bitches? not a chance. what even are you?” the man’s voice is unforgiving as he digs the gunpoint further into your skin, pressing for answers. you wince.

“dean, wait,” sam interrupts, “i don’t think they’re trying to hurt anyone,” he says, trying to reason before dean gets any more violent.

“sam, they’re clearly working with demons. i think that qualifies as trying to hurt people. we don’t even know if they’re human,” dean counters.

you’re about to speak again in your own defense when a familiar voice fills your ears.

“it’s always you boys, isn’t it? i should have known that the winchesters would crash my little soul-collecting party,” your uncle drawls.

“crowley,” sam growls, and you’re suddenly flooded with his anger.

your uncle completely ignores sam in favor of dean. “i kindly ask that you let my sweet pet go, squirrel.”

dean turns around, pulling you with him. “so they’re with you?” dean asks, voice accusatory.

“they are. and if you don’t hand them over, i will knock you out cold without a second thought. your choice, of course, darling,” crowley quips. you’re highly confused. the three clearly know each other, but your uncle has never mentioned anyone like the “winchesters” before. dean grows even more suspicious of you, sam confused and worried, and you know very well that crowley is only barely covering up his total anger. he’s anything but pleased to have found you in this situation.

“tell me why, and i’ll hand them over,” dean bargians, not realizing just how much he’s pissing crowley off. your uncle doesn’t even wait to answer before sending dean flying across the room and grabbing your wrist.

“let’s go,” he grumbles, tugging you along with him. you glance back at sam, who moves forward, trying to stop crowley until he too gets flung into the wall.

“uncle!” you shout in protest. “wait, i need to–”

“absolutely not,” he shouts back, “what the hell were you thinking? how’d you mess up a simple deal so horribly?”

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, suddenly remembering yourself. he’ll only grow more angry if you continue to protest.

“damn those winchesters,” he grumbles to himself. as he drags you home, he continually complains about them, cursing that you got mixed up with them and pounding into your head that you should never, ever get involved with the winchesters.

⟢⟢⟢

honeybee cafe is just about the only solace that you have. it’s away from your uncle and the other demons, the place you always come when you’re allowed out without supervision. on top of that, it’s small and quiet, and you never visit during crowded hours. technically, you’re required by crowley to stay somewhere with other people so you can practice your powers on them. you picked this cafe for it’s cozy, quiet atmosphere, and the general lack of patrons from one to three pm. that way, you’re never overwhelmed by too many emotions. it’s usually just you, another regular or two, and the few workers. maybe it’s a little odd, but you feel secretly close with the people whose emotions you tune into over and over again. and you certainly don’t manipulate their emotions as crowley likely wishes you would.

you always sit in the corner furthest from the door, facing the rest of the small shop so that you can keep an eye on anyone who comes in or chooses to stay inside. sitting with your favorite beverage and a book you picked up from the library beforehand, you relish the comfort and warmth of the sunlight coming in from the window behind you. your room at home has no windows, and that just about kills you. you love windows.

only the soft tinkle of the bell on the cafe door interrupts the focus you lend to the book in front of you, and you look up on instinct. your breath catches in your throat as you immediately recognize the man who walks in. he doesn’t notice you, but you watch him as he orders a coffee. as he waits off to the side, you turn slightly, and you’re too late to cast your eyes down before he catches your gaze. his face lights up in recognition and surprise. he takes a step towards you before he’s interrupted by the barista’s call of his name. quickly, he takes the cup from their hand and thanks them before turning back to you. you weren’t planning on speaking to him, not after your strange first encounter and crowley’s warnings against him, but you feel an odd sort of relief when it becomes clear that he wants to approach you, to talk to you. he had left an impression on you when you’d met. he’d just seemed so… good.

his eyes flicker around the cafe as he comes closer, likely looking for signs of demons.

“i’m alone,” you assure him, smiling carefully as he gets close enough. he nods, slowly sitting across from you when you nod at the seat. “though i have to be back by evening or someone will come looking for me,” you explain, mouth forming a small frown as you think about it. he’s confused and concerned as he looks at you, and it feels sort of nice to guess that he’s maybe worried about you.

he seems unsure of what to say, so he just jumps right into it. “i never caught your name. i’m sam winchester, though i’m sure you got that before. can i ask… are you an empath? i did some research since we last met.” he gives you a tense sort of smile, not because he’s nervous, but just because this second meeting feels very awkward.

you nod and give him your name before anything else. “and yes, i am an empath,” you confirm, unsure if you should explain further or not. he seems to understand well enough.

he’s a bit more hesitant the next time he speaks. “and can you explain your… situation? you said you were trapped, and crowley seemed very possessive of you… but i thought i heard you call him uncle? whatever it is, i can help you get away from him, my brother and i have dealt with crowley too many times to count.”

his immediate offer to help and instinct to suggest you just leave crowley are both sort of overwhelming to you, but a part of you likes his words.

“oh. i– well, it’s complicated. crowley, he’s– he’s sort of my only family.” sam’s eyebrows raise a little in questioning. “we’re not actually related, or anything, but he raised me. he’s– well, he’s taught me everything i know and… i can’t– i can’t really leave. besides, he’s really not all that bad,” you try to excuse, suddenly feeling oddly defensive in a way that you can’t really explain. “and i get days to myself like this, i– i have my freedom, i just… before, i didn’t want you to think i was trying to hurt people, or that i like to, but uncl– crowley doesn’t really know… that i don’t like the things that he… that he asks me to do for him.”

suddenly, this wave of sad understanding rolls over you from sam, and you’re not sure why. his face doesn’t change much as he listens, but to you it seems like he thinks you’ve said something so sad.

“but it’s alright,” you quickly try to amend, “he thinks i’m weaker than i really am. that way he doesn’t suspect when most demon deals i’m a part of fail. i have to… i have to get some to work so that he thinks i’m trying, but i promise i try to hurt the least amount of people possible. and.. and he still lets me have my days out when the deals fall through. i botched two yesterday, but i’m still here, aren’t i?” you attempt at sounding lighthearted, but sam’s sadness doesn’t go away much. instead, you just feel compassion blooming from him as well.

“i understand,” he says kindly, “i didn’t think you were trying to hurt people. i believe you.” he’s completely sincere and you realize that that’s not something you’re too used to from almost anybody you talk to.

“thank you,” you sigh in relief, smiling and trying to show him that you’re sincere too. “your brother? dean?” sam nods. “he didn’t believe me,” you state.

sam cringes a little. “he can be like that. he–” he purses his lips, looking for the right words, “he doesn’t trust very easily. he’s very suspicious of people he doesn’t know.”

“i don’t think he really thought i was a person,” you say, starkly honest in a way that surprises sam for a moment. you don’t quite understand what his surprise was for, but he quickly shoves it away before you can ask about it.

“he’s– he’s working on that. i’m sorry he made you feel that way,” sam says, truly feeling apologetic.

“well, i didn’t feel that way. just him. i know that i’m a person,” you smile, trying to reassure him and wishing he didn’t feel sorry.

sam smiles back a little. “right,” he nods, “well, i’m still sorry he thought that way about you. he’ll come around.”

“thank you, sam. but you don’t have to feel sorry, it’s not your fault he felt that way,” you assure, completely sincere and trying to work out why sam would feel sorry about something he didn’t cause, nor that he agrees with. he’s already proved himself to be kind and believing enough.

“sure,” he agrees, trying to figure out the right way to explain what he means as he begins to understand how truly sheltered from normal human interaction you’ve been. “but i know how it feels to have someone doubt how human you are and that it’s not a good feeling. so i’m just sorry and empathetic that you had to experience that.”

you nod in understanding. “ah, well, that’s kind of you… you’re right. it wasn’t the most pleasant thing to feel, but i understand that dean was feeling sort of afraid and definitely mistrustful. you didn’t really find me in the most trustworthy position. but if i meet him again, i hope you’re right that he’ll come around. i really am just a person, but i get that i’m, you know, not one hundred percent normal. really, empathy’s a very human thing, mine’s just… exaggerated, i guess.” you look at him, head cocked to the side in confusion. “but you, sam? why would someone doubt how human you are? you feel things just like a human.”

sam gives you a half smile. there’s a tinge of bitterness when he answers, but the way he talks and feels makes it seem as though time as softened most anger or sadness. yet, it also feels as though he’s never really talked about this much.

“i used to have psychic powers. i’d have visions, these premonitions before people died.” he explains it as something so casual, and he’s trying to feel that way about it, but he really seems to care. “in a way, i was barely different from you. of course, i’m still not. we’re both people.”

“really?” you ask, curious, “i didn’t know other people had that sort of thing. and your powers? they’re gone now?”

“it seems like it. i haven’t had a vision in a long time,” he answers.

“you seem relieved by that,” you note. sam picks up on the tinge of sad disappointment in your voice.

“i am,” he answers honestly, “but not because it’s bad to have those sort of powers. i just didn’t really enjoy getting visions of people dying violently.” he gives you a tight-lipped smile to show you he’s okay being lighthearted about it all.

you relax. “right, of course. that must have been hard,” you give him a small, kind smile, “i can feel that it was hard. i’m glad you don’t have to go through that anymore.” you’re all sincerity, and sam smiles right back.

“can i ask what it’s like for you? to have these powers?” he asks, careful and kind. he wonders if you get headaches or terribly tired of feeling other people’s emotions all the time, but he doesn’t want to make you talk about it if you’d rather not.

you’re slightly taken aback by the question, and not because you don’t want to talk about it. you just never really have at all before. you realize the simultaneous oddness and loveliness of this conversation. not once have you spoken about your powers with another human before, much less one who has some understanding about them.

“well… i guess i’ve never really thought about it much. just because i’ve never known anything else. i honestly don’t remember much from when i was young, but crowley’s been teaching me how to use them for as long as i remember. it’s both better and worse with practice, i guess. and the way i learned was kind of odd.” you pause, unsure if sam wants to really hear about it all. but he gives you an encouraging nod and you feel genuine interest coming from him, so you continue.

“i started learning with demons, but they feel a whole lot less than humans do. and i can’t feel or manipulate their emotions as easily or strongly since my powers are geared towards humans. but since that’s how i learned, it’s decently easy now, though it technically takes more effort than it does for humans. now i’m practicing on people, and it’s sort of too easy. it takes much more control because i’m used to exerting more power on demons. and humans feel things much more strongly, and are much more sensitive to change. i’ve gotten much better, but if i’m distracted or overwhelmed, my control slips. that’s what happened with mrs. hadley.” suddenly, you remember her. “is she okay?” i made things worse for her, didn’t i? you think.

“she’ll be alright,” sam says. “she was shaken up, but she was doing much better when i left. don’t worry too much about her.”

you almost want to ask again, if she’ll really be okay, but it seems that sam will most likely give you the same answer he just did. “okay,” you relent. then you realize you did more explaining about how your powers work than what it’s like for you. “to really answer your question; it’s my norm, and i’m not sure what it would be like without them. but sometimes i think it might be nice if i didn’t have them. i would’t have to help the demons, and it can be… overwhelming. i’m used to the demons; their emotions are easier to tune out. but with people? well, they just feel a lot. of course, i’m used to my own feelings, but to feel that, plus everything else around me, especially when someone could be feeling so much all at once is just… it can be a lot. i’m learning how to tune it out, but honestly, i’m still figuring it all out.”

sam thinks you look a little embarrassed when you finish, and he certainly doesn’t want you to feel that way. “that makes sense,” he reassures, “i barely had any control over my own powers. i can’t imagine how difficult it is to be in control of something so complicated and fickle as emotions. most people can barely deal with their own emotions. being able to feel everyone else’s too can’t be easy at all.

you nod in simple agreement. “it isn’t. but i’m also glad for it. sometimes, unc– crowley has me use it for his, you know, demon things, and i don’t like that. but i think my powers are part of the reason why i’m able to hate it. i’m so connected to humanity, the good and bad in everything that people feel, that no matter how i grew up, i’ll always have empathy in its rawest form. and though i don’t get too many chances, and i mess it up sometimes, i can help others when i’m away from the demons. last week, there was this girl in here,” you smile lightly at the memory as you begin to recount it to sam, “she was smiling and nice to everyone, but i could feel how just sad she was. i paid for her drink and told her she looked pretty, and the way that it made her feel… i didn’t even have to use my powers. she was just so grateful and happy that she teared up. and i barely did anything at all. that’s what keeps me going,” you say, completely honest, “knowing that i can help and that it’s my choice when i do it.” you feel like some huge weight has been lifted from your chest. you’ve never said this all aloud, and certainly not for someone else to hear. but something about sam and his sincerity and goodness makes you feel comfortable enough to say almost anything at all.

sam looks at you with a sort of admiration and total understanding, and that alone is almost enough to overwhelm you. it seems like, in all your experience in feeling, sam is showing you more, all by himself and without even trying. to be understood, so fully in so little time, is not something you’d ever felt for yourself before.

“i know what you mean,” he says, and you absolutely believe him. you want to know him, more than you’ve ever wanted to know anybody. you want to know all about what he feels and why and what he likes and how he knows what you mean without being able to read your feelings like you can his. and you know that he feels just about the same way you do. he wants to know you just as much as you want to know him.

and so you talk and talk and talk until you realize that the sun is dipping low in the sky because you begin telling him how much you love windows. then it’s a sort of frenzy; you’re worried you’ll be caught and try to leave right away, but sam catches your wrist, his calloused hand so gentle on your skin. he asks for your number, but you don’t have a phone, so you tell him to come back at the same time next week if he can. then you rush out and he watches you go.

the next week, sam appears in the cafe doorway at 1:24 pm, and he looks all soft when you smile at him wide. before you have to go again that day, he hands you a cheap phone with both his and dean’s contact already in place. he tells you it’ll make things easier because he might not be able to make it again next week. he doesn’t know when he’ll be on a hunt or not. then he tells you not to call dean unless it's a true emergency; dean still isn’t sure about you.

when you go, you forget to ask him how to use it. so, when he texts you on thursday to tell that he’s on a hunt, and might not make it to your meeting spot on sunday, you’re very unsure what you’re supposed to say. figuring out how to use the phone itself isn’t difficult, but you’re unaware that your simple response of “that’s okay.” is a bit bare-boned and dry in response to his kindly worded message. over time, you get used to how sam talks over text and learn how to emulate it.

and when sam calls you for the first time, you’re completely taken aback. you’d seen people talking over phone calls many times, but you’d never actually done it yourself. you accidentally hang up on him four rings in, but he calls you back a moment later. your surprise is delighted when you hear his voice through the speaker. then you discover it’s just like a demon call without all the blood involved. you also discover that, while you can pick up on emotions from his voice, you can’t really use your powers at all through the phone.

he regretfully interrupts your long spiel about the different pastries you’ve tried from honeybee cafe, telling you he has to go. you ask why, confused that you can’t just keep talking since you’re now able to through the phone. you love talking to him, and you think he enjoys it too. then he tells you that he was just calling to see if you could meet a different day this week, like he asked at the beginning of the call, and that dean expects him to be doing research for a case right now. you ask why he didn’t just text like normal, why he’d call if he didn’t want to keep talking.

“i do want to keep talking,” he reassures, “it’s just that i don’t have the time right now, but i thought calling might be a little easier than texting this time around. but i can call you again later tonight?”

“okay,” you respond, happy enough with that solution. after that, you call him any time you have something to say. he laughs to himself, completely endeared when you call him to tell him that you saw a very cute cat, then hang up seconds later before he can even respond.

eventually, you come to learn that he can’t actually pick up most of the time, but he tries to as much as possible, and that calling is nicer when you both have the time to actually sit down and talk. as you get to know sam, you learn many, many things along with all the questions he answers about himself. 

most amazingly, you learn what it feels like to fall in love with someone fast, and what its like for them to fall right in love with you too. whatever connection that you and sam felt the first few times meeting each other very easily and naturally turns into love. there’s this tug between the two of you, pulling you closer to each other every time you meet. his hand brushes over yours and you smile at him brightly, and you constantly think about each other when you’re apart.

sam tries to take things slow, feeling a little bit like he’s taking advantage of you and your sheltered past. but you know what you want, what you feel, and what he feels too. he wants you just as much as you want him, and you see no reason not to give each other just that.

and it’s so glorious, because you don’t have to read his emotions to know that he loves you back. he makes it so abundantly clear with the way that he acts around you, the way that he looks at you, and the way that he kisses you. you’ve learned that you’d do just about anything for him. you’ve learned how to feel this wild joy that you didn’t know how to feel before.

and it’s true that you’ve learned other, less pleasant things. you hate aiding demon deals even more than you thought. you’ve begun to think that, maybe, almost everything crowley’s raised you to view as the facts of the world, aren’t nearly as true as you thought. you’ve learned that maybe you don’t really owe him so much for raising you or teaching you to use your powers, and you’ve thought the scary thought that he might’ve done it all just to use you. you’ve learned that you should be able to do anything you’d like without having to fear the king of hell’s wrath. that you want to, probably should, get away from crowley, and that feeling like you don’t have a choice isn’t healthy or good for you at all. you’ve learned that you’re still too scared, but you’d rather be with sam, and that every day you spend with him, you become braver.

you’ve also found out that loving in secret can be hard, and that you want to see sam all the time, not just the times when both of you can sneak away. apparently, dean’s still having trouble “coming around” to the idea of you. he doesn’t know that sam’s yours and you’re his. he’s worried that you’re manipulating sam in caring about you, but sam’s reassured you that his love for you is the realest thing that he feels. you couldn’t be more grateful for the fact that he trusts you so much. 

he trusts you so much that every weekend possible, he meets you in the cafe or the nearest motel and you spend hours just talking or laying in comfortable silence together.

he always books the room with the best view from the window and opens the curtains before you get there so that the sunlight bathes the room in warmth and light. today, the late afternoon light is especially pretty, tinted orange and casting a bright hue over yours and sam’s skin as you lounge in the bed together.

his arm is wrapped around your shoulders, both of you propped against the wall with several pillows. you hold his other hand, playing with his fingers and relishing in the feeling of his pretty nose against your cheekbone. because he can’t resist you, he likes to keep his face as close to yours as possible so that it’s very easy to kiss you. his lips will brush against your cheek constantly, and other times he lifts his hand from your upper arm to gently nudge your face closer to his so that he can seal his lips over yours.

you’ve already talked about lots of things today; the best toppings on salad, sam’s most recent case, the symbolism of rhododendron flowers in the book you finished three days ago, and surely more. but the last hour has been quiet, filled with more rustling of blankets, soft sighs, and occasional whispers more than anything else. you’re content, and sam is too, for the most part. often, you try not to be reading sam’s emotions, but spending so much time with him and being so close to him has put you almost irrevocably in tune with his feelings, and you can feel that something’s nagging at him. it’s both good and making him nervous at the same time, but you don’t say a word. you wait for him, until he’s ready to say whatever it is.

it’s when he presses another kiss to your temple that he speaks, voice a more steady volume rather than a whisper this time. “honey?” he says like a question, signaling to you that he’s got something to say, maybe something important that he wants to ask.

“yes, love?” you respond, trying to sound receptive to whatever it is he wants to talk about.

“i, uh, i asked dean if he’d try and meet you, and i managed to convince him. he– he doesn’t know that we’re together, love, but i told him i ran into you again. i think… i think he probably suspects that there’s more to it than that, but he hasn’t said anything about it and i’m taking that as a good sign. would you be okay trying to meet up with him?” he asks, careful and tentative. you can tell that he’s scared to interrupt the balance of things, but that he really wants this. you know how much he hates hiding this all from dean.

“of course,” you assure him quickly. you want the same as him. you don’t want to have to stay furtive and distant from sam so much. but you also have a question. “are we… going to pretend? you know, not to be together?”

sam’s face falls a little at that thought, and at the hint of sadness in your voice when you ask. “i don’t want to,” he starts.

“but you’re nervous,” you gently interrupt.

“a little,” he admits, giving you a small smile, “but i was going to say that it’s up to you. dean could… i don’t know, freak out and i don’t want you to have to worry about that if you don’t want to.” you nod at his words, feeling a bit embarrassed at your interruption. while you try not to let your ability to discern his feelings dictate exactly how you interact with him, you’re still learning that sometimes what someone feels doesn’t always let you predict what they want to say. and of course, he’s sincere about his concern for you, as always.

“well,” you consider his words seriously, “maybe we don’t have to tell him out right, but if he asks? we don’t have to lie?”

“of course, honey,” he nods, “i’d never lie about being with you if he asked directly,” he promises, sealing it with a chaste kiss to your lips. if there’s one thing you know, it’s that sam is proud of loving you, and one of his least favorite things it’s having to hide it. he wants dean to know, he just doesn’t want him to say something scathing to you or try to keep him away from you.

“okay,” you smile. you understand his hatred for hiding it and his nervousness well. you’d be more nervous than he is now about crowley discovering what you’re doing and who you’re meeting with when you’re out on your own. “but you don’t have to worry, sammy. we’ll try to keep him from asking unless he’s reacting well. if he’s still too suspicious, i’ll know and make sure we won’t act in a way that will make him ask. we have time,” you assure.

now sam feels conflicted, because he’s both relieved by your reassurance and sorry you’d have to hide that he’s yours and you’re his. then he’s suddenly hit by this desire to hide anything at all. he doesn’t want to hide from dean or let the way that dean feels get in the way of him seeing and loving you whenever he wants. he wants to show dean just how good you are and how good you are for him.

“thank you,” he says sweetly, “but i don’t want to keep hiding it from him, not for any longer. you’re too important to me for that.”

you want to melt right into him. “you’re important to me too, sam. really, really important. we’ll do this on your time, yeah? whatever you want.”

“yeah,” he smiles, “and we’ll do other things on your time, and others on ours,” he says assuredly. 

you give him a nod as he reminds you that he’s by your side as you build up the courage to get away from crowley. sam has always been cautious about the topic, never saying too much until it was you who brought it up. the first time you told him you’d been thinking about escaping crowley, about realizing you don’t owe him your service or that he doesn’t treat you well, you had felt this surge of pride rush off of sam and onto you. outwardly, he was gentle and quietly encouraging, and he’s been just that since. he reminds you that you should do things at your own pace, but he’s there to do everything he can to help you. the more time you spend with him, the readier you are to stay with him, and just him. unlearning the things that you’ve had beaten into your head for as long as you can remember is nowhere near easy, but it’s undeniably better with sam by your side.

and less than a week later, you’re nervous and wishing for that exact comfort as you wait for him and dean to meet you in the cafe. you sip on your usual order, glad for its familiarity. after ten long minutes, your head shoots up at the sound of the door’s little bell ringing, signaling the arrival of sam and dean. dean walks in first, eyes scanning the small coffee shop until he sees you. you try not to look too nervous as you stand and send him an amicable smile.

you glance at san as he comes up from behind dean, giving you a reassuring smile. the sight of him relaxes you a bit, though you’re so in tune with his emotions by now that his own nervousness immediately washes over you. as dean approaches you try to get a read on his emotions as well. he’s less hostile than you expected, moreso careful, defensive, and begrudging. there’s also a hint of willingness along with it all, and you cling to that. there’s even some trust thrown into the mix, though you assume that it’s reserved only for sam.

“hi,” sam says kindly as he and dean take the seats across from you. you sit along with them.

“hi, sam,” you answer, reciprocating his friendly smile. “hi, dean,” you then say, turning your head to look him in the eye.

“hi,” he echoes, voice gruff. he settles his elbows onto the table top, trying to look casual and at ease, like he’s the one in control of the situation. “let’s, uh, skip the pleasantries. sammy here tells me that we should be protecting you from crowley. i don’t trust you and i’m not convinced you even need protection at all, given that you were helping him with his little demon deals. i’m also not convinced that you’re not using your freaky powers to make him trust you.”

“dean,” sam hisses. you feel a spike of anger from him when dean uses the word ‘freaky.’

“it’s okay,” you say, smiling a little at sam. you honestly appreciate dean’s frankness. “i understand that. i know we didn’t meet in ideal circumstances. i might not trust me either if i were you. and i’m honestly not sure exactly how i can convince you to, but i’d be grateful if you’d let me give it a shot.” dean looks completely skeptical. “without my powers, of course,” you rush to assure him.

“and i’ll know that how? you can literally change the way that i feel. it’s not really a good look for you,” he points out, earning a glare from sam that he completely ignores.

“you’re not entirely wrong,” you acknowledge, “but that’s a lot easier said than done. first of all, the effects of my powers are only temporary. i can only use my powers on you when i’m around you and focused enough. aside from that, you’d most likely be able to tell if i did use them.” dean raises his eyebrows in suspicion, so you go one to explain further. “you’re aware of what i can do, and you’re rightfully wary about it. that means you’ll most likely pick up on even minute changes in your emotions that i make. when you’re aware like that, you can overpower me. my abilities are strong, but frankly, authentic human emotions are stronger. long story short, i can’t do much at all to you. and while sam’s less wary than you to begin with, he’s still aware enough that the same applies to him. either of you would know and be able to overpower my hold on your emotions if i tried anything. the most i can do is get a read on what you’re actually feeling.”

dean still looks skeptical, but you sense a bit of his unease being to slowly slip away. “how do i know you’re telling the truth?” he demands.

without a word, you send just a small wave of trust and comfort through him. for a moment, he relaxes, but just as quickly, his scowl deepens and his own distrust replaces your influence. your affect on his emotions is easily pushed away.

“that’s what it would feel like if i were trying to get you to trust me with my powers. that was about as subtle as i can be with emotional manipulation, and you still noticed. all i can do is tell you that you’re still skeptical, but a little less than when you walked in here. and i can hope that means that you’d be willing to hear me out. i really, honestly could use the help.” you add as much sincerity to your voice as you can, relying on almost all logic to convince him.

dean scowls even more when you mention his feelings and read them accurately, but he does seem to realize that you read a whole lot more than what you actually said aloud. he also can’t say that he thinks you’re lying. it was easy for him to pick up on your influence. almost immediately. “fine,” he grumbles. “no promises, though.”

you nod, relaxing a bit despite his words being less than kind. “that’s fine,” you accept. “thank you.” you glance at sam, suddenly feeling unsure. he gives you a sweet nod and smile and you take a deep breath before forging on. “i don’t know how much sam told you about my… situation. but… for a long time i just didn’t really know i had any other option than to stay with and help crowley. and you don’t have to believe me, but, for the record, i really don’t enjoy helping him. but i think that he’d freak out if i left. and maybe send an army of demons after me, which i do realize would be highly inconvenient for you…,” you trail off, feeling more and more nervous. you take a deep breath to recollect yourself and give your full explanation as to why dean should be compelled to help you. 

“but crowley’s also bound to find out that i’m holding my powers back and purposely sabotaging his demon deals. and let’s just say that nobody wants that. he wants my powers and i don’t know what lengths he’ll go to to get them. so… if you help me, you’ll be keeping my powers out of the hands of the king of hell, which means slowing down his demon deals and making sure i’m not doing whatever evil demon-y things you think that i might.”

you can see dean contemplating, sense his feelings shifting. he intertwines his fingers and looks at sam with a raised eyebrow. sam nods, his expression completely serious. dean turns back to you.

“alright,” he says, “this is nowhere near the worst deal we’ve ever made. we’ll take you with us, keep crowley and his demons at a distance, and you can get out of our hair and onto your own life once things settle down. sound good?” he asks the question like he’s already made the final decision.

“thank you,” you sigh, shoulders sagging in relief. it’s not perfect since he still doesn’t know that you’re totally in love with sam and he’s totally in love with you, but it’s a better start than just about anything else. then it suddenly hits you that you’ll really be walking away from crowley, and that scares you. sam manages to catch your gaze. he looks at you with a hint of concern, but also relief as well. you can see him asking with his eyes, should we tell him? it’s you that gives him an encouraging nod this time. if you want, you’re saying.

he gives you a smile, and you know it means that he’s going to tell dean, right here, right now. you’re about to smile right back, but your gaze catches on movement behind him. your face drops, and you feel the blood drain from it. you don’t catch sam’s worried look that he gives you before he twists in his seat to see what you’re looking at. everyone reacts just a little too late, and crowley slides into the seat beside you.

“well, hello boys! darling,” he looks at you pointedly before turning back to the brothers. “not quite the trio i expected to find today! or ever, considering the fact that i expressly ordered you to stay away from the winchesters, isn’t that right, darling?” he doesn’t even look at you, but you cringe away from him slightly. a wave of protectiveness rolls off of sam as he clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to pull you right away from crowley.

you avoid crowley’s question entirely. “what are you doing here, crowley?”

“crowley? what happened to uncle? you’re breaking my heart, darling,” he drawls, faking a dramatic offense. “just because it’s one of your free days doesn’t mean i can’t visit you, does it? especially not when i get a report that the winchesters are headed inside your favorite cafe. as your caretaker, i was very alarmed. these two are quite dangerous, you should know.”

sam looks at you carefully, wanting to speak up for you, but not wanting to say what’s yours to say or decide what’s yours to decide.

“i’m leaving with them,” you say to crowley, blunt and too scared to force out any words that aren’t simple. “i don’t want to keep helping you collect souls.” pride and relief wash over sam. it feels good to sense.

but crowley’s anger is the opposite. he’s red-hot mad. “after everything i’ve done for you, you’re going to try and leave with the bloody winchesters?”

“i never asked you to do anything for me. it’s not like any of it was ‘for me’ anyway. it was all for your own gain. sam’s done more for me than you ever did.” you let that last sentence slip out without trying, but you find yourself too angry to be in complete control of the things you say. angry, and afraid.

both dean’s and crowley’s eyebrows shoot up. “sounds like you’ve been spending time with dear sam now, have you?”

you swallow, biting the inside of your cheek before speaking. “i– i have. and i’ve learned much more important things from him than i have ever did from you. so you can just give this up and make things easy. i’m not going back with you.”

“i raised you,” crowley growls. “do you know how much i hate children? but i still raised you, taught you to use your powers and made you stronger than you ever would’ve been without me. what the hell could this giant twat have done for you that’s better and more important than that? and don’t dare say something horrible like love. have you never considered the power that you’d have by my side? clearly you learned nothing of loyalty! you’re completely thankless and a complete dimwit if you thought i was going to just let you go. i’m taking you back, whether you like it or not, and you’ll stay in your room until i’m positive you won’t set foot near dearest dean or your stupid, freakishly tall boyfriend. is that understood?”

“no,” you choke out, reaching for sam’s hand across the table. crowley looks like he’s about to explode. dean quickly puts his hand out to interrupt.

“we’re getting stares,” he says, “we can take this outside.”

“no,” sam counters, standing and pulling you up with him, guiding you to stand by his side. “we’re gonna go. and you’re not following, crowley, unless you want my demon blade shoved up your ass.”

“do i look like i care about stares?” crowley seethes, standing and grabbing your other wrist. you yank at his hold to no avail, and sam moves to break his hold as on you he continues to speak. “i will toss both of you winchesters and everyone else in this godforsaken place across the room until you’re all knocked out cold, if that’s what it takes.”

“let me go,” you insist, voice almost a snarl, right as sam tells him to get his hands off of you.

crowley ignores you, even as you struggle against his iron grip. “you first, moose,” he says through gritted teeth.

the second that dean steps closer to the three of you to intervene, crowley flicks his free hand and sends dean crashing into the farthest wall. a few disjointed screams ring through the cafe and spikes of fear wash over you from all the innocent civilians. sam’s anger grows by tenfold and all of it has you squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. you know that crowley wasn’t bluffing when he threatened everyone in the cafe, so you untangle your hand from sam’s and stretch your arm out in front of him before he can lunge at crowley.

“it’s okay, sam,” you say, voice surprisingly calm. you stop struggling and sam looks at you with such desperation and pleading that you almost want to let him fight. but you don’t want him or anyone else hurt. “i’ll be okay. and i’ll be back.”

“no, don’t do this,” sam starts. crowley doesn’t wait for you to answer as he begins dragging you away. you stumble more than once, looking over your shoulder to see sam start after you. “you don’t have to do this.”

“don’t, sam,” you beg. “it’s okay, i promise.” your voice raises to a shout to make sure he can hear you as crowley pulls you through the door and away from sam.

⟢⟢⟢

you know without a doubt that sam’s looking for you. that he’s pouring every minute into finding you, that he’s probably skipping meals and losing sleep because of it. but you also know that you won’t be easy to find. either way, you’re getting out. out of this godforsaken room with no windows and drab walls and out of this life, away from this fear. and you’re going to do it yourself.

it’s not easy, per se, but it’s not difficult either. just tedious and time consuming. it’s fortunate for you that crowley’s narcissism can blind him to certain things, like the fact that you’re much more adept at using your powers than he thinks you are, or that the demon guarding your door, hazel, hates him for giving her such a boring job. he doesn’t even think that you’re capable of manipulating his emotions, given his extra power as king of hell, and that’s exactly why it works when you do.

your escape plan is simple, though not foolproof. but it seems to be working so far. each time that crowley checks on you, you boost all of the hatred and annoyance in both your guard and him. this makes crowley snap at your guard constantly, berating her and blaming her for things she didn’t do. in turn, this makes her hate crowley even more, to the point that her rage no longer needs to be manufactured. hazel hates him more than enough on her own.

even more subtly, you’ve done your best to appeal to her, mostly by complaining about crowley through your shut door and lessening her annoyance as you speak. at first, she’d tell you to shut up, but now, she listens if you don’t talk for too long, sometimes even complaining back. 

but today, when she began complaining about crowley to you, unprompted, you decided you’d throw all of your effort into escaping. she’s particularly spiteful, all on her own, and all day, you boost that feeling, complaining along with her and building up the sense of comradery she’s starting to feel with you.

crowley stops by, and you can feel her anger acutely. you do as you’ve done every day, making him annoyed so he says something scathing. with the strength of her hatred, you’re impressed that she doesn’t say something back, something that would likely get her killed by his hands.

instead, she waits until he’s gone, and begins to mutter to herself how she’d love to cut that haughty smirk from his face. you lean against the door, making noise so she knows you’re there.

after a few moments, you speak. “you could just leave,” you suggest casually. she scoffs, trying to sound annoyed at you. truly, you can tell just how much she’d like to do exactly that.

“and risk getting hunted down by his minions? not a chance,” she growls.

“i hate him just as much as you do,” you remind her strategically. “if he’s not in charge, you wouldn’t have to worry about his minions, right? whether it’s now or later, i’m getting out and i’m making him pay. he doesn’t know that i have the power to turn every single one of  his demons against him. he thinks i’m weak, but i can topple his kingdom, and i will.” you infuse your words with venom and conviction, just how any demon would like. then you fill her with conviction too, making her believe your words easily. “all i need is to get out of this goddamn room.” to you, her silence is loud, but her feelings are louder. hazel grapples with her hatred and her fear and her utter spite. 

“i know you have the key,” you remind her. crowley would never bother to be the one to unlock it each time you need food. “we can both disappear, right now. crowley will get what he has coming for him, i’ll make sure of that.” you send her a wave of boldness and reassurance, confidence that this would be a good decision. it’s easy to feel when you tip her over the edge. a split second later, you hear the door unlock and come face to face with her determined expression.

“this isn’t a favor to you. it’s for me,” she says, voice low and harsh. “i’ll be waiting to see what you do to him.”

easily, you act just how you know she’d want, eyes and voice ruthless like how you learned to be growing up trying to convince crowley you were like him. “trust me. i’ll rip his kingdom apart brick by brick,” you snarl. she nods, and you brush past her, feet light and quiet as you make it out of the building without incident.

once outside, you break into a run, unable to stay calm enough to walk. clutching the small bag of belongings you took, you make for the road. it’s a bit of a ways away, but you reach the highway, panting and desperately looking out for a car that’ll pick you up and take you to the next town over. all you need is to get on the train and head for kansas. you have the way to sam’s bunker memorized.

too afraid not to keep moving, you walk along the side of the road, listening intently for any car or truck. the area is quiet, frustratingly slow, and the few cars that pass you by choose to ignore the thumb that you stick up in the air.

it’s practically torture, walking and walking and waiting. waiting for something to go wrong, for crowley and his demons to find you within mere hours of your escape. your anxiety builds as your hunger and thirst do, and you want to sit down in the grass when you pass an exit sign signaling another five miles to the town with the train station.

but you don’t think you can stop, even with your parched throat, heavy feet, and anxious heart. it’s a strange feeling; elation mixed with nerves so strong you think you could throw up.

you perk up at the sound of a rumbling car engine, but deflate in disappointment before it even comes into sight from around the corner. it’s headed in the wrong direction, straight back towards the place you want to get away from. for a moment, you wonder if you should try and hitch a ride anyway, in case they can drop you off in a different town with a train station. then the car comes into sight, its sleek black body reflecting back the mild sun of the afternoon. you gasp, an impossible hope entering your body.

it had taken you a moment to recognize it; sam’s never driven the impala to see you before, but he’s shown you pictures of his brother’s beloved car. praying it could really be him, you wave your arms in the air, heart beating wildly.

the car slows and breaks a little ways away from you, and before it even comes to a full stop, the passenger side door swings open, and sam comes running out. he looks nowhere but you as he runs across the wide road.

“sam,” you gasp, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. you match his pace, running to meet him. he practically crashes into you, enveloping you in his arms and sighing out your name. you hug him back just as tightly, pressing your face into his neck.

“i’m so sorry,” he breathes out, “crowley was hard to find and–”

“shut up, sam,” you grinned against his skin, the affection clear in your voice. “don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault. it was my choice and i knew i’d be able to find a way out. and i knew even better that you’d look for me.”

he barely parts from you, just so he can gently place his hands on the sides of your face and really look at you. “you’re amazing. i–” he stops himself from saying sorry again. “i know that wasn’t easy for you, none of it. but you did it. you did it, all by yourself. i’m so proud of you.” 

your heart lurches at his words. they feel too good to hear, too sweet, too full of relief. tears spring into your eyes as you really realize just how difficult it all was, as you’re hit with exhaustion from the walk and the fear and the uncertainty of it all.

“thank you, sam,” you whisper. it’s true that you did it all for yourself, but it may never have happened without him. “you helped me. so much, sam. and i missed you a lot, and– and–” you decide that if you keep talking, you’ll cry. so instead of that, instead of trying to come up with something to bring justice to the way that you feel, you kiss him. you remember that sam knows how you feel because that’s how he feels too. and though you can’t quite show him that in the way you experience his own feelings, you can show him by kissing him, and kissing him hard.

he melts into you, his hands impossibly soft, yet steady and so sure on your face. he kisses you back with the same ferver, right there on the side of an empty highway with his brother likely watching. he doesn’t care, not about any of it.

when you finally part, breathless, dean clears his throat loudly, and you grin at sam a little bashfully. he grins back. you peek around his shoulder to see dean leaning against the car’s hood, trying and failing to hide his smile.

“while i hate to break up the lovefest, i’m not sure how long we’ve got until crowley sends that army of demons you mentioned. let’s hit the road, kids,” he calls out to the two of you. 

in the car, it seems clear that dean’s attitude towards you has improved significantly since your last meeting. maybe it was seeing the way crowley treated you, watching you give yourself up in defense of sam and the others in the cafe, or seeing sam this past week and a half and coming to understand how much he really cares about you. whatever it is, you completely welcome the hesitant sort of affection that begins to permeate dean’s wariness of you.

then, there’s sam, sitting all content in the passenger's side and unable to stay still. he keeps turning to look at you, as if he has to be sure that you’re really there, sitting pretty in the backseat of the impala like he’s imagined a million times before. the only thing keeping him from sitting next to you is the fact that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands and lips off of you, and that would be a bit too much with dean in the car. so instead, he smiles at you all soft and listens intently when you explain how you got out. he tries not to talk too much to avoid bothering dean, but you can tell that dean doesn’t mind one bit hearing the happy tone in sam’s voice as he talks to you.

and for you, to be flying down the highway and looking at your sam, your revelry, your wild joy, you finally understand what freedom really feels like. what it feels like when it’s yours.

[vanishingstarrs]

midnight dreams

katsuki bakugo x reader, slow burn, hurt x comfort, anxiety, fluff, sfw

part 1, part 2, part 3

( not too sure how i feel about this yet... thinking one more part to this little drabble ?? funnily enough only post these after midnight )

It was late. Again.

You’d actually managed to fall asleep pretty early that afternoon, but woke up shortly from a nightmare. One where your class failed at bringing Midoriya home and things went awry quickly after that, the guilt from your dream not being so far from reality plagued your conscious now as you sat in the living room by yourself. You had considered passing by Bakugo’s room since last time he'd extended the surprising offer to just... be there.

Despite this, you didn't have it in your heart to actually take him up on it. You'd made it as far as his door before marching yourself back the other way.

You sighed as you read the same page of your book for the third time without actually taking it in.

Bakugo still occupied your thoughts.

The morning after you two had spoke you had awoken to find all your dishes already clean for you. When you asked your friends which one of them you had to thank for the favor, they all looked at you with raised eyebrows and confused frowns, they’d believed you’d cleaned up after yourself. You thought long and hard about whether you did and maybe you’d just been hallucinating, but you remembered vividly writing a second note in regards to doing them later when you woke up. Momo had said she’d been the first one up and saw no such note, just the one to help themselves to freshly baked cookies.

And so that only left your sort of late night partner in crime…

Surely Bakugo hadn’t came back to the kitchen after walking you to your room to clean? Or wake up extra early to? You racked your brain for answers, but couldn’t think of a logical explanation for why he’d do any of that for you.

You felt a frown take over your face as these things resurfaced on your mind.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, turning around to find Bakugo standing there staring at you as if you’d grown two heads.

“What?”

“Kirishima said you went to bed hours ago.” He stated,“Why aren’t you asleep.”

It didn’t even sound like a question the way he spoke to you. You stared at him now as you thought about it, and it was true, you had seen Kirishima last. You had noticed him making sure all the doors were locked and bid him a good night before going your separate ways. Your attempt at rest hadn't lasted very long.

You patted the space next to you as invitation just in case he wanted to sit down next to you, you gave him a shrug as he actually came around to your side of the sofa,“Slept. Didn’t take. How are your injuries?”

You hadn’t been brave enough to ask last time, and you couldn’t help notice he was still wearing bandages even now.

Bakugo placed his elbows on his knees and leaned forward,“They’re fine. Getting better. It’s mainly just the arm now, I gotta change the bandages every now and then. I woke up ‘cause I forgot to before I fell asleep and now Kirishima’s snoring loud as fuck, couldn’t wake him.”

“I can help.” You offered before you could change your mind. Your mouth had a knack for getting you into things like this, you’d just blurt things out and before it was too late…

He looked back at you,“Nah, it’s okay.”

“No, really, I can help.” You stood up, adamant as you grabbed his good arm and pulled him up with all your might,“C’mon, I’m pretty good actually, my father had a healing quirk.”

“Had?” Bakugo asked.

You didn’t turn around as you led him into the main bathroom where you knew there was a first aid kit, all you did was shrug.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You sighed, you didn’t really want to get into that. You flicked on the lights and pointed to the toilet,“Sit.”

He listened surprisingly and you dug around the cabinets for only a few seconds, successfully finding all that you needed and turning around to face your patient when you realized something. His injuries… they spanned well into his shoulder and they'd be hard to get to, unless...

You swallowed nervously,“Shirt off.”

Bakugo’s eyebrows flew up.

“Not like that.” You blushed,“Just need it off so I can get your bandages off. It’s on your shoulder, isn’t it?”

“And my stomach.” He revealed at the same time as he removed his shirt, exposing his chest,“Got stabbed a couple times.”

A couple times?!

Dear god, help me... was all you could think.

At first, you couldn’t help stare for all the wrong reasons, at him, at the hard work he’d put into his body. He was strong, that much was obvious. But he’d also been injured terribly. Your lips turned downward, no longer distracted by his abs and instead focused on removing the old bandages,“You’re brave, but it was stupid when you did that, no offense.”

“We’re heroes, aren’t we?” He asked.

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing.” He faced the other way, like he was avoiding your gaze,“It’s what we signed up for, they needed our help, besides... my body moved before I could think.”

“We’re students actually.” You corrected,“Don’t you think it’s too heavy a burden for a bunch of dumb kids? And what about Midoriya? He’s still out there.”

“We’re not dumb. He is.” He rolled his eyes,“Thinks we’re better off, safer without him. He doesn’t know. But I’ve been talking to the others, we might have a plan.”

“Dangerous?”

“What do you think?” He asked.

Your eyes landed on the scar tissue on his shoulder, it wasn’t pretty. They’d done a good job getting him on the path to healing, nevertheless he still had a ways to go. If Bakugo could blindly take all this for someone he claimed to hate, what was stopping you from reaching the same level of bravery?

You'd been thinking about this a lot lately, you couldn't help feel they were asking too much of you guys sometimes. Then you felt guilty for thinking that. When you started at U.A. you'd made a vow to train like heroes, to learn from them. This was what your future would look like, why was it so hard? You thought back to your mentors and how they were always there to encourage you and your classmates, how they never hesitated to protect everyone against the several attacks you'd faced.

You worked in silence for a second, seeing him wince out of the corner of your eye as you cleaned up the area a bit.

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

“Count me in.” You said decidedly as you reached for gauze and tape,"Also you might wanna start letting these breathe, they're looking a lot better and I think that would help."

He looked up, shocked,“What?”

��Your cuts—"

"Not that, dumbass."

"Oh." You shrugged,"You know, whatever you and the others are planning. Include me, I wanna help."

He looked hesitant,"You sure?”

“Mhm.” You adjusted your glasses before pointing at his stomach,“Want me to check that one?”

He hesitated before sitting up straighter and nodding.

You quickly, but carefully removed the tape and peeled away the gauze. This one might’ve been worse, but you didn’t say a word as you prepared a few cotton rolls to clean around it as best as you could. You were sure both of you were holding your breath as you did so, and he inhaled sharply when you pressed a little too hard.

“Sorry.”

“Quit it, you're doing me a favor." He leaned back a little to give you better access,"You sure you're up for helping?"

You sighed,"I'm sure." Your fingers hovered over the injury, and you looked up just in time to find him already looking at you. “Kinda makes you seem like you don’t hate Midoriya, after all.”

He scoffed and you grinned.

“Bakugo—”

“Katsuki.” He cut you off, gesturing to his exposed chest,“You may as well call me by my first name at this point.”

“Okay…” you inhaled deeply, before saying,"Katsuki…”

You were sure he was expecting something serious as you finished covering up his injury, but you wanted to lighten the mood.

“Wanna watch some tv with me?” You smiled big,“There’s a new show I’ve been meaning to start.”

He eyed you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, it was hard for you to read him. It was making your head spin, and you quickly stopped trying.

He put his shirt back on and started helping you put everything away, he didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, and so you led the way back to the living room and sat back where you’d been before and then... he left the room.

You sighed, guess not. You reached for the remote anyway and glanced back again just in case he’d been messing with you, then again... he wasn’t the kind of guy that made jokes. At least, you didn’t think he was.

You turned on the tv and put it at a low volume, going through the provided streaming services in order to find the one you needed. You were just about to click start when he spoke.

“Weren’t gonna wait for me, brat?”

A blanket was tossed onto your head and you quickly removed it, surprise written on your face as Bakugo came around the same end and sat next to you. You stared at the blanket and then looked back at him.

“You get cold easily.”

You nodded, dumbfounded, it was true, but how did he know that? You were cold all the time, actually, it was a side effect of your quirk.

You placed the blanket over your lower half and pressed play, a part of you fixating not only on the fact that he’d noticed enough about you to bring you a blanket, but also that it was his blanket. For the first five minutes of the show, you couldn’t focus, you were surrounded by his smell. It was so strong with him next to you and his blanket on your lap. He smelled amazing.

Eventually, you relaxed. Both of you did.

Bakugo had initially scoffed at the choice of show, but didn't demand you change it and you took it as a good sign.

“These characters are fucking stupid.” He scowled and you giggled, you were wondering when he’d break the silence to make a comment. It surprisingly took more than one episode.

“He’s in love with her, Katsuki.” You didn’t notice how easily his first name slipped past your tongue as soon as that barrier had first broken, you went on to explain further,“People do lots of stupid things when they’re in love.”

He rolled his eyes,“The guy still sucks.”

You shrugged, but didn't disagree.

"No baking tonight?" He asked, out of the blue.

You shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow. Those cookies were gone before I even got to 'em, did you manage to snag one?"

"One." He said,"Or two."

You lit up,"Really? You liked them that much?"

He shrugged.

"Any requests for next time?"

Somehow, you’d gotten closer and you could feel his warmth just from the touch of his thigh. You couldn't cover up your shiver, hoping he took it as you still being cold.

He seemed to think about it,"Like muffins, I guess."

"Chocolate chip? Banana? Strawberry...?" You gave a few options, you wanted to make sure you knew exactly what he liked. He was doing you a favor as much as you'd done him one considering he was always the first one to head to bed. His company was… nice. You may as well bake him something as thanks after tonight.

"Apple cinnamon. And I like that shit they put on top—"

"The crumble?" You laughed at how he explained it.

"Yeah." He leaned back against the sofa. Neither of you had been watching the show anymore and the tv seemed to know since the screen had gone black and the words "Still watching?" took over. You didn't care to click yes or no, knowing it'd shut down on it's own.

"I'll make some especially for you." You said around a yawn.

He stood up,"C’mon, I’ll walk you.”

You couldn’t help it; you pouted. You really wanted to keep talking to him, you found that he was actually a good listener and when he did speak, his voice was soothing. Different from how you'd known him before, you didn't know what it was that had changed.

He rolled his eyes,“That shit's not gonna work on me, come on. You gotta sleep. And I’m tired.”

Bakugo extended his hand to you and you took it as a sign to return his blanket to him, he scoffed and moved it into his other hand before placing the same hand out to you again.

You didn't need help standing, but you took it and he helped you up before placing the blanket around your shoulders. Okay...

You started walking and thought you might've felt his hand at your back.

"I'll leave my door open again." He said, unprompted.

There was that offer again. Your heart felt full.

"Mine will be too." You smiled up at him just as you reached your room,"Night... Katsuki."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 11

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: When you realize Felix has been injured, it's up to you to help him out. Chan gives you a proposition you can't turn down.

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

“Stabbed…” You look at him incredulous though you can tell by the blood seeping through his shirt that he isn’t lying. “What are you doing? We need to get you medical attention, come on!” You grab his hand, pulling on to him but he doesn’t budge. 

“Keep your voice down!” he shushes with mild urgency. 

“What? Why? Shouldn’t we let someone know what’s happened? We should probably tell Chan—“ 

Felix interrupts you by putting his hand over your mouth, grabbing your shoulder and pulling you further into his room. He closes the door behind him and you spend a moment staring at one another, breathing heavy, his hand still over your mouth. You clear your throat and he releases you.

“We can’t tell Chan,” he says finally. 

“Why?” you demand. 

“It’s not his problem to deal with,” he snaps. “It’s not yours, either. I’m perfectly capable of treating my own wounds.” 

“I’m sure you are,” you start, gazing anxiously at the large patch of blood seeping through his shirt. “But please let me help you.” 

“Why?” he questions, defeated. 

“You helped me when I was injured,” you explain. “The very first night I was here, when I left? Do you remember that?” 

“So you’re helping me because you think you owe me? You can just forget—“ 

“For fuck’s sake, Felix, I’m helping you because I care!” He freezes at that, blinking at you for a moment as if dumbfounded. “Stop being so stubborn. Just let me do this, please. Bathroom, now.” 

“Fine,” he sighs, finally given up. He follows you into the bathroom and you see a first aid kit already set up, as well as a rag covered in blood thrown in the sink, likely used to try to stop the bleeding. 

“Take your shirt off,” you demand as you grab a new rag. 

“If you wanted to see me shirtless you could have just asked,” he says with a cocky smile to break the tension. He makes a show of slowly lifting his shirt off by grabbing the back of his collar and lifting it over his head. You wash your hands and try not to look at him, clearly flustered despite the joke. 

“You’re not funny,” you tell him. “I need your shirt off to see your wound.”

“Mhmm,” he responds. You don’t even have to look at him to tell that he’s smiling. When you do finally turn around, you gasp. The stab wound is worse than you had thought, obviously very deep by the blood still gushing out of it. You grab a rag and kneel in front of him, pressing the fabric hard against his stomach. 

“You need to stop the bleeding, dumbass!” you exclaim. “You could have told me you were still bleeding while you were standing around making jokes.” You press the rag even harder against his stomach, watching as the material quickly soaks up the blood. Felix just shrugs his shoulders, unbothered. 

Despite his joke earlier, you do take a moment to admire his physique and washboard abs now that his shirt is off. He’s very muscular and well-built and you try not to stare but you feel your cheeks heating up at the proximity. You resist the urge to run your hands up and down his abdomen to feel how solid his muscles are–not the time nor the place. When you look up at Felix you see that he’s staring down at you fondly. 

“What?” you grumble, embarrassed to have been caught staring. 

“Nothing. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you actually care about me,” he teases with a lilt in his voice. 

“Of course I care about you, I don’t want you to die,” you scoff. “You’re going to change your mind about me caring about you in a minute. I don’t think you’re going to like me very much when I have to sterilize your wound.” 

His face pales. 

You look through the first aid kit to find gauze and you look around the bathroom and find a bottle of antiseptic soap. You take your time cleaning the wound despite Felix’s protests and hissing when the soap comes in contact with his skin–and then you bandage him up. You wash your hands of the blood that stains them and you even find Felix a new shirt from his room. You throw it at him and he takes it, saying nothing. You cross your arms and stare at him for a moment. 

“Are you going to tell me how you got stabbed?” you ask him. 

“Are you going to tell me how you know how to clean wounds so well?” he challenges. You look away and say nothing. The reality is that you’ve come to know first aid after being with Jungwon for so long but you don’t want to say that. The words are left unsaid. 

“Thank you,” Felix finally says after a beat. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“No, really,” he repeats, taking a step closer to you. You back up and the wall presses against your skin. “Thank you so much. You have no idea what it means to me.” 

He reaches out and pushes a strand of hair away from your face before cupping it between both of his hands. Your sure your face is hot from the attention and you want to look away but you just can’t–he’s a thing of beauty, blonde hair still frizzy and pressed up against his skin, freckles more visible than usual from the paleness due to blood loss–you find it unbelievable that someone can still look this good after whatever he’s been through. His eyes seem to be searching yours, as if trying to find something, and his face is slightly flushed. You’re about to make a comment about how he should probably lay down, he might catch a fever if he’s not careful, but then he’s pressing his lips against yours. 

He’s kissing you.

You immediately lean in and reciprocate. This is everything you’ve been secretly fantasizing about since you came here, after all. His first kiss is gentle, testing, and then he pulls away. You’re both in shock of what just happened but also breathing heavy, eyes lidded half-closed with desire. This time, you’re not sure who leans in first. 

When you slightly part open your mouth he takes this as permission to slip in, his tongue dancing into your mouth frantically. You’re just as eager, and you can’t help but let out a small moan when his hands find their way to your hips, kneading hard on the flesh before pulling you even closer to him, flush against his frame. Your hands come up to his fair and luscious blonde hair, weaving their way intricately into the locks before you gently pull his face away from you. 

“You’re sick,” you tell him, just above a whisper. “You’re delirious from the stab wound. You didn’t really mean to kiss me, you’ll regret it–”

He silences your anxieties with another kiss that you melt into. 

“No,” he denies. “That’s not true and you know it. I’ve wanted you since I first met you. I need you carnally, okay love? Don’t let there be an ounce of doubt in your mind that this is anything other than what it is.” His eyes are practically glowing. 

“Yeah? And what is this, Felix?” 

He says nothing but his gaze trails back down to your lips. You find that your own body is almost vibrating in desire from just a single look. 

“Tell me I’m not wrong,” he pleads. “Tell me you want me too.” 

“You’re not wrong,” you admit quietly. That’s all he needs to place a trail of kisses down your neck, suckling gently on the skin but not hard enough to leave a mark. You let out a breathy open-mouth groan and tilt your head back as his mouth trails to your collarbone and he pushes you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his bulge press up against you and you’re about to say something, beg for him, but you don’t have to. He places his thigh right between your legs. 

You let out a small gasp at his action and you meet his gaze, just for a moment to admire his lust-ridden expression. You take advantage of the situation he’s presented you with, allowing yourself to indulge in the delicious friction he’s created by grinding on his leg. Your hands trail down lower to palm him through his sweats, getting an equally expressive reaction. You feel his hands at the hem of your shirt, asking you for permission to lift it up and you’re eager to agree, but you don’t get a chance to take it off before you’re interrupted. 

There’s a knock on the door. 

He pulls away from you inhumanly fast, as if electrocuted by your touch. You’re sure your heart is beating just as fast, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you look in the mirror and make an attempt to fix your appearance. 

When he opens the door, Hyunjin stands on the other end. 

“Y/N,” he says. You furrow your brows–you weren’t expecting Hyunjin to be looking for you. 

“Yes?” you respond with a tight-lipped smile. You feel as though you have just been caught doing something you shouldn’t, and the way Felix stands awkwardly with his arms crossed across his bare chest tells you that he feels the same. If Hyunjin notices the strange dynamic, he doesn’t point it out. 

“Chan has been looking for you. He would like to speak with you,” he tells you. Your heart sinks and you shoot Felix a glance, one that asks in desperation for him to save you from whatever Hell awaits. 

“I’ll be right there,” you address Hyunjin with a nod though you don’t look at his eyes. He shuts the door behind him and you're left alone with Felix once again. 

You let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“I’ve been summoned,” you say with a smile, trying to crack the tension in the air with a joke that falls flat. You sigh when he doesn’t respond and you make to leave his room when his hand reaches out, enclosing yours in his grip. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his hand, his thumb rubbing soft circles on the skin of your own. “This isn’t over,” he hums. He lets your hand fall from his grip and it dangles idly at your side but you can still feel the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. 

“It isn’t,” you decide, and before you can stop yourself you’re lurching forward and pressing your lips to his again in a short but heated kiss. He lets out a shaky breath and you breathe it in like it’s the oxygen you need to live. You leave his room, leaving Felix wide-eyed and speechless. 

When you find Chan, he’s in his office. You can tell because you can hear muffled speech behind the closed door. It sounds like he’s on the phone, and you don’t even have to press your ear up to the wood to overhear his words, loud and agitated. “Gonna kill him,” you hear, and your heart thumps erratically in your chest. “Fucker is lucky he got away with a missing finger and he has the gall to go to Enha’s base and betray us? If you or any of the guys find him, don’t kill him. I’m gonna need him alive for the things I want to do to that son of a bitch… gonna tear him limb from limb and–” 

You knock on the door promptly, cutting him off. Your cheeks are heated up and you pretend like you haven’t heard a single word. Chan ends the call with whoever he was speaking to and comes  to answer the door himself, cracking the door open and peeking his head out. 

“Yes?” he asks, clearly irritated. 

“Hyunjin said you wanted to speak with me,” you say, unreasonably anxious. 

“Right,” he muses. He cracks open the door just enough to slip through, obscuring your view from whatever is inside his office. You’re not sure you want to know. 

He crosses his arms and looks you up and down–you feel very small under his gaze and you find yourself wishing you could shrink and hide yourself even more. 

“You’re going to go on a date with me,” he tells you. 

You blink. Once. Twice. 

“Excuse me?” you say, because you’re sure you’ve misheard him. 

“A date,” he repeats. “Dinner. Just the two of us.” 

“Okay, so I did hear you,” you blank. “Just… why? And you know, usually you’re supposed to ask someone out on a date, not demand.” 

“I have feelings for you,” he admits, though there’s no intonation in his voice to indicate he’s speaking of anything other than the weather or what he’s eaten for breakfast. You remember Woojin’s suggestion that Chan was in love with you and you shudder–even if he was right, you weren’t expecting him to confess his feelings point blank. “And I would like for you to go on a date with me and give me a chance,” he adds.

“Chan, just… what if I don’t feel the same?” you ask, trying to approach the conversation delicately. 

“You’re going to give it a chance,” he tells you, voicing his finality. 

“What makes you think–” 

“If you go on a date with me, I’ll take you to see your sister.” 

And just like that, Chan proves that any decision he makes will be certain, instantly swaying you with one sentence. This is the power he has over people, you remind yourself. But even so you find it hard to say no when this is the only thing you’ve wanted since the day you arrived. 

“That’s not fair,” you say, voice deflated. 

“So?” 

“Of course, I’ll do it,” you huff. “You knew I wouldn’t say no. Couldn’t say no,” you correct. “Are you expecting me to fall in love with you over the course of one date?” 

“Of course not,” he laughs. “That would be silly. Tomorrow evening, wear something nice.”

“I don’t have anything nice,” you point out. 

“You’ll figure it out,” he smiles. 

And he leaves you like that, outside of his office as he closes the door shut behind him. You’re left to guffaw at the door and you find yourself wanting to punch something, to scream into a pillow, maybe. But it’s late and your body is tired from the overexertion and emotional-whiplash of the day. Your body slumps heavily into your bed and you lay face-down in the cool, expensive covers, not bothering to shower the grime off. You fall asleep probably faster than you have in weeks. 

You dream of your sister. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──  

When you arrive in the kitchen for breakfast, you see that it is full of life. Lee Know is making what smells like waffles and Jisung is by his side, definitely burning some breakfast sausage. It’s endearing. Jeongin sets the table and Felix pours drinks. You turn to Chan to speak but watch as he sits at the head of the table, crossing his arms. 

“Y/N,” Seungmin calls. “Can you bring this to the table?” You help set up with the boys for breakfast, noticing that Chan is the only one that doesn’t seem to be doing anything, just watching. Anxiety bubbles in your gut, a sense of dread looming over you as you think about what is to come for tonight. 

You’re noticeably quiet during breakfast. Jisung asks if you’re alright. You tell him you are but it’s a lie. You’re sure he can tell but he doesn’t call you out for it. 

After breakfast you visit Hyunjin in his room, knocking on his door delicately. The smell of paint permeates the air and his hair is disheveled, as if he weren’t expecting a visit from you. He invites you in, nonetheless. The room hasn’t changed much from the first time that you saw it, but you notice he’s painting. A large canvas sits on a tarp in the center of the room, no longer covered up. 

The painting is beautiful, intricate although unfinished. It depicts a little boy in a garden, sitting and smelling pink peonies. The boy looks sad, clearly out of place in the bright garden. Even his clothes are dark and drastic compared to the rest of the setting. He’s holding a book. 

You think you have been looking at the painting for a tick too long. Hyunjin clears his throat and you snap your head to look at him, clearly embarrassed to be caught staring. 

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him. 

“It’s nothing,” he replies, brushing off your words.  

“How long have you been painting?” 

“It’s a more recent hobby,” he says. “I never… had the time. What can I do for you today?” He says, changing the subject. 

“Well, I do need a new book,” you smile. “But also… I need new clothes.” 

He blinks at you. “That’s not really my area of expertise,” he says. “What do you need clothes for? You should have plenty.” 

“The Bang Christopher Chan had the courtesy of inviting me on a date tonight,” you explain. 

“And you said yes?” he questions, not looking at you. You’re taken aback by the question; you’re curious if he’s picturing you in Felix’s room last night, clearly disheveled and engaging in questionable acts. 

“He told me that if I go on a date with him, he’d let me see my sister.” 

“Ahhh,” he says, as if that explains things. 

“Right. So… clothes?” 

The only form of acknowledgement you get that he’s heard you at first is the nod of his head. Then walks toward his bookshelf, searching for something. It doesn’t take him long. The book is on the smaller side but you notice it’s fully annotated. You turn it over in your hands. 

“The Stranger…?” you read outloud. 

“Yes, Camus. He was a French author, very brilliant. Many would have called him an existentialist, though he hated that term.” 

“Why do you think that is?” you ask, humoring him. He thinks for a second. 

“Existentialists believe that you create your own meaning. Camus believed that there was no meaning to existence.” 

“Which do you believe?” 

He smiles at you. “Maybe I’m still trying to figure that out.” 

And with that, he leads you out of his room. He walks you down the hall, hand placed on the small of your back to guide you. For a moment, you think about your first few days in the house. Hyunjin thoroughly pissed you off; you hated all of the assumptions he made about you, but even more so you hated that he was right. Now, Hyunjin is someone dependable. Funny how things can change in the blink of an eye. 

He’s knocking on a door you haven’t seen before and you hesitate for a second, wanting to ask him about his intentions. He must notice you open your mouth to speak and he brings his finger to his own lips, a motion meant to show you to be quiet. You do. 

A disheveled Jeongin opens the door. You wonder if he’s just woken up from a nap. “Yes?” 

“Go on,” Hyunjin says for only you to hear. “Tell him.” That catches you off guard, and for a second you wonder what you’re even supposed to be telling him. 

“Uhh… oh. Um, I need nice clothes. I don’t have any.” Jeongin’s eyes immediately light up and you realize the reason why Hyunjin has brought you here. He was simply redirecting you to someone that could help. 

“I have to go take care of some business, but you take care, Y/N,” Hyunjin says, patting you on the back. “Have fun on your date, if even possible. Kind regards to your sister.” He says the last piece for only you to hear, for which you are grateful. You’re not sure if you want to explain to Jeongin that you’re going on a date with Chan, and even more so why you’re not entirely looking forward to it. 

Hyunjin walks down the hall and Jeongin disappears into his room for a moment. You peek in the door, trying to catch a glimpse to see if anything will reveal more to you about him. You notice it’s clean and smells fresh, a little florally, as if he’s just lit a candle. He reappears a moment later, keys in hand and sunglasses on his face. 

“Let’s go,” he says. You’re caught off guard. 

“Go…?” 

“We’re going out,” he says, as if it has been made obvious. “We’re going shopping?” 

“Oh! Right. Can I… Am I allowed to do that?” 

“Sure,” he replies. “I’ll bring Minho and Jisungie. Maybe Felix will want to join too…?” 

“No,” you say too quickly. He looks at you, confused. “Um… I just would prefer it if he didn’t come.” You don’t mention that you’re embarrassed to be caught by him going on a date with Chan, especially considering the feelings and chemistry you and Felix have been dancing around. 

“Ah, alright!” he says. You’re glad he’s dropped the topic so quickly. “Is it okay if Minho and Jisung…?” 

“Yeah, yeah!” you interrupt. “Of course.” 

You’re kind of excited to leave the house again, though you feel a rush of nervousness flood through your body for a moment. The last time you left the house, you went to the gala. Yang Jungwon died in front of your eyes and Lee Heeseung apparently declared that you were next on his list, causing you to hide out in a motel. Is it really safe to go out this casually? 

You shake your head as if that will do anything to make the thoughts go away. A date with Chan might not be the most appealing thing in the world. A shopping trip, however, is a well needed distraction. 

And it goes farely well. You’re grateful for Jeongin who knows just which stores to go into and exactly which outfits you should be trying on. You try not to think about the prices of things, knowing that while you could never afford them for yourself these men are very well-off. They could certainly afford to buy you clothes and entire stores, if you requested. And while you probably only need one dress for the occasion, you don’t complain when you leave the store with numerous bags full of clothing items. 

Jisung is quite good at hyping you up, making you feel like every outfit looks perfect on you. You’re grateful for his bountiful energy and grins. He’s funny and he feels a lot like a friend which is a quality you appreciate in him. The way his face is always so expressive of what he’s thinking puts you at ease, knowing he never has an alternative motive. He’s just as receptive of what you’re feeling, you realize, constantly checking up on you to make sure you’re doing okay. He probably can tell you’re anxious to be out of the house again. His presence makes you feel calm. 

“Wait one second, I’ll be right back,” Jeongin says, running into a store. Something must have caught his eye. Jisung is looking down at his phone, completely distracted for a moment. You notice your heart is beating faster and faster, not realizing that your thoughts are racing. 

You remember being at the gala, excusing yourself from Changbin for a moment to go to the bathroom. You were just gone for a second. A second is all it took for Jungwon to take you from them. What if they’re not paying attention and someone comes and takes you again? What if Heeseung knows where you are, and he comes and grabs you and takes you away? He wouldn’t be as kind as Jungwon, you think. You wonder if he would kill you on the spot. 

“Y/N.” It’s Minho’s voice that breaks you out of your trance. You must be looking at him with wild eyes. His expression doesn’t give anything away but you can tell that he’s concerned. “What are you thinking?” 

“Do you ever get nervous?” you ask him, suddenly. The question catches him by surprise. He blinks at you, waiting for you to elaborate. “You were there,” you explain, “at the warehouse with me. Don’t you think about it? Think about how easy it would be to get held captive again? I mean, for fuck’s sake I’m still being held captive right now, but it’s all I can think about, Minho. What if he comes for me? What if–” 

“Y/N.” He says your name again and it’s steady. You’re silent for a moment, trying to catch your breath. “Breathe. It’s okay. We won’t let anything happen to you, you know that, right?” You nod your head. 

Once your breathing finally calms down, he gives you a light smile. You notice the way his teeth peek through his lips giving him an appearance not unlike that of a bunny. It’s endearing. 

When Jeongin appears again from the store, he’s holding a small box. You want to question him about its contents but you decide against it. He walks in front of you with Jisung, making conversation that you can’t quite catch. 

“I do, by the way,” Minho says. He matches your pace so that he can walk next to you, staying in your proximity so that you don’t get left behind by the others. “Get nervous, I mean. It’s normal.” He doesn’t elaborate and you don’t ask him to. What he’s said is enough. 

You notice Jisung’s wide eyes staring at you from where he walks with Jeongin. He has his own ways of checking up on you, and you appreciate it more than he’ll ever know. 

The afternoon goes by like any other. You take a hot shower to soothe your aching muscles and it helps you to clear your thoughts. You read a little bit of the book that Hyunjin loaned you. It’s a little dense but it’s definitely interesting. You like reading his annotations; they give you a glimpse of what his thought process looks like. His handwriting is neat and you do your best not to smudge the ink from the pen with your fingers as you thumb through the pages. You procrastinate getting ready for as long as you can–the sun has started to go down by the time you apply some light makeup and do your hair. 

Chan looks handsome, infuriatingly so considering how angry you are with him. But he has promised you that you will see your sister, so you can’t help but feel giddy for what is to come. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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a/n: the little bit of spice in this chapter wasn't as spicy so I went back and added a little more before I posted it haha you're welcome... hope we're excited for next week ;)

[lovrre]

-All’s fair in love and war

Prt1. Jacaerys velaryon x fem black Targaryen

Word count: 2k

Summary: Daughter of Daemon, twin to Baela, you always felt like an outsider, too much like your father yet somehow simultaneously not enough. You thought you had no place until Jacaerys, years later, and a injured wrist brings you back to where you truly belong.

Warnings: maybe a curse word, lots of Angst, slow burn,probably some other stuff…

Author note: this will be a series, don’t worry I won’t take forever. (I’ll try) there will be smut in the later parts, a little she fell first her fell harder and ofc yearning touch deprived Jacaerys 🫦

From a young age, you could sense the rift between you and your twin sister Baela. Despite sharing the same womb, your differences were stark. She and Rhaena shared a bond that you could never quite penetrate. It was not their doing, but rather your own fiery spirit that kept you at a distance. Your mother's gentle nature was reflected in them, while you inherited your father's boldness. Though your mother's love was unwavering, you couldn't shake the feeling that a part of her resented your wild ways. Your father's favoritism of you only widened the gap between you and your sister as you grew older.

After your mother's passing, all your unpleasant behaviors seemed to amplify. You became withdrawn, even as a child. harboring anger towards the world and all within it. It felt like you could never live up to anyone's standards. unintentionally Chaos and drama seemed to follow you wherever you went. As you matured, you chose solitude, spending most days flying on your dragon, immersed in books, or reluctantly sparring with your father. With the looming threat of war, you were made to train relentlessly, often multiple times a day. Your father pushed you to practice at odd hours, in the dead of night and early morning. Over time, your body wearied from the constant exertion.

“Again“ Daemon's demand echoed as you swiftly advanced, sword aimed at his exposed chest plate. In a flash, he deflected your strike, the clash of steel ringing out. The force caused you to almost drop your sword, he was not holding back. "Again!" he roared, lunging forward to meet your blade once more. As you staggered back, your wrist throbbing from the impact, your father's eyes gleamed with sadistic excitement. determination etched on your face. Your father's blade comes down towards you, but you manage to defend against it, the sound of iron scraping filling the room. 

With all your might, you push him away stumbling back, a sharp pain shot through your wrist, a soundless crack signaling the injury. With a loud clatter of your sword falling to the ground."I am finished," you declare, with an unreadable expression on your face, as you begin removing your armor.

Daemon's gaze hardened at the sound of your sword falling to the ground. "You are finished when I say you are," he commands, pointing his sword at your discarded one. "Pick it up." "Even if I attempted, I wouldn't be able to," you reply, continuing to remove your armor swiftly and carefully. "I am finished for the day," you state, dropping the last piece of armor as you head towards the exit. Your father calls out for you but you ignore him. "Go pester Baela and Rhaena with your training," you mutter angrily, rubbing just below your wrist as you make your way to your room.

“What is the matter” your sister asked worried as you rushed through the hall to your room holding your wrist. tears welling in your eyes involuntarily due to the pain. “Nothing,” you say attempting to walk past her She blocked your path, stepping in front of you to inspect your hand.  "I can see that something troubles you. Let me assist-" Baela began, reaching out to you. "I have no need of your aid!" you shouted, pulling away from her touch before continuing to your room. The words hung heavy in the air as regret washed over you remembering the look of hurt and shock on her face. Jacaerys observed from afar before he made his way towards Baela to provide solace.

"I only-" she began, then let out a weary sigh.

"I know," Jacaerys murmured, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "She becomes more unbearable with each passing moment," he grumbled. “I shall speak to her," he declared, feeling a simmering aggravation building up inside him. "Do not," Baela implored. "I do not desire further conflict," she added. 

“It is fine, Jacaerys,” Baela insisted, noticing the lingering frustration on his face. “I am alright,” she said with a comforting smile. “I will leave it,” he replied with a forced smile. “Thank you,” Baela said before turning away, leaving Jacaerys in the corridor, his mind still troubled by the encounter. He made his way to your chambers.

As he approached the entrance to your chamber, the sound of your agonized cry reverberated through the corridors. Startled, he rushed inside to find you collapsed on the ground, surrounded by your gown as you writhed in pain and sorrow, too engrossed in your torment to acknowledge his presence. Never before had he seen you weep, not even in your youth; until this moment, he believed you incapable of shedding tears. "I shall fetch your father," Jacaerys offered, turning to leave. "No!" you cried out, vehemently shaking your head. "Do not send for my father," you insisted, tears shimmering on your cheeks. "I am merely overreacting," you declared, attempting to stand before sinking back down. Jacaerys promptly rushed to your side, lifting you up by your waist.

"What has happened?" He inquired, his brow furrowed as he gazed upon your condition. You look physically pained, your usually glowing skin now dull, your eyes weak. “I was sparring with my father," you gasped, trying to maintain composure in your voice.  The pain was unlike anything you had ever felt before throbbing relentlessly throughout your arm."My hand took a blow, but that is all." you muttered, disoriented as you recoiled from Jacaerys' touch. "I am unharmed," you declared, rising to your feet unaided. He remained close behind, ready to catch you should you stumble once more. "You do not appear well," he noted, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead, damp with sweat.

Your handmaiden entered the room, her face filled with alarm as she took in the sight before her. "She has injured herself," Jacaerys interjected on your behalf, dropping his hand. "I am well Naera," you insisted, your eyelids growing heavy. "You are not," he countered, his gaze fixed on you. "Bring a splint and bandages," he ordered the handmaiden, prompting her to hasten out of the room. “ I think it is broken” hemumbled examining your arm.

"Jacaerys," you muttered, catching his attention. "Do not tell my father," you managed before succumbing to the pain. Jacaerys was there to catch you as you fell into his arms, your head falling into the crook of his neck. Jacaerys carefully laid you on your bed, marveling at your beauty even in your unconscious state. It had been a long time since he had been in such close proximity to you. You had grown so much, he wondered if you had noticed his own newfound maturity. After ensuring that your arm was properly splinted and a wet rag was on your forehead, he prepared to depart. "I can take it from here," Naera declared, assuming control of the task. Jacaerys nodded, but hesitated, his gaze fixed on you as you slept. "Do not trouble yourself with informing Daemon, I will handle it," Naera stated calmly. "She mentioned that-"

  "I am aware," she confirmed with a nod. "Though Veerah is prone to fever, she will need a healer," Naera said as she wrung out another rag to place on your chest. Jacaerys nodded in understanding. "I will take the responsibility when she asks," Naera said with a reassuring smile. "I am grateful for that," Jacaerys replied with a slight smile before turning to depart. "She may not admit it, but she does enjoy company," Naera stated. "Her exterior is hard but her heart is soft," she added with a smile. Jacaerys nodded in understanding before taking his leave.

That night, as Jacaerys retired to his chambers, your memory consumed his thoughts in a way he had never experienced before. He found himself dwelling on the comfort of your presence in his arms, and the scent of you was like a revelation, awakening a desire he never knew existed. The sound of his name on your lips echoed in his mind, stirring emotions he had long forgotten. It had been years since they had exchanged more than a few words, and Jacaerys realized how much he longed for your company. Seeing this new vulnerable side of you sparked a curiosity within him, leaving him to wonder what other secrets you held

~~~

“Again!” you command with a chuckle as young Jacaerys pointed his wooden sword at you. He rushed towards you and you parried his attack, causing your wooden swords to clash. You step back and swing, knocking his sword out of his hand. "I've won, yet again," you declare proudly. "I let you win," young Jacaerys grumbled as he retrieved his sword. "Well then, you should let me lose some time," you jest. "You're the only girl I know who enjoys playing knights," Jacaerys remarks as he sits back on a large rock. "Is that strange?" you inquire uncertainly, joining him on the rock. Jacaerys shakes his head in disagreement. "I don't think so," he replies. "My mother once told me that she went on a hunt, something people say only men do," Jacaerys says, playing with his sword at his side. "I hope one day I can hunt too," you say, gazing into the distance. "We can hunt together," Jacaerys suggests, hopping off the rock and playfully hitting the sword by your side in hopes of provoking a fight. You laugh at his actions. "Try to win this time."

“How many more stones?" young Jacaerys panted, dropping an armful into the pile. "need help?" you chuckle as you place another rock onto the small castle foundation you two were building. "Not at all, I was just curious," he quipped. "Though in my head, I did not expect this to take so many days," Young Jacaerys stated, wiping dirt on his clothes. "Two days is not so many," you reply, placing down another rock. "My father said hard work breeds good results, and we want to build a great empire," you say, wiping the dirt from your hands.  “We could ask Baela and Rhaena to help” young Jacaerys suggested with a smile. You shake your head in disagreement, “they wouldn’t not like this play, too much dirt” you state looking down at your dirt covered hands. “Is that why you play with me?” Jacaerys inquired with a smile. “Yes, and you are useful when I need help with heavier stones” you joke causing the two of you to laugh. 

“We should construct a bridge for the people to cross," Jacaerys proposed. "Indeed! And we shall station guards at the entrance," you chimed in enthusiastically. “Though that means more work,” you say looking over at Jacaerys. “I believe we can do it,” Jacaerys says with a smile. The two of you took turns laying the foundation of your fortress and sent the other to gather the necessary Materials.

After an hour, you both stepped back to admire your progress. A stone hut made of mud and rocks stood before you, nearly complete. "Tomorrow we shall address the roof," you declared, brushing dirt from your hands onto your gown. "We must christen our realm," Jacaerys declared, eyeing the unfinished castle surrounded by picked flowers. "The Kingdom of Drangea," he announced. "Drangea?" you questioned. "Like dragon?" you inquired, puzzled. "No, like hydrangea, your favorite flower," he clarified, watching for your reaction. You appreciate the gesture but still shrugged.

 "I like it, but the Kingdom of Dragons sounds more formidable, a name befitting a ruthless empire." 

"What about Drangea, Kingdom of Dragons?" Jacaerys proposed. "That is a name befitting of a realm," you concurred, selecting a small, jagged stone. With a piece of timber that had been halved, you etched the name onto it. "It is now official," you declared, stepping back to admire it. "If this is our kingdom, then I am the king and you are the queen," Jacaerys proclaimed. Your heart raced in your chest, "I suppose," you replied with a hesitant smile. Sensing your uncertainty, young Jacaerys amended, "The king and queen do not need to be wed -" Jacaerys started, but you cut him off. "We lack crowns," you reassured him with a smile. "The king and queen must have a crown," you furrowed your brow, "tomorrow” Jacaerys stated with a smile. 

~~~~

Seated by the window, a book in hand, your wrist tightly bound in a splint, your eyes gazed outside, lost in thought. For three days, you had been confined to your chamber, sipping on herbal soup and engrossed in a tale of a woman's demise from infection, It was not a very uplifting read. Jacaerys and your sisters attempted to visit, but you dismissed them. "He's not there," Naera's voice resonated as she brought in another bowl of soup. "He's out riding."

"I have no words for you," you replied, turning away to look out the window. "I would rather face your anger than see you fall to fever," she argued. “Where have you been? You know he forbade me to ride?" you questioned, feeling a surge of anger. “He has worked me to the point of exhaustion, shattered my wrist, and then casted me off to die like a horse with a broken leg” you huff. "Could you even mount in your current state?" Naera inquired. "Think of Luke," she proposed.

"That was a unique circumstance," you declared solemnly. "Completely different. Luke was murdered," you affirmed. "Others have ridden in worse conditions safely. We are in the midst of a war, and I cannot ride a dragon," you grumbled, staring out the window.

"I believe your sister Rhaena shares similar sentiments,” she remarked, placing your bowl down. Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Whose side are you on?" you asked, puzzled.

"Yours, always," Naera replied, settling on your futon. "I just worry about how others perceive you," she explained.

“Why?” you questioned, walking over to your bookcase. “They pay me no mind,” you stated, swapping one book for another.

“How can you be sure, when you barely interact with them?” Naera prodded.

"If you're here to lecture me, you can leave. My father has already done so," you retorted aggravated pointing towards the door.

"I apologize," Naera sighed. "I only want what's best for you," she added, fiddling with a book on your futon. "On a brighter note, Jacaerys seemed quite eager to follow your instruction."

"Did he?" You asked, feigning disinterest. "Yes, and he lingered a while after you passed out Naera replied. 

Later that evening You lay in bed, gazing up at the ceiling, unable to find rest due to the agony in your arm and the relentless thoughts swirling in your mind. No matter how hard you tried to push away the worry, it lingered every night, leaving you feeling utterly helpless. To be maimed in the midst of a war was the last thing you desired. Although you were not entirely incapacitated, it felt as though you were. You were forced to remain idle while your kin risked their lives for a cause you would willingly sacrifice yourself for. Their names would be immortalized in history, while you could only watch, all because your father had worked you like a beast for a war you could no longer partake in.

Naera had recounted tales of a mysterious healer, a witch of sorts, who dwelled in her former village. Whispers of her miraculous abilities to ward off death and bless the land with abundance had reached you. If she could breathe life into withered crops, perhaps she could mend your shattered arm, or at the very least, alleviate the pain enough for you to wield a sword once more. It was a reckless gamble, but one you were willing to take.

You rose from your bed and donned the simplest of garments, a difficult task for one who takes such pride in their attire. Gathering a handful of coins hidden beneath the floorboards, you hesitated before opting to take the entire pouch. Pulling up the hood of your shawl, you exited your chambers. Stealthily and silently, you navigated through the manse. As you traversed a corridor, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Hastily, you turned and slipped into a doorway, inadvertently knocking over a small metal statue with your foot. Cursing under your breath, you pressed your body against the door, hoping to remain unseen. "Who there?" Jacaerys's voice echoed down the hall.

You remained motionless, barely drawing breath, your heart pounding in your chest. You listened as his heavy footsteps drew nearer and nearer. Only catching a glimpse of the back of his head, you observed as Jacaerys strode down the corridor in search of the source of the disturbance. He cast one final glance before turning and exiting the hall. You remained still for a time, ensuring it was safe. Once you were certain he had departed, you ventured to the cave where your dragon lay. Taking hold of a torch that lit your path as you made your way to your beast.

you creeped forward beckoning for her, "Qamar," you whispered, rousing her from her slumber at the sound of your voice. "Qamar, it is Veerah," you called out once more. You heard her emit two loud huffs, lifting her weary head as she approached the torchlight. "Awake," you stated before her large blue nostrils became visible in the light's haze as she sniffed the air. "I have missed you," you confess with a smile, caressing her face with the same tenderness and compassion you had shown her when she was just a youngling.

Y/n?" Jacaerys called out from behind you, causing your heart to sink. "You followed me?" You questioned angrily turning to face him. "Rightfully so it seems, you are not planning to ride?" he asked looking over your shoulder at your Dragon. "And if I am?" you challenged. "If you were, I would tell you that it is a certain path to demise," Jacaerys retorted seriously, moving closer. "my actions do not concern you," you declared, pulling off your hood. Even in the dim light, Jacaerys couldn't help but notice how beautiful you were. 

"Where are you going?" Jacaerys inquired as you circled the dragon, with him following closely behind.  "Once again, that is none of your concern," you stated, tightening the saddle straps on Qamar. "I will not let you to leave," Jacaerys declared as he watched you attempt to mount your dragon

"You do not let me to do anything," you State before your hand was overcome with a searing pain, causing you to lose your grip on the reins. Fortunately, you fell into Jacaerys' arms, his chest heaving with concern as he gently lowered you to the ground. You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. 

"How much further do you think you'll get?" Jacaerys interjected, his voice a blend of concern and frustration. 

“I do no-“

"How much further do you think you'll get in the dead of night with a broken wrist and no one to aid you?" Jacaerys questioned, his eyes filled with a seriousness that you had never witnessed before, and it suited him well. 

“Far, I reckon ” you jest, provoking a surge of anger in Jacaerys. “I am serious y/n, Do you seek death?” He inquired sternly, his eyes fixed on you. “You cannot deter me, I have made my decision,” you say meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I will not stand by as you all risk your lives.” you state. “What of your life?” Jacaerys asked, “Am I to sit Idly by as you risk your own?”

“Yes, you are, you are to watch as you have always. do not feign friendship now Jacaerys," you pause. "My affairs are my own, they do not concern you," you state before checking the security of the saddle once more. 

"I will inform your father," Jacaerys states gravely, causing you to turn and look at him in disbelief. "You would not dare," you challenge. "Oh, but I would," Jacaerys states firmly a smile playing on his lips. "Or I can assist you," he offers. "I do not require your assistance” You bluntly reply. "Those are your choices" he reminds.

~~~~

Seated on the cold stone floor of your unfinished castle, you meticulously added leaves to the crown in your hands. The crowns, one for you and one for Jacaerys had been your labor since morning. Your fingers ached with fatigue as you continued to weave, but the image of his smile spurred you on. You hoped that by the time you finished, you would have gathered enough courage to correctly express your feelings to Jacaerys. Your mother had often read to you tales of young love and innocent crushes where rejection was inconsequential in the world of children's books. You hoped for real life to mirror those stories. Expressing emotions, even pain, was a challenge for you, it always left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. As you secured the final stem beneath the others, you raised your weary head to gaze at the sky, now painted in hues of orange. Time had slipped away from you, and you had anticipated Jacaerys's arrival by now. Yet, he had not shown up, leaving you alone with the completed crowns of flowers and leaves. you debated venturing out to search for him. Yet, there was a part of you that was certain he would come, so you decided to wait.

You remained in that unfinished castle until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The darkness enveloped the outside world, and only then did you rise, brushing the dirt and grime off your dress. The woven crowns remained tightly clutched in your hand as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Wiping them away, you left the stone hut and made your way through the corridor of the home, your mind racing with reasons for his absence. "Veerah!" Naera's voice called out to you. She was younger than at the age of ten and five. her sympathetic eyes looking down at you covered in dirt. "What's wrong?" she asked, wiping the dirt from your cheeks with her thumb. "I'm fine," you replied, pushing her hand away. "Have you seen Jacaerys?" you questioned, causing Naera to tense. "Did something happen to him?" you asked worried, making Naera shake her head. "No, Jacaerys is fine," she assured, instantly bringing a smile back to your face "Where is he then?" you asked trying to contain your excitement as you squeezed the woven crowns in your hands.

 “He is in the drawing room,” Naera says with a sad smile gesturing to the door. You smile completely unaware approaching the door. You push it open slightly to see, young Jacaerys standing with his chest up, wooden sword pointed to the ceiling. “I will save you my queen” he announced Charging forward. Causing your sister Baela to fall back with a giggle, in her perfect princess dress “You have to get through me first!”  your little sister Rhaena declared pretending to blow fire from her mouth. Young Jacaerys pretends to slay her with his wooden sword causing your Baela to run into his arms. “Thank you, brave knight,” she says leaving him a kiss on his cheek. In this story, Jacaerys was a knight, Baela a princess, and Rhaena a dragon. And what were you? Nothing, the fool. 

Never in your life before had you felt so embarrassed, embarrassed that you believed even for a moment someone would pick you. Dropping the crowns on the floor you left and never spoke of it again. Never again did you acknowledge you and Jacaerys past friendship, you barely acknowledge him. You spent the next six years focusing on yourself and yourself only.

~~~

You both sat in the back of a carriage, facing each other, packed like stowaways as the carriage jolted along the rough path. "You appear improved, how are you feeling?" Etwa asked, looking at you. "Do not feel pressured to speak," you said bluntly, attempting to silence him. “you are the only person I know who remains in a perpetual state of unhappy" Jacaerys declared, gazing at you with a perplexed expression. "Then you have not encountered enough people," you retorted plainly, resuming your silence. focusing on the sound of the creaking carriage wheels on the road. 

"I did not inform your father, if that is why…," Jacaerys commented, attempting to break the silence. “I was made aware,” you declare with a tight lipped smile. The silence did not last long as he resumed speaking. “However… if your health were to not improve I might have considered-”

"Are you always so?" you asked, irritation rising within you. "So what?" Jacaerys inquired, puzzled. "Annoying," you stated bluntly. He surrendered, releasing a sigh and reclining back against the wall, clasping his hands in his lap. The moment he ceased speaking, you secretly hoped he would continue. Yet, you also enjoyed the sight of defeat in his expression. You were unwell, and you were aware of it. Your interactions with Jacaerys felt like a constant struggle within yourself, even when you meant to speak kindly, only harsh words escaped your lips.

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

[hells-wasabii]

A/N: in case it isn’t obvious this is another heavy work, so do with that information as you will. I took a completely different approach to this one than the one with Velvette, I don’t feel that Carmilla would actually act on the information unless it was something you explicitly expressed desire for. I didn’t fully proof read this either so lemme know if I’ve made any mistakes

Character: Carmilla

Type: Fic (Carmilla x fem!reader who had abusive ex, Angst, Fluff)

You had just wanted a cup of coffee. That’s all it had been. Coffee and a muffin during an early morning in hell.

It should have been simple. It was simple. But still, you found yourself tucked into a booth with your face buried in your hands on the verge of a breakdown.

And yet your heart still pounded away in your chest. One moment had been fine, and the next notes of an all too familiar cologne met your nose. You would have recognized that scent anywhere, the notes of pine stinging your nostrils. It was the sort that did little to cover the smell of cigarettes, you remembered. The smell was burned in your mind, embedded in the deepest recesses of your worst memories. Fuck, you hated it.

With each panicked breath that entered your lungs, your fear grew. Screwing your eyes shut you tried to will yourself to calm down. They weren’t here, you tried to remind yourself. You needed something to ground you, anything. And so with shaking hands, you wrapped them around your cup. The heat seeped through the porcelain and into your palms, but even still it wasn’t enough.

All at once, it was like you could hear everything and nothing at all. It felt akin to drowning. And you were alone with no one to save you. It was a fact that only served to unsettle you more. You couldn’t help but wonder, would the other patrons jump to your aid should they make an appearance? Or would they turn a blind eye and whisper amongst themselves just as they did when you lived?

They weren’t here, you tried to remind yourself. They weren’t even in the same city for fucks sake. You’d made damn sure of that when you chose to settle in Pentagram City. Rationally, you knew this, but it did little to settle your nerves. You thought that you had done so well to make progress, but now you weren’t so sure. Had all that work to get away really been for nothing? Maybe you really should have killed the bastard sooner…

You screwed your eyes close tightly, gripping the hot cup even tighter. The cup in your hand burned, but you didn’t care. It helped ground you to reality. This would pass, you told yourself just as you had countless times before. It had to.

But you couldn’t help but half expect them to slide into the booth opposite of you.

Your blood ran cold when you heard the door to the shop open. The thought of potentially getting up from your seat and quickly leaving the cafe sprung to your mind, yet you remained frozen in place.

A soft conversation between three women met your ears, light-hearted. It’s not much but the voices sooth you, even from across the cafe. It wasn’t them.

Once more the noises melded together, a horrible amalgamation that was quickly becoming too much.

A sharp gasp left your lips as you felt a hand rest upon your shoulder. You nearly spilled your coffee as fear flooded your senses. Your head whipped around to find a tall demon with white hair and sharp eyes staring back at you, looking almost as surprised as you felt. You realized that you recognized the woman as she quickly retracted her hand, as though if she weren’t careful she would burn you.

Carmilla Carmine, the biggest name in arms dealing in the pride ring. A powerful overlord whose reach even extended to the other rings. You knew each other, or at least knew of each other.

The overlord's eyes scanned your features, taking only a moment to gather herself before she spoke. “Are you alright?”

You didn’t reply at first, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Instead, you nod, shifting under the arms dealer’s gaze. She stood there, silent, as if she were deciding something.

“Girls,” Carmilla called out gently after a moment, and soon two younger women were at her side. Her daughters, you realized. “Go on without me, I believe I’ll stay just a bit longer.”

The overlord’s daughters looked between themselves and then back to their mother. Both of the young women seemed to have a look of understanding when the one in the white coat replied. “We’ll see you at home, mother.” Carmilla watched as they left, setting her drink at the table as she settled into the booth opposite of you.

“Now, would you like to talk about what’s going on?”

Truly, you couldn’t understand it. You had only spoken once, maybe twice before and that had been in the company of others. Why was she doing this? You couldn’t help but wonder if something like this was what you had so desperately wished for when you still breathed. And so you let this woman distract you from your panic.

What followed was a conversation that would change your afterlife. While you didn’t dive into specifics. You expressed your fears, and her, understanding and support.

Eventually, the conversation drifted to other things. The conversations that fell between the two of you felt effortless. She had gotten you to smile, to laugh even. You had felt a rare sense of pride when you had managed a chuckle out of the overlord in return. You weren’t sure you had felt this at ease in a long time.

To be quite honest, you hadn’t even realized how long you sat in that cafe with the overlord until Carmilla’s phone began to buzz, her screen lighting up as a few messages appeared on its screen.

“I’m afraid that’s my cue.” The arms dealer sighed, seeming a touch disappointed as she rose from the booth. Though she took a pause, her eyes locking with yours again a moment. She reached into her pocket, receiving what had appeared to be her receipt from earlier, and quickly jotted something down on the receipt before she folded it neatly. “It seems my daughters are expecting me home for a late lunch.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,“ Carmilla slid the folded receipt in front of you, offering one last gentle smile before she left. And so you watch her go, offering a small ‘yeah,’ though you doubt that she heard.

Once she had exited the cafe it was like you had broken out of a chance. With a shake of your head, you sank back into your seat as you turned your attention to the slip that the overlord had left behind for you. Carefully you took it into your hands.

Your eyes widened as you opened the folded slip, revealing her name and phone number.

‘In case you want to talk more.’

[euphorajeon]

the love upon your eyes | jjk

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff | college au

— word count: 0.9k

— warnings: soft jk, llike very soft, shirtless jk, that's it haha

— summary: when your mind is cloudy with sleep, jeongguk takes the opportunity to gaze at you, lovingly.

— author's note: broo did you all see how cool jeongguk was in golden live on stage... our best friend for real... also the gcf in budapest is really boxer!gguk coded hhh i got whiplash watching it. anyways. hope you enjoy this little bit of something from boxer!gguk !!! (ps. this is basically in the sheets but with the roles reversed :> )

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

You’ve known Jeongguk for as long as you can remember. His annoying presence seemed to cement itself in your life, not allowing you to have a day without some memories of him. Jeongguk who always sang on the way home from school. Jeongguk who was there when you almost drowned when you were ten. Jeongguk who made fun of your hair in middle school. Jeongguk who had a colorful t-shirt phase in high school. Jeongguk who moved to another city for university.

It felt weird when he left, not having someone follow you around just to pester you, but eventually, it felt peaceful. You’re able to make new friends, study properly, and enjoy your time as a new university student. Jeongguk still texted you occasionally, giving you updates of his life and bantering with you whenever he wanted (when you protested, he said he’d only done that because he was bored. You’d given him the middle finger emoji which he laughed off.)

Jeongguk’s been annoying all of his life, so when he showed up at your doorstep two years after the last time you saw him, you expected nothing less. He truly didn’t change, still the same Jeongguk who brushed off your shocked concerns and responded with teasing remarks instead. So much teasing, so much tempting, until you lost it and kissed him right on his pierced lips.

All of that tells you that Jeongguk will always be annoying. Endearing, but annoying. Loving, but annoying.

So imagine how you feel when one morning, your whole world tilts on its axis when you open your eyes to Jeongguk gazing at you, lovingly. Most of his body is covered in his white blankets, only his shoulders and arms are visible, one of which is covering the bottom part of his face. You can only see his nose and eyes, again obstructed by the unruly strands of his hair, but those eyes tell everything. They tell you that Jeon Jeongguk is looking at you with all the love he has stored in his heart, without even a pinch of the annoying twinkle he usually has hidden somewhere in the flecks of his orbs.

Jeongguk lets out a chuckle through his nose when you groan.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he says, words muffled by his arm still covering his mouth. “Did you sleep well?”

Your barely-open eyes narrow into slits, blurring his form in your vision into a mush of white, black, and skin color. Despite that, you know the sound he just let out is another chuckle through the nose, now even more endeared. “Who are you, and what have you done to my Jeongguk?”

It sounds sassy in your head, your usual tone when talking to your boyfriend, but you don’t know that it only sounds like a jumbled mess in Jeongguk’s ears. Your whole body is still heavy with sleep, the tiny functioning part of your brain only recognizing the love in Jeongguk’s eyes that is so peculiar until your brain fails to aid to your ability to speak clearly. You don’t have to worry, though, because the tiny laugh that rumbles through Jeongguk’s chest tells you that he understood your words perfectly.

“Why so cranky, babe?” Jeongguk reaches out a tattooed hand to pinch lightly at your cheek. “Was last night not enough?”

You’re in the middle of turning around, intending to ignore Jeongguk’s soft stare and confront it later when you’re more awake, but his question makes you pause. Focusing your crusty eyes on him, you just realize that he’s not wearing any shirt, his arms and shoulders bare for you to see. Oh, he must have been looking at you with so much love pouring out of his eyes for you to miss the tattooed bulging biceps on display. This is bad.

Okay, back to his question. Last night, he said?

Your hands automatically pat down your body, which, thankfully, is covered by a t-shirt. You even still have your pajama shorts on. What does he mean by last night?

Apparently you voiced that aloud, with confusion written all over your sleepy face.

“Alright, alright, we didn’t go all the way last night,” Jeongguk laughs—he’s really cheerful considering the time of day, you notice—while coaxing the crease between your eyebrows away with his fingers. “Made out for a while on the bed, but you kinda slipped away from the kiss in the middle of it. I guess you were too tired, so I let you sleep instead.”

You didn’t remember anything from last night. Maybe he’s right, exhaustion took over your entire body that your brain just didn’t store any memories for a few hours. So, you ask the one sensible thing your brain could conjure up right now: “Did I leave you with a hard-on?”

Your eyes are nearly closed again, so you don’t see the amused expression Jeongguk has on his face. “If I tell you yes, would you apologize for it?”

“Mhm, sorry,” you mumble non-commitally.

There’s a few seconds pause. Then, “That’s it? No snarky remarks about how you don’t have to apologize for my bodily function?” Jeongguk asks, still amused by your lack of bite.

“Mhm,” you hum again. “Wanna go back to sleep…” You’re interrupted by a big yawn, “if argument, no sleep…”

Jeongguk has to bite his lip to prevent himself from breaking into a huge grin as he reaches for you, tugging your form closer to his so you can place your head on his chest. He envelops you in his arms, completely engulfing your frame with his big build. You drape your arm lazily on his waist, let him tangle his legs with yours. Jeongguk then drops a kiss on your head, one you barely register because your brain starts succumbing back to sleep.

“Sleep tight, sleepyhead,” he whispers before smiling to himself. 

“I’ll still love you even if you gave me blue balls in the middle of the night.”

a/n: thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed this little ball of fluff hehe. help me improve by giving me feedback in my askbox or here! :D

[harleehazbinfics]

Dear Baby, Chapter 4

Dear Baby, m.list | Author's Profile

A/N: i just turned 22, the big, two-two. Man, it's crazy to think, i used to be the youngest one when i was off running around and joining discord servers. god- Word Count: 1500+

“Miss (y/n) is there a baby in here?” the little princess asks as she gently rubs your tummy making you giggle at the fluttering feeling.

“Yes, there is, my sweet princess. And any day now I’ll be expecting my first child,” you reply swiping her hair behind her ear.

It had been several weeks since Charlie’s first visit and Lucifer arranged for her to come visit during Saturdays consistently, which Lilith who I heard begrudgingly approved of. So, days pass idly where Lucifer and I would go on with our daily lives of dining together, working together and relaxing when we could together, considering my health and growth of my little one. I refrained from going to hospitals or meeting with doctors to lessen the risk of news getting out about Lucifer hiding a Goetia in his castle. That would be an absolute nightmare. So, he helped me pick up some parenting books he already had and bought me a few inconspicuously to aid me. Which have arrived while I entertained his precious daughter while he received them.

Charlie lets out an awe with stars in her eyes as she continues petting my belly and adds, “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl? I think it’ll be a boy!”

“I don’t mind either. But it’ll be a while before we get to meet them. When they come out of me, they’ll still be in an egg!” you explain to her making her tilt her head in confusion.

“An egg? Do all babies come from eggs?” she asks with furrowed brows confused.

“Do you remember who the Ars Goetia are?” you ask her which she shakes her head to, “I’m part of the Ars Goetia and it’s our job to go to Earth as representatives of his majesty and report to him about what happens on Earth. We Goetia’s take the features of birds. To signify our status as messengers for his majesty.”

She carefully thinks about what you said and her eyes light up, “So, you’re a bird?! Can you show me your real form please?”

You gave her a laugh and nod, “Alright, alright.”

You closed your eyes as you allowed your magic to transform you back to your usual form. As you open back your eyes, you see Charlie looking at you with stars in her eyes.

“Wow! You’re so cool! You look very beautiful, Miss (y/n)!” she gushes with a high tone making you smile at her compliments.

“Thank you, princess. However, I think you’re far more beautiful than I,” you say as you pinched her cheek making her giggle at your touch.

“So, that’s why you’re gonna lay an egg! I see,” she says as she understood the reason behind it, “May I touch your hair?”

You dipped your head and allowed her to caress your feathers, “Yes, you may, my dear princess.”

She touches you feathers in fascination. Your hair was smooth, silky, and ticklish to touch that it entertained her ‘til you heard a knock on the door. Your feathers puffed up from the scare and transformed back to your human form and winked at Charlie with a finger to your lips telling her to keep it a secret, which she mimics cutely.

“Charlie? There you are!” Lucifer calls her relieved, “Come, your mom is here to pick you up.”

She hops off your lap and reaches for you hand to hold trying to help you when you stood up. The three of you walked out of the room together hand in hand with Charlie in the middle.

“What were you doing with (y/n)?” Lucifer asks playfully seeing how giddy his daughter was after talking to you alone.

She looks at you briefly before settling back to her father, “It’s a secret!”

When you arrive at the waiting room, you see Lilith with her arms crossed waiting for your arrival. Eyes still hidden behind her shades making you feel intimidated as you realized you were still holding hands with their daughter with her husband. You gently pull away your hand, which thankfully, Charlie didn’t mind as she kisses her father’s cheek goodbye.

She then walks back to you and pulls you down to her height and also kisses your cheek making you look surprised.

“See you next week, Dad! Miss (y/n)!” she waves as she walks out with her mother.

You and Lucifer wave back with a satisfied smile. However, you check on Lilith who pulls down her shades ever so slightly and see her scrutinizing glare. You hiccupped at the intimidation and pull down your hand in shame.

“Are you okay?” Lucifer asks you worriedly, seeing your change in behavior when the door closes.

“Yes, of course,” you try to assure him which only earns you a doubtful look making you fess, “It just seems like you wife doesn’t like me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that happened. She just might be venting her anger at you. I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“It’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply with a confident smile.

“No, you shouldn’t be treated like this. It’s unfair to pull you into our fight,” he grumbles as he sits on the couch holding his head.

You fall silent, not finding the words to reply to him. You didn’t have to as he takes your free hand and gently tugs you to his side.

“I should tell you why we split up,” he says before clearing his throat.

You look at him in surprise, sitting next to him. Then patiently waiting for him explain his situation.

“We got into a massive fight after a few centuries coming into hell. I was cooped up in my room, feeling miserable about myself for disobeying God and ending up here. I just couldn’t find a good way to cope with that loss, you know? As much as people portray that I have no regrets and I’ve turned my back against Heaven. They couldn’t be more wrong about that assumption. I love Heaven, but I betrayed their trust in me. And that is something I have to deal about myself every day.

“So, after gathering my bearings so a moment, I realized what Lilith was doing while I cowered away. I learnt that she was gathering power from all those who’ve fallen here. This alerted me and the angels. I confronted her about it and asked her to stop. I just didn’t want another problem to arise, more so now that we’ve fallen here. We had nowhere to turn to if we started something with Heaven. But… she shook me off and told me I was a coward, and asked where that bold man she met in that garden then left me, taking our daughter with her,” he confesses with his head tilted down in shame, making me cover his forearm to comfort him.

“So, she wanted to rebel against Heaven for forsaking her?” you ask cautiously.

Lucifer lets out another sigh and replies, “It would appear so. I wouldn’t blame her. Aside for not standing beside her for the same reason, I think she also hates me for her dragging into this mess.”

He covers his face with his hand. Guilt, shame and frustration filling his entirety. You looked at him worriedly as he fell into another pit of self-loathing.

“I’m sure no one would have foretold this to happen,” you say softly taking the hand that covered his face and held both his hands together, “But, if you think about it. Charlie being here with you, isn’t that the best thing that could have come out of this situation?”

He looks at you with teary eyes in realization and smiles as he nods, agreeing with me. You return it before wiping his eyes. He gives you a laugh feeling your touch ticklish and takes them back in his hands.

“Until now, her anger hadn’t blown off. The only reason she’s allowed me to see Charlie was because of our love for her, and thanks to you, for giving me courage to see her again. If it weren’t for you, I’d imagine my relationship with her would be strained,” he says gratefully squeezing my hands and giving me a warm smile.

You flush red at the look he’s giving you. Feeling fluttery inside, unclear if it were the butterflies or the little one inside you, but nonetheless, it was a pleasant feeling.

“You’re welcome, your majesty,” you reply with a smile of your own, cheeks red making him think of how lovely you looked right now.

“Call me Lucifer, please,” he requested from you as his red flush gone unnoticeable with his red cheeks.

“Lucifer,” you call him, making him sigh dreamily from how intimately you called him.

‘Uh, oh,’ he thought. There it was. That sticky feeling in his heart as he thought of you.

It was no brainer for Lucifer to deduce what he was feeling right now. He’s fallen for you. Your warmth, kindness, beauty, and much more he could list down in more than 6000 words. You were very special to him. And he hoped he was as special to you as you are for him.

Dear Baby, Taglist:

@wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @roboticsuccubus83 @simbalioness @reachthestars @atlas-rin @luc1fersducky @condy-wants-a-cookie @lovestruck-enby @azullynxx @delightedtosee @beansluvsmilo @cherry-4200 @aria-tempest @lvstyangel @0strawberrysorbet0 @corvid007 @enby-goblin @whydosnakesnotdance @willow404 @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @hahalameee @manachpo @dionysusismypatrongod @obessivlyonline @idkwhy5000 @gabile18 @bontensbabygirl @rocketxgirl @pastelpinkhobbies @theblueslytherin @purplerose291 @sappire904

[frvnkcastles]

ENOUGH FOR ME ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: It’s Frank’s birthday and you just want him to know he’s important.

Warnings: Language, minor mention of injuries, mostly just fluff :)

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: Happy Frank Castle Day <33 Just a small break from all the trauma content to celebrate our best guy’s birthday with something fluffy and friends-to-lovers adjacent. Enjoy :)

”It’s your birthday?!” Your voice was nothing short of shocked as you looked up from Frank’s bloody abdomen where your haphazardly done stitches adorned his toned body, your eyes scanning his for any sign of humor, but he stared back at you completely serious and unwavering. He had just made an off-handed comment about turning forty-four, and the admission had shaken you to your core — you didn’t even have a card for him!

”Yeah”, Frank shrugged, ”it ain’t that big of a deal, sweetheart.”

You were positively astounded and, with all your might, entirely of another opinion. The man did so much for the city, for people like you — whether they appreciated or not — and the least he deserved was some appreciation in return. You tried your best to show him some without crossing any lines, as you were still just friends, after all. And surely, had you only known, you would have gotten something for his special day, or at least gotten ahead of him and wished him a happy birthday to make sure he knew he was remembered and thought of.

Instead, he had been fighting all night and gotten a nasty wound from a knife on his stomach, leaving him bleeding on your couch, like it was any other sucky night.

”You don’t like celebrating it?” you questioned, supposing that he had had plenty of traditions with his family, and that his celebrating of the occasion had died with them. You were pretty sure he knew that was a part of your question, at least the look he gave you was one of the obvious kind, but he still graced you with an answer.

”Nah. I don’t hate it, but I dunno”, he contemplated, ”just doesn’t feel that important. Curt comes over a beer usually and that’s about it.” You nodded while handing his shirt back over to him and starting to pack up the first-aid kit on your coffee table.

”So… would you mind if I did something small next year?” you asked sheepishly, the gift-giver and avid acts-of-service person inside you itching to come out. Somehow, Frank had become one of the most important people in your life, and to you, his birthday felt like an occasion to mark in some way, at least.

”You think you’re gonna be starin’ at my ugly mug for a whole ’nother year?” he grinned while pulling his shirt over his head. The self-deprecating joke got a disapproving look from you, and he simply chuckled. ”Sure. If you really want to. But you gotta tell me your birthday, too.”

So you did. And exactly a year later, on his forty-fifth birthday, you had lived up to your promise. You suspected he had forgotten all about it in the past 364 days, but at least it would make it an even sweeter surprise.

”Would love it if you came over tonight. No pressure, it’s not life-or-death. Just thought we could hang.” You sent your text message to him before you could overthink it too much. Should he not turn up, the worst case scenario was that you’d get to eat an entire cake by yourself — not a half-bad situation to find yourself in.

But, despite his tendency to only show up after getting himself in trouble, he ended up sending you a text message back.

”I’ll be there.”

As the hours ticked by, you realized you maybe should have agreed on a time. Nonetheless, you refused to let sleepiness take over, even when midnight dragged over and your jaw stretched with a yawn. You had spent the entire evening switching between your living room couch and the kitchen counter, impatient and nervous about how the night would unfold — a part of you hoped he would be surprised, but there was no telling if it would be a good surprise or not.

It was nearly 1 AM when there was a knock at your door, and you came to life at the sound. You rushed to answer the door, a sincere smile curling your lips high up when you found Frank waiting on the other side, a bottle of wine in his hands and a curious look in his eyes. Heat rushed into your cheeks as you realized the coyness in your message, and how he may have interpreted it, but you surely didn’t oppose whatever ideas he was coming over with.

”You okay? I know you said it ain’t anythin’ serious, but…”, he wondered while stepping across the threshold and shrugging off his jacket. You carried the wine bottle into the kitchen, and he followed you, only stopping when he saw all the food you had prepared. ”Shit. Guess it’s good I came prepared”, he added, and you chuckled nervously.

”I’m okay. I just wanted to do something for you”, you confessed, twisting your fingers as you watched him take it all in and process.

”You really didn’t have to, sweetheart”, he chuckled before licking his lips and tilting his head at you, ”what’s the occasion?”

You stared back at him, trying to discern whether or not he was messing around with you, but his eyes seemed honestly surprised and maybe even a hint confused. ”It’s—it’s your birthday, Frank”, you stammered, your internal alarm bells going off. Shitshitshit, it’s too much, you did way too much!

Frank covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a laugh. ”Goddamn. It is, ain’t it? Shit. I haven’t been keepin’ track of the days at all lately”, he snorted, and at his amused reaction, you managed to relax a little. Maybe it wasn’t a lost cause yet.

”Yeah, so… I didn’t want to do anything too overwhelming. I just thought I could feed you for once and—and there’s cake for dessert”, you explained hesitantly, and if only you hadn’t avoided his gaze, you would have seen his eyes visibly soften, his lips twitching with a small smile.

”Hey, that’s really fuckin’ sweet of you. Wow. Dunno what I did to deserve this”, Frank exhaled, a little taken aback but letting his smile take over — a good sign in your books. Even more so was the way he stepped over to you and gently cradled your head so he could kiss your forehead, brief but sweet and definitely welcoming blush to your face.

”You didn’t have to do anything, Frank. But for the record, you do a whole lot. You keep this city safe. You keep me safe. You bring so much peace to more people than I can even imagine, and you don’t get any thanks for it. And beyond that… you’re a good friend. And a good person. And I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really appreciate and cherish you and I—I don’t know what I’d do without you anymore”, you rambled away, your heartrate picking up when he chose to stay right in front of you, his hand fallen to your neck as he stood only inches away.

Frank nodded slowly. ”No one’s told me anythin’ like that in a long time”, he admitted quietly, and for a second, you wondered if you had broken a boundary. ”Thank you, sweetheart. Can’t tell you what it means to me”, he continued, however, calming your nerves just enough to crack a smile at him.

”Well, we might have to reheat the food but it’s a good thing you brought this over”, you cleared your throat and gestured at the wine, and with a soft chuckle, Frank nodded.

”Hey”, he spoke once more, and instinctively, you looked up at him, despite the immense feeling of vulnerability that rendered you silent under his gaze. ”I’preciate you, too.”

With a shy smile, you placed a hand over his heart, and hoped to radiate all the warmth, gratitude and love you had for him.

”Happy birthday, Frank.”

[ambiguouslady42]

Pairing: Emo! Nanami Kento x You

Content: Fluff, Angst, Smut MDNI

Summary: Your first time with Emo! Nanami.

Word count: 3.2K

Note: This was inspired by one of my fav Pulp songs, Do You Remember the First Time?

Tags: @hayatoseyepatch, @awkwardchick87, @peachsukii, @jellyfishart

Thank you, Sam and Salem for the help!

You have fallen for Nanami Kento. Every time you were paired on a mission, he’d do everything he could to make sure that you would walk out of there unscathed. You watched as he stepped in front of you to make the first move. You thought he was being a gentleman, but he was just making sure to assess the situation so that no lives would be lost. He was carrying the guilt of dealing with the loss of his friend. You made an effort at times to protect him when you could; it would frustrate him because at times he thought you were reckless to get in his way, but you wanted to show him that you were just as capable of protecting him. 

One particular mission was a close call. You watched Nanami struggling to be able to deal with this particular curse. Initially, you thought this would be simple, but the curse wasn’t classified correctly. There was no mistake that this was a grade 1 level curse. You were struggling to stand after being hit constantly. Nanami was injured and could barely hold his blade, as he was about to attack the curse, it decided to try to attack you instead. You were on the floor unable to move; you thought this would be a moment to accept your fate. You lived your life trying to protect those you cared about. Just as you believe this was your moment to pass, the curse chose to go to attack Nanami. 

You didn’t want to lose him; your heart felt like it was going to break into pieces. The adrenaline in your body aids you in getting up. Watching the one you love about to be attacked was all you needed to make your ambush. Within seconds, the curse was obliterated. As you stand in front of Nanami, you collapse. 

“Talk to me! Hey! Wake up!” he begins to blur as you fall. 

As you open your eyes, he holds you in his arms. The relief you felt on his face made you sob into his chest. You would do anything for him, even give your life away if it meant he got to live for another day. He held you and told you it was all okay. 

“No, it’s not. I know you think I'm stupid for trying to take on this curse on my own.” you continued to cry.

“It was, but…thank you. You didn't need to do that, so why did you?” he answered gently. 

“Because…” you said quietly, “you wouldn’t understand.”

Nanami did feel something towards you, he noticed the way you looked at him. He observed the way that you listened to him or the way you remembered his favourite sandwich order. In return, he got you your favourite soda from the machine. He constantly waited for you outside of your dorm to walk you to class or as you head out on your missions together. You just thought he was being nice, but you’d take it all because you were in love. However, risking your life was the ultimate form of love.

“Try me”, he continued to be gentle with you. This time, he began to rub his hand on your back. 

You pulled away from his hold. Your eyes were red, but you felt this was now or never. “I have to tell you something…I think I’m in love with you. You’ll think I’m stupid, but I don’t care. Even if we just remain friends, I’ll eventually move on and I won’t be a forethought in your mind.”

His face turned red. You were eager to brush his bangs to the side so you could fully see his face. Even if he didn’t return your affection, it would be okay. Now you put it out there and you could move forward if he didn’t return your affections.

“I think…I may feel the same way about you” he respondd. “I wish you wouldn’t have jumped in front of the curse for me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t successful. I just couldn't…”

The guilt started to build up now, and you began to cry again. You didn’t mean to worry him, but you did this because you couldn’t bear the pain. You would protect anyone who you held closest to your heart. 

“Shh…Thank you. I won’t forget about this.” he proceeded to kiss the top of your head. 

“What do we do now?” you spoke as you looked up at him.

“We do our best and spend time together. Graduation is coming up, so let’s make the best of it.”

He realized that you can’t quite get up, so he carried you, bridal style. You felt the heat in your face, but Nanami just looked at you and confirmed with a small smile that this is more than okay for him. You kissed his cheek and continued back towards campus. 

At first, each small, gentle kiss would just be enough to tide you over before class. Over time, you two would sneak off to share the kind of kisses that nobody else should have to witness. Each time you made out, he would hold you closely; you would run your hands through his blonde hair. You saw it as the perfect excuse to play with his bangs as you would grab his face to continue kissing him. The way he held you was very chaste, at first. Eventually, his hands shifted lower to your hips. You allow him to explore at times; you permitted him to grab your ass at times. The kisses eventually weren’t enough. 

After a short period, you began to have sleepovers. You weren’t ready to give yourself fully to him. He respected your choices and he would follow your lead when it came to knowing how far you could go. It was so difficult to share a bed sometimes. Each time you touched, you felt hungrier for him. You allow him to go under your shirt. As he was lying next to you, you felt him get hard. You blush and begin to embrace him and bury yourself on his shoulder. What are you supposed to do? He kisses your forehead and tells you that you don’t have to do anything. You allowed him to explore your breasts with his hands. You were feeling adventurous this evening, so you let his mouth feel each breast; he kisses your nipples so gently. This sensation that you feel is new to you. You see that his hard-on getting tighter on his skinny jeans, so you nudge him to stop. He immediately does so. You share soft, tender kisses and rub your noses together. You held each other to sleep and felt excited about the possibilities of you and him.

Then the dreaded day came. Yaga informs you that Nanami would be leaving Jujutsu High after graduation. You felt angry. You stormed out of his office and went to your dorm. You slam the door and just sob into your pillow. You could still smell traces of him on your bed. 

“Why didn’t he talk to me about this?”, you thought. 

You hear a knock on your door. “It’s me. Can we talk about this?”

“No, go away,” you shout back.

“Please, darling. You have to understand.” he pleads through the door.

“Why should I listen to you? You already made up your mind. Just go away.”

“It’s not just about you…please, hear me out.”

You get up and open the door. “Talk” you command him. You’re standing now with arms crossed and glaring at him.

“There’s simply no point in staying here and waiting for the day when we’ll die on a mission. I’m tired of constantly worrying if you’ll be back or if I'll be back. I’m still grateful to you for saving my life, but…I can’t keep doing this. Sorcery is dangerous. I want a chance of a normal life and live. You could come with me…we wouldn’t have to lay out our lives every day.”

You were fuming at this point. “I can’t. I can’t turn my back away from those that are helpless. We have been granted a gift, and while I’m able, I will not stand down and give up. I can’t do that. I thought you and I would be together, no matter what. We know the risks, but we have each other. We’re a team.”

“I…can’t do this anymore. Haibara was already too much of a loss and I can’t bear to lose…”

“Just stop right there. I’m the one who risked my life for you. I’d do it over again. I’d do it 100 times over again. I don’t regret it once.” you shout back. “If this is how you see it, then we have nothing more to talk about.”

“Please…just listen…” he pleads

“Stop. We’re done. Just get out. I don’t want to see you. Jujutsu society still needs us. If you want to quit, I’m not going to hold you back. Do what you have to do.” You turn around and wait for him to leave.”

“If that’s really want you want” he expresses somberly. You hear the door close gently behind you. You jump back into your bed and curl into a ball. You sob as you realize what you have done. 

It was graduation day; You were ready to be a full-on Jujutsu sorcerer in society. Nanami stood next to you. Stoic and expressionless. You gave him a warm smile, acknowledging the decision he made. Leaving Jujutsu Society would allow Nanami a chance at living a normal life, but that also meant that you’d likely not see him again. You accept the terms that come with this, but you wish you could apologize for the way you treated him, or even share one final kiss? 

After the ceremony, you walk back to your room. You sit on your bed and contemplate what the future holds now that Nanami won’t be in the picture anymore. Just as you were about to get up, you saw Nanami standing outside of your door. “I figured you would be here,” he says gently.

“Just saying goodbye before I move away from here. My parents would help me find an apartment in the city,” you tell him. 

“That’s good…listen, I know that our last conversation was unpleasant, but I just want you to know that you can still come with me if you want.”

“I’m sorry, Ken…my place is here in Jujutsu Society. I stand by everything I said to you. As long as I'm able, I swear to protect others. With that said, I don’t hold any grudges towards you. The only thing is, I’m sad I likely won’t see you again.” you tell him solemnly. You reach out to grab his hand. He returns the gesture.

“I understand. Just do everything you can to stay safe. If we ever run into each other, promise me we won’t be strangers.”

“I promise, Ken”.

Both of you look at each other and embrace. You hold each other tight. You don’t know if this will be the last time you see each other. You stare at each other with longing. Without forethought, you kiss. Just as you pull away, you nod to him. You go back to kissing him, but this time, one of longing and one filled with desperation. You start to run your hands through his hair as he begins to gently bite your lower lip. You begin biting his upper lip and you share a laugh. As he lowers you to the bed, you begin rushing to take off his jacket. He slowly runs his hand on your thigh. As he does so, he begins to move his hand to feel your ass. As the jacket comes off,  you begin to slowly unbutton his shirt. You stop kissing for a moment.

You look at him with reassurance,  “I’m…ready.”

“Okay, darling. If you ever want to stop, just say the word.” he coos.

“Yes, Ken. You bring him back towards you to continue kissing. He sits you up to take off your jacket and to begin unbuttoning your shirt. He hasn’t had to take off your bra in a while, but you help him. You both giggle as you begin to explore each other. You kiss his shoulders and make your way to his neck. You place small gentle kisses and he moans. You take this as a good sign and you continue to trace kisses around his neck. He pins you down to the bed and decides to kiss your neck. He is curious to know if you’ll react the same way he did. As he’s kissing you, your breathing becomes heavier. He decides to kiss his way to your exposed breasts. His hot tongue finds your left nipple. This is the moment you release a loud moan. You become embarrassed, but your Ken doesn’t stop. He begins to suck on your nipple and your moans just signal him to continue. You feel like you are at his mercy. You begin to gently pull his hair as your moans get louder. He traces kisses towards your breast. “Do…you want me to…stop?” he asks teasingly. 

“No, fuck…no.” as you’re struggling to make out words. He kisses you and begins to nibble on your right breast. You don’t feel afraid to give yourself away to him. “I need…more,” you whisper to him. 

At this point, you're both still wearing the lower halves of your uniforms. You slowly begin to unbutton his pants. He picks you to take your skirt off. You’re wearing your tights, and he gently removes them. All that’s left now is both of you in your underwear. You continue to kiss and you allow his hands to explore your body. He’s touching every place that would have always been fun to touch. He grazes your belly with his fingers. You begin to laugh in between the kisses, so he knows this place tickles. He loves hearing your laugh. His hands trace back to your outer thighs, moving closer to your inner thigh. You moan in between his kisses. You look up at him and nod. This nod expresses your permission that you’re okay with what he wants to do. He slowly works his way inside of your underwear and feels your pussy with his hand. You feel nervous at this point and just grab onto his arms. “Are you okay?” he whispers

“Yeah, this is..just a little scary…it’s new,” you respond.

You nod for him to continue. He proceeds to slide his finger in you. He doesn’t know what to do, but he feels the warmth between your legs. He notices that it’s also very wet. As he continues to explore his fingers in you, you begin to moan. He takes note of how this is making you feel. As he explores further, he finds a particular spot that makes you grab onto him even harder. “Mmmm…Ken, right there!.” This further encourages him to make you do that again. His finger proceeds to do a come hither motion. “Oh…My.”, are the only words you can say as you feel you’re about to scream. “Ken…I…need..y….” He proceeds to steal a kiss from you and you melt into him. Your hand traces his shoulders and you make little hearts on his back. You move your way down to play with the elastic of his underwear. You gently play with it to lower it just slightly. He stops kissing you. “Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, I’m ready. I trust you.” you gently kiss him.

As he slowly removes your underwear, you proceed to remove his. You decide to just gently feel his ass. He blushes slightly and you kiss his nose. “I love you. I always will.”

“I love you too.”

You lay on top of each other. His cock has girth and you’re nervous. You grab it and gently guide it inside you. As he gently shoves it inside you, you wince a bit in pain. “Are you…okay?” he asks you, worriedly.

“It’s okay…sweetheart. Don’t stop.” your grabbing onto his arms as he fully shoves his cock inside of you. As it’s inside, he sees a tear run down your face. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks you again.

“I’ll be…okay.” as another tear comes down. He kisses your face where the tears are streaming. “Just remember, say the word and we’ll stop.” You nod. He proceeds to slowly thrust into you. Your arms intertwine around his. As he’s thrusting, you think about how all of this feels perfect, despite the pain you feel temporarily. You feel like something is building up inside of you. “K..en…don’t stop.” You grab his face and you kiss him hungrily. As you feel every inch inside of you, you begin to moan as your tongues touch. “Mmm…darling…” you continue to moan. Nanami decides to see what would happen if he kisses your neck as you feel his balls deep inside of you. “Ahhhhhh…sweetheart…I…lo…” you’re struggling to say words at this point. “Shh…I know.” as he proceeds to trace you with kisses. Your moans are further indication that you’re enjoying this. You’re enjoying him.

“Oh my g…darling”, his voice goes up an octave. “I’m cum…” he releases his orgasm into you. You soon follow as you feel him finishing inside of you. You stare at each other and giggle before sharing one final kiss. He proceeds to get off you and lays next to you. You embrace him. You know this would be the only time this will happen. You won’t see him again after today. All you know is that you belong to each other, just for today. 

The years go by. You still thought about him. You miss him, but your duties as a Jujutsu Sorcerer kept you busy. You knew you had to focus on the missions at hand. Whenever you successfully exorcise a curse, you wonder if hethink about you from time to time. The feeling never waned, even with all the exhaustion and paperwork you had to do.

He spent his time in an office environment. The work is shit, but he kept living his life day by day. He wondered if you thought about him; were you alive and well? He longed to see you just one more time. One day, he stopped by a bakery to grab lunch. He noticed that the girl working there had a pestering curse on her shoulder. The moment he chose to exorcise the curse on her shoulder, it all just clicked. He finally understood the sense of duty you had. After hearing the girl’s “thank you” countless times, he knew he had to make a phone call. 

On this day, you are walking on campus and suddenly you notice a tall figure. He sees you and makes eye contact with you. Your smile never changed. His smile is just the way you remember it. Although, he traded his skinny jeans for a khaki suit, blue shirt, and the odd tie. You both stand in front of each other. He still feels a longing for you. 

You both share a common thought, “do you remember the first time?”

All he hopes for after all these years, with whatever number of lovers you took on, did you save a piece just for him?

[queenofallimagines]

Omg hello!! I just read your devotee headcanons(they were all amazing I loved them) for the brothers and I just wanted to ask if you could do one for guardian angel simeon???in my religion we believe that every person has a guardian angel so imagine how funny it would be when you come down to the devildom and simeon is like :o it's you!!

Certainly beloved!💕 I think this one might be the longest😭

Simeon:

- unlike the others, notices right off the bat

- He’s been assigned to you since before birth like come on he could recognize you by just an eyelash

- Will be slightly hurt if you don’t recognize him

- “You don’t remember me?🥺 but I sing you a lullaby when you were 2”

- Sir…. Please be serious, that’s like 3 seconds of memory

- Will passive aggressively push for you to move in with him in purgatory hall

- Lucifer is exhausted because he’s always there

- “You act like you LIVE here. Go back to YOUR dorms!”

- “Bold of you to think I would leave MY precious, amazing human here will all of you unsupervised”

- He’s not about to stop being clingy neither

- Sharing old stories at student coy meetings like you have got to stop him before he gets out a photo album 😭

- Scolds you like a parent

- “I know you’re now doing what you shouldn’t be”

- Luke is your honorary baby brother

- Will ask Luke to watch you like he’s tall enough to reach the microwave

- “Luke I’ll be back in a minute make sure they don’t have any more sweets”

- Like you’re literally grown💀please tell him to back off a little or this will get worse

- When he realizes he’s falling for you in a way Guardian Angels shouldn’t. He panics

- This the same shit Lilith did

- And he got demoted for just AGREEING with Lucifer about the war

- Hides it like he’s gonna take it to the grave, especially from Luke

- You notice he starts avoiding you a little and will lie through his teeth that he’s just feeling a little under the weather

- Lucifer peeped game though, and he’s like yeah absolutely NOT

- he’s not letting anything else happen to any more of his Family

- Will lock your ass up until he gets Simeon alone to have a talk with him

- Like you now have a curfew 😭

- Listen…. He would tear apart the entire exchange program over lesson 16,,,,

- Like y know how Diavolo said Simeon is the ONE person he doesn’t want to piss off?

- Yeah it’s like inconsolable now

- In any timeline any life any dimension he will feel you’re endanger

- In like Bible canon they really can’t help unless god gives them the okay so they’re often times forced to watch the one they were bound to protect suffer

- But this is the devildom and he don’t really got eyes down here. So who’s to stop him from coming to your aid??

- Even though you’re “technically” okay he’s still like not having it

- As soon as it happens he feels a sharp cold pain throughout his entire body and drops whatever he’s holding

- Struggling to remember how to breathe all he can think about is sprinting to the house of lamentation

- Busts open the doors to see you in mammon arms, and it’s like his whole world shatters

- He hears belphie laughing, and he’s never felt rage like this before

- Lucifer is fighting for his LIFE because he’s having to balance feeling grief, shock,rage, and also try to keep his brothers from going off the deep end so he’s like frozen

- Can’t think fast enough to stop Simeon from unleashing some divine punishment on this spoiled brat

- Lucifer does snatch him up because he will literally kill him in cold blood right there if he doesn’t reason with him

- Almost snaps back on Lucifer before you show up again for the intermission

- Shaking and crying with relief

- You’re gonna make him literally faint MC please😭

- Like don’t the angels use a LOT of magic to keep their emotions in check so they don’t go crazy like demons do?

- They’re having to suppress every emotion ever and dull those

- So he’s got like a couple of eons of just raw feelings pent-up beating his ass all at once

- When you explain the reveal he’s like REALLY about to throw up

- Lucifer and everyone are like feeling relief and are glad you’re okay

- Almost wants to break mammon arms for holding you and barely letting anyone else get near you

- But he’s frozen in shock too

- Lucifer side eying Simon like,,,,, me too bro, but he has NO idea how to talk to him about that?

- Settles for holding you as tight as possible and whispering a prayer into your hair for protection

- Teaches you to use your angel powers

- But doubles down on his over protectiveness

- Helicopter angel now

- Which doesn’t really mesh well with Lucifer’s attachment anxiety

- will come pick you up at random ass times and whisk you away for no reason

- Like the exam is in a month why are you studying devildom history now???

- Causing Lucifer to freak the fuck out when he does his randomly scheduled MC room check-ups

- Doesn’t even think to text you before hyperventilating

- Luckily enough, the first time you come back with Simeon attached at the hip

- Him and Lucifer have gotten into it a few times over this

- Dia is forced to call a student council meeting without you present

- You and Luke think the meeting is tomorrow and are making snacks

- he’s like okay Simeon you can’t keep doing this

- And he goes OFF

- Like this is HIS fault for not watching and protecting you

- Like if this is supposed to be for human angels and demons to coexist you’re doing a shit job

- Almost single-handedly shuts down the program by saying he will take you home and make sure they never get near you ever again

- Lucifer feeling so much guilt he can’t breathe is trying to be in his best behavior and be rational, but Simeon is relentless

- He’s talking out the side of his neck until he snaps back on some “you’re literally following in Lilith’s footsteps! Do you not think that the celestial real won’t also deal out a punishment for MC? You falling from grace isn’t the only thing on the line here.”

- OOP

- It’s suddenly crickets

- Even Barbados is like 😦🫢

- He can’t even deny those allegations so he’s just like glaring at him

- Solomon steps in bc WOW this is getting crazy

- Reasons with him that because you have a pact with all of them now they CANT hurt you and you’re training under him as a sorcerer so you’ll be fully equipped to defend yourself from anything

- Simeon relents at least sitting back down in his chair

- Explains there really nobody best as a candidate for representing the three realms than you being a part of all three of them

- (Lilith when she died wasn’t an angel or a demon but something in between so in my head MC has always been all three; human demon and angel and that’s why they’re extra immune to demon magic)

- Simeon agreeing to chill out a little bit swearing if anything else ever happens to you, he wouldn’t hesitate to target whoever’s directly responsible

- Imagine how awkward the actual meeting is tomorrow 😭

- You’re having a great morning and everyone holding they breath

- Barbados my beloved is the only one who’s got enough sense and acting skills to act like nothing happened

- When you stop lord Doavolo mid-sentence to ask what the FUCK is up with these rancid vibes

- Barbatos kindly informs you that it’s the stress from a new school event that diavolo has yet to announce

- “It happens annually (lie) and it’s usually very exhausting to put together. Perhaps you can alleviate some of that for us.”

- Everyone subtlety lets out the breath they were holding seeing you so excited to help out

- Barbatos stirring the pot a little more ALSO suggests you run the maid bunny café

- Suddenly everyone forgets what the elephant in the room was and is now talking over each other

- There was no school event btw LMAO so they just had to make one up and then take three weeks to prepare for it.

- Great way to lift the spirits though✨

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Burn [Joel Miller]

this is my entry to Em's On Repeat Drabble Challenge by @dancingtotuyo. thank you so much for letting me be part of this and I am sorry for this took so long—life kinda got in the way—anyway, thanks for introducing me to Zach Bryan and for doing this amazing challenge.

Inspired by Burn, Burn, Burn by Zach Bryan

pairing: joel miller x reader

wordcount: 1K

warnings: none really

Joel Miller hasn’t let himself feel anything for a long while—not like this. 

For years he’s been a fortress of solitude—feelings locked away, emotions a luxury he couldn’t afford. Yet, in the midst of the chaos and the infected, moments slipped through—fragments that caught him off guard. Moments that reminded him he was still human, with a heart capable of beating.

Moments that often revolved around you.

When he met you, Joel wasn’t on a quest for companionship nor was he seeking an ally. Yet, there you were, bathed in the early spring mist—your presence painted with a brush of quiet desperation he knew all too well. Bruised and with a limp, you had asked him for help. And for some goddamn reason he couldn’t—wouldn’t—send you away.

Thus, you stayed, just long enough to recover, or so the plan went.

But plans, in times like these, are as fickle as a sudden summer breeze rustling the treetops.

Joel quickly learned that you were resourceful, observant, unassuming, and quiet on your feet, yet spectacularly precise with a rifle—a skill he discovered only days later when you came to his aid.

Since then, the two of you had faced near-death scrapes, saving each other’s lives more times than he cared to count in the short span you’ve traversed the landscapes together. This proximity, this forced closeness—it’s only natural that he finds himself curious.

It’s normal that most evenings, Joel finds himself watching you. The way the campfire light dances across your focused face, the methodical way you clean your gear. It’s calming, he finds, and scarily comforting. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t wanted it—perhaps that’s what makes it all the more dangerous.

Still, Joel can’t help it.

So, he observes and he wonders—if circumstances were different, if life had been kinder—would he have noticed someone like you? His old ideals of types and attraction have dissolved, and he hadn’t been in the company of someone for a long time, but Christ, you were beautiful.

And, Joel likes to imagine that yes, he would have noticed someone like you, would’ve asked you out, drawn you close, spun his favourite vinyls in his living room just to lure you into a dance, see if jazz sounded as good as he remembers it.

But not here. Not now.

So, Joel fights it, fights you, fights himself. Fights fights that leave him breathless—not from extortion but from the unspoken words that fill his lungs like smoke.

You don’t talk a lot, but he thinks that if he wasn’t the way he was—if he appeared less guarded, if his smiles came easier—you might share the slice of thoughts he often sees flickering behind your eyes ever so often. He knows this because he had watched you almost speak, lips parting, only to catch yourself with a fleeting glance his way a subdued smile before your eyes drop to your scuffed boots.

And he knows he isn’t an easy man to keep as a company. He had always been a man of few words, and with or without you, his silence somehow often stretches into days, creating a chasm that’s hard to bridge. He’s haunted by memories, shadows of the past that linger just out of reach but always present. Nightmares plague his sleep, and when he wakes, he’s more withdrawn, the walls around him fortified. His anger, though controlled, simmers beneath the surface, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

Yet, despite all this, you still stay.

But there comes a night, one unlike the others, when the stars hang heavy in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the world. The campfire crackles softly, and the usual weight of silence feels different, charged with something unsaid. 

Joel sits across from you, eyes flickering between the flames and your profile, bathed in the soft light.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and for once, you don’t look away. The moment stretches, and something inside him softens, a wall beginning to crumble.

“Can you do something for me?” he asks, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

You nod slowly, curiosity and something else—hope?—lighting your eyes.

“Talk to me,” he says, voice a low murmur, almost lost in the night’s quiet. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

You hesitate, glancing at the fire, before meeting his gaze again. “I think... I think I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Joel’s breath hitches. The openness in your voice, the raw vulnerability, seeps into him, warming the cold recesses of his heart. He moves closer, the distance between you shrinking, the fire casting dancing shadows on his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he confesses, his voice rough. “But I want to try.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. He takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might disappear.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The silence is no longer a barrier but a shared space, filled with the unspoken understanding that something has shifted. Joel’s thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, a soothing, grounding motion.

“I’ve been scared,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of feelin’... of losin’...”

You squeeze his hand, offering silent reassurance. “You don’t have to be scared alone,” you reply softly. “We can face it together.”

He looks at you then, and something within him clicks into place. The fortress he’s built around his heart begins to dissolve, brick by brick. He pulls you closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “Please.”

Your answer is a soft whisper against his lips as you close the distance, and he allows himself to feel—fully and completely. 

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure he minded.