#if you broke your arms and legs and need someone to call help there's no need to flail your limbs around your shouting was enough

[beautification-tales]

This Late bloomer Tale takes place after The Repisal and before The Betrayal.

The Preoccupation

A Late Bloomer Tale

Stacey sat across from Marsha in the tiny, dimly lit room. It was hard to tell if the shadows were cast by the poor lighting or the weight of their shared secrets. The walls were adorned with posters of sunsets and butterflies, a feeble attempt at adding color to a place that seemed to suck it out of you the moment you stepped inside. Stacey twisted her hands nervously in her lap, her gaze darting between Marsha's eyes and her lap, anywhere but at the form on the table between them.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet Marsha's steady gaze. "I... I didn't know where else to turn. I tried to stop, but I can't. I can't stop thinking about it, I can't stop wanting it. It's like... it's like a drug." Marsha laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. "Umm yeah Stacey! We’re succubi we have sex all the time. You know that, right? That's what we do. That's who we are." She leaned forward, her eyes burning with an intensity.

“I know, I know but it’s not sex… it’s him. I fucking hate him but I can’t stop wanting him. It feels so good to touch him. I’m thinking about him now and I’m so wet. I’m going crazy. I need help. I need to stop. Please, Marsha, help me stop." Stacey's voice broke as she confessed her darkest secret to her friend. Marsha sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she considered Stacey's words.

“Who is it? Just fuck and suck him and get it over with. You can move on then, right? I mean, that's what we do. That's our reality now." Marsha's words were like a slap in the face. Stacey flinched and felt a stinging sensation in her cheeks. "You don't understand. He's different. It's not just sex for me... it's him. He's everything." She paused, trying to find the right words to explain. "When I'm with him, it's like my entire being is consumed by him. I can't think about anything else. I can't cum without thinking about him."

Marsha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Oh, please. You sound like some lovesick human girl. We're succubi now, Stacey. We're not supposed to care about that shit." Stacey felt a tear trickle down her cheek. "But I do care. And I need help. I don't want to feel like this anymore." Marsha sighed, her expression softening slightly. "Fine, when you “bloomed” the first time, what were you thinking about?”

Stacey swallowed hard, reliving the memory. She'd enjoyed the feeling of pleasure when it happened. She had never been touched or even kissed before she bloomed. When she was crying out in pure bliss a picture did play in her mind. It flashed so quickly that she nearly forgot about it. “I thought about fucking Peter.” She looked up at Marsha, hoping her friend would understand. But Marsha's expression was unreadable.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up… Peter?! The last person on the planet to think about and you thought about that limp dick?” Marsha asked incredulously. She leaned forward, her expression now somewhere between confused and concerned. Stacey nodded, feeling a knot form in her stomach. Marsha shook her head and sighed.

“Well what I learned from my maker is our first desire must be fulfilled. Mine was Tom, Ruby was Mark. I thought yours was revenge but you actually… want Peter…ew” Marsha trailed off, looking at Stacey like she had just discovered she had a second head. Stacey felt her face flush red, she knew how much of a loser Peter was now, how he used to bully her and now she wanted him. She didn't know how to explain it.

Marsha leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she studied Stacey. "Okay, I have an idea… but you’re not going to like it.” Stacey looked up, hopeful.

The next day

Peter heard the sound of someone coming down the steps to his room. He quickly turned around from his computer desk and lowered his headphones. “Mom?” he called out. There was a pause, and then the steps continued as he saw the toned legs in sandal heels and jean shorts. Peter began to sweat knowing who it might be. Stacey’s tall svelte figure was in full view now. Peter gulped as he could feel his fight or flight response.

“Stacey… please. Please no more…” Peter pleaded as she came closer to him. She sneered at him and sat upon his bed with legs crossed. “Hmm don’t worry Peter, I’m not here to feed you.” She arched her back thrusting her breasts outward. “I know you want to taste it though. I’m here to talk.” Peter felt a chill run down his spine. He knew she was serious.

Stacey glanced around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings. It was strange, she thought, how many times she came to this room to torture Peter. “I want you to be honest. Why did you bully me… every single day?” She asked as her eyes glowed. Peter swallowed hard, knowing that he couldn't lie to her.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "Because you were the only girl on campus who didn’t know how to stand up for herself. Being a jerk was such a rush… I couldn’t help myself.” Stacey narrowed her eyes. It was true; he was a bully because he was insecure and shallow. Stacey got up and wrapped her fingers around Peter’s neck. Peter whimpered as he could feel Stacey’s rage.

“I hate you so fucking much…. But I hate myself because I’ve become just like you.” Stacey whispered as she squeezed his neck. Tears welled up in Peter's eyes as he felt a tightness in his chest. He knew what Stacey was capable of and he didn't want to die. "I can’t live like this anymore. I thought ruining your life would be enough. Instead I keep coming back here. I need to be free of you. So I have to give up my power.” Stacey let go of his neck and stepped back. She looked at him, studying his face. Peter inhaled quickly, relieved that she didn't kill him.

“What does that mean?” Peter asked, his voice shaky. Stacey looked at him with a softness in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. “I renounce my power!” she exclaimed, holding her hands above her head. With a sudden burst of energy, she let out a primal scream and collapsed to the floor. Peter watched in shock as her body convulsed, her limbs twitching uncontrollably. It felt as if the air around him had turned electric. He knew what was happening, but he couldn't believe it.

Stacey's arms and legs shrunk into her body . Her skin gained spots and acne. Her hair fell flat losing its luster as if life had been sucked out of it. Her breasts deflated and her hips shrunk. She gained weight as her belly lost muscle. In moments she had returned into her former self.

She let out a long, shuddering breath as she finally stopped convulsing. Peter stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What... what happened to you?" he managed to whisper.

Stacey looked up at him, her once-beautiful face now marred by the effects of her transformation. "I'm no longer a succubus," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm human again." Peter still couldn't believe his eyes. He had never seen anything like this before.

Peter felt a pain in his gut. He wasn't sure what it could be as the pain increased. He clutched his stomach as he doubled over. His clothes felt tight around him, choking him. "What's happening to me?" he gasped out, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. The pain was excruciating, worse than anything he'd ever experienced.

Stacey, now back to her human form, watched in shock as Peter's body began to change. His clothes stretched tight against his skin, feeling impossibly small. His gut evaporated away as his abdomen toned into a six pack. His arms and legs swelled, with muscle. His features distorted, his once-fat plain face becoming angular as his jawline became pronounced. Peter’s pants tore as his tiny dick grew into a size belonging to an alpha. "No," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "This isn't supposed to happen."

“Ungh, I’m back!” Peter roared as he stood up, flexing his newly defined muscles. His clothes hung loose on his body, as if they were designed for someone much smaller. His chest was broad and his abs chiseled, revealing a six-pack that made him look like a Greek god. His face was no longer fat and plain, but sharp and handsome. Even his dick, which had once been small and pathetic, was now a massive, throbbing cock. He felt powerful and invincible.

Stacey was cowering on the floor, shocked and terrified by the transformation that had just taken place. Peter, now the embodiment of everything she despised, towered over her. His muscles rippled and his cock throbbed as he stared down at her, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips. Peter with quickness picked up Stacey.He brought her face to face with him. "You bitch! You ruined my life for some mean words? You terrorized me for weeks! Now it’s my turn! You fucking cow."

Stacey tried to struggle, but Peter's grip was like iron. "Let me go!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "You don't understand! This wasn't supposed to happen!" Peter scowled “ Now you feel sorry? I got expelled, I lost my friends! You took everything from me and I fucking hate you!” He slammed her onto his bed, the mattress pressing into her back. He got on top of her and grabbed her neck. “How do you like it? Scary isn’t it?” His fingers tightened, cutting off her air.

Stacey struggled underneath him as her hips squirmed against his. Peter’s eyes fluttered as the feeling of pleasure built in his pants. Peter loosened his grip as Stacey couched out. “You… you started it.” She gasped for breath as Peter looked down at her. His expression was one of pure anger mixed with desire. He growled in frustration before roughly pinning her arms above her head. His other hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as his hips began to rock against hers.

Stacey felt his hardness pressing against her, and a feeling of warmth filled her body. She knew she shouldn't want this, but she couldn't help herself. As Peter's hips rocked against hers, she arched her back, meeting his movements with a fierce hunger. His hand gripped her breast roughly, squeezing and pinching, sending waves of pleasure through her. She felt his other hand slide down between their bodies, teasing at her wetness.

“You fucking bitch. I get it now. You wished your bully fucked you.. huh?” Peter whispered, his voice shaky. Peter's eyes narrowed as he continued to thrust against her, his cock tenting his pants. Peter ripped the remnants of his pants off his body as did the same to Stacey’s denim shorts. They looked at each other confused yet hungry for one another. Peter slid into her with ease as Stacey gasped feeling his large member stretch her vaginal walls. “This is crazy!” Stacey moaned.

“I know but I can’t stop…I don’t want to stop.” Peter grunted as he thrust harder, his cock filling her completely. His hips slapped against her ass, and she felt his hot breath against her neck. The sensation of being so completely dominated and possessed sent a shiver of desire through her. She couldn't believe how much she was enjoying this, how much she wanted him to keep going.

“I want you to say my name Peter!” Stacey demanded, Peter gripping Stacey's hair as his hips continued to thrust. Stacey arched her back, feeling his words more than hearing them. She moaned, the sound coming from deep within her. Her nails dug into his back as he thrust harder, deeper. The sensation of being taken so roughly, of losing herself in this moment, was exhilarating. She felt his hand slide between their bodies, teasing at her clit as he thrust into her.

“Ungh, Stacey!” Peter growled as he felt her body tighten around him. Her nails dug into his back, urging him on. He thrust deeper, harder, relishing the feel of her body beneath him. Stacey shook her head as she licked her lips putting her hand on Peter’s face. “ No, not that one” she breathed as her other hand reached between them, rubbing her clit.

Peter looked down at her, their faces mere inches apart. His chest heaved as he panted, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. He wanted to tear her apart with his eyes, drinking in every detail of her face. “You like this? You fucking cow!” he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. Stacey arched her back, her lips parting as she reveled in the feeling of his rough hands on her skin.

“Moo you bastard! Now make me cum! Give it to me, Peter! Take your anger out on my pussy. Be my bully! Fuck the cow. Fuck, that feels so good. Don’t stop, I'm so close, so close. Fuck, Peter! Yes, that's it! OH GOD, PETER! I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING FOR YOU!" Stacey cried out as her body shook with release. Her breathing was heavy, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, her inner muscles clenching around his cock in rhythmic spasms.

Peter felt the tightening of her body, the way she arched into him, and with a growl that came from deep within his chest, he let go, pulsing inside her as he came, his hips bucking roughly against her. He gripped her hair, her shoulders, anything he could as he lost himself in the sensation of her body milking him, claiming him.

Her cries echoed in his ears, driving him even further, her nails digging into his back in a way that only seemed to heighten the pleasure coursing through him. As he finally collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, his heart racing, he knew that something had shifted between them. It was more than just lust or the need to release tension. It was something deeper, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He rolled off of her as they both panted catching their breath. Peter looked at her, his gaze searching her face. He had never looked at anyone quite like this before. There was something different about her, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "I...I don't know what just happened," he murmured, his voice hoarse.

Stacey propped herself up on one elbow, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and desire. "I...I don't know either," she whispered. She traced her finger down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. "But I think...I think I like it." She bit her lip, still struggling to comprehend what had just transpired between them.

“I still hate you” Stacey said, smiling at him as she traced her finger down his chest. He smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through his body at her touch. “I fucking hate you, cow.” He growled, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Hmmm” she hummed, pushing him onto his back as she rolled onto him. He let out a groan as her body morphed instantly back to her amazing stacked proportions.

“That’s better!” Stacey smiled as she gyrated her hips on Peter. Peter’s eyes went wide as he realized he was tricked. “You lying bitch!” He growled. His hands gripped her hips, urging her to move faster. He felt his cock spring to attention once again. She guided his member into her. “Oh please you loved fucking my fat body. You are just upset I got you to show your deepest desire. You really think I was going to give up my power for a limp dick loser?” Peter groaned as he thrust deeper making her squeal. “Does that feel limp? That’s why you gave me my old body back right? You wanted my big cock, didn’t you?”

Stacey cried out as Peter’s dick filled her. His cruel words made her shiver with pleasure. Peter felt the muscles in her core grip him tighter. He was lost in the feeling of being wanted, desired. It was intoxicating. He kissed her passionately, their tongues tangling as they moved together in a frenzy. Stacey with amazing strength grabbed Peter’s hair as she pulled his head toward her bosom. Peter licked Stacey’s nipples as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Admit it Peter! Admit you wanted me even back then.” Stacey teased as she ground her hips against him, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Peter growled, his fingers digging into her hips as he thrust deeper. He couldn't remember wanting anything more than this, than to feel her body move against his, to feel her warmth envelop him.

Peter shook his head. “No bitch you admit it first. My bullying got you wet and awoke your humiliation kink. Say it!” He growled, feeling her body tense beneath him. He thrust harder, feeling the heat of her core surrounding him. They looked at each other deeply as they continued to move together. Sweat glistened on their bodies as they gasped for air,

their breaths mixing in the air between them.

It was a game of chicken. They both held on as long as they could. It was Peter who felt his stamina waning as his desire to climax grew. “I… admit it! I wanted you back then. You were the only one who got me going.I knew you hated me but I knew you thought about me. It made me so hard at night. I wanted you to beg for me to stop, wanted you to need me. You were my dirty little secret, Stacey. My filthy fantasy come to life. And now... now look at you. You’re just as twisted as I am. You fucking evil bitch." He growled, thrusting harder.

“You made me this way! Now give me your cum” Stacey whispered, her breath hot against his ear as she moved her hips faster. She felt him begin to lose control, the tension in his body giving way as he released himself deep inside her. With a moan, she arched her back, her breasts pressed against his chest as she came as well, her muscles clenching around him in a powerful spasm.

A week later

“So they’re letting him back into school?” Ruby asked Stacey, her voice filled with disbelief. The two of them were sitting in the cafeteria, sharing a table with Marsha. “Well, I just had to f.” Ruby interrupted Stacey’s answer and raised her hand to gesture stop. “Forget I asked. I walked into that one.” Stacey smiled.

Marsha looked a bit concerned as Stacey seemed to blush. “Are you in love?” she asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. Stacey laughed, shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so but…. Mmmm I’m like Naigara falls down there just thinking about it.”

Ruby looked impressed. "So you're saying hate fucking is amazing?” she asked with a sly grin. Stacey laughed, nodding. "It's intense. Like nothing else. You can't help but feel this weird sort of... connection with them. Like they know all your buttons and they're just pushing them. I wanted revenge but I also….wanted him to be mean to me…with his cock in me.” Stacey giggled.

“Ok then keep fucking him. Why help him get back in school?” Marsha asked, clearly not understanding the motivation behind Stacey's actions. Stacey leaned in and lowered her voice. “It’s because he can help us. Think about it Marsha. Your maker told you to build a sisterhood here. Who better to help us find and create our last sister like a sadistic bully.”

“Can I hate fuck him?” Ruby asked eagerly, her eyes shining with anticipation. Stacey laughed and shook her head. “Find your own bully” she teased. Ruby and Stacey shared a laugh before Stacey grew serious again. "But you know I’m right Marsha. It’s been harder to find the last one without a guy like Peter around here.”

Marsha looked deep in thought. She then shook her head in disagreement. "You're wrong. We are creating a new era! One were fuckbois like Peter knew their place. We are not going backward. You had your fun. Turn that fucktard fat again and leave him in his mom’s basement.”

Stacey frowned, her gaze hard. "But I pulled all the stops to get him back in." Marsha’s eyes glowed. “You heard me. Peter isn’t one of us. He is just food. So go turn him back to a limp dick and never speak of that fucktard again.”

Ruby grimaced as she noticed the tension between her sisters.

“Why the fuck should I? You get Tom right? Why can’t I have Pete?” Stacey said leaning close to Marsha. “I’m your maker so what I say goes. I helped you get him out of your system. So move the fuck on!”

“Or what?” Stacey growled refusing to back down. “Or this!” Stacey gasped as she felt a tingle in her breasts. “Can’t be the cow without milk.. right?” Marsha said coldly. Stacey grabbed at her bosom as she felt her unending well dry up. Marsha’s eyes glowed “You want to see what else I can take from you? Now go!”

Stacey got up to fulfill her maker’s request. She quietly began to walk out.“Oh and Stacey” Stacey turned around with a sad face to respond to her maker. “No staying for dinner, just do what I said, kay?” Stacey nodded in agreement and looked down defeated.

Marsha looked at Ruby “don’t worry sometimes sisters fight. She’ll come to her senses.” Ruby nodded as they watched Stacey leave.

A male student approached the two ladies. He looked puzzled as he held his tray of food. “Umm might not be any of my business but do you ladies eat at all?”

The two ladies looked at him then each other and smiled. Ruby spoke up. “I’m actually very hungry.” Her eyes glowed as the man placed his tray on the table as Ruby got up and took the guy by his hand. “I’ll see you later” she said to Marsha with a wink as she led him off to the side.

“Have you ever bullied anyone?” Ruby asked the guy as Marsha shook her head and laughed.

[priffi]

they're both assholes, can we acknowledge that? he did some shit but he also doesn't deserve the extra shit she's doing. she's allowed to speak out but she's not allowed to bring that extra pain. there's a reason he's coming back and it's not because he wants to but because he has to my god

[pucksandpower]

Break In, Breakdown

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: when a break in destroys your peace of mind, Charles is determined to do all he can to help you regain it

Warnings: armed forcible entry

You wake with a start, your heart pounding. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the spacious apartment.

You sit up slowly, straining to hear any other noises over the hammering of your pulse. Charles is away for the night, called suddenly to Maranello earlier to test new upgrades.

You’re alone.

Sliding out from beneath the covers, you tiptoe to the bedroom door and ease it open. The living room is cast in shadow, shards of moonlight slicing through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Broken glass glitters across the hardwood. A cool breeze drifts in through the now empty pane.

You freeze, listening. The only sound is the thudding of your heart. Whoever broke in must still be here. You consider your options. The front door is on the other side of the living room — you would never make it. The balcony? No, you’re too high up.

That leaves only one choice. The bathroom.

As soundlessly as you can, you close the bedroom door and lock it, then dash on trembling legs into the en-suite bathroom. You lock this door too, then scramble for your phone. Your hands are slick with cold sweat as you dial Charles’ number.

“Hello?” His voice, groggy with sleep, comes over the line. In the background, you hear the muffled sounds of his hotel room.

“Charles!” You whisper urgently. “Someone broke into the apartment!”

“What?” All traces of sleepiness vanish from his tone. Fabric rustles as he sits up quickly. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m locked in the bathroom. I heard glass breaking and got scared. I didn’t know what else to do!” Your voice cracks as you struggle to keep it low. Tears blur your vision.

“Shh shh, it’s okay. You did the right thing.” Charles soothes. “Did you see anyone?”

You hug your knees to your chest. “No, the living room was empty when I looked. But they have to still be here!”

A tense silence. Then rapid French. You imagine Charles running a hand through his tousled hair, brow creased in thought.

“The police are on their way,” he says finally. “They’ll be there soon. Just stay hidden and keep talking to me, alright?”

You nod before remembering he can’t see you. “Okay.”

For a few moments, the only sounds are your shaky breathing and the muffled noises of Charles moving around his hotel room. You flinch as a loud bang echoes through the apartment, followed by heavy footsteps. Whoever broke in is still here, and on the move.

“I heard something,” you whisper to Charles. “I think they’re looking for me.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Charles’ voice remains steady, but you hear the undercurrent of fear. “Help is coming. Just stay quiet and-”

He cuts off as the bathroom doorknob rattles violently. You slap a hand over your mouth to hold in a scream.

“Y/N? What was that?” Charles demands.

“They’re trying to get in!” You whimper. “The doorknob ...”

Another bang shakes the door. You scramble into the empty bathtub, trying to make yourself smaller. If they get in here, you have nowhere to go.

“Y/N, listen to me.” Charles speaks urgently. “I need you to stay calm. Breathe. The police will be there any minute.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears leaking down your cheeks. “Okay,” you whisper.

The intruder hammers on the door again. Wood splinters — it won’t hold much longer. You think of Charles’ smile, his bright green eyes. You wish more than anything he was here with you now, holding you in his strong arms. But he’s hours away, and can do nothing but listen helplessly as danger looms.

“Charles?” You say softly.

“Yes? I’m right here.” His voice cracks.

“I love you.” You put as much feeling into the words as you can. Just in case they’re your last. “So much.”

“Oh god, Y/N ...” Charles trails off. You hear a muffled sob. “I love you too. More than you can imagine. You mean everything to me.”

The bathroom door splinters open. A masked figure looms in the doorway, gun glinting dully in their hand. Your scream lodges in your throat.

Charles is saying your name, voice panicked. You can’t find the air to respond. This is it. You close your eyes as the intruder raises their gun.

A deafening bang. Your scream. Then … nothing.

When you force your eyes open, the intruder is being detained on the floor. In their place stand two police officers, weapons drawn.

“Madame, are you hurt?” One officer approaches slowly, holstering his gun.

You shake your head mutely. On the phone, Charles is frantically calling your name.

“I’m okay,” you gasp out. “The police are here.”

Charles’ ragged exhale echoes your own shaking breath. You cling to the phone like a lifeline. He murmurs reassuring words as the officers help you from the tub and wrap a blanket around your shoulders.

When you finally end the call, your hands shake so badly you nearly drop the phone. You wish desperately to feel his arms around you.

But the police insist no one can enter until the scene is processed. You wait alone on the sofa, raw fear seeping from your bones and leaving you limp and exhausted. As dawn lightens the shattered window frames, Charles’ car screeches into the street. He’s still in a rumpled t-shirt and pajama pants, hair wild from raking his fingers through it. The moment his gaze lands on you, he’s across the room, gathering you against his chest. You cling to him, finally letting the terrified tears fall.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” he murmurs against your hair.

You breathe him in, the familiar smell of his skin and cologne. Here, wrapped in his embrace, you can almost believe the words are true.

***

Morning light filters through the blinds of Charles’ childhood bedroom, casting stripes across the quilt tucked around you.

It’s strange, being surrounded by remnants of his boyhood. Posters of racing legends. Miniature models of the Ferrari Enzo and Michael Schumacher’s F2002. A framed picture of a beaming preteen Charles standing in front of a gleaming kart. You trail your eyes over the silver trophies lining the shelves. Hard to believe that bright-eyed boy would become your own champion one day.

It seems easier to focus on the distant past than to think about the present.

You’ve barely slept, your body tense as a livewire beneath the covers. Every small noise makes you flinch.

Charles’ arms tighten around you. His chest rises and falls steadily with sleep against your back. Being here, wrapped securely in his embrace, is the only thing that kept hysteria at bay through the long night.

You shift carefully in his arms, turning to study his face. His features are relaxed, lips parted slightly. Dark stubble shadows his jaw. He looks younger like this, the crease between his brows smoothed away. You reach out to brush an unruly lock of hair off his forehead.

At your touch, his brows pinch. Slowly his eyes drift open, blinking against the sunlight. He offers a drowsy smile.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi.” You try to return the smile, but it wavers. Being awake again means facing the suffocating weight of remembered fear.

Charles’ own smile fades. Propping himself up on one elbow, he reaches to cradle your face in his palm. “How are you feeling?”

You open your mouth to respond, but your throat closes up. You just shake your head, feeling the sting of tears.

“Oh, mon amour.” Charles pulls you against his chest. You cling to him, fighting back sobs.

He begins to slowly stroke your hair. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

You do, great heaving sobs muffled in his t-shirt. He holds you silently, lips moving against your hair in a continuous litany of comfort.

When the storm of weeping passes, you keep your head tucked beneath his chin. His steady heartbeat thumps against your cheek.

“I’m scared,” you whisper finally.

His arms tighten around you. “I know. But I promise, you’re safe here. No one can hurt you.”

You nod against his chest. But the truth haunts you — nowhere feels safe anymore. Not when someone invaded the place you called home. Violated your very sense of security.

Sensing your spiraling thoughts, Charles pulls back. He tilts your chin up until your tearful gaze meets his.

“Listen to me. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you feel safe again. We’ll find a new apartment, one with top of the line security. I’ll hire personal protection to be with you whenever I can’t. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

You search his eyes, finding only earnestness and love shining back. “You’d really do all that for me?”

He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Of course. I’d move heaven and earth for you. Your safety and peace of mind are the most important things in the world to me.”

Fresh tears well in your eyes, but this time touched by gratitude. You lean in to brush a soft kiss over his lips. “Thank you. Just … thank you.”

He smiles tenderly, kissing the tip of your nose. “Always.”

The bedroom door creaks open slowly. Charles’ mother peers in.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” She bustles into the room bearing a heavily laden breakfast tray. “I’ve brought up some breakfast. You both must be famished.”

She settles the tray over your laps before perching on the edge of the bed. Reaching out, she pats your blanket-covered knee.

“How are you holding up, dear?” Her eyes, so like your husband’s, are full of maternal concern.

You muster a shaky smile. “As well as I can be. Thank you again for letting us stay here.”

“Of course, of course!” She waves a hand. “You’re family. Mi casa es su casa, as they say.”

Charles reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he smiles gratefully at his mother. “We really appreciate it, Maman. This means the world to us right now.”

Pascale pats his cheek fondly. “I’m always here if you need me. Both of you.” She stands. “Now, eat up while it’s still warm!”

After the door clicks shut behind Pascale, Charles passes you a mug of hot tea. The chamomile soothes your frayed nerves. Under Charles’ attentive care, you manage to eat a few bites of crepe. But your appetite remains muted, stomach churning with anxiety.

Sensing your lingering unease, Charles sets the tray aside. He shifts down on the bed, resting his head on the pillow beside yours. You roll onto your side facing him.

His hand comes up to trail soothingly along your arm. “Talk to me. What can I do?”

You chew your lower lip. “Just hold me? I’m still feeling really shaky.”

“Of course.” He opens his arms and you nestle against his chest. His steady heartbeat thumps beneath your ear.

You cling to him like a life raft, fighting against the rising tide of panic. “I can’t stop imagining it all happening again. What if they find us again?”

Charles frames your face in both hands. His gaze bores fiercely into yours. “Listen to me. I will never let anyone hurt you. Not here, not anywhere. I promise you that.”

His passionate sincerity helps loosen the iron bands constricting your lungs. You can breathe a little easier.

“Okay.” You whisper. “I trust you.”

He presses a fervent kiss to your forehead. “I’ll do whatever it takes to rebuild that sense of safety for you. For now, just try to rest. You’re exhausted.”

He’s right. Bone-deep fatigue drags at you. But every time you close your eyes, visions of leering masked faces loom in the darkness. You shrink closer to Charles with a whimper.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” His arms tighten around you. “Focus on me, the sound of my voice. Picture us somewhere you feel totally at peace.”

You press your ear over his heart again, letting its steady rhythm center you. “Tell me about it? The peaceful place.”

“Hmm ...” He strokes your hair thoughtfully. “How about a tropical island? Powder-fine sand, so white it’s nearly blinding. The water so perfectly blue and clear, like colored glass. Gentle waves lapping the shore.”

You can picture it perfectly with the aid of his lyrical descriptions. The sun warming your skin, Charles’ hand clasped in yours as you stroll the beach. A light breeze tossing his hair as his laughter mingles with the cries of seabirds.

“There’s a little cabana right on the water, with an open balcony and gauzy curtains fluttering in the wind ...”

Lulled by Charles’ calming voice, you feel your body slowly relax, sinking into the mattress. He continues spinning vivid visions until you finally drift off. Safe in the circle of his arms, nightmares can’t reach you.

When you wake, sunlight slants through the blinds at a different angle.

Afternoon.

You’re curled on your side, Charles a solid weight against your back. His chin rests atop your head, arms wound protectively around you even in sleep.

You snuggle back into his embrace. For the first time since the break in, you feel a spark of hope. With Charles by your side, you know you’ll get through this. He’ll keep you safe.

***

Keys jangle outside the door of your new apartment. You look up from your book with a smile as Charles steps inside, hiding something behind his back.

“What are you up to?” You ask, marking your page. Ever since you moved, Charles has been full of little surprises to help you feel at home.

He grins, eyes glinting. “I have someone who wants to meet you.” From behind his back he produces a tiny black Doberman puppy with soulful dark eyes. It squirms eagerly in his hands.

You gasp, immediately reaching for the pup. Its pink tongue darts out to lick your fingertips. “You didn’t!”

Charles laughs. “I wanted to get you a guard dog, one specially trained to protect you. She’ll go everywhere with us once she’s fully grown.”

Cradling the puppy to your chest, you nuzzle into her silky fur. Her tail thumps happily against your arm. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest little guard dog ever,” you coo. Looking into her deep brown eyes, one name springs to mind.

“I think I’ll call her Princess Fluffykins.” You grin up at Charles.

He rubs a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Princess Fluffykins it is.”

The newly christened Princess Fluffykins snuggles into you with a contented whine. Over the next few weeks she rarely leaves your side. At night she curls up at the foot of the bed, a tiny furry protector. During the day she trots after you from room to room, always alert for any signs of danger.

But none of her vigilance stops her from demanding regular belly rubs or stealing socks to play with. Princess Fluffykins she may be, but she’s still a puppy at heart.

As the weeks pass, she sprouts into a leggy adolescent, all huge paws and awkward angles. But her devotion never wavers. She accompanies you everywhere, even to Charles’ races.

The first time you arrive at a circuit with Princess Fluffykins straining at her leash, you get some strange looks. People eye the muscular dog warily, giving you a wide berth. Princess Fluffykins has matured into an intimidating specimen, despite the sparkly pink collar now circling her thick neck.

Charles just grins, ruffling her perked ears. “I know she looks scary, but I promise she’s a softie,” he assures the dubious Ferrari mechanics. Right on cue, Princess Fluffykins flops to her back, tail wagging furiously until someone gives in and rubs her belly. Charles winks at you. “See?”

When Charles disappears into briefings or practice sessions, Princess Fluffykins patrols tirelessly by your side. She positions herself between you and anyone who approaches, watchful eyes tracking each stranger. But the moment she detects true danger, her demeanor shifts in an instant.

One particularly eventful race weekend, a drunken fan gets belligerent shoving past you for an autograph. Princess Fluffykins is on him in a flash, knocking him back with a deep bellow. He recoils instantly, throwing his hands up and stammering apologies. You cling to Princess Fluffykins’ collar as she nudges you protectively behind her muscular bulk.

“Good girl,” you murmur, stroking her bristling fur until she relaxes. Over Princess Fluffykins’ broad head, you give the chastened fan a polite smile. Message received.

As you make your way to the garage, passerby give you and your four-legged bodyguard a wide berth. But Princess Fluffykins ignores the murmurs, attention fixed devotedly on you. Her responsibilities may be serious, but everything about her remains hilariously contradictory — the bejeweled collar, fluffy fur, even her tendency to doze off using Charles’ race boots as a pillow. You wouldn’t have her any other way.

Over time, Princess Fluffykins becomes as much a fixture at races as Charles himself. On mornings when you’re feeling anxious, you clip on Princess Fluffykins’ leash and walk the familiar route to the paddock, drawing comfort from each heavy footstep echoing your own. The bulk of her pressing against your legs makes you feel sheltered … protected.

When Charles is busy with sponsor events and interviews, Princess Fluffykins is your constant companion. She positions her large frame strategically to keep you shielded from jostling fans in the crowded paddock. Her intimidating presence and rumbling growl are enough to make even boisterous enthusiasts reconsider approaching too closely at the wild after parties.

At night in hotel rooms, Princess Fluffykins curls up on the foot of the bed, ever alert. The sound of her steady breathing soothes you to sleep. And in new cities where sounds and shadows put you on edge, her solid weight pinning your feet beneath the blankets makes you feel anchored.

On bad nights when phantom terrors jerk you awake, Princess Fluffykins’ huge head rises at your distress, the light glinting off her collar. She pads up the bed to nuzzle your cheek until the panic fades.

Over time, Princess Fluffykins’ watchful presence steadies something deep inside you. Late at night, her snores harmonize with Charles’ to drive away the ghosts. Her grinning face waiting eagerly by the door when you return from a quick trip to the shops makes your apartment feel like home again. When you scratch beneath her chin, for a moment you forget about the threat, remembering only softness.

On the anniversary of the break in, emotions run close to the surface. You’re quiet on the drive to the paddock, hands knotted tightly in Princess Fluffykins’ fur. But when the time comes to part ways with Charles for the day, you find courage in Princess Fluffykins’ wiggly butt and lolling tongue. You give Charles an extra fierce hug, breathing him in.

“Love you,” you murmur into his shoulder.

Charles cradles your face in his hands, eyes serious. “I love you too. We’ve made it through so much this past year. You amaze me more every day.”

You lean into him a moment longer before braving a tremulous smile. “Go show them what you’ve got.”

With Princess Fluffykins a steady presence at your side, the day passes in a blur of heat and roaring engines. When at last Charles appears, wreathed in sweat and victory, you leap into his arms with a joyful shout. Laughing, he swings you around before setting you down to ruffle Princess Fluffykins’ ears.

“I think this calls for celebrating, what do you say?” His eyes are bright with triumph and love.

You lean down to adjust Princess Fluffykins’ glittering collar before twining your fingers through your husband’s. “I say absolutely.”

Though the path forward held both beauty and pain, with loyal souls like them by your side, you never had to walk it alone.

[xoluvx]

sit on it (respectfully); b.eilish

part one

One night. Just one night is all you needed. Just to satisfy your hunger. She'd given you a taste, but you wanted the whole thing. Then you could go back to being friends and all would be well in the world.

One night of wild passionate sex wouldn't hurt, right?

Your bodies stumbled into her room. A room that'd just been so ordinary earlier that day but was now holy ground as your bodies pressed together moaning into each others' mouths. Billie played with the hem of your shirt as you pulled on her hair.

"Take it off, take it off," you begged out of breath as if the fabric was burning your skin. You didn't want to waste time if it was only one night. There were only so many hours left to indulge.

Billie pulled your shirt off with equal desperation and watched as your breasts broke free. No bra.

No underwear and no bra. You were full of surprises.

At dinner, you hadn't even bothered to hide it. What'd just gone down a few hours ago was still on your mind; replaying like a broken record.

“What are you thinking about?” Billie had noticed your sudden silence. The way you picked at your food like you’d lost your appetite. You looked up catching her eyes in a knowing look. It wasn’t hard to guess what you were thinking about.

“Okay, but be honest. Respectfully-" she raised her brows. "-did you enjoy yourself?” Billie asked leaning in trying to lighten the mood. Her voice almost in a whisper. Her eyes shone, bottom lip tucked under her teeth waiting for your answer.

“Enjoy myself?” You asked cheekily trying to move past this conversation.

“Sitting on my cock,” she whispered not bothering to look around and see if someone could hear.

“Stop calling it your cock,” you rolled your eyes remembering the way she’d asked you to cum on it earlier and that comment alone was part of the reason you came in the first place.

“What? I bought it, it’s mine,” Billie’s eyes widened before grinning.

“And I’ll take that as a yes,” her hand touched yours when she reached for a fry on your plate. You swallowed watching her closely. Her lips wrapping around the salty potato. Did she have to make everything so sexual or had she always been this way?

It was most definitely the latter recalling the way she’s jerked off the dildo feigning a moan that sounded very much like the ones she released when you were riding her.

Billie sat closer. Your bodies almost huddled in the large booth like you were exchanging secrets. But the only secret you had was that you'd rode your best friend and wanted to do it again.

Her hand found its way to your thigh naturally. Your legs were crossed and you were a mess. She glanced at you with an 'is this okay?' look and your eyes said it all. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Her hand inched further up your thigh until she felt your pussy. You weren't wearing underwear. She hadn't seen you slip them off in her room.

Then she moved hand from your thigh, leaving you in utter confusion.

But right now there was nothing confusing about the way she looked at your body. You knew she wanted to eat you alive and you'd agreed on making this a night to indulge.

"Fuck. Me." Billie's voice was low as she drooled at the sight of your breasts. They were so perfect and welcoming. She held your hips staring. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders coming close to her ear.

"I plan to," you whispered, your voice sultry as your tongue ran up her neck. A new found confidence sparked within.

"Ugh," Billie moaned furrowing your brows like she'd just bust in her underwear. She very well could have from that comment alone. Wild thoughts ran through her mind and she pictured all the ways she could fuck you in the hours to come.

Your tongue was wet along her jaw finding your way to her lips. There was something so taboo and sacred about this moment. Your tongues wrestling for dominance, your lips touching, your hands roaming each others' bodies. Billie tugged at your skirt and you helped her slide it off rapidly.

You were completely naked in the arms of your best friend and somehow you were okay with that.

"You're wearing too much clothes," you whispered against her lips as her hands touched every place possible.

"Take it off then," she challenged stepping away from you. She glanced up and down drinking you in. You felt hot and flushed and desperate. The way she was biting her lip waiting patiently for you to strip her was so fucking hot and you had one night to savor it. To drown in it.

You never broke eye contact. You touched the bottom of her shirt. Your fingers curled around the fabric tugging at it. She lifted her arms and you pulled the shirt over her head, her hair getting messy in the process and oh my god it was possible for her to be hotter.

The eye contact was broken when your eyes lingered on her breasts. They looked so delicious in the lacy red fabric, her skin peeking through the sheer material.

You dropped her shirt heading for her jeans; the new pair of jeans she'd put on because you'd totally ruined the last pair. Your fingers toyed with the buckle of her belt until your hands were unbuttoning her pants.

"Wow. Matching set. Did you plan this?" you teased looking at the tiny pair of underwear before meeting her gaze. There was a glint in her eye and a cocky smile on her lips. But she felt so much smaller stripped down to tiny fabric. Unlike you. You were taking control and you felt bold.

You wrapped your arms around her neck, your fingers tangling in her hair pulling on it gently urging her to moan. Her lips parted as she looked at yours hungrily. You kissed her as she pushed your body back towards the bed.

When the back of your legs hit the mattress she held you tight making sure you didn’t injure yourself on the way down. Her thigh pressed between your thighs sinking the mattress as she hovered over you, lips still connecting passionately. You felt her hand rustling on the bed until she pulled away.

“Should I wash it?” She asked holding the strap recalling what happened earlier.

“No, god Billie just fuck me please,” you begged fisting the sheets. Billie had never heard this side of you. Not only were you yearning and whiny, but you’d asserted yourself in the same way she had earlier that night. The roles switched.

She swallowed before nodding, strapping the harness to her body. She was at a lost for words, her previous cocky demeanor shattered by your desperation.

Your gaze was intimidating as you held your body up with your elbows, your feet planted on the bed, legs slightly open.

“Take that off,” you exclaimed motioning towards her bra. Billie unhooked it letting her breasts break free. They really were a sight. You bit your lip as she approached you. Thigh between your legs again, hand on your jaw kissing you softly as your hand dragged up the side of her body.

Then she positioned herself between your legs while running a hand along the inside of your thigh until her index finger touched your pussy. You shivered as she slid it between your folds. You were soaked and ready. She grabbed the dildo, mimicking the movements of her finger and running it between your folds. You tossed your head back still propped on your elbows in anticipation.

The she broke through your walls so fucking slow you were holding your breath and felt lightheaded by the time she bottomed out.

“Fuck,” you cursed opening your eyes, your lips resting in a perfect ‘o’. She couldn't help but picture all the filthy things she could do that mouth as she started thrusting her hips. Your tits bounced in sync following the motion. Your whimpers and whines were driving her crazy and pushing her into overdrive.

She had thought watching you ride her cock was spellbinding...she was wrong. This new position was one of wildest dreams. The way you scrunched your face raising your arms above your head writhing under her spell, fingers curling around cool fabric. You were chanting her name and she'd never heard it sound more sexy. You were under her control entirely.

She held the back of you legs thrusting her hips at a pace you couldn't fathom. She was hitting all the perfect spots, you were choking on your words, your chest rising and falling rapidly trying to catch your breath. Her skin slapped yours with each thrust and you reached out to hold her neck as she leaned down fucking you senseless. Your foreheads pressed together never breaking eye contact.

Your mouth hung open and she licked her lips before kissing you hungrily. You whimpered into her mouth as she hit your g spot, body bouncing as she concentrated on your impending orgasm. You stopped kissing her when you felt the familiar tingling and tightness. Your lips touched sloppily, breaths mixing as you shut your eyes.

"I'm gonna-" you moaned in her mouth as she grunted and nodded. Silently pleading. It seemed like she was the one under your control after all. All she wanted was for you to cum on her cock again and again and again.

She watched you unravel under her body as her thrusts slowed. Long and rough, fingers digging into your tingling skin.

You tried hard to catch your breath as she rolled off of you. You smiled and laughed because she’d just made you cum. Again. In one day. Your best friend did that.

You glanced at her, she was staring at you. Then you followed her gaze down to the dildo lathered with your arousal.

“Can you-“ Billie cleared her throat, her hand held the fake cock like she could actually feel it. Like it was a part of her. Like it was throbbing from being wrapped up in your tight pussy.

“Can I what?” You asked cheekily turning to the side getting a full view of her. Her face turned red. It was clear she was in the palm of your hands, but you’d still do anything she asked.

“Suck on it,” she spat out making eye contact. She was flushed and her hair was sticking to the back of her neck. Her forehead glistened and her lips were plump and red. She looked so scrumptious.

She had pictured herself doing unspeakable things to your mouth earlier and she only had one night to try it.

You swallowed, but your body slid off the bed before planting yourself on the floor, it was cold against your knees. Your hand wrapped around the cock brushing hers as you maintained eye contact. She kept her hand at the base waiting. Your tongue brushed the tip still staring at her. She was biting her lip. Then your lips wrapped around the tip as she watched you carefully.

When you finally took the dildo in your mouth she groaned feeling your lips on her hand. You released a guttural moan when she instinctively raised her hips.

“Can I fuck your mouth?” She asked and you blinked. Again, you were putty in her hands and you'd do anything she asked.

You nodded watching her stand. She positioned herself in front of your face and touched the corner of your mouth brushing your skin with her thumb. Then she ran it along your bottom lip opening your mouth as she held the cock sliding it between your lips. Little by little, her hand firm. Your eyes full.

You took it all in and let out a moan when she hit the back of your throat. She pulled out quickly holding the back of your head before repeating the motion. This time, she thrusted steadily and your fingers wrapped around her skin holding her thighs as she fucked your mouth.

The thrusts grew faster and faster as Billie groaned and you gurgled the cock. She could only imagine what she’d really feel if it was real, but the sight of you beneath her was enough to make her pussy throb. She cradled your head as she pulled out. She drank in the image, your eyes were watering, your mascara clumping and coating your bottom lashes. She had never seen something more beautiful.

Billie caressed your cheek, as you fought to catch your breath. You leaned your head into her touch silently still on your knees until she reached for your hand helping you up. Her arm wrapped around your waist, hand on your jaw as she kissed your lips. You held on to her arms, your legs adjusting to being on your feet as you indulged in the slow kiss.

She pulled away, your noses brushing.

"One more thing," her voice low and raspy. You blinked looking at her patiently.

“Sit on it, respectfully” she whispered staring at your mouth as she tugged at your bottom lip with her thumb. She felt like she’d been asking for too much all night.

Fuck. You'd done more than you ever thought you would with her. Each thing better than the last and the way she was looking at you was driving you mad and she was touching your lip and squeezing your ass and fuck yeah you were going to sit on it.

You were going to sit on it, bounce on it, freak on it so very disrespectfully.

[sommerbueckers]

ok idk if this is too specific😭 but what about a fic where paige and reader get into an argument and then like a day later paige gets a call from the hospital saying that paige is her only emergency contact and that reader broke her leg and they make up in the hospital. some angst to fluff action ykkk

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟑.𝟔𝐤

✰ 𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐨𝐥

___________________________________________________________

YOU PUSHED OPEN THE door of your apartment, immediately being greeted by your dog, Sadie. She scratched at the part of your leg where she could reach, threatening to rip through your pants. Setting your keys and purse down on the counter, you scooped her into her arms.

You could hear the faint noise of Paige rummaging around in the bedroom, and with Sadie still in your arms, you made your way toward it. The door was cracked, a beam of light illuminating a small corner of the rest of the apartment. You poked your head in and found your girlfriend standing in front of the bed putting things into a suitcase. Her back was turned, she had yet to notice you.

"Are you going somewhere?" you asked with a laugh, not entirely sure what you had walked into.

Paige jumped, hand to her heart. "You jus' scared the shit outta me," she breathed out, "I didn't even hear you come in."

You gently placed Sadie onto the bed, "The lights were off so I thought you were sleep, didn't wanna wake you."

"How sweet," she pursed her lips out at you, putting a small smile on your lips.

"So what is all this?"

"Yeah uh..." she walked over to the dresser to grab another handful of clothes, "Azzi wanted me to come help her with her basketball camp in Maryland so, I was gonna go down there for a few days."

You stared at her, the surprise quickly morphing into a frown. "Maryland? Wait, you're leaving? Just like that?" your voice held a mix of disbelief and hurt.

Paige glanced up, her expression faltering as she met your eyes. “Yeah, I know it’s sudden, but Azzi didn't wanna be down there all by herself so she asked me to come with. Plus it's gonna be a lot for her, havin' to deal with all those kids."

You shook your head slightly, trying to process the news. “I mean, you didn’t mention anything about this. We’ve got a lot going on here, too, and I was planning on us spending some time together this weekend.”

Paige’s face flushed with a hint of frustration. “I know it’s last minute, but this was kind of urgent. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, and I figured I’d just go and be back in a few days.”

You crossed your arms, feeling a pang of anger. “It’s not just about the timing, Paige. It’s that you didn’t think to talk to me first. We were supposed to make plans together, and now you’re leaving without even a heads-up."

Paige’s face reddened as she straightened up, her frustration boiling over. “So now you’re mad at me for trying to help a friend? I didn’t realize I needed your permission to do somethin' that's important to me!" Her voice rose a little as she spoke.

"That’s not what I’m saying, Paige. It’s just that we were supposed to make plans together, and this feels like a huge thing you didn’t even bother to fill me in on.”

Paige’s eyes flashed with anger. “You think I didn’t want to talk to you about it? I just didn’t want to deal with another argument over my choices. You act like I’m abandoning everything we’ve planned when really, I’m just trying to be there for someone who needs me.”

"I need you!" you yelled, "But you think that just because you come home to me every night that means you're there for me, you barely even talk to me!"

Paige’s jaw clenched as she slammed the suitcase shut, her frustration clearly evident. “Well, maybe if you didn’t make everything so damn complicated, I'd be more open to talkin' to you about shit! I’m tryna to balance everything, and it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you!"

You felt a sting from her words, your anger mixing with hurt. “I’m not trying to make things complicated, i’m just asking for some consideration. But you act like that's such an inconvenience for you to give! What do I have to do for you to think about my feelings for a second?!"

"Bro you're actin' like i'm doin' it on purpose! I'm tryna take care of the shit in my life and still make everybody else happy, maybe if you tried to understand that instead of jus' focusing on what i'm doin' wrong then it wouldn't turn into an argument every time you opened your fuckin' mouth!"

You stood there silently, lips parted in shock as a thick silence fell over the two of you. Tears burned your eyes, and you tried, and failed to keep them from falling. Sadie's paw scratched at your hand, her big brown eyes looking up at you pleadingly. You wanted so badly to just cuddle up with her and cry, but you couldn't even stand to be in the same room with Paige at that point.

She stepped closer to you, an apologetic look crossing her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that—"

"You did, and it's fine," you spoke dismissively, "i'm gonna go take a shower." You turned on your heel, keeping your head up the entire way to the bathroom. When you reached the door, on the verge of letting the tears fully fly, you turned back to her. "I think you should sleep on the couch tonight."

Paige’s face fell, her eyes softening with a mix of regret and resignation. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, realizing that her words wouldn’t fix what had been said. Her shoulders slumped as she nodded quietly to herself, knowing your emotions were too high for her to try and make amends.

The sound of running water drowned out the last traces of the argument, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the soothing embrace of the steam.

PAIGE HADN'T SEEN YOU all day, you had been gone when she woke up and now that she was getting ready to head to the airport, you still hadn't come back. She had called you, twice. She knew you were upset over her leaving, but if you wouldn't even let her apologize, there was nothing she could do about it. The thought of staying did cross her mind, each time accompanied by a pang of guilt. But it wasn't often that Azzi asked her for favors and the least she could do was follow through with it.

She was running behind, Azzi had already texted her that she had left the house and Paige was frantically searching the apartment for her jacket. When she had found it, she threw it on and grabbed her suitcase from the bedroom.

When she finally found it draped over the back of a chair, she let out a sigh of relief. As much as she wished you were there to see her off, she knew she had to go, hoping that when she returned, there would still be a chance to fix everything. Paige tried not to dwell too much on the thought, the memory of your last conversation slowly pressing down on her like a weighted vest. She felt her feet drag across the floor, an anchor caught on the door of your shared apartment as she attempted to drag the chain further than it could reach.

She was making the right decision, that's what she told over and over again as the elevator doors closed behind her. She's be back in a few days where you'd be waiting for her with open arms, having gotten over the petty argument in the time you spent away from each other. She had to be there for Azzi, and you had to understand that.

YOU DECLINED PAIGE'S CALL for a third time, throwing the phone into the backseat of your car and sifting to yourself. You didn't want to hear what she had to say, because no matter what it was, it didn't change the fact that she was still leaving. Still leaving when all you had wanted her to do was stay. You constantly felt like you were begging for her attention, begging to be loved. But Paige's friends always came first, Azzi always came first.

Sadie stirred in the passenger seat, breathing out a tired sigh as she readjusted herself. You had taken her out for some mommy-daughter time; you had been to the pet store for new toys, to Starbucks for a pup cup, and she had made friends with a few other dogs in the park. You couldn't blame her for the way her eyes fluttered shut despite the noise of the traffic outside.

The roads were crowded, so crowded that the cars from the stoplight ahead were backed up into the intersection you were pulling into. Horns were blaring from every direction, and you were crazily moving your eyes around to stay alert. It was because of how alert you were that you were aware of how inattentive everyone else was. You were aware of how oblivious the drive heading toward you was, you were aware of the crash that was going to happen before it even did.

PAIGE HAD JUST GOTTEN to the front of the check-baggage line when she got the call. The bustling airport around her seemed to blur into insignificance as she stood there, paralyzed by the news. It was a moment of dreadful clarity—one that made her question every decision she'd made leading up to this point.

She turned to Azzi, a dazed look in her eye as though she couldn't fully understand what had happened.

"Paige what happened?" she asked her repeatedly to which the blonde just shook her head.

"I gotta go...it's an emergency!" she shouted, running out of the airport and dragging her luggage behind her. She climbed into the first cab she saw, directing him toward the hospital.

"I gotta go...it's an emergency!" Paige shouted, the words bursting out of her in a frantic rush. She barely registered Azzi's surprised expression as she grabbed her luggage and bolted. Her feet pounded against the polished tiles, her heart racing faster with each step. She shoved through the crowd, her mind a chaotic whirl of fear and desperation. Everything around her felt surreal, like a dream she couldn't wake up from.

She stumbled out of the terminal, eyes scanning the row of cabs. Without a second thought, she threw herself into the first one she saw, slamming the door shut behind her. As the cab pulled away, Paige leaned back, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. The city blurred past, a kaleidoscope of colors she couldn't focus on. All that mattered was getting to the hospital, to you.

When the cab pulled up to the front of the hospital, Paige jumped out, nearly toppling over from how quickly she had gotten out. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her hands trembled as she handed the driver a crumpled bill, barely acknowledging his muttered thanks. She glanced up at the imposing building, its sterile facade a harsh contrast to the chaotic whirl of emotions inside her. The automatic doors slid open with a mechanical hum, and she rushed inside, her breath catching in her throat as the cold air enveloped her.

The lobby was bustling with activity—patients waiting, nurses moving briskly, the distant sound of a PA system announcing codes and calls. Paige felt disoriented, her senses overwhelmed by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the murmur of hushed conversations. Her eyes darted around, searching for the information desk. She spotted it to her left and hurried over, her footsteps echoing loudly in her ears.

"S'cuse me," she gasped, leaning on the counter to steady herself. The receptionist looked up, her expression professional but kind. "I'm here for... I jus' got a call. My—my girlfriend was brought in," Paige stammered, struggling to catch her breath. She barely noticed how frantic she sounded, her words tumbling out in a panicked rush.

The receptionist nodded, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she searched the records. "Name?" she asked, glancing up at Paige.

Paige swallowed hard, the name almost sticking in her throat. "Y/N. Y/N L/N," she managed to say, the reality of the situation hitting her with full force. As she waited, the seconds felt like hours, each one stretching painfully long. She could feel her anxiety bubbling up, threatening to spill over.

The receptionist's eyes softened as she found the information. "They were brought in a short while ago," she said gently. "They're in the ER. If you go down this hallway and take the elevator to the second floor, you'll find the emergency department."

She turned and quickly made her way to the hallway, her steps quickening with each stride. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside, pressing the button for the second floor with a shaking hand. The ride up was agonizingly slow, the soft elevator music clashing with the turmoil in her mind.

When Paige stepped out, she was immediately met with the controlled chaos of the ER.

She spotted the reception desk and approached it, her eyes scanning for any sign of familiarity. A nurse noticed her and approached, a clipboard in hand.

"Are you here for someone?"

"Yeah, Y/N L/N."

The nurse glanced at the clipboard and then nodded. "Follow me," she said, leading Paige down a series of corridors. The sterile white walls felt suffocating, and Paige's heart pounded louder with each step. The nurse struggled to keep up with her long strides, Paige didn't even know where she was going. A fraction of her was hoping you'd stroll out of one of the rooms, that charming smile on your face as you took her into your arms, kissing her and telling her that everything was fine. That you were fine.

Finally, they came to a stop outside of one of the rooms. The nurse cracked it open, gesturing for the blonde to step inside. Paige's breath caught in her throat as she saw you lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to various machines. You looked so small and fragile, a sight that sent a shiver down her spine. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was a reminder of the harsh reality.

The nurse closed the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone together. You were sitting in the bed with your hands in your lap, picking at your nail folds that had begun to bleed. Your tear stained cheeks were prominent under the fluorescent lights, Paige's heart cracked at the sight. Small bandages covers the scratches on your face, there was a cast on your left leg which was elevated using a few extra pillows. When she pulled a chair up beside your bed, you fixed your eyes on the black TV on the wall.

"I came as soon as I got the call, fuck I was so scared, I didn't know what happened or if you were okay—"

"Of course i'm not okay," you interrupted, a hint of bitterness in your tone, "A car slammed into the driver side of a car that I was driving Paige. Why the fuck would I be okay?" Paige flinched at the intensity of your words, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her guilt. It clung to her, palpable and thick, like heat radiating from an open oven. You didn't care though, it was evident in the way you continued to chew at her. "I was terrified, I couldn't feel my leg, and there was fucking glass everywhere."

You looked at her then, meeting her gaze with an intensity that made her shrink back. For the first time, you saw those familiar blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. It struck a chord deep inside you, a mix of anger and sorrow, but it was too late to stop now. The words that had been stuck in your throat finally found their way out.

"I needed you..." you choked out, your voice breaking. "I needed you, and you weren't there." The rawness of your admission hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of the heart monitor's steady beep. Paige's eyes were glossy with tears she struggled to hold back, her lips quivering as she fought to find the right words. But what could she say? The truth was already out, raw and undeniable. You had been alone, scared, and in pain, and she hadn't been there.

"I..." Paige finally whispered, her voice cracking. She looked away, unable to hold your gaze any longer. The silence was suffocating, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid. You watched her struggle, a mix of anger and heartbreak churning inside you. You wanted to scream, to lash out, but all that came out was a strangled sob. She reached out for your hand, hesitantly, afraid that you'd pull away from her. When you didn't, her interlocked your bloodstained fingers with hers.

"I should've been there for you," she breathed out, voice uneven and trembling. It had taken you getting into a car crash, being within mere feet of your life ending, for her to realize how much she needed you. For her to realize that you wouldn't always be there ready and willing to forgive her every time she fucked up. That at any moment, the life she knew could be stripped away from her in seconds.

"I was so caught up in my own world, in my own problems, that I didn't see what was right in front of me. I took you for granted, and I'll never forgive myself for that."

You bit your lip to stop it from trembling, gripping her hands tighter in yours.

"You're my everything, you always have been. It's you before anyone else, and i'm gonna spend every fucking moment of the rest of my life making up for this because that's how much you mean to me. You want me to clean the apartment while you lay up with Sadie then consider it done, you want to go shopping and max out my card then you can do that, or if you jus' wanna give me shit every minute of the day then i'll sit there and take it.

I will never complain about you starting an argument because i'll do anything to be able to hear your voice, even if it is you jus' chewin' me the fuck up. I didn't mean what I said last night, I know you think I did but I didn't. I'll prove that to you however you want me to, just tell me. Tell me what you want me to do and i'll do that for you."

You looked at her, silently, wondering how much truth her words held. "Quit basketball," you whispered.

The blondes eyes widened, her brows raised, and her lips fell open in shock. She scanned for face for a sign of humor, a sign that you were joking and hadn't just asked her to give up the one thing that got her to where she was no. When that small, pleasantly familiar smile pulled at your lips, the thumping of her heart slowed.

"I'm kidding, i'd never ask you to do that..." you mumbled, slightly shaking your head.

Paige stood up, her hand still interlaced with hers. "Can I hug you?"

You looked at her, a myriad of emotions flickering across your face. The anger, the hurt, the lingering fear—all of it was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. But as you gazed into Paige's eyes, you couldn't help but let your love for her completely cloud everything else. She stood there before you, open and exposed, waiting for your response.

Finally, you gave a small nod, your eyes softening just a fraction. It wasn't a full forgiveness, not yet, but it was a start. Paige's face lit up with relief, and she hesitated for just a moment before stepping closer. Her arms wrapped around you gently, almost hesitantly, as if afraid she might break you. You felt the warmth of her embrace, the familiar scent of her hair, and something inside you began to thaw.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself lean into the embrace. It felt good to be held, to feel her arms around you, even if just for a moment. Paige's hug was a promise, a vow to do better, to be there for you in the way she hadn't been before. 

A soft knock sounded at the door, and the same nurse that had directed Paige to the room, now entered with Sadie wiggling in her arms. Paige pulled away, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks streaked with tears. A laugh escaped her lips. It was a small, but much-needed moment of levity in the midst of everything.

"She's been whining ever since we took her away to check her up, figured she'd want to see you two," the nurse smiled warmly, placing her gently into Paige's arms. She then disappeared again, but not before giving a reassuring nod to the both of you.

You watched admiringly as Sadie moved excitedly in Paige's arms, wagging her tail and licking the blonde's jaw. She didn't care that Paige hadn't been there during the crash, that Paige had left them alone to go to the airport, she was just happy that she was here now. You tilted your head, a soft smile playing at your lips. Sadie had forgiven Paige — at least it seemed that way...and that meant that you could find it somewhere in your big heart to forgive her too.

___________________________________________________________

[bluur00]

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 - 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎

hurt/comfort. fem!reader.

It’s been a few months after you and Kenji broke up, he said it’s because he was seeing another girl and that he lost interest in you. That broke your heart, knowing how much the old Kenji you knew would never do such thing.

He would never, yet he did.

“Why are you leaving so suddenly!? Can’t we try to talk whatever the problem is?” you raised your voice, your tears threatening to fall down.

Kenji didn’t look back at you, all you can see is his back carrying his backpack filled with he clothes keeps in your apartment, “I’m seeing someone else, I’m moving back to my house at the island.”

He left.

That night you cried in your bed, cried yourself to sleep, alone in your apartment, you sobbed your eyes out, wishing all this was a dream, a nightmare.

In those few months, you worked on yourself to move on and forget about the relationship and how it broke down. It’s still really hard to forget about it, what happened that night was very sudden.

When Kenji spilled those hurtful words, it hit you like a truck, that time your legs were very weak, it threatened to make you fall at that moment.

Whatever, you have to focus on your job, your life, especially in moving on.

“Kenji! Bro, where are you going?” one of his friends ask, seeing Kenji walking in a wobbly line away from the club. “Y-Y/n, I wanna see Y/n,” he mumbled, one of his friends catched up to him, “you and her broke a few months ago,” his friend said, suprised on what Kenji was headed to.

“don’t care, need to see Y/n.” he repeated again.

“okay, okay, get in and I’ll take you to her,” his friend said, pulling Kenji towards his car and laying him in the backseat.

You were staying up late, reading a book that you always wanted to finish, but then a knock came. You ignored it at first, but it came again, you placed your bookmark between the two pages and went to check the door.

You looked through the peek hole of the door, and it was, ‘Kenji’s friend? who’s beside him? Kenji?’ you sighed and opened the door, “why are you here, it’s late.” you asked, not wanting to deal with your ex in the middle of the night.

“Please just take him, he wants to talk to you,” his friend said, trying to pass Kenji to you, you reconsider and reconsider, but in the end you took Kenji’s arms and closed the door on his friend.

You led Kenji to the couch, and laid him down, going to the kitchen to get warm water, but you then heard him mumble your name. You ignored it, hes probably dreaming, “Y/n? That you, baby?” he raised his head to your direction, you hummed in response, he then continued.

“I miss you, Y/n, so much. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you these last few months, heck, I had to get drunk just so I can forget you, but even that… I,” he paused, out of breath, hes clearly still worn out, “I still couldn’t get you off my mind, even the… the city has been questioning where ultraman has been-“ you cut him off by stirring the glass loudly, even though it’s just water.

“Stop your babbling and drink, so you can go back to your girlfriend, pretty sure she would be pissed knowing you’re here.” you said, clearly annoyed by his presence and him even opening his mouth.

He eventually drinks it a bit, before pushing it away and realised what you said, “oh that girl? Who is she?” Kenji asked, confused, “don’t worry you’ll remember her once you’re sober,” you said before leaving to go to your room.

“Y/n,” Kenji called, you turned to face him, “can you change my clothes? please, baby?” he pleaded.

“No, your clothes aren’t here anymore remember? and stop calling me that,” you said before continuing to go to your bedroom.

Once you laid in your bed, you couldn’t help but think and remembered, how Kenji sleeping in uncomfortable clothes can pain his back when he wakes up, but your no one to undress him. Even so, you continued opening your closet and searched for clothes that he left.

Kenji woke up with a hectic headache, he expected to wake up in your apartment, especially remembering what he said last night. “Surprised you haven’t left yet,” he heard your voice coming from the kitchen, it seems like you were making tea.

“Y/n, let’s talk,” Kenji said, with pleading eyes, “please,” you turned your head slightly and chuckled, “still drunk? Thought sleeping it through can make you sober,” you said, taking your mug and sat down beside Kenji on the couch, taking a sip and placing it down at the coffee table, “whatever, just make it quick please,” you said.

“Well, that night, that girl, it was all a lie,” Kenji confessed, you showed a confused look, ‘he wasn’t lying last night?’ you thought, he continued, “I did that break up because, I was scared,” he paused, but you quickly interfered, “what do you mean scared?” you asked, sharp tone, highly confused on what hes leading to.

“I was scared, I realised that recently that time I was focusing too much on the baseball tournaments and interviews, especially with me being ultraman, I don’t want to put you at risk, risk of dying when I can’t be there to save you,” he paused again, his eyes beginning to tear up, you kept quiet, suprised by his real reason.

“I knew that if I didn’t use the reason of seeing someone else, you would make up a reason for us to talk and solve it,” he said, he knew you, he could predict you, and you were suprised of how much he knew.

“I knew that if I looked at you before leaving that night, if I take one look into your teary eyes, I would stay and I would fail to protect you from future dangers that can come,” he said, before he completely broke down, right in front of you.

Slowly, you neared him, ran your fingers through his raven hair. When he raised his head to take a peek, you opened your arms for him to hug, which he then took. He cried on your shoulder, as you stayed quiet and gave him a silent forgiveness, caressing his back, arms, his hair.

“I’m safe, Kenji.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Ok I know you said time won't make them nicer to each other.

But I need her reaction to Carlos being diagnosed with appendicitis. Maybe she's the one that takes him to the hospital?!

The Uphill Battle {2} || CS55

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, name calling, angst

WC: 2.9k

Part One

Carlos was grumpier than usual. And that was saying something since he had been in a mood since the news broke about Lewis taking his seat. You could understand that after losing seats to guys all the time before getting a spot in the Academy. Carlos, however, was not used to that feeling and it showed as he pushed himself harder at each training.

“You’re too weak,” he taunted as you wiped the sweat from your brow and started another set of reps with trembling arms. “It’s like you don’t even want to be in F1.”

You let the weight bar fall into the shelf and sat up. “Go project yourself onto someone else, you miserable shit.”

After taking second place at the feature race in Bahrain you had shown you had the drive for F1, but it didn’t seem to change his training approach. He was still firmly on the path of insult until you explode and prove him wrong. To be fair, it had worked so far.

A muscled arm, followed by a bare chest, blocked your way when you stood up, a sneer pulling at his lips. “You’re not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking. Now get out of my way, you have free practice to get ready for.”

He looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. He hadn’t meant to let time get away from him but when he found you in the gym he decided to finish his warm up routine alongside you. It had been a mistake because he couldn’t help but pester and critique you until he completely forgot what he was meant to be doing.

“Fine, but you need to stay and finish your set. That was just embarrassing to watch.”

“I’m done. With you. And with your training. Go fuck yourself, Junior.” You shoved past him, your elbow connecting with his gut, before you made your way to the stack of towels. You felt his presence follow you to the changing rooms and he closed the door to the shower cubicle.

“You’re done when I say you are done,” Carlos growled, turning you to face him before he pressed your back to the cold tile wall.

You tipped your head back and laughed darkly. “Only for the next nine months, then I’m Lewis’ problem. Or, maybe I’ll get the golden boy as my PT. Charles seems sweet and kind, I wouldn’t mind testing his patience.”

“Listen here, you little-” Whatever threat you would have ignored was lost as you flipped the handle of the cold tap and washed it gush out of the showerhead and straight into Carlos’ face.

“You were saying?”

“Brat.” The timber in his voice had the desired effect as his hand enveloped your throat and pulled you under the cold spray. His lips crashed against yours and his thigh nudged your legs apart, your hips riding the thick muscle as you kissed him back just as passionately. “I really hate you.”

You grinned, but it was more a baring of teeth ready to sink into his skin. “I don’t even hate you, that’s how little I feel about you.”

His palm glided over your ribs, touching the flesh bared by the sports bra you trained in, and slipped between the waistband of your shorts. His fingers spread your folds and curled into your core as your head fell back against the tiles.

“You feel something,” Carlos chuckled, dipping his head down to leave his mark on the swell of your breast. “Or you wouldn’t feel so fucking wet.”

“God I hate it when you open your mouth, just fuck me already.”

Carlos pulled the elastic waistband and let it snap back against your skin. The twanging pain was instant but then it was gone as he dragged the material down your legs. Another ache flared as he sunk his teeth into the soft supple skin on your thigh and you cried out at the heat that radiated from the indents he left behind.

“Fucking savage,” you growled, but you both knew how much you liked it that way.

“Sticks and stones, malcriada.”

You were needy, impatient, and well aware someone would come looking for Carlos as the countdown to free practice began. The lure of a verbal repartee would have to wait if you wanted some pleasure to balance out the pain in the arse that was Carlos. You pushed Carlos onto the bench where your dry towel had been abandoned and he lifted his hips for you to drag his shorts off.

“You gonna ride this di-“ You slapped your hand over his mouth to silence him and straddled his hips, sinking down on his cock with a moan that echoed around the changing room.

“Be a good boy and keep the commentary to yourself if you want a happy ending,” you warned as you let your hand fall to his shoulder and started to roll your hips. He heeded your words and bit his bottom lip to keep from saying something that would leave him with blue balls.

His hands gripped your waist and guided you up and down, setting rhythm that had you bouncing on his dick and an orgasm quickly building. The heat flashing across your body was the perfect contrast to the droplets of cold water collecting on your back and shivering down your spine.

“Fuck, harder,” you begged as your head fell back and he grazed his teeth over your throat. Your gasp filled the small cubicle as he nipped sharply at your skin and you raked your nails down his chest, earning a deep groan from his parted lips. The pained sound made your cunt clench and flutter before he suddenly stood up and turned you to face the wall. The emptiness within your body was quickly filled with the snap of his hips and his hand slapped over your mouth to muffle the cry at the sudden fullness.

“Shut up and take it,” he ordered quietly in your ear. “This is what you asked for.”

Carlos’ hands fell to your hips, bruising your skin with their harsh grip as he pounded into you. The slap of your bodies colliding filled the small space and your eyes rolled back into your head as your legs began to tremble. Your breathing deepened and you forgot where you were as your mind emptied and your body exploded.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Carlos moaned, your walls tightening around him with your orgasm. A wordless grunt warmed your ear before he sealed his lips over your racing pulse and left his mark while he filled your cunt.

Your forehead pressed to the cool tile as you regained your breath and Carlos pulled out, chuckling as he watched his cum leak down your still trembling thighs. “God, you’re a whore.”

“That’s more of an insult to you, desperado,” you teased. “Should I send the invoice to you or Sainz Senior?”

You forced yourself upright and stepped under the cold spray to see his smirk fade as you washed his seed away. You both jumped at the loud knock on the bathroom door and a voice called out, “Carlos, are you in there? You’re going to be late.”

“Just a sec,” Carlos shouted back before attempting to step under the now warm spray. You cast your hands out, splaying your fingers across his torso, catching the pained wince that crossed his face.

“Tsk, tsk, Daddy’s calling,” you said with a shake of your head.

He looked down at himself, the evidence of what transpired glistening on his cock. “Seriously?”

It was your turn to smirk and push him back further before waving him off. “Good luck.”

Free practice was already underway by the time you finished showering and changing into fresh Ferrari merch. No one really paid you any mind as you found a good spot on the balcony above the pit lane and watched the final 30 minutes of track time.

Despite there being better performers, your eyes kept being drawn back to your PT and the lowly 7th place he finished. You had catalogued a list of insults for him and went down to the debrief room ready to rule him up when you found him leaning against the corridor wall. Lines from his balaclava creased his cheeks and his eyes screwed shut as he clutched a hand to his stomach.

“Don’t think playing sick will let you off the hook for that performance,” you said as you crossed your arms.

There was no humour in his face, no wry amusement that usually came with your insults. Instead, he silently pushed off from the wall and made his way on towards the briefing room.

You kind of felt bad as you left the track and returned to the hotel. There had been a misstep in the turbulent dance that had been going on for months and you were left unsettled by it. Nothing on the tv could distract you enough that you finally gave up and took the elevator to Carlos’ floor. It was late but you figured he would still be awake as you knocked on his door.

“You look like shit,” you greeted, but your voice was thick with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Sweat beaded on his forehead and the sickly sheen covered his bare chest too. Reaching out, you felt his skin burning like a furnace and he swayed on his feet before leaning on the doorway.

“You don’t care, so just go,” he rasped, his voice pained and weak.

You rolled your eyes and stepped around him to see a sick bowl on the coffee table with some painkillers beside it and a rumpled blanket spread over the couch. He made to follow but he could barely hold himself up and it was only your arms that kept him collapsing. “Fuck sake, Carlos, you need a hospital.”

“Just need sleep,” he argued. His body shivered and his throat worked to swallow but you had been through enough hangovers to know what was coming. You leapt for the sick bowl and barely got it under his face before he hurled up the bright blue electrolyte drink that you spotted on the table.

“Where’s your phone and your keys?” He peeked up from the bowl pitifully and he saw the determined look on your face before pointing to the kitchen. “Can you stand on your own? Don’t look so offended, it’s a reasonable question in your state.”

“I’m fine.”

“And I’m Max Verstappen.” You let go of him for a second to see if he would crumple to the carpet but he seemed to hold himself on pure stubbornness so you dashed to the kitchen to dump the bowl in the sink and grab his belongings.

“Planning on robbing me too?” he asked as he noticed you grabbed his wallet too.

“Since I’m apparently a whore, you owe me a hefty debt,” you muttered sarcastically. “It’s for your ID, asshole.”

Carlos didn’t deign to respond as he curled one arm around your shoulders, leaning heavily into your embrace, and the other clutched his abdomen.

“You’ve been in pain since practice, haven’t you?”

“Maybe…can we just go?”

You pocketed his things and took as much weight as you could off him, using every ounce of your strength training as you guided him to the elevator. It was strange to see him so reserved in the elevator mirror as it headed down to the underground car park and it was even stranger to sit in the driver seat of his car.

“Please don’t crash it,” he murmured as you started it up and headed out into the street.

“I know you don’t believe it, but I am actually a decent driver,” you muttered. The city traffic was busy 24/7 but the satnav came in handy with the directions to the emergency room at the nearest hospital. “Should I call your dad?”

“No. It’s probably nothing but a stomach bug.”

That ‘probably nothing’ turned out to be acute appendicitis. You could have laughed at how spectacularly wrong Carlos was but you were too worried as he was wheeled away to surgery and you were left to make a phone call.

‘Do not call him Daddy Sainz,’ you reminded yourself as you entered the passcode on Carlos’ phone and hoped he wasn’t too delusional to get it right. Thankfully it unlocked and you went to his contacts. “Hello, Mr Sainz?”

“Who is this?” he asked worriedly.

“It’s Y/N, I drive for Ferrari in the Academy, uh, Carlos is my Mentor.”

“Where is my son? Why do you have his phone?”

“He’s at the hospital. They’re just taking him into surgery now to remove his appendix.”

The elder Sainz must had put you on speakerphone as you heard the noises at his end increase. “Which hospital? Why are you only calling me now?”

“King Fahad Armed Forces and you’re welcome, by the way, if it wasn’t for me your son would still be curled up on the couch in his room until it burst.”

“He said you had an attitude,” the old man muttered quietly before he resigned himself to a sigh. “Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

You sent him the ward number that Carlos would be brought through when he was out of surgery and tried to make yourself comfortable on a vinyl chair. It must have been cozy enough as you dozed off, only waking when a nurse tapped your shoulder and smiled sweetly. “Mr Sainz is on his way up now, the operation went well.”

You rubbed your eyes and thanked her as you sat up to see almost two hours had passed. It was then you noticed a pair of brown eyes were watching curiously from across the room.

“Have you been watching me sleep?” you asked as you stretched and cracked your back.

The old man snorted a laugh and put down the almost empty styrofoam cup of black coffee. “You don’t need to wait, I can look after him from here.”

“And ruin my perfect posture for nothing? I’m fine waiting a bit longer.” You stood up and made your way to the percolator jug of black sludge and poured yourself a cup too before pacing the room. “Have you been talking with the other teams yet?”

His eyes followed you back and forth like he was trying to pick your brain apart. “About what?”

“2025. He’s too good for his F1 career to end now.”

The old man stood up too and refilled his cup. “Would you like milk and sugar?” he asked when he noticed your face scrunch at the first sip.

“Just a tiny dash of milk please, no sugar. I like my coffee like I like my men: a little dark and bitter.”

He chuckled and poured a small amount of milk into your cup before returning to his seat. “I can see why my son likes you.”

You spluttered on your mouthful and hurried to swallow the hot liquid. “You must be thinking about someone else. Carlos and I just about have a mutual understanding, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he borderline hates me.”

“Can’t be too many female Ferrari drivers that he mentors from the Academy, because I sincerely remember his comment about her,” the old man teased, crossing one leg over the other and staring over the rim of his cup. His eyebrow arched, daring you to correct him until he took the silence with an air of smugness.

Sounds grew along the quiet ward and soon Carlos was wheeled in on a hospital bed, parking into the empty space that had been between the two chairs. Though he looked a little sleepy, Carlos was awake and he smiled dopily from where he lay looking up at you.

“The doctors said your testicle retrieval went well.”

His smile broke with a deep laugh and he turned to look at his amused dad. “I see you met her.”

“I did.” Carlos Senior stood up and kissed his son’s forehead. “I’m glad you had her to take care of you, son. I’ll give you a few moments alone.”

You frowned as his dad left the room, waiting for the door to close quietly behind him. “What the hell were you thinking! Why didn’t you say anything? You could have died!”

Carlos shrugged and shifted carefully to get comfortable on this pillow behind his head. “We don’t exactly have the sort of relationship where we talk about things.”

You huffed and lifted his head, fluffing the pillow before shoving it back into place. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Back to the insults, finally.” The sick bastard smiled happily and settled into the pillow with a contented sigh. “For a moment I thought I died and went to heaven.”

“Not funny.”

“Was so, you just care about me too much to laugh. Admit it, you would’ve missed me.” He opened his hand and inched it closer to the edge of the bed.

“They must have given you the strong stuff, you’re clearly delusional,” you said with a roll of your eyes but placed your hand into his palm and he closed his fingers around them. “Your dad seems to think you like me.”

Carlos yawned and closed his eyes, but a smile played on his lips. “That’s probably the beginning of dementia. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t,” you chuckled. A few moments of silence filled the room before a soft snore broke the quiet. Careful not to wake him, you kissed his cheek and whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay, Junior.”

“Knew it,” he said as he cracked one eye open and grinned.

You let go of his hand and dropped into your chair with an annoyed huff. “Asshole.”

“Brat.”

[gor3-hound]

daddy's home

ft. fushiguro toji x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, dad/daughter incest, oral(f!recieving), degradation, dacryphilia, praise, daddy kink, p in v, he's got a fat cock idk, creampie, overstimulation, pussy spanking, he's kind of an asshole

a/n: hiii! not a resident evil fic omg who am i? so down bad for toji it's not even funny... this got out of hand so quickly it was meant to be half this size... oops? jjk works now being uploaded to @puppykento

word count: 2.3k words

You never saw your dad much growing up. To call him a deadbeat would be an understatement. He was the type of guy to pawn off the presents that ‘Santa’ got you a week or two after Christmas to get some extra cash.

He was rarely ever home, and when he was, he'd bum whatever he could off of you and Megumi. Although Megumi had gone off to that school now, which was great, really. You were happy for him. He comes to visit whenever he can, and he's always bringing you things to help out.

Really, you should be looking after him. He was your younger brother, after all. But he also knew that your dad tended to bother you more than him, so he's always been a little protective of you. He sends you a text everyday to check in on you, asking if you'd seen Toji.

Toji. Not dad. You're not sure when Megumi got into that habit, but you can't bring yourself to do the same. He's still your dad, even if he's a bit of an asshole. He cares about you deep down, you know he does. He might not show it, but you like to believe he thinks about you when he's gone.

Safe to say, you're surprised when he shows up at the door on your twenty-first birthday with a cake tucked securely under his arm. He flashes you a grin, pushing past you and into the apartment without so much as a ‘hello’.

He sets the cake down on the table before flopping down on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table like he owns the place. Which, okay, technically he does. His name is on the tenancy agreement, but he's not the one paying the rent.

“Didn't expect to see you here today.” You say after a moment, standing awkwardly off to the side. You never knew what to do with your dad. You didn't know him, really. Talking to him was always hard for you.

Your gaze falls to the cake after he doesn't respond. It's some cheap, pre-made grocery store cake. You can't imagine he spent much on it at all, but the gesture was nice. He hadn't gotten you anything for your birthday since you were twelve and he got you that shitty plastic bracelet that broke after a day.

“You didn't need to get me anything.”

“Mm. But you're my kid. It's a big birthday.” He says simply, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV, using the cable that you pay for. Typical.

You're surprised he even remembers your age, but you'd take it. Guess your suspicions were confirmed. He cares about you, at least a little.

“Where's the brat?” He asks after a moment, as if he registered Megumi hadn't shown his face. His eyes flick across the room before settling on you.

“He couldn't make it today. He's coming on the weekend.” He just shrugs when you tell him that, spreading his legs a little to get comfortable.

“Ah. You're my favourite, anyway.” He tells you, and you smile. You know you're only his favourite because you put up with his shit, but it still makes you happy to hear him say that. You can see the way his lips curl into a smirk at that, and he slowly drags his gaze along your body.

You're not sure you appreciate the way he's looking at you, though. Like, it's great to get some attention from your dad for once, but that doesn't exactly mean you want him looking at you like you're a piece of meat.

“What're you doin’ now, anyway? You dropped out, no?” Yeah. You had to. Someone had to pay the bills. “So, what… you working as a stripper or something? Got the body for it. Bet you'd make a killing.”

Your face wrinkles up in disgust immediately at that. You cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover yourself a little more, your brows furrowing as you look at him.

“Jesus, dad. That's nasty. Why are you even looking at me like that?” You ask with a frown, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Alright!” He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, brows raising slightly. He lets his hands drop onto his thighs and shrugs again. “Just a joke. Tough crowd, huh?”

You roll your eyes and huff, crossing your arms over your chest. That seems to draw Toji's attention, his gaze lingering on your tits for a moment before he's looking up at you with that stupid fucking grin again.

“What? I'm proud of my work, ‘n you're just another one of my many successes.” He has an air of cockiness around him as he says that, and it just weirds you out even more. What a creep.

“Anyway, I been thinkin’...” He begins, his eyes trailing your body again. You shift uncomfortably yet again, staring him down. “Your daddy is a little strapped for cash at the moment… but I gotta give my special girl a gift for her birthday, don't I?”

“Real interesting, ‘cause you haven't bothered before.”

He starts scowling at that, his lip curling. “I'm tryna be nice. Don't need to be a bitch about it. I'm a busy man.” He pauses, giving you a once over. “Always so fuckin’ bratty. Bet a good dick'd fix that shitty attitude.”

“The hell is wrong with you today?” You snap, trying to ignore the way your dad was very obviously checking you out. It makes you uneasy, in more ways than one. Most notably is the way it's weirdly hot, and that thought alone makes you feel queasy.

“Just c'mere, will ya? No need to be pissy on your birthday. I'm tryna be nice.” He huffs, patting the spot next to him. You walk over to him, but before you can sit, he's tugging you into his lap and holding you down against his hardening cock.

“Dad, wha-”

“Now here's what's gonna happen.” He grunts, nosing at your neck before he's attaching his lips to your skin, his grip on your hips tightening. “I'm gonna make you cum on my tongue, ‘cause it's your birthday, and I'm so sweet. Then you're gonna sit on my cock. Understand?”

You open your mouth to speak, but Toji is quick to cut you off, biting down on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “If the words that're about to leave your mouth are anything but ‘yes, daddy’, then I don't wanna hear it.”

Your mouth snaps shut, opens again, and you're repeating the words back to him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That's how you end up lying on your back in your bed, the sheets crumpled beneath you with your dad's face buried in your cunt. He's got one hand pressed firmly on your stomach to stop you from moving too much, his other hand keeping a strong grip on your thigh to keep your legs spread.

He eats pussy sloppy. The only time he pulls away is to spit on you before he dives right back in, tongue thrusting in and out of your drippy hole. He's already made you cum twice, a puddle forming on the sheets under your ass from how wet you are.

“Ah… dad, I can't. S'too much.” You tell him, trying to squirm away from his mouth. He glares up at you from between your legs, and then he pulls away. You sigh in relief, but then he's spreading your folds with one hand and bringing the other down harshly against your clit.

You yelp, kicking your feet out. He does it again. And again. “You'll take what you're given.” He growls with another harsh slap, then he's lowering his head again to suck greedily at your swollen clit as he slips two fingers into your pussy without resistance.

His spits dribbling down to your hole as he makes the dirtiest sounds you've ever heard. You didn't know it was possible to be this greedy when it came to eating pussy. Doesn't even feel like it's for you, at this point. He's just eating away to his heart's content.

“You're such a messy girl, baby. Gettin’ my wrists all wet. Didn't know pussies could leak this much.” He mumbles into your cunt, flicking his tongue and curling his fingers. “Must really love your daddy, huh?”

You clench around him, cumming for the third time with a whimper and the bastard finally lifts his face away from you. Gives you that stupid smirk again, darting his tongue out to lick as much of your juices from his face as he can manage, then he uses his free hand to wipe the rest off on the back of his hand. Slob.

“Having a good birthday?” He asks with a shit-eating grin, scissoring his fingers open inside of you, ignoring the way you whine and try to pull away again. All you can do is nod, already so dumb from the pleasure he's giving you that you can barely respond.

“That's my girl.” He coos, patting your face a few times before he's pulling his hand away, leaving you mourning the loss. Can't let any of your cum go to waste, so he pops them in his mouth and sucks them clean.

Doesn't take him long to pull his cock out. It's fat and heavy, hanging low even though it's hard. Your breath hitches as you see it, and you start to push away from him.

“Dad, what the fuck?” That's a boost to his ego. “That's not… there's no way that's gonna fit.”

“I'll make it work. Been between your legs long enough.” He mumbles, grabbing you by your hips and tugging you towards him on the bed. He pushes the tip in, and he can't bite back the smile that forms at the noise you make.

He pushes in so slowly that he's barely even moving. The stretch still hurts, tears forming in your eyes. When he finally bottoms out with a groan, you're so full that you can barely breathe. You swear you can feel that shit in your lungs. Your poor mother.

“Fuck… you're so fucking tight. Shoulda done this years ago…” He breathes out, bangs hanging in front of his eyes as he lets his head hang low. He's nice enough to stay put for a moment, his cock throbbing against your cervix - which is definitely going to be bruised after this. You don't think you're gonna be able to walk for a week.

He pulls out slowly until just the tip left inside, his length glistening from your slick pussy. He stares down appreciatively at the sight before thrusting back in. He builds a rhythm, rocking his hips against yours.

The sound of your moans fill the room, but he's more of a grunter. His grip on your hip is bruising, and it starts to hurt a little. He's using his hold on you so that he can manhandle you into his thrusts, making sure he's filling up every inch of you.

“Such a good fucking slut.” He pants, rocking into you even harder, a crease forming between his brow. “Gonna mould this pretty pussy to the shape of my dick. No other guy's gonna be able to fuck you, baby. Just daddy.”

You nod at his words, too fucked out to even register what he's saying. You'd agree to anything he said as long as he kept up with what he was doing.

“She's sucking me in, princess. Never had anyone take me so well before. My dick's splittin’ you open, and you're just. Fucking. Taking it.” He punctuates his words with deep, slow thrusts that have you pulsing around his cock.

“Made just for me, huh? My own daughter bein’ the one who's got the perfect pussy for my cock.” He growls, shifting slightly so his hands are gripping your thighs. He presses them against your chest, leaning over you as he starts fucking you again.

He's so much deeper like this, punching the air out of your lungs every time his hips slap against your ass. Tears start streaming down your face, your walls tightening around him.

“Shit… you tryna push me out?” He asks, his voice sounding a little strained. “God… she's fuckin’ milking me. She's cryin’ for me even more than you are.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, his thrusts growing sloppier. “Gonna fill you up, but you gotta cum for me first. You gonna do that for me?”

You nod weakly, gripping his shoulders as he pounds you into the mattress. Your nails claw at his skin, and you feel the wetness of his own blood beneath your fingers, but he doesn't even flinch. He seems to like it, letting out a low moan as your nails dig into him.

Your eyes roll back as you cum, your lips parting as you cry out ‘daddy’. You gush around his cock, leaking all over your own thighs until it's dripping down his balls.

“Such a dirty girl.” He grunts, his movements becoming erratic as his balls tighten. “Shit, baby. Gonna cum, and you're gonna fucking take it.”

He pushes in one last time, burying himself to the hilt and holding himself there. He grinds against you weakly as his cock kicks, shooting ropes of cum deep into you.

“Gooood… that's my good fucking girl.” Toji collapses on the bed, his dick slipping out as he lays back on your bed. “Happy birthday, baby.”

There's that smile again. Arrogant prick.

He stays put for a while, leaning back against your pillows with his legs spread and his arms behind his head, taking up a good 80% of your bed and leaving you to lay on the edge.

“I need a beer…” He grumbles, running a hand over his face before he tilts his head to look at you. “You got any cash?”

[randomshyperson]

A Moody Witch Makes a Moody Morning - [HS Challenge]

Summary: A lazy Sunday with a very temperamental witch suddenly turns upside down.

Warnings: Fluff hours, an attempt at comedy, emo!Wanda being jealous and cute. | Words: 756.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Holiday Season Masterlist

-&-

Lazy Sundays were your favorite.

Especially in a routine divided between being a superhero and a university student, with the bonus of a temperamental emo witch girlfriend who much of the time stressed about things that had nothing to do with you but ended up being your fault. 

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Especially when you had Wanda in tender moments like these - almost asleep side by side, just enjoying each other's company in silence. Wanda, focused on a magic book and you playing some of the strange games Pietro bought you for your birthday.

And with the good Maximoff temperament never failing to change, Wanda suddenly pinched your ribs.

"Hey, what was that for?" You mumbled in a confused laugh, pausing the game and looking at your girlfriend pouting.

"I just remembered last week."

Still massaging the site of the pinch, your confused expression increased. "Can you clarify, my love?"

She huffed incredulously, crossing her arms. The long-forgotten book in her lap. "You're such a cynic!" Accused the girl. " I saw you all secretive with that bitch from your classroom, I'm warning you Y/N, if you ever even think about cheating on me, I'll use the whole list of tortures Nathasha taught me-"

"Wanda, for God's sake." You broke into a long laughter, completely surprised by the sudden subject. She huffed angrily, her pout even bigger. "Hey, princess, look at me."

"I hate it when you call me that."

"You do, huh? Then why do you always get flushed?" You challenge back, smiling at her attempt to hide her own blush. 

Wanda refuses to look at you, however, and you sigh before losing getting tired of the drama and leaning towards her. She reacts immediately, her hands on your shoulders to push you away, but the witch forgets about the comforter entwined around your legs from the night before - her own requirement to sleep cuddled up let it be noted - and when she pushes you onto the floor cushions, she is pulled into her own trap with you.

Your reaction is to burst out laughing, of course; but Wanda is torn between mortification and blind rage.

Until she sniffles softly into your collarbone and you stop laughing immediately, one of her hands going to stroke your back.

"Hey, my love, what's wrong?" You ask worriedly.

Wanda hides her face in your neck, and her voice is muffled by your skin as she tearfully retorts: "I'm a jealous mess, you should find someone who isn't completely insane."

"Wanda, don't be so hard on yourself, these situations are always entertaining." You joke, but she bites your skin hard and you grunt loudly. "Ouch!"

The most apologies you get is a hickey in the same place. 

"Are you done?" You ask, not about the affections but about the whole scene. Wanda nods softly, and you kiss the top of her head, tightening your arms around her. 

The cushions are no bed, but they certainly have their unique comfort with the help of the room's fluffy carpet. You're about to fall asleep when Wanda whispers softly.

"My period is late."

You sigh, without opening your eyes. "Good thing I don't have a cock. Not a real one, anyway."

She pinches you again. "You idiot, I'm just trying to say-"

"That you're PMSing, yes, it's obvious. There's no need to keep attacking me."  You grumble, but Wanda snorts angrily, pulling away to sit down. 

"It's amazing how you can't listen to what I'm saying."

You open your eyes in offense, ready to defend yourself to the blushing girl in front of you. Wait, blushing?

"What are you saying?" You ask worriedly, but your girlfriend grows shy, avoiding your gaze. "Wanda." You insist and instead of answering, she suddenly grabs your wrist. "What...?"

Guiding your hand under her oversized shirt is enough of a hint, but it still makes you laugh heartily. "Jesus, woman, you could have just said you wanted to fuck, you don't need all of that!"

Wanda snorts in embarrassment and pushes your hand away. "You know what, I'll take care of it myself." She stands up, ignoring your protests, and definitely using a bit of magic to torment you and cause the comforters to become harder to get out of. That, or maybe just the insinuation of Wanda playing by herself turns you into a complete mess.

"B-but I want to help-"

"You missed your chance. Good morning to you."

"Wanda!" But she slammed the bedroom door in your face. You chuckled in disbelief.

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny chapter 4

Ice cold water splashed on Danny's face, soaking his hair. Danny woke up blearily wondering when his roof had started leaking.

He opened his eyes hand almost gagged . He was met with the exact person he wanted to chew apart.

Jason was running across building at top speed. Danny's apartment was a wreck and he was nowhere to be found. Jason had only looked away for a few hours, who knew Danny would be targeted already.

Well there was the News that had displayed him the previous day.

"Wakey wakey hero"

Danny squinted as his vision became clear.

"A clown?"

"I saw your little show and decided to break out of Arkam sooner just for you. It's my turn to put on a show now"

Danny wanted to strangle him right then but there were people around. Well they were just henchmen, if he knocked them out then they would see anything.

More importantly he had a few ideas on how to handle the joker.

"Put on a show, how about I do to you what you have done to countless of my patients" Danny threatened glaring murderously.

"Patience, I'll kill you after I tune in out friends"

Danny rolled his eyes. Back in the cave Batman had received an alert that Joker had broken out of Arkham.

Apparently he had kidnapped a prestigious doctor too.

"Incoming video call" the bat computer alerted.

The screen went black for a second before a smiling joker appeared in front of the camera.

"Hello batsy"

"Joker" batman growled.

"My friend here-"

"Shut the duck up! We are not friends GOD!"

Batman was taken aback.

"I'm going to beat the everloving hell out of you!" Danny shouted.

"He's cranky, I'm going to kill him slowly, break his resolve-"

"NOT BEFORE I BREAK YOUR FACE!"

Joker looked seriously annoyed.

"Let's get started shall we"

Joker picked up a crowbar.

"Remember this batsy, this should be so much fun. I just love reunion's"

Joker smiled before turning away from the camera.

"Joker!" Batman shouted from the other end of the screen.

Joker raised the crowbar and brought it down crushingly hard into Danny leg.

Batman waited for the screaming, but it was silence.

"Oh my bad, ~ow that hurts so bad~" Danny mocked.

He had phased out of his bindings and was now standing off to the left of joker.

"What- how did you get over there?!"

Danny gave Joker a sadistic grin.

"I'm a doctor Joker, I don't kill, but I did promise someone that I would tear off your arms if given the chance" Danny said as he rolled up his sleeves.

Batman was frantically trying to find them before the good doctor did something he regretted.

"Get him!"

Danny smiled and took on the henchmen, knocking them out quickly.

"How in the hell?! Just how weak are those stupid-"

A punch to the face caught off Jokers words.

"Hey joker, buddy. It's time I break you, permanently"

"Wha-" screams of utter agony filled the room.

Jason had found the building joker was holding Danny. He hadn't started to worry until he heard screaming.

Jason ran as fast as he could. The sight he was met with was not what he was expecting. Joker was laying on the ground with his arms bent in ways they were not meant to bend.

"No,no wait, Im sorry for kidnapping you AAAAHHH"

There was a satisfying crunch sound followed by a pop. Danny turned his head sensing another presence.

"Oh hey!"

"Hey?"

Danny had his foot on Jokers back.

"I was just teaching him a lesson" Danny said with a shrug.

"But his arms are still attacked to his body, I thought you said you were gonna rip them off"

"Well I mean, I broke most of his fingers, hell probably need crutches to walk right after this anyway"

"MY LEGS ARE FINE" Joker shouted from the floor.

Danny shoved the crowbar through his leg.

More screams followed.

"Like I was saying, he's gonna need help walking, hey Hood?"

Jason tilted his head, "hm?"

"I'm not going to jail for this right, it's definitely self defense right"

"You'll be fine, I mean, you might wanna get out of here though. The bat daddy is on his way"

Danny nodded glumly.

"I want to make something clear" he said crouching down to the half conscious Joker.

"I'm not proud of what I did today, but I can't stand by and watch you kill or injury any more people. You, will never touch another person again or I will come back for you"

His tone was more menacing than he realized and the Joker was terrified.

"That's the dude that killed me"

Danny whipped his head around.

"What?! He's the one who beat you death with a crowbar?!"

Jason flinched.

"Sorry, I know that not a comfortable subject I shouldn't have brought it up"

Jason shook his head.

"It's not you who should feel sorry right now"

Danny grabbed the crowbar and Jason had to take it from him.

"Your not killing anybody today Doctor. You still have patients waiting on you"

Danny sighed.

"Alright, let's tie him up and get out of here then"

"What?" Jason asked. He wasn't sure why Danny was thinking about him.

"Well I'm not gonna leave you here to face off with Batman"

"Too late, both of you better start talking. Now" an intimidating voice ordered.

Danny half near jumped out of his skin.

"Um hey bat-babe. See, my friend here and I were just passing through and we'll be on our way now. Bye"

Jason grabbed Danny and shit his grapple hook at the nearest window.

Danny was pulled into the air, gliding as Jason swung. They landed on the nearby road and didn't stop running.

They crashed at Jason's place instead of Danny's.

Danny was out of breath by the time they reached Jason's apartment door. Once he was inside he fell the the ground laughing.

"Hahahah, I can't believe you did that!" Danny cried out as he tried to breathe.

Jason took off his helmet.

"Really? Well best believe it because Batman is a hard nut for sure. Your gonna be on his wanted list now"

Danny's laughter was cut short. Jason turned and saw tears.

"Danny? What's wrong?"

"I can't go to jail Jason! I'm too young, I have my career and I'll be targeted for my good looks!" Danny sobbed.

"Your not going to jail" Jason said sitting down in front of his couch next to Danny.

"And if the bat come for you I'll wrestle him alright"

"Mhm"

Jason stared in front of him.

"I don't think Joker will be able to hurt anyone for a long time, you did something amazing Danny. Your amazing you know that"

Silence...

"Danny?" Jason peeked around Danny's shoulder to see Danny's head slumped down.

He smiled to himself, today had been a hectic day especially for a civilian.

Danny twitched in his sleep. Jason picked Danny up carefully and laid him on his bed before turning him in.

Danny woke up the next morning on the floor not sure where he was.

Flashbacks of yesterday popped into his head without permission. Joker, Batman and...Jason!

Danny sat up and saw the mess he had made of Jason's bed. Everything was pulled off the bed, nothing survived Danny's late night wrath. Danny worked quickly remaking the bed with help from his skills earned during his intern days.

He only considered it finished once there were no wrinkles too be found.

"Hah, I need some water" he muttered before making his way around the unfamiliar space. On his way to the kitchen he spotted Jason on the couch.  His arm was thrown above his head and the couch looked entirely too small for the man.

"Pfft"

Jason opened one eye.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Noo, I just noticed how manly you look today"

Jason sat up.

"Yea alright wise guy"

Danny was about to make a wise crack when his eye caught sight of the clock.

"OH MY GOD!" he shouted horrified.

"I don't report to work yesterday!"

Jason grabbed the panicking man.

"It's ok, I called the hospital and explained that you were in danger. They took a little to convince but I managed to get you the day off"

Danny almost fainted.

"I can't take a day off! What about the patients??"

Jason sat Dany down and kneeled before him.

"Do you not have faith in your fellow doctors?"

"I-I do"

Jason nodded.

"Danny, all you've been doing is looking out for your patients. In order to care for them you also need to be healthy"

"I'm healthy, look at me, I have muscles" Danny said jabbing his arm as if to prove it.

"I see that" Jason said unimpressed.

"But I'm talking about mental health. Take a day and just let someone else take care of you"

Danny scoffed.

"Yea right, like who?"

Jason smirked.

[itstimetojellyfish]

These days , have not been the best.( Dan Heng x Reader)

AHHHHHHHHHHH

Useless .

Everyone calls you that .

“Not even worth a single penny . “

“Don’t waste your time on them.”

You don’t blame them though , you were supposed to be there , helping others like you promised .

However , you left suddenly. This was because you had suddenly contracted a disease . If only you had taken the vaccine…. Then maybe rumors wouldn’t circulate around you .

Maybe the false information about you seeing another other than your dear lover wouldn’t be online and you would instead be in his arms sleeping .

( You hate yourself for being so weak)

Instead of being in the archives sleeping on your lovers futon with his other form wrapped around you , you’re sitting down in a cave on the planet you landed on .

Cold , alone , wet , and utterly miserable.

When the first rumors came out , Dan Heng saw them immediately, then he sought you out , seeing you talking with another man .

After you were done talking, he immediately confronted you about them , you thought he was foolish for believing them .

( You forgot that he revealed his past and now he’s insecure about your relationship)

You pay the price now .

People badmouthing you, tripping you , and even shoving you around , resulting in injuries that would leave a scar , both emotionally and physically.

Now , usually Dan Heng or the other Astral express members would help you , but ever since the rumors came out , they avoided you and seemed to loathe you .

( Do they all believe those lies?)

Your heart was torn apart and burned .

The one you loved most wouldn’t even spare a glance at you.

The people you deemed friends wouldn’t help you .

So now you’re on a cold , barren planet , abandoned , shivering , and crying .

(You wish they would’ve at least given you a blanket. )

(But you know you don’t deserve any kindness for being so weak and pathetic.)

So you sit there . Letting the cold wind slice through your clothes and hit your vulnerable skin , you start to pale .

You’ve always had problems with your body temperature. Usually you carry ice packs or blankets with you if the planet was cold or hot .

But the people left you here without alerting the Astral express so now you have no way of going home and sleeping.

You’re tired .

Cold too .

Soft pattering and loud thunder alerts you that it’s raining .

( You wish Dan Heng was here )

You curl in on yourself as a mock attempt to mimic the warmth your lover gave you when you were cold .

It’s useless .

Your arms are too small and cold , you don’t have a jacket or a soothing voice .

Your heart throbs and wails for at least a bit of affection , it doesn’t have to be a kiss , it doesn’t have to be a hug .

All you need is someone that cares for you .

Nothing else .

Nothing more .

You hate being alone . It makes you feel weak , vulnerable, and pathetic. It also reminds you of how much everyone hates you .

You sit there in the cave with barely any food for 2 weeks . Water is available since it rains pretty often .

You have a wound with an infection on your stomach and your legs are weak . You broke an ankle earlier trying to get some berries up on a mountain side .

Your stomach hurts and growls 24/7 and it’s making you vomit constantly .

Soon , you’re crying alone on the cold, rocky floor , stomach twisting unpleasantly as you writhe around in pain .

( You don’t hear the sound of something landing on the ground)

There’s a few clacks and then… you see pale skin and golden heels in front of you ..

Murmuring ensues and you wish that they would just kill you .

Then 2 pairs of black shoes come into your field of vision and a sweet voice gently whispers in your ears .

“ Hey… Y/N .. it’s gonna be okay , we’re so sorry be believed those rumors … “ Soft hands gently pull the slit on your clothes and an audible wince occurs as they see the gash on your stomach with an infection on it .

You close your eyes and go limp .

It sounds like March 7th. You miss her bubbly voice and tone .

Black fingerless globes come into your vision as you see a fluffy gray head . The gentle hands tilt your head and then you see amber eyes soften .

“ Dan Heng….medical… they’re …. “ The words coming from his mouth seem distorted and your eyes blink wearily .

You see bright red hair come into view as warm hands gently trace the wound around your stomach .

“ Poor thing…We’re so sorry for not coming sooner , your ankles broken too …”

You wince and whimper. The pain sears through your delicate senses as you try to escape it , though it doesn’t do anything other than amplify it.

Soon , you’re being lifted and you see the Astral Express come into view . Your eyes widen and then you squirm .

No! You can’t burden them again!

The arms carrying you shuffle to adjust your constant squirming , they then lift you up to the person shoulder and you see a pale white jacket .

A teal tail gently curls around your waist , careful not to disturb your wound and infection as they secure you in order to not open the wound your body tries so hard to close .

You whine . You missed this tail .. it would always caress your body and love it with all it could .

You made grabby hands in the air , asking for something you didn’t you know could get .

A warm fuzzy tip rubbed against your cheek as you slumped and curled in . The wound on your stomach stretching a bit making you wince.

A pink and blue head pops into your field of vision as you realize it’s Dan Heng holding you .

March looks at you with worried eyes as she sees how cloudy yours are .

Soon, you’re in the express , being stuck in a cuddle pile including Caelus , March, and Dan Heng , with at least 6 blankets on top of you as every one avoids the wound you have .

You had to stay at Herta’s space station for a while and then return to the Astral Express , the people who started the rumors about you are very much in the hospital.

They had almost gotten you killed without anyone knowing .

You gently turn on your side to see Dan Heng looking at you back.

You sit there like a deer in headlight . He gently places his hand on your chin before kissing you . His other hand trails down to your lower back and rubs it gently.

“ I’m so sorry” He nuzzles your forehead gently .

“ It’s … okay … “

“ These days haven’t been the best , so I’ll make the rest as good as I can.”

[mmmichyyy]

40? for the prompt

#40. "am i your husband or your taxi service?"

the first time it happens, mickey doesn't think much of it.

can you pick me up after my shift? too tired to take the L

when mickey is near the station, he parks the van a block away. force of habit from when he and his brothers used to sneak up and collect from people who owed terry money. plus, he doesn't particularly want ian's coworkers to see their stolen ambulance, even though it's completely unrecognizable after debbie helped them revamp the entire thing and paint over it with the logo sandy designed.

here

i don't see you

i'm parked a block away

pick me up at the station

your legs don't work?

i'm tired :(

i drove the van

it's fine no one will be able to tell lol

mickey rolls his eyes and drops his phone in the cupholder. as he pulls up across the street from the station, he sees ian standing on the curb, chatting with someone wearing a matching EMT uniform, a shorter man with tan skin and curly hair.

mickey honks once, a bit impatient since he's hungry as fuck and there's a large pizza he ordered earlier waiting for them at their apartment. ian lifts his head and smiles. as he waves goodbye to his coworker and jogs over to the van, mickey doesn't miss the way the dude is gaping at mickey with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

the hell is this guy's problem?

"everything okay?" mickey asks, once ian buckles his seatbelt and reclines his seat.

"just tired." ian yawns. "had a long shift today."

"well," mickey puts the van in drive, reaching over the center console to ruffle ian's hair, promptly forgetting ian's weird coworker, "i already ordered a pizza so we can eat then turn in early."

ian smiles sleepily and interlaces his fingers with mickey's. "you're the best husband ever."

mickey shakes his head, biting back a smile. "sappy fucker."

*

after almost two weeks of ian asking to be picked up, mickey suspects something is up. not that he minds or anything, since he makes his own schedule nowadays. after the security business started turning a profit and ian went back to being an emt, he hired a couple of guys to drive the routes so he could work from home and catch up on admin work, freeing up a lot of time in his day to day.

but ian never used to mind the commute. he's the kind of long-legged freak who liked to take the scenic route and go on long runs in the morning, just for fun. absolutely deranged behaviour, in mickey's opinion. but lately, ian has been flashing his kicked-puppy eyes and asking to be chauffeured like a pampered prince and, well. mickey could never resist spending more time with his husband, so he hasn't said anything. not yet, anyway. god he's so whipped.

the excuses ian came up with, however, were more unbelievable as it went on, ranging from the train broke down (mickey knew for a fact it didn't), to spraining his elbow (though he had no problem throwing mickey on the bed later that night with his supposedly injured arm), to how it was going to rain later (it was sunny all day without a cloud in sight).

when mickey tried to call him out on his bullshit, ian either got down on his knees or flipped mickey over and fucked him senseless into the bed, promptly making mickey forget what the hell he was trying to say.

it's gotten to the point where ian stopped making excuses and simply asked mickey to come get him. which truthfully, mickey doesn't mind at all. but he just finds it odd how his beefy athletic husband had gotten so lazy.

"what's with you?" mickey finally asks one day, as ian climbs into the passenger seat.

ian blinks innocently. "what do you mean, dear husband of mine?"

mickey rolls his eyes. "am i your husband or your fuckin' taxi driver? 'cause i've been picking your ass up every day for the past two weeks when you have two perfectly functioning legs."

ian huffs, crossing his arms. "maybe i just want to spend more time with you."

"we live together," mickey points out flatly, "how much more time do you need?"

"i–"

a tap on the glass interrupts them, and mickey turns to see a woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail, enthusiastically gesturing at him to roll down the window.

"the fuck?" mickey turns to ian, whose face has turned slightly pink. "did you forget something at the station?"

"ah, no." ian scratches his head sheepishly. "sue is just being... sue."

sue waves her hand again and mickey reluctantly lowers the window.

"mickey, this is sue, my supervisor, and sue, this is–"

"the elusive husband." sue grins. "i've heard a lot about you, mickey."

mickey raises his brow. "have you now."

"oh sure," she says, ignoring ian's frantic head shaking, "ian won't shut up about you, yapping on and on about mickey this and mickey that. we're all jealous at the station actually, everyone just complains about their partners while ian keeps gushing about how perfect and amazing his husband is. his words."

"huh." that explains a lot, actually, why there was always someone different waiting with ian every time he came to pick him up, and why they all stared at him like a circus freak. "well, i bet ian didn't tell you the time we stole an ambu–"

"okay," ian cuts in loudly, reaching over to turn the key in the ignition, "we're leaving. i'll see you tomorrow, sue."

"come to the company picnic next month," sue calls out. "it's a potluck and everyone is bringing their family. it'll be fun!"

"uh sure," mickey says, even though a social gathering with ian's nosy coworkers sounds like the least fun thing he's ever heard of. he looks over at ian, slumped in his seat, avoiding mickey's eyes. "I'll check my schedule."

once mickey drives around the corner, he playfully flicks his finger at ian's temple and ian rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"you yap about me to your coworkers," mickey teases. "you're so fuckin' whipped."

"whatever," ian grumbles. "stupid sue calling me out."

"is that why you keep asking me to pick you up?" mickey asks, amused. "to parade me around like a little show dog?"

"well, eduardo blabbed to everyone he saw you, then everyone kept asking about you and wanted to see you in person, so..."

"hm." mickey reaches over and brushes his thumb over ian's palm. "what do you say about me?"

ian links their fingers together and sighs. "that you're attentive. funny. caring. protective. loyal. the ideal man."

mickey laughs. "you're really overselling me here, gallagher. did you forget i'm an ex-convict, pimp and drug dealer?"

ian waves him off and continues. "kind. loving. perfect in every single way, except when you leave your socks on the floor. oh and that you're hot as hell with an ass that won't quit."

"you talked about my ass?"

"okay, i didn't say the last part," ian amends, "your ass belongs to just me. but i meant everything else i said."

"you really are a sappy fucker."

"you love it."

"i'd love it even more if i didn't have to be your chauffeur every day, at least they get paid to drive back and forth."

"you come with me to the picnic, i'll pay you with favours in bed. i'll even throw in a big tip."

"a big tip, huh..."

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem!reader

master list

summary: feelings burst. Fluffy. Fluffy fluffy. Eddie helps reader when she finds herself in a bind.

warnings: no minors gtfo- eventual smut in the series.

W.C: 11.8k 🫣

A/N: per usual thank you the my beta readers @sweetsweetjellybean

//

Clunk

Clunk clunk humm

You were already late for work this morning and now this? Must be a fucking Monday. This must be that bitch karma’s payback for you talking shit about Eddie’s van the other night when he backed it up to the garage to unload some shit he salvaged from the junkyard.

“You would think that since you’re a mechanic, you could tune up that piece of shit so it isn’t so fucking loud.”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, unloading another arm load of car parts from the back of the van to the middle of the garage, “don’t dog on the shaggin’ wagon, you know how much ass I get in this thing?”

The unspoken agreement you had with Eddie the other night after spilling your guts about your past, gave you more patience towards him than ever before. Instead of finding him repulsive, you two were almost friends.

“No I don’t and also I don’t care.” you say taking a bite of a ham sandwich.

“More than a public toilet seat,” Eddie boasts, “Ladies love it, feel like I’m Shaggy or something.”

More like his other four-legged snack-loving friend.

“I really hope you use a rubber, don’t wanna extend the Munson blood line anymore than you have to,” you bite back.

“Oh sweetheart, I always wrap it with the groupies, especially watching Jas bounce from Gareth, to Big D to Walt all in one night.”

“Well look at you, Mr. Perfect bill of health.”

Eddie smiles widely a stupid grin plastered on his face, “I’m so good at the doctors they even give me a sticker. ”

-

Now here you are, stranded at the gas station east of town, past Merrill’s pumpkin patch. Losing all faith in your sanity, you slam your hand into the steering wheel one more time. Your chunky boots clunk across the pavement as you pull the door towards you, a dingy brass bell dings overhead, alerting the gas station attendant that someone has entered the store.

“Back again?” the balding creep with the greasy combover presses. His coke bottle thick glasses full of breakfast pizza slime from his fingers from pushing them up on in place after sliding down the oils on his nose. A brown paper bag with orange spray paint sitting next to it sat on the counter, and a tinge of orange around his mouth.

With no time for small talk or shooting the shit with the local bachelors of Hawkins, you simply need to borrow the phone and call… fuck. You didn’t want to have to call Boom’s, but the other shops didn’t open yet, and you didn’t know any of them. The decision was made.

“I need to use the phone,” you say laying your hands on the counter.

“No can do, this is a business line,” he spits, bits of his barely chewed breakfast falling from his over stuffed mouth.

Irritated beyond belief you say through gritted teeth, “What? My car broke down, I need to have it towed.”

Showing no sympathy, the combover greaseball says, “That sucks, don’t it,” a throaty chuckle erupts from him. Clearly the man got off from making next to little effort in helping someone.

“Listen,” you say peering over the counter to read the slobs name tag, “Ralph— you’re going to give me the goddamn phone so I can get my car towed, or I’m going to tell your boss about your little huffing habit. Got it?”

His cheeks crimson at your threat, “…what’s the number?”

After dialing it wrong three times, Ralph’s oversized fingers and his altered mind getting hung up on where the 4 was on the dusty rotary phone, you hastily reach across the counter and grab it and the Hawkins phone book. Flipping through the worn yellow pages, finding the number yourself and slotting your fingers in the appropriate places to get the number correct, it finally starts ringing.

Angrily tapping your foot, the serenade of dial tone ringing loud in your ear.

“Boom’s” a bored voice says, after ehat seems like hours of waiting.

“Hey, — is Eddie there?”

A scoff is heard from the other end of the phone, followed by an annoyed voice, “Why who wants to know?”

You don’t have time for childish games with whoever this fucking prick is. “Jesus Christ what is it with assholes today? Is he there or no?”

“I don’t know, you stupid bitch— why don’t you tell me if Eddie is here or—”

A scuffle is heard as the phone falls to the ground.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Huh? I’ll drop your ass just name the time and place mother fuck— hello?”

“Eddie?” You ask exhaustedly.

“Tooty? Oh shit, you miss me so much you’re making calls to my work?”

“E—” you begin, frustration rising.

“Or did you call to gossip? Ooooh, tell me all about the salon drama, is it that blonde again, damn just slap her already I know you want to.”

“Ed—!”

“Shit if you’re worried about going to jail I’ll come bail y—”

“Edward Joseph Munson!”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Did you just use my full name? I only hear that when I’m in trouble with Wayne.”

“Will you listen to me?! I need help. I’m at the gas station east of town and my car won’t start.”

“What? What happened?” Eddie asks, his joking tone immediately fading to concern.

“I have no idea, but I’m already late for work—can you come pick me up?”

“Usually this is where a please would be.”

“Eddie!”

“Ooh even begging?”

“Goddamnit,” you say under your breath, “Eddie will you please, come get me?”

“That a girl, see that wasn’t so hard. So where are you?”

-

Eddie rolls up in an old orange and white tow truck, head banging with a cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip. “So what happened?”

“Well I drove here, got gas, and then it just wouldn’t start.”

“Damn, I wonder if your starter is out.”

“Great, so what the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it is that or not, but if it’s not that— it means that your car is probably going to need more work than it’s worth, but I won’t know until I get it in the shop.”

“Son of a bitch.” you curse, covering your face with your hands and tipping your head back up to the sky. Could this fucking day get any worse?

After buying the house last year, your savings were completely wiped out, the last few months you had been pinching pennies trying to build it back up

“I’ll tow it, but I don’t think Boom has any loaners right now,” Eddie explains, “but since I’m such a kind, handsome, good roommate….”

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll bring you to work.”

Shock evident on your face, “You sure?”

“I mean its either that or the city bus, and last I checked—Hawkins doesn’t have one.”

Eddie agrees to give you a ride until your car is fixed on one condition, the band gets to use the garage for practices again. Too tired to fight with him, you give in.

He backs the truck up, moving the steering wheel with one hand the other hanging out of the window, his tongue poked out through his lips. He jumps down from the truck and maneuvers the wheel lift into place by your front tires.

The muscles in his forearms jut out, tattoos dancing with each movement and covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he grabs the chains from the flatbed and hooks them along your front tires, securing them into place. Your car is lifted slightly giving enough clearance to be able to tow.

“Ready?”

-

Bouncing along side Eddie in the tow truck you sigh heavily, “fuck, I hate Mondays.”

“Okay, Garfield,” Eddie chuckles, turning down the radio and glancing towards you, a cigarette balanced between his teeth, “could always be worse,” he digs into his front pocket for his pack of cigarettes and hands them to you.

You smile weakly and take the pack from him, plucking a tanned filter from the pack and shoving it between your lips. Before you can even say that your lighter is in the car, he’s leaning over. A scratched zippo with a fading design on it, in his hand already flicked open, the flame threatening to go out with the help of the lazy breeze through the open driver’s side window. It’s the same lighter he’s had since you first bummed a cigarette from him when you were thirteen.

Leaning towards him you put the cigarette into the flame, inhaling deep— the cowboy killers burning the pinky tissue of your lungs. He flicks the lighter closed with a metallic snap and smiles out of the corner of his mouth at you. Suddenly your lungs aren’t the only thing burning.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to avoid the skips in your stomach, “I usually prefer menthols, but I guess, these’ll do,”

“Always gotta bust my balls dontchya?” Eddie laughs, a stream of smoke billowing out from his nose. “Hey, uh— I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but that gas station is rated 5 stars on the creepiest place in town.”

You glare your eyes at him, absolutely not having it, “they have cheap gas.”

“There’s a reason for that, and every drug dealer in town sells out of there,” Eddie scolds.

“You would know,” you say in a hateful tone.

“You’re right,” Eddie protests, looking at you earnestly, “I would know— it’s not a good place to be— no matter what time of day, so stay away from it.”

You knew he was trying to look out for you, and from what Steve said, — he blamed himself for the things Chad did to you. But it was never his fault, he didn’t know just like most of Hawkins didn’t. You lived with the Wheeler’s and not even they noticed until you walked home that night. You decide to let it be. For once in your life agreeing to what he had to say.

“Alright,”

-

Boom’s was on the opposite side of town, the rest of the drive you listened to Eddie hum along to the radio and snuck a peek at him playing air guitar. Despite him being so foul, and a royal pain in the ass, he was actually a decent human being.

No other men in their twenties could help you through your panic attack, aside from Steve. But Eddie? He was different from Steve in ways that you couldn’t grasp. You didn’t find yourself staring at Steve. Even if you had been swimming with him on more occasions than you can count. Sure he was good looking, but you never once understood why the girls at the pool practically flocked to him. Eddie hardly ever wore a shirt around you and your stomach ached each time you saw his broad shoulders and tattoos. Steve was like a brother to you, he scolded you and gave you advice, all with his hands permanently attached to his hips. A mother hen among his friends. Eddie teased and taunted you, his irritating behavior and the way he chewed his food, the way his hair was everywhere in the bathroom, the way his hair looked when he was fresh out of the shower, a towel slung on his hips. The way his hips made a ‘V’, small trail of hair from his belly button to his waistband. Fuck.

Is it hot in here?

What the hell were you doing?

There’s no way.

No fucking way.

Nope, not today.

Not ever.

..

…

But what if?

-

Eddie couldn’t understand what was going on with you in the passenger seat. Instead of bitching at him like normal, you were staring out the window. Looking as if you were fighting a storm in your cute little head. Maybe you were reliving the past. Silently suffering through something that he should have been there to stop. But judging from your reflection against the dirty window, you didn’t seem to be crying.

After that night, Eddie was putting in more effort to make sure you felt safe. He gave you distance. Avoided the bathroom in the morning, and stopped making dick jokes altogether. He still joked around, still acted like an idiot— but his perverted meter was dipped into the green zone, the safety net.

He meant what he said, you didn’t have to be afraid with him around. And he would do whatever he could to prove that to you. So when you called Boom’s earlier and asked for help— he dropped everything to make the trek across town to pick you up. Especially when you told him the gas station you were at. Known for being the skeeziest one in town, he worried about you being there alone.

Seeing the tow truck pull into the parking lot, Sean and Aaron had their noses pressed against the glass, the cheap flimsy blinds hung crooked over their heads.

“Damn,” Aaron exclaims, “you were right, that is her.”

“Told you, Munson hasn’t shut up about her since he moved in. Wonder if Chad knows where she’s been hiding.”

-

Eddie parks the tow truck and you both climb out. He gives you the keys to his van and tells you he’d be right back. Walking into the shop with a whistle on his tongue, he goes into Boom’s office. He’s sitting at a worn down wooden desk. Papers, and receipts clutter space where a framed family picture might be. A steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in Boom’s left hand suggested he stopped at the donut mart, and a dozen of glazed holes from heaven would be sitting in the break room, their sweetness tantalizing the crew all day.

Eddie raps his knuckles against the yellowed paint by the door frame.

‘Yep,” Boom chirps without looking up, reading the daily arrest records in the Hawkins Post.

“Hey, I brought Tooty’s Escort back, I’m going to bring her to work quick and when I get back I’ll move it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Boom gripes, not looking up from the paper, sipping the coffee slowly.

“Dunno, I’ll take a look at it— “ Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to another, “I was wondering if I could maybe work on it after hours, or on the weekends.”

Boom considers what Eddie is saying, “off the clock?”

“Yeah, or maybe I could take some of my tools home? Work on it there?”

Boom thinks for a while, taking a sip of his coffee. His pudgy finger hovering near the name “William Hargrove” mulling over if he knew him. He finally looks up, “Whatever you wanna do, Eddie, you’ve got keys—I trust you.” Boom offers, “just don’t let those other two jackasses know what you’re doing and who for— that’s all they’ve been yappin’ about since you left this morning.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I’m just helping out a friend, don’t know why they give a fuck.”

“Personally, I don’t give a shit— but you’re my best mechanic, and those other two are on their last strike with me. One more time I read their name in this paper and they’re both out of here, and when that time comes— I’m sure they’ll be lookin’ for someone to blame.”

-

The familiar scent of stale weed and a spilled rotting beer in the back of the van flood your nose. Even though his van was a dirty pile of shit and it stunk like hell, you’re thankful for Eddie taking time out of his day to help you.

He could have easily told you to fuck off, hung up on you the minute you called. But he didn’t. He kept good on his word even when he didn’t have to. He doesn’t owe you anything and yet here he was, proving to you again, that he could be someone to rely on. You peer at him through your lashes, falling deep into a spell of fondness. He was always clean shaven, showing off his babyish features. If you didn’t know his age you wouldn’t guess he was over twenty two, his youthful pale skin a glow like the moon across a lake at midnight. The deep browns of his eyes squint in the bright sun, his dark eyelashes almost kissing his cheeks. His thick ringed fingers tapping on the steering wheel as ‘Holy Diver’ plays gently in the background. The bob of his Adam's apple jutting out as he swallows and takes a drag from a cigarette.

You barely recognize your own voice when you say barely above a whisper, “thank you, by the way— not just for today but for the other night,” your fingers go back to the same nervous habit, twiddling the end of your cream lettuce hem shirt.

“Of course,” he says, a look of shock on his face, “I know I like to give you shit, but I wouldn’t leave you stranded somewhere.” He looks over at you lazily and smiles. The kind of smile associated with cool guys on tv, the kind of smile that’s crooked and truly only on one side of the face. And for the first time, you smile too, letting the warmth radiate through your body, venturing into places that you have to readjust your crossed legs to avoid entirely.

Pulling into the backlot of the salon, where you and Nancy smoke cigarettes and read trash magazines, you jump out thanking him again, the creak of the door slamming back into the frame as you wave goodbye.

“What time?” Eddie yelled after you, silently admiring the way the sun catches your face, highlighting your features, the slight breeze catching your hair, he can’t help the smile that dances on his lips. “What time are you off work?”

Walking back to him, he’s leaning his head back on the head rest, an arm hanging out of the window, a stupid grin on his face.

“My last client is at five and it’s just a cut, so probably six o’clock, why?” A creep of jittery shock threatens your nerves, fluttering your stomach and sending waves of fluster through your body.

“Thought I’d pick you up, unless you wanna walk home?” He smirks, tracing the small paint chip near where his fingers set on the door.

Biting your lip and moving back on your heels you make your way back to the door, “Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be back at six.”

“Six” you repeat, turning on your heel and walking into the salon.

-

Eddie has thought about you all day, the cards of life and the hand you were dealt were shitty. But he was happy he was around to help in any little way he could. He thought maybe he was crazy, seeing shit when you smiled at him, a sort of shyness in the way you flirted by dipping your head into your shoulder almost giddy at him picking you up.

But that couldn’t be.

-

The rest of your day was monotonous. Shampoo sets, perms, cuts, rinse and repeat. The long haired metalhead hardly left your mind. When it’s just you and Josie left in the salon after your last appointment, it’s 5:30. She sits down, exhaling loudly. Her long dark braids trailing to her waist, cascade down the length of the chair as she leans back.

“Broke down again? Girl, you need a car that actually works.” Her hot pink fingernails dip into a bag of skittles, popping them into her mouth.

“I know,” you sigh, throwing yourself into your salon chair, “hopefully in the next few months I’ll have enough saved to get myself a new one.”

“So how did you get here? If we had someone else in the salon today I would have came and picked you up,” her mouth puckered into a sucking expression as she pops another skittle into her mouth.

“My roommate… he works at Boom’s so he towed it there and then brought me to work,” you express nonchalantly.

“Ooh the rich one who you used to work with?”

“Steve?” You say with a laugh, “No, Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie Munson? Why does that name sound so familiar? Ohh the infamous Hawkins bad boy, my cousins used to run around with him, some club or somethin’ ”

“Yeah, that's him, he’s turned himself around quite a bit since high school though.” The annoying need to defend him is obvious in your tone.

Josie’s eyes go wide, “Wait—“ she says, pointing a pink nail at you, “he had a girlfriend. He’s living with you? Shit, you’re a brave one.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks, the thought of Eddie having a secret girlfriend that you didn’t know about was almost torture on your soul, “no, no girlfriend… that I’m aware of at least.”

Speak of the devil and he will be present.

Opening the door with the sun waning behind him, peeking an orangy-yellow glow through his unruly curls, stood Eddie. His coveralls are full of motor oil and brake fluid. Black grease is smeared across his face, and his hands. Bandana still snug around his head.

“Oh shit,” Eddie blurts, eyes scanning around the room, bouncing from your face to Josie’s. Clearly uncomfortable in such a clean establishment. “Sorry, I’m uhh, a little early.”

Josie’s eyebrows are turned up in shock, her mouth slightly agape. “Damn, you’re the roommate!?”

Before she can embarrass you any further you blurt, “Josie, this is Eddie,” holding out a hand and pointing, introducing him to her, “Eddie this is my boss and the owner of the salon, Josie.”

Eddie waves with his fingers, “so you’re the one lookin’ after our girl here, the mechanic?” Josie asks.

“Uhh, yeah that’s me.” he puts a hand on the back of his neck and rubs it slow

Josie stands and walks towards you, a clicking of her heels and munching on her candy as she grabs your hand and drags you upwards, dragging you to the back of the salon.

Eddie looks around the room. The salon is decorated in light washes of pink and green and flowers decorate almost every surface, White painted baskets hang from the ceiling holding fake flowers. The salon chairs are black as are the mats under them. Green sinks in the back and cabinets overhead. Two mirrors on each wall and station with a name and family pictures decorate them. Eddie can’t help but notice that where you were sitting, there are only three pictures. A photo of you and Nancy looking like it was taken last summer, you’re holding up the keys to the blue ranch style house he now calls home. Another picture is of you Robin and Steve, in green Family Video Vests in front of the counter. You and Robin are both pulling one of Steve’s ears and he’s making a monkey face. The last picture is of you and Eyeball as kids, a portrait more than likely taken at a JC Penney’s.

“Don’t forget to lock up, okay? Enjoy your day off tomorrow. Eddie, be good to her!” Josie calls from the back, the heavy metal door slamming as she leaves for the night, a smile painted on her lips, shaking her head.

You walk back towards Eddie, he’s sitting in your chair, poking around at all of the different brushes and curling irons that were on your station. Your tired eyes scan him and find him in the mirror. “What is all this shit?”

“My tools to style, cut and color people’s hair.”

You’re standing behind him. You hesitantly grab one of his curls in between your fingers, noting how silky and smooth his hair is despite the split ends. “You could probably use a trim, Eddie. When was the last time you had your hair cut?”

“You think these curls have been in a salon? Please! I cut it myself thank you,”

“I can tell,” you mutter under your breath, going full hog and untying his sweaty bandana and tossing it onto the counter. “Come on, let’s go wash your hair, and then I’m gonna give you a trim.”

“You’re not cutting my hair.” Eddie protests, arms crossed and resisting.

“Your ends are dead, if you don’t take care of it now, it’ll keep going further up and then you’ll have to shave your head.”

Eddie practically trips standing up quickly. “Those are fighting words.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?” You ask in a bored tone.

“Actually no, but— okay fine! Only because you went to some fancy school.”

Eddie stomps over to the sink and sits down with a plop in the smooth cushioned black chair. You follow behind him and place your apron back around your neck, tightening it around your back. You lean his chair back telling him to lift his head from the headrest as you gather his curls into the basin.

Turning on the water and testing the temperature on your wrist, like a mother testing a bottle making sure it isn’t too hot for a baby, you gently put the spray into the ends of Eddie’s hair, gently working the spray up the length of his head to his scalp.

“Is the water okay?”

“Ow, holy shit!” Eddie yelps, his body flopping around like a fish out of water. You immediately turn the faucet the other way, apologizing profusely until you realize Eddie is shaking with laughter.

“Oh fuck, … you…” more laughing as he chokes out his words, “should have seen your face.” He mimics your face and bursts into a fit of giggles, you aren’t sure how long he would have kept it up if you didn’t put the hose directly into his face and throw a towel at him.

“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll wax your eyebrows.” You spit at him, letting out a small laugh.

Mumbling from under the towel is faint but you swear you hear the word bikini.

Eddie finished cleaning his face and lays his head back into the sink again, you don’t ask this time but immediately start wetting his hair. “So,” he says, closing his eyes, so water won’t get in them, “I think I figured out what is wrong with your car.”

“Oh really? Is it going to be an easy fix?”

Not wanting to admit to you that he was working on your car for free or that he would borrow as many tools as he had to to get your car fixed, he settles for a half truth.

“Shouldn’t be too bad, gotta get some parts ordered for it.”

You let out a groan, “oh God— how much are they?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I just said, don’t worry about it, now treat me like one of your clients and tell me all the hot gossip in your life.”

Taking three giant pumps from the white shampoo bottle in the cabinet, you gently massage it into his scalp. Letting the cool smooth pearlescent liquid suds up. His hair feels like brown ropes of silk in your hands. All the years of having your hands in someone else’s hair were nothing compared to the odd feeling of lightly working the suds into Eddie’s mane. Baby soft. Luxurious in ways that contradicted the metalhead image he wore so well like a coat of armor.

You weren’t the only one admiring the way his hair felt in your hands.

Eddie is fighting hard not to melt into a puddle right there in Josie’s salon. Your hands were like magic against his scalp, your nails lightly scratching small circles against his skull. He was sure he’d fall asleep if he kept his eyes closed for any longer. It was the closest thing he could compare to what heaven would be like. Hints of tropical coconut mixed with crushed pineapple filled the air. He didn’t even realize you were talking until he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of your mouth moving over him. Your face was concentrating on the story that you were telling, but it fell on deaf ears. He was in a trance. The scrape of your nails against his head was almost pornographic to him. The way your eyes were trained on the job at hand. The way your lips parted and moved as you told the story. The animated look in your eyes, sparkling with each slow blink, your eyelashes teasing him.

He had never noticed the features of your face before. Usually if he was this close you were staring up at him and pointing one of those glorious fingernails into his chest, yelling at him— eyebrows pulled in, your face set in a scowl. But now here you were, scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. Filling a void he wasn’t aware was missing. He could die right now and he wouldn’t even know it. It was almost orgasmic the way you were making him feel, all with just simply washing his hair.

He caught himself before you could notice it. He crossed his legs and willed himself to think of anything else. Shutting his eyes and imagining the least sexy thing he could think of. Not wanting to ruin the moment between you both and make you never want to trust him again because he had got an accidental semi while staring at you while you were wrist deep in shampoo, scrubbing his scalp like a woman in the 1800s washing clothes on a board in the creek bed.

Nobody had ever washed his hair before, that he could remember at least. He never wanted it to end.

“…but that’s crazy right? Like she’s a psycho!” The hazy fog of lust finally left Eddie’s mind, his other four senses returning. Looking at your face and seeing that you were hurt by the story you had explained, and ashamed that he wasn’t even listening, he agreed, not even knowing if he should.

“What a bitch.”

You giggled, smiling down at him. Finally realizing you had been scrubbing his hair for almost five minutes, lost in the story. A stupid distraction to force yourself away from the feeling of the silk length of his hair, the way it felt in your fingers. Not wanting to let it slip away. You gather it all in one hand and grab the hose with the other, starting at the crown of his forehead, you rinse the suds from his hair.

Bubbles circle the basin. Disappearing down the drain along with the same shared feelings of lust and yearning. Shoved down deep away from the surface, hidden beneath hardened surfaces, shielded away from the inner depths of the softening heart.

-

You ended up cutting half an inch from Eddie’s curls, careful to not lose yourself in his hair again, almost cutting yourself in the process. Hee watched with wide sad brown eyes with each snip. “It’s like I’m watching you cut parts of my soul away.”

You roll your eyes, “It’ll grow back, and when it does it’ll be healthier and longer.”

His bangs were the next to be trimmed, not even half an inch taken off. You place a leave-in conditioner spray to keep his curls soft and to help with the tangles. Knowing full well that Eddie didn’t even own a hair brush.

When you finish and are sweeping up his curls, Eddie stands shaking his head like a dog and running his fingers through it. “Alright, I’ll admit, it does feel better.”

-

Since the agreement was made for the band to practice every other day of the week in the garage, Eddie had been bringing you to work, and picking you up. On days the band wouldn’t be practicing, when he dropped you at home, he would leave immediately after, sometimes not showing up again until midnight. Coming home tired as all hell, and just like you had done weeks before, a Tupperware of food with instructions on how to warm it up taped to the lid, would be waiting for him in the fridge, each and every time.

There was no more yelling from you when the three members of Corroded Coffin showed up. There were also no more beer cans or greasy food wrappers on the ground either. Instead a trash can sat in the corner, and Eddie paid for pizza after you ordered it.

Actually the band was pretty good. You would never tell him that, that would simply go to his head. And with the ego he already had, he didn’t need another boost of confidence, leave that for the groupies. So every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday night the band got together, playing covers from their beloved 80’s metal Gods and sometimes original songs they would write. All of them thankful that you let them practice in the garage, Big D picking you up into a bear hug and swinging you around like a rag doll.

“Jesus Christ, D, this is why the ladies run from you, you’re too aggressive, put her down!” Eddie barks. A pang of burning in his chest at the sight of you in someone else’s arms.

Big D sets you down and apologizes, “sorry Toots, and hey speaking of ladies, whatever happened with you and those hotter than hell twins?”

“Oh shit, Gareth hollered, “Fuck dude they were all over him, surprised he’s even able to walk with the way they were strung around him like cats in heat. You usually can’t wait to tell us about it, bragging until the next gig about it at least.”

“That’s cause he probably didn’t do shit, too chicken shit to handle them.”

Your stomach flips, so it wasn’t something you remembered wrong, there were two girls that Eddie had brought home that night. A strange feeling of angst washes over you, coating your mind with uncertainty mixed with inadequacy. Your cheeks warm, embarrassed by the way you are feeling. Excusing yourself to go order the pizza, you don’t see the way Eddie dismisses the guys, blowing them off with a “why don’t we keep our sexcapades to ourselves.” Or the way he throws a full beer at Big D.

-

After ordering the Corroded Coffin special, two large pepperonis, two large sweet and swine, and an extra large order of cheesy breadsticks— you go into the cupboard and bring out several bags of chips and five paper plates. Your favorite, sour cream and onion, and Eddie’s favorite, cool ranch Doritos. You let your mind wander. Thinking about him with those two girls. Realizing this is probably where he went at night after he dropped you off.

No need to feel like that when he was just your roommate, you shake the jealousy from your head. Just Eddie. Barely a friend. Yet he was still going out of his way to take you to work every day, till doing the chores you both shared. You let the silly feelings drop, carrying the chips and plates to the garage, shutting the door behind you. Pulling up your usual lawn chair, listen to the band play and finish painting your toenails.

When the boys end the song, they start again on the conversation they had started before playing, “dude I’m not dressing up as KISS again this year,” Jeff whines to Gareth “took me forever to get that white paint off my face. And don’t even get me started on the eyeliner.”

A spray of beer soaks the ground as Eddie spits it out, laughing hysterically about the memory of watching Jeff struggle lining his eyes like Paul Stanley. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “yeah I agree, I’m not painting your ugly mugs again this year, what else are you thinkin’?”

“We could all be different villains from scary movies. Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers’s, and Pinhead.” Big D suggests, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Nah, no chicks wanna fuck something scary. I don’t know about you— but I tried all of last Halloween to get some tail and no girl would even look my way with all that clown paint on.” Gareth huffs twirling his drum sticks in his fingers.

“What about you Tooty?” Eddie asks earnestly, “Do you and Robin go bar hoppin’ on Halloween or do you usually stay home like an old lady knitting sweaters and handing out black licorice and molding fruit?”

Making a face at him, you paint the last coat of polish on your toe nail. “Actually, Nancy and I usually throw a party. Costume contests, kegs, beer pong… we kinda go all out.”

Eddie picks his jaw up from the floor, scoffing, “no way— Nancy Wheeler and you, throwing a rager on Halloween? I don’t buy it.”

“Call Steve and ask him, he’s the reigning Cherry Lane Halloween costume contest winner for two years running.” You say with a smirk on your lips, stretching your legs and crossing them at your ankles, the pretty maroon polish catching the dim light in the garage. “You guys are more than welcome to come, obviously it’s on Halloween night, and the only stipulation is to bring a good costume, and $5 for the keg.”

Eddie moves his tongue over his teeth, twisting his body to look at his band mates, all three of them shrugging and nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be here,

“Yeah, if you think you’re up for it. Sure.” You say nonchalantly.

-

The smell of mildew and damp carpet currently being air dried with a fan stung your nose. The soggy basement and the crumbling foundation of Sally’s Secondhand in downtown Hawkins was a hidden gem and only open in the afternoons on Mondays and Wednesdays, but they had decent prices and good quality items when you were in a pinch if you could learn to breathe through your mouth for the time you were there.

“So how’s the roomie situation going?” Nancy asks, holding up a hand mixer with two mixing parts and a wooden handle labeled for .10¢. You had scored gold when you found a gently used, practically brand new waffle iron. It was wedged between two cook books for only $2. The same one Karen Wheeler had used on Sunday mornings. You were hunting for discounted Halloween decorations still not sure on what you were going to dress as and Halloween was this Saturday, Nancy was searching for spare camera parts for Jonathan and a toy cowboy hat for her costume that she wouldn’t tell you about.

Putting a masking taped bundle of forks into the blue plastic grocery basket, your forks magically kept disappearing everytime Eddie brought leftovers to work, you let out a sigh, “It’s going okay, better than it was in the beginning. He’s fixing my car up and I cut his hair a few weeks ago. I um.. also told him about Chad.”

Nancy stops dead in her tracks, blue eyes wide, her small mouth agape, “wh-what?!” Nancy was shocked at the news, you nonchalantly delivered like saying ‘fine’ when some asked how you were. She knew how frightening that situation was for you, it was scary for her too. Seeing someone she loved and cared about hurt in ways she couldn’t even fathom.

“We ran into him while getting groceries—like a month ago. I had a full blown panic attack, and Eddie, he helped me through it.” You go into detail explaining everything that had happened. Leaving out the part of you being comforted by Eddie and the gentle way his thick hands caressed you while you sobbed into him like a child who lost their cat.

Nancy's face goes from shock and softens into content, “wow, honestly didn’t think he had a caring bone in his body, he always seemed like such an asshole.”

“I mean he still is, don’t get me wrong— I don’t think he’s giving donations to the local churches or anything, but he seems a little more reserved, if you will,” you say, adding a floral embroidered set of towels for every day of the week to your basket.

“Hmm,” Nancy says with raised eyebrows, and nodding her head, a silent confirmation of approval. Always looking up to Nancy, almost as if she was your real life sister, you admired her. She was always put together, whether you were shopping during the week or at home, she was stylish in a way that said, I will run the world, and have dinner on the table at 6. Her white huarache sandals matched her high waisted pink pastel shorts and white button sleeveless blouse. Effortlessly stunning.

Moving along the aisles you and Nancy both finger through the clothing racks. Pulling out neon prints and a pair Madonna—esque white lace gloves, they probably belonged to that muppet singing idiot, Tammy Thompson. Chuckling at how fashion trends in high school were borderline ridiculous. a denim vest in your size with safety pins on each hem gave you an idea for your costume. Finding everything you needed you were ecstatic to put it all together.

The carpet squashed beneath your feet the further you got into the store. The back room held vhs’s, records, tapes, and books. The records were in a milk carton next to a shelf of adult themed books. The fading sharpie written sign reading “Adult fiction for Women 25 cents” posted bold along the top of the shelf. Nancy discreetly placed, “Thursday and the Lady” by Patricia Matthews into her basket, covering it with matching salt and pepper shakers, a crimson tinge to her rouged cheeks.

Diving into the records you flip them towards you as you lazily scan through them. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, Thriller by Michael Jackson, Abbey Road by the Beatles, Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, stuck to the back of it was a small single, Ode to Billie Joe by Bobbie Gentry. It had been years since you heard it, tucking it into your basket, Nancy clears her throat nervously, the blush evident in her cheeks, “I’m ready if you are.”

-

The Saturday of Halloween the salon was closed, giving you Robin and Steve plenty of time to decorate for the party tonight. Eddie was working but was scheduled to get off around 5, just in time to come home and get his secret costume on.

Orange pumpkin printed garbage bags filled with autumn foliage lined the streets of Cherry Lane. Toilet paper streamers were in Mr. Derry’s tree, a prank the seniors of Hawkins High did to him every year, including egging his front door. Vinyl witches hung from doorknobs. Plastic ghosts holding jack-o-lanterns littered lawns. Fake strings of cotton resembling cobwebs with bendy plastic spider thrown around like glitter, lay atop shrubs. Orange lights were wrapped around the trees in your front yard, flimsy ghosts made of white sheets were hung from the branches. It was a child’s Halloween paradise.

“Higher, no lower, well now you’re just doing it wrong.” Steve was in charge of Robin who was in charge of decorations. The beer pong tournament would be in the basement, every strand of Christmas lights you could find were lighting the ceiling, table set up and cups in place. The tournament bracket started with Mike and El playing against Jeff and his girlfriend Ash. The kegs would be delivered later. Buckets ready for ice sitting on the deck. Robin and Steve were still arguing over who had the better costume last year. Twisting black and orange streamers together and hanging them in the doorway to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you’re finishing up the Jell-O shots, small clear dishes full of cherry red jello made with everclear. A bitter threat to anyone brave enough to eat them. The spinach and artichoke dip is prepped in the fridge, along with 10 packages of crescent rolls, 5 packages of hotdogs, the fruit cut and ready to be put into Steve’s horrendous Jungle Juice that you would actively be avoiding. Nancy and Jonathan were bringing pinwheels and rotel dip. Dustin and Susie are in charge of bringing candy. It’s going to be a blast.

-

“Be right back,” Robin and Steve call out as they leave to go get their costumes. Putting the finishing touches on your costume your hand shakes with nervousness while swiping mascara on your lashes, the pre party jitters wracking your nerves. The ring of the doorbell startles you. The obnoxious ringing should be a dead giveaway but you don’t recognize it until the door is wide open and you’re face to face with Jesus Christ himself and three nuns. Or as you knew them, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Big D.

You aren’t sure whose mouth is hanging open more. Yours or Eddie’s. Eddie is wearing a long sleeved cream colored gown, complete with a crimson sash. His usual black leather boots on his feet and a crucifix in his hand.

Eddie is the first to laugh, hands held out like he’s blessing the house before he enters it. “Aww sweetheart, you really are my #1 fan aren’t you?”

You are dressed as the most annoying on the planet, pain in the ass, voted most perverted of all of Hawkins: Eddie. When shopping with Nancy you found the vest, adding a few hand sewn patches and the best replica of Eddie’s DIO patch on the back, even shoving a pack of reds into the pocket, it looked pretty good. A twin of the aforementioned jackass. Borrowing Nancy’s cheap leather jacket when she went as Sandy from Grease last year, and putting holes into a pair of jeans and washing them as many times as you could to fray the edges, it was perfect. Complete with a horrible curly wig that you thought was a life dog upon seeing it.

“I was going for scary and scary annoying,” you shrug, “think I nailed it.”

“As hilarious and surprisingly accurate your costume is, the real winner for the party is going to be us” He gestured to him and the nuns. “figured I’d go as something that everyone says I need more of and you recognize the boys right? They’re dressed as your friends from work.”

-

The kegs finally show up and Eddie blesses the delivery man before he leaves. Fully throwing himself into character. Dustin and Susie are the first to arrive, dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire and Sally Ride, the first woman astronaut to go into space.

Dustin laughs so hard he cries at your costume. “Oh my God please you have to say, ‘forced conformity, it’s what’s killing the kids!’ Please Tooty Holy shit!”

Mimicking Eddie perfectly you saunter away and scream about society and how good Metallica is.

“Oh haha, so funny Tooty,” Eddie pouts, holding a beer funnel in his hands, “come on Henderson let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

-

The backyard is sprayed with foamy beer as Dustin very much can not put his money where his mouth is. Gareth’s up next, chugging like a champion and doing a lap around the backyard like he won a trophy. Eddie and Jeff shotgun beer, Eddie winning by a mile. Laughing and putting his hands in a praying gesture to bless Jeff for his shortcomings.

The rest of the party goers show up, Nancy is dressed like Annie Oakley wielding a fake shotgun and a straw cowboy hat and a long brown dress with fringe hanging from the shoulders. Jonathan and his long haired friend Argyle arrive behind Nancy dressed as Sonny & Cher. Argyle had given up the fast moving life in California once a Surfer Boys pizza arrived in Hawkins. He delivered to the house so much during the nights that Corroded Coffin was practicing that he had your order prepped and ready to go by the time you had called it in. He’d show up so blitzed out of his mind that he’d forget he was at work, sharing his different strains of weed with all the Corroded Coffin boys.

Robin and Steve are in the kitchen, ladling jungle juice into empty cups. The duo dressed as Thelma and Louise, Robin wearing a black muscle shirt and sunglasses, and Steve wore a white tank top with a neckerchief. Both talking in horrible southern accents.

Eddie is standing next to Argyle in the living room both holding almost empty cups of the forbidden jungle juice, deep in conversation about something called Purple Palm Tree Delight, but knowing them, it had nothing to do with a lavender paradise. You reach around Eddie to grab a pinwheel, taking a bite when Argyle, clearly stoned, goes wide eyed leaning into Eddie his eyes still transfixed on you he whisper yells.

“Yo, I swear to God, I just saw two of you.”

“Argyle it’s me, Tooty.” You explain standing next in front of them trying not to laugh. “This is the real Eddie, I’m just dressed like him for Halloween.”

Argyle leans forward and whispers into your ear, “Yeah okay man that’s what the aliens would say before they clone us and take over.”

He leans back and takes two big steps backwards, eyes wide in a horrified daze, before disappearing down into the basement.

“Don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but that guy smokes way too much.” Eddie chuckles, downing the rest of his jungle juice and eating the fruit at the bottom of the cup.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn him watching with your own gut twisting as the sweet juices of strawberry slither down his chin and down the slope of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, smacking his lips, “I’m twenty six years old, I can handle my liquor.”

“Okay,” you reply, “just so you know, the fruit soaks up all the alcohol and Steve presoaks it all in everclear the night before. Last time he ate all the fruit he spent an hour in the bathroom crying about his love life or lack thereof. And besides, we have to play in the pong tournament in a half hour.”

“We?” Eddie asks, lips turned up and a slight blush to his cheeks, “I didn’t sign up for beer pong.” His dark eyes pour into yours.

Heat creeps up your neck as you reach for a Jell-O shot cracking the lid off and circling the dish with your finger before sucking it into your mouth.

“I signed you up,” you say, reaching for another Jell-O shot, “everyone had a partner but Argyle and Will, so I paired you with Argyle, and I’m with Will,” you slide your finger around the Jell-O dish and suck the cherry gelatin into your mouth, savoring the bitter bite to your tongue before you crush it between your teeth.

“You better bring your A game Munson,” you say, taking a step into him and poking him in the chest, “because I don’t lose.”

Eddie isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making him feel this way or you but suddenly he can’t stop blushing, laying the charm on thicker than peanut butter, “oh really?” he asks intrigued, “Well babe, I don’t think you know this but I’m the Forest Hills Trailer Park Pong Champion for eight summers in a row, so technically,” he’s leaning forward now, whispering low to get his point across. Your breath hitches in your throat, you can feel the tickle of his lips against your ear, his hair is brushing against your face, the faint smell of motor oil stuck in his curls, “I never lose either.”

He pulls back and your eyes lock. The heat flooding your cheeks burn, the ache in your stomach travels south and pulses with want. You can’t deny it to yourself, even dressed as Jesus Christ, Eddie is the best looking guy you’ve laid eyes on, and you were melting at the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, a smirk placed on his lips as he brushes his tongue over his bottom lip to catch the remnants of the horrific fruit juice. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the Jell-O shot dish you’re holding and sets it behind him on the table. The tension could be cut with a knife, thick and heavily hanging in the space between you both. Eddie opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by El screaming for Mike to get to the backyard instead of puking in the kitchen sink. Her Alice in Wonderland wig askew on her head and holding Mike’s mad hatter hat between her hands.

Running to open the sliding door you get it open just in time for Mike to projectile vomit off the deck.

“Christ, what did he eat?” Eddie asks from behind you, “damn Mike you’re such a pussy!”

“His dumbass didn’t eat all day and when he got here he decided that Jell-O and fruit would be a good option.” El says, rubbing his back as he pukes again and again, “I don’t feel bad for you Mike!”

Wiping his mouth on his forest green jacket sleeve, he murmurs, “Babe, I’m fine, seriously, a few pieces of bread and I’ll be in tip top sh—“ puke splatters wetly against the grass again.

You grab El’s hand and squeeze, “let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods and smiles sweetly.

“C’mon,” Eddie says behind you, “let’s go so I can kick your ass in beer pong.”

You turn your head, half facing him, “game on, Munson.”

-

The sharpie bracket on poster board continued moving forward thanks to Steve’s basketball knowledge. Jeff and Ash beat Mike and El, Nancy and Jonathan beat out Gareth and Big D in a very close came both opponents having one cup left. Steve and Robin were beat out in the first round by Dustin and Susie, something King Steve would never be living down. Nex on the bracket to play would be you and Will playing Argyle and Eddie. Honestly it should be a piece of cake, a walk in the park. Will wasn’t the most athletic but last year him and Jonathan got second place against you and Nancy so the odds were pretty high. One thing you were absolutely certain of was that you would not be losing to Jesus and Cher tonight.

The basement is packed with everyone besides the ill Mike and faithful El. Argyle and a pink lensed Will are in the corner smoking a fat blunt the sequin jacket he’s wearing sparkles through the haze of smoke and the catches the lights. You haven’t seen him since Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding. But he’s letting his hair grow out, finally letting the bowl cut Joyce insisted on him having all throughout middle school and high school go. Steve has Dustin in a headlock for teasing him about winning against Mr. Hawkins High basketball star of 1985.

“Ya know for once, I was actually good, like really good, Steve overthrew the last cup and it was game over once Susie got the ball. She’s strangely amazing at beer pong. Probably found the mathematical equation from the distance of the table and her elbow to the solo cups.” Robin rambles on, only stopping to get her breath. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all night. Killer costume by the way, if you can’t beat ‘em be ‘em right?”

Robin and her absolute no filter mouth, always make you laugh, linking your arm with hers, “I really like your and Steve’s take on best friends driving off a cliff together to evade police.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” someone yells from upstairs.

Not missing a beat, Eddie can be heard returning the exclamation. “You rang?”

Rolling your eyes and looking his way, you laugh when you see him, holding up his arms in praise.

Robin’s voice bringing you back to the conversation, “Epic right? Steve thought we could be conjoined twins but then decided against it when he figured there was a small chance he could possibly get lucky tonight when that black haired girl at his job kept hinting that she wanted a date with him.”

“What!” you shout, “He never told me this!”

Robin rolls her eyes and takes another drink from her too foamy beer, “he’s nervous, I think he really likes her but doesn’t wanna fuck it up like he does everything else.”

Steve deserved to be happy and to have someone love him. He was always making sure everyone else was okay, you smile at the thought of him with a girlfriend.

“So,” Robin presses, wiggling her eyebrows, “Eddie looks good tonight,” a wicked smile dances wildly on her lips.

“I’m not at all buzzed enough to have this conversation,” you say, taking a peak at Eddie through your eyelashes, he was laughing loudly at something Steve had said, head thrown back, exposing his neck.

Will joins your side, reeking of weed and heavy musk cologne. “Tooty!” He squeals, wrapping you into a tight hug, “the house looks so fucking good I can’t believe it, also I heard that you’re living with Eddie? I’m going to need all the details!”

“It’s so good to see you, look at your hair!” You say holding his arms. Will threads a hand through his hair and laughs a little.

“Thanks, it’s new but it’s kinda growing on me, now, spill it. Tell me everything.”

“Next game!” Nancy announces, advancing her and Jonathan to the next bracket. “Argyle/ Eddie vs Tooty/ Will.”

Will grabs your hand and drags you to the beer pong table, “after?” He asks and you nod your head.

Eddie and Argyle are standing on one end, you and Will on the other. The cups are arranged into a triangle and filled with the warming pitcher of keg beer.

“You ready to go down groveling, sweetheart?” Eddie sings from across the table, eyes squinting when he leans on the edge of the table smiling at you.

Your stomach flutters, taking a long swig of Will’s jungle juice, staring Eddie down as you gulp the vile liquor and fruit punch combo down, “You ready to get your ass kicked, Munson?”

-

“Woo! That’s balls back ba-by,” you sneer, hooting and hollering as Eddie begrudgingly tosses the balls back your way. It was almost as if Argyle and Will weren’t even there, this game was between you and Eddie. You were definitely buzzed, between the warm beer and the Jell-O shots you had eaten you were feeling good.

When you miss the first cup, Eddie makes devil horns at you and howls at the moon like an idiot. You sink the next cup, earning a high-five from Will, and a sly grin from Eddie as he removes the cup and chugs the warm beer. He’s secretly excited that you’re so happy, letting loose, in your element, surrounded by your loving friends. You glowing with a sense of freedom. In that moment when your eyes caught his, he knew he was in trouble, you were wrapped around his finger and he didn’t think of hardly anything else, but you, your beautiful smile, the way your hair caught each light you were under. He was in deep, and for right now, he was perfectly and utterly okay with that.

It’s Argyle’s turn and he surprisingly sinks both cups, being awarded with balls back, as you and Will each take a cup and drink the suds down. Trying to distract him, you whip off your Eddie- esque wig and toss it towards Eddie, shaking your hair out like a wild woman.

Unphased by your antics he does it again and you groan. Four in a row? This guy was half asleep the entire game and all of a sudden he’s an athlete? They only have 1 cup left. Tension rises and the room goes to silence at Steve’s request. Argyle sinks it. Eddie erupts into cheers grabbing Argyle by the shoulders and jumping up and down.

“Redemption attempt!” Steve shouts, giving Will the ball. Will takes it with nervous fingers, blowing the ball to dry it slightly as you chug the last cup. He only has two cups to make. Will tosses the ball and the room goes silent, it feels like it’s in slow motion, or maybe that’s the alcohol. The ball soars through the air, bouncing against the rim of the cup lapping up the foamy beer, before it falls off and teeters off onto the table.

Argyle raises both hands in the air, “VICTORY!” the room erupts with cheers. Will apologizes profusely but you hug him tight, telling him you were happy he was your partner.

“Next game is Jonathan/Nancy vs Jeff/ Ash starting in 20 mins!” Steve hollers. The basement clears out as people go upstairs to use the bathroom and refill their drinks.

You expect Eddie to be gloating, cocky beyond belief. But he’s the opposite, coming up to you slowly, head bowed, upper teeth practically biting his lower lip in half.

“Good game sweetheart,” he says barely above a whisper, “not gonna lie, I really thought you guys were gonna win.”

Holding your chin high, face only inches from his, the brown pools of colored whiskey stare into your eyes. Placing a hand on his chest, the alcohol gives you enough of a push to cross the line. The thin gauzy material of the gown he’s wearing is sticky with sweat and warm from the heat radiating from his body. “Told myself I wouldn’t lose to Cher and Jesus tonight.”

Eddie let’s out a throaty laugh, “can’t believe he pulled that off, he didn’t make a cup all game.”

“Guess you get to continue wearing that tarnished crown, speaking of wardrobe… where the hell did you get this outfit?”

“You know that church across from the police station?”

“The one with the Jesus statue inside?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and gives you a knowing glance, waiting for you to catch on.

“No way! Eddie! You broke into a church and stole an outfit off of a statue?”

“Amen,” Eddie says roaring with laughter, “ahh c’mon you can’t tell me it wasn’t a genius idea.”

Rolling your eyes, “I wouldn’t exactly call it genius, but funny? Yes.”

He laughs again, “not everyday I get a compliment from myself,” he says eyeing your costume, “you do make a pretty cute Eddie Munson if I say so myself.” he wasn’t even thinking anything of it, just blurted it right out.

Flirting came easy to him almost as a second nature, he was never nervous around women, usually finding the game of sex not just something he was good at but conquered with ease. But this, here, with you? Was a slippery slope. A different game for him entirely. He was a pawn amongst you and you were the queen, striking down whoever came near, holding all the power.

Your cheeks heat from his compliment, blood rushing through your body and warming your skin, he holds your hand to your chest, stroking your fingers with his thumbs.

A thousand bolts of lightening ignite you, he smells like smoke, ashy and burning, the cheap keg beer on his breath as he smiles softly at you.

“Tooty!” Steve calls from the top step, clinging onto it for dear life, “are you down there?!”

You’re the first one to break away, pulling your hand from his grasp, threading them together at the last minute, finger tips clinging to each other like velcro. The flames between you both extinguished fast, no oxygen left in the room to keep it going.

Getting to the bottom step and turning, you give him one last glance and a small smile, before trotting up the stairs to Steve.

-

Eddie opens the patio door to find Gareth and Big D blowing smoke into the sky and talking about the best DIO song.

“Shit man, where have you been? Didn’t your game end like 15 minutes ago?”

Eddie thinks of a lie quick, “Taking a piss why you wanna watch?”

“That’s weird,” Big D questions, “cause Gareth just came out of the bathroom unless there’s a magic bathroom you haven’t told us about.”

“What are you guardian of the toilet?” Eddie says slotting a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his zippo open.

“I mean he’s got a point,” Gareth interjects, “where have you been tonight, turning water into wine? Or are you healing the blind?”

“Cool it, Whoopi,” Eddie bites, “the fuck does it matter where I was or wasn’t?”

“You’ve changed dude. Used to be a ladies man, different chick every night. Smoking and drinking all night watching the sunrise. Fuck man you were hell on wheels. Then all of a sudden you move in here and you’re acting like the Pope, fixing up her car off the clock, bringing her to and from work, you’re like her fucking babysitter.” Gareth exclaims.

“Fuck off man, she’s Eyeball’s sister, and I’m just looking out for her.” Eddie grits through his teeth.

“Or,” Big D suggests, “you like her, I mean you still haven’t even told us about the twins— and you stare at her like she’s about to combust at any moment.”

“Yeah and what do you two know about anything?” Eddie spits.

“Clearly not shit, but you’re all fucking riled up about a girl you don’t like.” Gareth flicks his cigarette and goes inside, Big D following.

The door opens again, “listen man, I’m not in the mood for your stupid fucking advice.” Eddie groans, turning to see Steve standing at the door, an empty pitcher in his hand. “Shit, sorry, thought you were Gareth.”

“Nope kept my habit at home,” Steve says with a chuckle, setting the pitcher on the edge of the deck, “nice party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “ya know when Tooty first told me that her and Nancy threw a party every year I didn’t believe it, turns out I was wrong about her, seems to be a theme of mine lately.”

“She doesn’t let a lot of people in, but once you’re here, it means she trusts you, respects you.” Steve explains.

Eddie smiles softly, ashing his cigarette.

“She cares about you, ya know? She might not want to admit it— may even be scared to admit it to herself, but she likes you.”

Eddie gives him a look. Sure you were nicer to him, not threatening to kick him out anymore. You had let the band practice in the garage, even staying out there to hear them play. But that didn’t mean anything did it?

“How many times do you think she’s cut my hair?” Steve inquires, leaning next to the railing on the deck beside Eddie.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says honestly, “a dozen?”

Steve chuckles, “Never, not once, never even offered. You think she made elaborate meals for Nancy when they lived together? Wrong— she barely touched the stove. You move in and she’s changed, for the better. It’s like she’s coming back to life, and the only common thing in that equation, is you.”

Eddie mulls this over, could Steve be right? “I don’t know man.”

“I may not be Mr. Relationship but I do know Tooty, and you’ve softened her edges. Tamed that frightful girl we all love and adore. She’s got walls up, keeping people out, but not around you, not anymore.”

Eddie hangs his head, his heart bursting with sad euphoric bliss. He couldn’t go about this like any other conquest. And with you it would never be how it was with the other women. Faceless broads in mini skirts, praising him, doing whatever he wanted them to. He never saw you in that way. Holding you on a pedestal about the rest. He hadn’t been in a relationship in years. One too many times of being cheated on was enough for him. But you were hurt too, more so than he was. He was still licking his wounds with anything willing and able. You? You were a shell of yourself. He couldn’t act on this like he would with anyone else. He cared about you too damn much to make you feel like you couldn’t trust him again.

“And I know you care about her. Everytime I look at you you’re staring at her like a sad little puppy.”

Eddie looks up then, looking at Steve like he held all the answers to life’s questions. He turns and leans against the deck, elbows on the railing just how Steve was facing the house.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do care about her, more than anything. So what do I do?” He asks Steve.

Steve shrugs, letting out a loud sigh, “keep doing what you’re doing, she knows you care about her, just don’t disappear on her.”

Eddie turns his head from Steve and catches sight of you through the patio doors. He can see you taking a Jell-O shot with El, Robin and Nancy. A sleeping lump of clothes on the kitchen table with black hair must be Mike. You light up the room as you laugh when Robin makes a repulsive expression after taking her Jell-O shot. He can’t hear your full laugh, it’s faint through the glass. But, he doesn’t need to hear it to know the sound—having heard it more and more the last few weeks, the way you throw your head back when something is really funny, sometimes covering your mouth. He’s certain he’s never seen anyone more angelic in his life. Like you have sucked all the air from the room, even dressed in a sheer mockery of him, you’re radiating a glow that makes his heart swell. He has never cared about anyone the way that he does for you.

Seeing him through the doors standing next to Steve, he has a smirk on his face. A sudden rush of shyness creeps up your neck and you turn away from him, but you reciprocate his actions, smiling at him. A small gesture that melts him on the spot.

Eyes trained on you but still talking to Steve, Eddie beams, “I’m not going anywhere.”

A/n: see you in volume vii

Hope you all enjoyed this. There were some little hidden Easter eggs in this chapter, go to my askbox if you found them 💕

readmore eat my ass or this line you decide, whore.

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[ms-fade]

how about jealous kaz brekker with breeding kink???

Eyes on me, all eyes on you.

Kaz brekker x fem!reader. +18 Drabble

The last sentence is cringy, but my mind went blank at that moment. This is also really short, I’m writing this tired and about to head to sleep.

Warnings: talks of pregnancy, breeding, jealousy, oc kaz, not my best work.

Kaz was always the jealous type, either it be before he was not ready to touch you. And how others could do it without a thought, the way you would hug or touch someone. Then there was who you smiled at, you threw everyone that damn smile and it made him sick to his stomach. And then when he had gotten passed his demons with your help, he faced them head on. Kaz was now not afraid to touch you, fuck you, love you the way he had always wanted. Now he had you in his claws, only for him to cherish.

You where his diamond, his shiny gem in the ruff. Ketterdam didn’t have many good things but you were the most beautiful thing in this damn place. And he should have known when he gifted you that drees you would wear it out, oh he should have burned the damn thing before you had the chance.

How your waist looked, so easy to wrap his arms around. How your breast looked in it, the cut low and the corset made your breast pop. He watched as every man in the place looked at you like meat on a stick, how their eyes wondered and how their minds couldn’t help but picture you naked. And that angered him to the ends of the damn earth, because no one should think of what’s his.

“Don’t take your fucking eyes on me.” He demanded as you tried so hard not to close your eyes. “Did you enjoy all that attention you got tonight. All those eyes on you?” You whimpered out to tell him no.

“No- I don’t.” You managed to say but it was just sobs coming out your mouth as his cock enter your pussy at a fast speed. “Oh, no? The dress you had on tonight said different. Everyman in there wanted to see underneath.” He leaned down to bite your lower lip and pulled on it. “I was going to kill them all, take their eyes for daring to look at you.” He roared the truth.

All you could do was look at him with frowned brows as you moaned. “Next time you decide to show more skin, I’m fucking you in front of them all. To show that only I can get the slut out of you, make your pussy leak for me.” He smirked at your expression, he knew how much you loved it when he called you names.

“I’m sorry. Only yours” you reached up and wrapped your hands on his shoulders. “My body is yours.” He laughed, “I already knew that.” He leaned back up and rammed into you, his hands pushing your legs back to open you up more.

“Maybe if your belly was swollen they wouldn’t look.” Your head went fuzzy at what he was implying. “I’m going to stuff you so full tonight, over, and over again until you can’t take anymore.” He reached one of his hands to touch your stomach and pushed down on the right spot.

“Get you pregnant with my child, my cock will give you what you need. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” He asked like it he was teasing you. He knew you couldn’t say no to that, him claiming you more then he had already. To have his baby inside you.

“Yes, saints, please kaz.” You screamed. “I love you.” Smiling up at him sweetly but it broke often because he never stop thrusting. “I love you too, darling.” He groaned and you looked at the sweat on his skin that made him shiny and look sexy.

“Now let me fuck a baby into you.”

[babygorewhore]

Touch her and Die

On your drive to your best friends Sarah’s house, your car breaks down and you’re attacked. But Rafe comes to your rescue. Her older brother you’ve barely spoken too. And he’s eager to replace your fear into pleasure.

Yeah okay I needed to get this out too omg. “Touch her and die.” Is absolutely him. Idk when Prey part three will come out because I need to flesh out another idea. But yeah this man has me in a boxer hold.

Moodboard

Warnings! Reader gets hit and Attempted assault (not by Rafe) Violence! Female recieving oral! Praise! Dark! Rafe (Kinda but canon he would do this) very short and not proofread okay bye.

You were running as fast as you could down the sun setting dark road. Your car broke down as you were driving to your best friend Sarah Cameron’s house. You called her repeatedly but she didn’t answer and normally you’d have the patience but it was cold and rainy. You had decided to walk to the nearest fishing shack when you heard someone whistling.

A man in a hood was obviously following you and gaining momentum. “Hey, I fucking see you!” He shouted.

That’s when you started running. Thankfully you wore casual shoes but your legs were growing tired as minutes went by and he wasn’t letting up. “Stop fucking running, bitch!”

Your hair was whipping around your face, sticking from the rain as your arms flailed. You dropped your phone a dozen feet ago. “Help!” You started screaming. “Someone help!” But there were no houses nearby. Only a swamp.

You distantly heard a car as a hand grabbed the back of your shirt. “No!” You shrieked as you were thrown on the gravel. The man was middle aged, lust and anger lighting up his dark eyes.

His intent was clear as he ripped off your jacket, exposing your low cut t-shirt. “Perfect tits,” He licked his teeth and you kicked him.

He let go for a second, giving you time to turn on your side and attempt to claw yourself away. “Get off of me!”

“Shut the fuck up!” The blow came across your face. A hard backhanded slap. Tears sprang in your eyes as he covered your mouth with his free hand.

Your heart was slamming in your chest and you had no idea how this would end.

That was until you heard rapid footsteps approaching. A blur of a tall figure went past your blurry vision.

“Get the fuck off her!” A deep voice bellowed and the weight was ripped off your body. You gasped for air, coughing from the anxiety that froze your whole body.

You sat up on your elbows and gasped. Rafe Cameron had tackled the man, straddled him as his own jacket started sticking to his body. His hair falling in front of his eyes. “Motherfucker,” He growled and clenched his fist.

He started punching him, holding him by the shirt and wrestling him easily in place as his beating became relentless. “Don’t. You. Ever. Fucking. Touch. Her! She’s. Mine!”

Rafe was probably starting to black out. The man’s face was completely bloody, his nose crooked and his eyes were shut. The sounds were wet and another crunch came from his fist flying. You didn’t want him to go to prison for murder so you quickly scrambled to your feet.

“Rafe! Stop!!” He didn’t hear you.

“RAFE!” You screamed louder, causing him to jolt and freeze. He spun around, still holding him by the collar and his eyes were wild. Blue irises blown out by his pupils.

“It’s okay, let’s go. He’s probably dead.” You whispered, almost inaudible as a storm started crowding the sky. Rafe cast him a dark look and threw him down. His shirts were dripping with rain and blood.

Rafe walked over to you and his hand settled on either side of your cheeks. You flinched, pain started to settle in from the slap and he shook his head. “My poor girl, I couldn’t get here soon enough.”

You were taken back by the affection in his touch and voice. He barely paid any attention to you when you were over. Only a nod in passing and a friendly hello. You on the other hand were obsessed much to Sarah’s dread. His handsome face softened as he wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted you bridal style. “Come on. Let’s get you to the car.”

His hold was strong and secure as he placed you into the gray SUV back seat where there was more room for you to stretch. Your legs were sore from running, your throat scratchy from screaming. Rafe rummaged around and brought out an extra shirt, a long sleeved white one that you would swim in.

“Here. This is nice and dry,” he said softly.

Without a care, you lifted off your soaked shirt, exposing your breasts in your bra as you shimmied his on. His eyes never left yours.

Rafe was too tall to fit in comfortably with you but he managed to shrink himself into the floor in front of you. “Shouldn’t bruise too bad.” His mouth pressed to a thin line. “I should make sure the fucker is dead.”

“No, please don’t leave me,” you started crying openly, clutching at his shirt. “I don’t want to be alone. You saved me,”

“Shhh, no don’t cry, baby. I’m here. Thank god I was driving by,” He cooed and his long digits cupped your jaw while his other skimmed your shorts around your hips.

“I can’t stay away from you anymore. You need me. Need me to protect you, hold you and…” Rafe leaned up and pressed his lips to yours.

You eagerly returned the kiss, opening your mouth and sucking his bottom lip. You needed the distraction and his entirely dark demeanor.

Rafe expertly unbuttoned your shorts with one hand, his ravaging mouth inhaling every breath, his tongue against yours with a pornographic moan.

Your own fingers locked in his blonde strands and pulled. You needed him closer, impossibly close. He defended you. Willing to kill for you.

“No one touches you, no one lays a hand on my girl. You’ve always been my fucking girl.” Rafe grunts as rage radiates off him as he rips away.

He drags off your panties. Wet from both outside and your own arousal. His big fingers spread you open as he sinks lower and lifts your thighs over his shoulders. “This is all mine. This cunt is mine.”

Rafe's face buried in your pussy and a whimper escapes you as his tongue lays flat and laps at your clit with a moderate speed. You were grasping at anything, your mind going hazy as he rolled your hips against his face, making you grind as he fucked you with his tongue.

He dipped it inside you, pressing through your tight walls as you cried harder. “Please make me cum, please,”

“Good girl, that’s it. Beg for it,” He said with desperate commands. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

Your core tightened, your stomach tensing as a bolt hit you with more intensity than you’d ever made yourself cum. You spilled all over his still moving lips and his chin. He let you ride it out, satisfied with your submissive and grateful attitude.

Rafe pulled back, the lower half of his face gripping with your cum, and he swiped it away with the back of his hand. “Hmmm. I love the taste of a good girl. But let’s go. I need to make sure you’re feeling completely taken care of.”

Tagging @scene-and-dandylover @xxhellfirebunnyxx @drewstarkeyslut @take-everything-you-can @emsgoodthinkin @slvt4jamesmarch @imyourdaninow @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @reidsbtch @chrrymunson

[owlcomics101]

Zombie Task force 141 x immune!Reader head cannons

Warnings: possible gore (We are talking about zombies here), corpses, Language (Cussing), sfw (I am a minor), fluff, Reader is gender neutral.

Context/backstory: The zombie apocalypse started few months ago. You were just a citizen, but not just any citizen, you were one of the very few who were immune to the Virus. You were being hunted by people who wanted to you use to find the cure to the virus, but that meant the cost of your life. There had to be a better way to get the cure. Right? Lasswell later found you, she was one of the very few soldiers left unaffected in the British military. Lasswell needed your help. The whole task force was infected but by some miracle they can still work. They just need someone to keep them grounded. Someone human who could take few bite or scratches. But you had no military experience, you only somewhat knew how to use a pistol and a knife thanks to the apocalypse. You were currently being escorted to an old run down base by two masked soldiers who were infected as well. You could tell by how they made groans and gurgling sounds and couldn’t take their eyes off you . You could’ve sworn you saw drool drip down from their masks. You could already see the silhouette of the task force. They have been waiting for you.

Soap: Soap was the most unstable of the group. As much as he didn’t want to bite or hurt you there has been a few close calls. Especially if you drew blood. You always kept your skin covered as much as you could around Soap. You would borrow any of the team’s old oversized uniforms and covered your arms, legs, and neck with it. Soap couldn’t help but be a bit possessive of you. Wither it be because of his urges to eat you or that you’re the only human who ever treated him and the others like people and not monsters. Whenever you were close to other zombie soldiers, Soap would tightly hold your hand the whole time. Price constantly has to remind Soap that you’re capable of taking care of yourself and to stop acting like your body guard 24/7 but he just can’t help himself. Enjoy an over protective, walking Scottish Corpse looming over you.

Ghost: Ghost was the first one of the team to be infected when the virus first broke out. He attempted to cut his jaw off to prevent himself from biting anyone before he turned but it was already too late. Soap found Ghost gurgling and groaning as he was feasting off the remains of another soldier. To Soap’s horror and relief that he also found Ghost…crying? Ghost was still conscious, somewhat at least. The team took him back to get studied and maybe even cured but that wasn’t the case. Ghost had starved himself for weeks, refusing to eat another human being again but when Soap came to check on him. Ghost lost it and bit into Soap. When you first arrived Ghost did his best to distance himself from you. He was already a distant person to begin with but he also didn’t want to hurt you like he did to Soap, despite Soap already have forgiven him multiple times. But you just kept getting closer, somehow breaking down his walls with your affection and that sweet smile of yours. That Damm smile.

Gaz: The last to be infected. He couldn’t bear to leave his team behind, even if they were zombies. Gaz stayed with them as long as he could. Trying to keep the team sane and stop them from eating everything like you are now, but one mission Gaz got bit by an enemy soldier and it was all over. Gaz is the least decomposed compared to the others, he looked the most human. Which meant he’d accompany you when going into places with People. Gaz is a bit more in control than Soap or Ghost but sometimes his mouth can’t help but water being surrounded by people. He wore a balaclava mask to somewhat muffle his senses, but thankfully you were always there to keep him grounded. Gaz tends to silently scowl or snarl when someone gets too close to you. It felt like instinct to him to keep everyone and thing away from you. Even himself sometimes, but it’s hard to when you’re always holding his hand or leaning on him.

Price: The most in control. Price sacrificed himself to save Gaz from a horde of zombies which explained his more mauled looking state compared to the others. He’s the one that bandages you up when you get wounded because the others would either go berserk or drool all over you. He acts the most human and even still smokes from his cigars which looks hilarious because when he exhales, the smoke will leave out of every cut or hole in his body. How can he smoke with rotting lungs? We’ll never know. Despite having the most self control, Price can slip up sometimes but it’s very, very rare. One time he was bandaging your bloody wrist up when you look over and see him licking and sucking the blood off your wrist.

Y/N: “Uh, captain?”

Price: “Mmm?”

Y/N: “Your doing the-uh…thing again.”

Price: wha-….Ah fucking hell….