#stop teasing us joseph

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Behind Closed Doors

joseph descamps x reader

A/N: for anyone who cares

WARNINGS: smut!, light dubcon maybe, mean and jealous descamps

WORD COUNT: 1,082 words

You needed space. The party was getting rowdy and you were getting tipsy. You also couldn’t get the sight of Descamps shooting daggers into the side of your head out of your mind so you now find yourself an empty room, where you can kick off your heels and sit down. You still can’t figure out why he was glaring so harshly at you when all you were doing was dancing with some third year boy. He might hate you but you would have thought he would’ve been preoccupied with enjoying the party or at least, chatting up some girl.

“You shouldn’t wander off alone when there’s so many guys around.” You jump when you hear his voice.

“Screw off Descamps. I don’t understand why you can’t just leave me alone.”

“Who was that guy you were dancing with?” He grumbles, changing the subject.

“Why do you care?” You ask with a scoff.

“He was just a shit dancer.” You sense it in his voice… jealousy.

“Really? That’s all it is? Or are you jealous, Joseph?”

He looks pissed off at your insinuation but quickly pivots to careless amusement. “I didn’t realize we were on a first name basis.”

“And I didn’t realize you had a crush on me.” You tease, looking him right in the eye quite intensely. 

“Why would I have a crush on an irritating brat like you?” He says defensively. 

You ignore the insult. “You know, if you didn’t want me to dance with other boys, then you should’ve asked me to dance first. I might’ve said yes.”

“Of course you would’ve said yes, i’m the best looking guy in our class.” He puffs out his chest a bit as he says the pompous remark.

“The boy I was dancing with is also the handsomest in his class… and he’s a third year.”

He walks closer to where you sit. You try to look relaxed but he gets so close. His two fingers tilt your head up. “You’ve got such a mouth on you.”

The heat rises to your cheeks and you press your thighs together at the remark.

“I can think of a much better use for it.” His hand grips your shoulder as he coaxes you to your knees. “You know what I want?” He asks, palming at himself through his trousers. You nod, looking up at him through your lashes. “Of course you do. Bet a girl like you spends a lot of time on her knees.”

He fumbles with his belt buckle as you glare up at him. “If you want me to do this for you then you should stop being such a prick. You’re lucky I decided to do this.”

His cheeks go a little red but your scolding doesn’t make him any less hard. “Whatever.”

“Knew you had a crush on me.” You tease again.

“God, just suck already.” He pushes your head, fed up with your teasing. You wrap your lips around him slowly. You haven’t really done this before but you at least get the idea.

He whimpers when you start to suck him off gently. It’s clear that he hasn’t had this done for him before either. You think you’ll keep the fact that he whimpers in the back of your mind in case he decides to be an asshole at school again.

Descamps cums… fast with flushed cheeks and a groan. He’s clearly a little embarrassed about it too as you part your mouth from him.

“You would think that a guy who wanks as much as you do wouldn’t have this problem.” You say a little cruelly as payback for his light slut-shaming.

“The girl who just swallowed my cum should probably get down from her high horse.” He uses his hand to pull you up to your feet and then the same hand slips to your waist so he can keep you close.

“Tastes like shit.” You mumble.

“Hmm, does it?” He asks in an amused voice before he brings you in for a harsh kiss. “Tastes fine to me.”

He starts kissing your neck and before you know it, you’re pushed against a desk in the room. His hands roam freely over your body and one squeezes and gropes at your breast like he may never have the chance to do this again. Everything about his movement is inexperienced but very wanting.

“Ahh.” You gasp a bit as he nibbles at your neck, a distraction so he can slide his hand up your dress without you thinking twice. You then feel his fingertips against your panties. “Joseph!” You scold.

“C’mon just let me make you feel good. I just wanna return the favour.” He murmurs against your neck and you can’t refuse him.

His long fingers shove your panties to the side and he rubs them through your arousal.

“I didn’t think girls being this wet was a real thing.” He teases.

“Shut up.”

He rubs around haphazardly for a few moments before you guide him to your clit. Then it starts to feel good as he rubs around it in tight circles. He feels like a man as you moan into his mouth from pleasure he’s giving you. And when his fingers slip into you… you can barely keep yourself quiet.

“Yeah, you like that?” He eggs you on as he curls his fingers roughly against your sweet spot.

“Mmm, Joseph.” You whine and squirm from his rapid movements as you are used to a much slower pace from yourself. “It’s too much.” 

“Really? Because with how your pussy is soaking my fingers, I would say it’s just the right amount.” He says, not slowing his pace even slightly.

He isn’t evil though, at least not completely, so when he sees how overstimulated you get after another thirty seconds, he goes back to rubbing your clit.

“See isn’t this just so much better than you being a brat all the time?” He smirks, not caring for your answer as he kisses you again.

“Oh, God. I think i’m gonna…” You spill yourself on his fingers, soaking his already damp digits even more.

“I knew you wanted it bad but I didn’t think you’d like it that much, doll.” He teases, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean right in front of you. “Tastes delicious.” He murmurs. “Now, how about we fix you up and get back to the dance floor? I think it’s time we show everyone that you’re my girl.”

taglist (comment to be added):General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

After the incident, things take a turn for both better and worse. All with that, gym class has turned the school into a zoo. When people can't take their eyes off of what's yours, you take their ability to see. What an ironic thing for a one-eyed boy to set his mind to.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: injury, teen boys being teen boys, jealousy (there's a small love triangle in this chapter)

===

===

Chapter two: My eye only

===

I stand next to Simone, waiting a few feet away from the butcher's for Michèle. I rummaged through my bag, making sure everything I needed for gym class was with me.

Simone rubs her thigh next to me. I smack her arm lightly.

"Stop touching it. You're going to make it worse." I say and she stops.

"It's going to be so embarrassing when we go to gym class. What if the love of my life will be there, and they see me with this ugly bruise on my thigh? First impressions are important. This bruise is gonna mess it up." Simone sighs anxiously.

"I don't think you'll meet the love of your life in a room full of sweaty, teenage boys. Plus, I think you've already met him. 3 o'clock." I nod my head towards Jean Pierre, walking out of the butcher's side door.

She greets him, and he only looks at her. I nod as a greeting. He only glances at me, too.

After a while, Michèle follows after him, closing the door.

"What's going on?" Simone asks Michèle. I greet her good morning. She smiles and greets me.

"He has a disciplinary hearing this afternoon." Michèle says, worried a little. We start to walk.

"There's nothing you can do. Stop worrying. Know what else is today? Our first gym class." I nod in agreement.

"Guess what?" I already knew the answer to that question, and roll my eyes.

"I fell this morning. I'm going to have a huge bruise." Simone whines.

××《☆》××

We are walking through the gate when Simone greets two girls.

"You already know everybody's name?" Michèle asks, impressed. I nod to the girls Simone greeted.

"Not everybody. Just the girls." Simone smiles at Michèle.

"I hope we don't do endurance classes. Do you sweat a lot?" She turns her head. "Hi, Laubrac." She turns back to us. We hear Laubrac say hi, too. Michèle also greets him.

"Why did you say hello to him?" Michèle asks Simone.

"Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Michèle?" I tease her, smiling at her now flustered state. Simone laughs.

"No. Why would I be jealous?" Michèle says defensively.

"Don't worry. I'm just teasing. But I see the way you look at him. Did something happen in detention that I don't know about...?" I tease further.

Her face turns red like a tomato. Me and Simone laugh more.

"Whatever. Moving on, I swear, if my brother gets kicked out..." She shakes her head.

"He won't." Simone reassures with a knowing tone in her voice.

"Don't you remember Descamps? He took his eye out." Michèle exclaims. I feel myself gag, remembering the incident.

"Fine. But you know what's good?" Simone asks her.

"Don't say he still has one eye." Michèle says before Simone could answer her own question.

"Descamps is recuperating at home, so the teachers aren't seeing him. But they are seeing your brother." Simone says matter-of-factly.

"Your brother with his perfectly combed hair, good grades, nice manners." She's totally in love with him, it's obvious.

"People are thinking about him. No one's thinking about the one-eyed boy." We look in front of us to see everyone looking towards the gate. We turn around, and my heart drops to my stomach.

In all his glory, Joseph Descamps stands, had just walked through the gate. He looks the same as the day I last saw him, only now with a bandage on his eye and the glint of sun in them gone.

××《☆》××

Heels clack against the hardwood floor, making it creak.

My eyes travel to a familiar mop of ash brown hair. He turns his head, and I'm lost in a trance, unable to look away.

I was right. There was no brightness in his eyes (or eye) anymore. His stare felt blank, unreadable. He continues to stare, and that's when I snap back to reality and look away.

I still feel his eye on me for a few seconds, and then he goes to turn his head. Though his stare felt cold, without it, I felt colder.

"Can someone give me the dates of the Battle of the Marne?" Annick and a boy raise their hands.

"Mr Felbec?" Ms. Giraud says, and Felbec stands up.

"September fifth to the twelfth, 1914." Felbec answers. As I watch Felbec, I feel a pair of eyes on me. They're framed, but not Descamps.

It's the blonde boy. Applebaum was his name. He's decent looking, tall, sharp nose, but not so sharp sight. I look at him, and he looks away hurriedly.

Ms. Giraud gives a slow nod. "And who were the opposing armies?" Annick jumps in her seat, trying to get Ms. Giraud's attention. It certainly caught mine.

"Ms. Sabiani, are you going to jump on the desk for me to see you?" Ms. Giraud walks over to her. "Don't you think you have enough attention as it is?"

Is she jealous of Annick? Her beauty? Her youth? Her knowledge? It seems like it. Annick slowly drops her hand.

"The opposing armies." Ms. Giraud lets Annick answer.

"The French and the Germans." Annick answers.

"And the British Expeditionary Force. Don't raise your hand if you only know half the answer." Ms. Giraud adds on, rather cockily. Imagine bullying your student for your own benefit.

As she walks to her desk, she talks again. I might go deaf. "And please tie your hair back. This isn't a party. Okay, we'll talk more about the Battle of Marme tomorrow."

I feel Descamps turns his head to me again. I look, and I'm still met with an emotionless eye. He maintains it, but I waver and look away.

"Let's move on to naming our class leader." This catches my attention. Felbec raises his hand again. Ms. Giraud calls his name. When I turn to look at him, Applebaums eyes are stamped on me. I ignore his stare and shift in my seat.

"My classmates have always picked me as their class leader." Felbec tells Ms. Giraud. The class laughs. "I'm studious and get good grades." He adds, standing upright.

I still feel Applebaum's eyes on me. I glance at him and smile softly. He smiles back, a blush coating his cheeks. He's cute. I return my attention to the two people standing.

"Well, I'm not like your previous teachers, Felbec. You'll have to earn it." Ms. Giraud says with a smile. It doesn't fit her. Felbec sits back down.

"Does the Battle of Marathon mean anything to anyone?" Ms. Giraud asks the class. No one answers.

"I see. Whoever can give me the date of the Battle of Marathon this afternoon will be named class leader." Too bad I don't know the date. I sigh, not too bothered.

Unbeknownst to me, Descamps glares at the back of Applebaum's head and will do so the rest of the day.

××《☆》××

Me and Michèle wait for Simone to come back. She does after a while. We hear fast and light footsteps on the stairs. She sits in between us.

"So, I was right. There's a massive bruise on my thigh." She makes an O shape with her hand. We lean in to see. I make a hissing noise, feeling bad.

"What if I meet the love of my life today? Like tonheston. I see him. He sees me. We fall in love. And then bam. He sees my bruise." Simone fades into her thoughts. I shake my head, chuckling.

"I already told you. I don't think any of those boys are going to be the love of your life. Besides, don't you have a thing for-"

Simone cuts me off by putting a hand on my mouth. She gives me a wide-eyed look, nodding towards Michèle. I realise what could've slipped past my tongue and mouth 'sorry'.

Michèle looks at both of us confused, but before she could say anything, Jean Pierre walks out the school's doors. He looks at Michèle with a glare.

"Are you okay?" Michèle asks worriedly.

"Ask me again after the hearing." Jean Pierre replies coldly. I chill at his tone.

"He'll be fine. You'll see." Jean Pierre's friend reassures Michèle. They walk away.

"Fingers crossed, Jean Pierre. Good luck." Simone calls out. I give her a knowing look, and she gives me a look of desperation. I raise my hands as if to say fine.

I look to the side, and I see Applebaum. I wave to him. He waves back. When I look away, I see him through my peripherals, talking to his friends.

"Do you like him?" Simone asks me.

"I don't know yet." I smile to myself. Maybe this will make school more interesting. I turn my head. There's an eye trained on me, so intense I could feel it. It couldn't have been Applebaum.

I look up, and Descamps is staring, sitting on the bench I saw him on the first day. I squint to see him better. I could've sworn I saw his jaw twitch. I look away.

××《☆》××

"The boys have a locker room, and all we get is the teachers' bathroom." Simone says from inside.

"My brother hates me." Michèle says, mostly to herself, but also to us. I purse my lips in pity.

"Stop it." Simone says in an annoyed tone.

"Really. Even before all this. He's always been pushing me away." Michèle continues even after Simone's reply.

"I witnessed it, Simone. It's true." I say through the door to let Simone hear my voice. Michèle looks at me in thanks. I nod.

Simone opens the door, now clothed in her gym clothes.

"Brothers don't hate their sisters." Simone tells Michèle to reassure her. It doesn't work.

"You're just lucky." Michèle detests.

I walk into the bathroom to change. I try to rush, our gym class starting in a few minutes. My clothes are a bit small, growing out of them since last school year. I adjust it a bit. The shorts are too short, shirt tight, but comfortable enough. I shrug.

I walk out the bathroom. The girls look at me.

"Wow, look at that figure of yours. Let's go before class starts without us." Simone grabs me and Michèle's arms and drags us to the gym.

They continued a conversation I hadn't been in, so I just blocked it out. We walk out the school, boys turning their heads to take a second look.

××《☆》××

"Hiding it draws more attention to it." Michèle tells Simone as Simone tugs at her shorts. I walk in a few steps behind them, entering the gym.

"It's yellow and green with purple spots. It's gross." I cringe at the description.

"No one will see it." Michèle reassures Simone.

"Everyone will see it. These shorts." Simone groans. The boys walk in with their tanktops and shorts.

"Great, you're all wearing navy blue. Maybe if I just stand sideways." Simone shifts her feet. I stand in front of her, covering it with my leg. She smiles at that.

All boys look to their right when Annick walks in. All of them except Applebaum, who keeps his eyes on me. I guess he gained a bit of confidence because he waves and smiles. I wave back and smile, too.

"Guess there's no need to stand sideways after all." Simone says, defeated.

××《☆》××

The boys scatter around, stretching and walking around. The coach commands them to do certain things I didn't care to listen to.

Applebaum walks behind us. I turn and smile.

"Hello, Applebaum." I greet, and he turns rushed from his bended position. His cheeks are flushed. I smile softer, trying to make him less uncomfortable.

Descamps walks into the gym and sees me and Applebaum interacting. He continues to watch. I don't notice him.

"Hi." That's all he says. I nod. Good enough.

"Good luck in there." I tilt my head to the boys, beginning their formation. He smiles.

"Thanks. You, too." He stutters out, placing his glasses on the bleachers hurriedly, almost running away from me.

Simone turns around. "Why is he running away from you? Did you say something? He's so red." She laughs.

"I just greeted him. I don't know why he's so shy." I reply, confusion in both my face and voice. "And he said you too when I said good luck. That doesn't make sense."

Simone laughs louder. When Michèle asks why she's laughing, Simone explains, and now Michèle is laughing, too. I roll my eyes, but a smile finds it way to my face.

Descamps is on the bleachers across from us. I feel a gaze on me. When I follow it, my eyes lock with his. He smirks. I scowl.

Annick raises her hand and calls out for the coach.

"Oh, right." He says. "The girls." A sigh.

××《☆》××

We look at the rope attached to the ceiling. I grimace.

"Climbing? Is he joking?" The three girls shake their head. I sigh.

"Who first?" No one answers.

I glance at the game, wanting to watch the boys play through it. They start to assemble, the game starting. I notice Applebaum moving around weirdly, squinting and turning his head rapidly. He really can't see without those glasses.

He gets hit in the head and falls to the ground. The boys go up to him. My brows crease in worry. In the bleachers, Descamps smiles. It triggers me.

I get up from the mat, the girls asking me where I'm going. I ignore them, rushing up to Applebaum.

"Applebaum, are you okay?" I hiss in pity, a red mark on his forehead.

"Pardine?" Even without his glasses, he still recognises me. That's sweet. I smile.

"Mhm. Are you still good?" He nods at that. I help him up. Out of the corner of my eye, I feel Descamps dark stare on both me and Applebaum. I ignore it.

"Be careful." That's the last thing I say before going back to the girls.

"You so like him." Michèle teases. I smile. I think I'm starting to.

Annick gets on the rope, and Simone holds it still for her.

"She's even good at gym. She's Marilyn Monroe's secret daughter." Simone tells me and Michèle. We laugh.

"No, I swear. She's nothing like us. Did you see her skin? It's perfect. Straight out of Hollywood." Simone says, convincing us that she was serious.

They look to their left. I keep my eyes on Annick and on the game.

"Your brother is looking for you." Simone tells Michèle. Jean Pierre ushers her to him, and both of them go. I replace Simone's position by handling the rope.

Simone comes back after a while, taking her place on the rope again. I sigh. Let's see how long this'll be.

××《☆》××

Annick finishes climbing up the rope. I decided to go next. I grip on the rope and start climbing. When I'm at least five feet away from the ground, my hands shift, and I fumble.

I start to go down, my hand that's still on the rope getting a burn, and the inside of my thigh gets the same injury. Three feet away from the floor, I fall on my back.

The loud thud gets attention from everyone in the gym. Simone and Michèle quickly get to me, asking if I'm okay. I don't respond, my injuries stinging.

I get up after catching my breath. I stand slowly with the support of Michèle. I nod, and she lets me go.

Descamps walks towards us, and I think of something to say. "What do you want now?" I don't look up at him, eyes on the burn on my thigh.

"Coach told me to bring you to the clinic." He says with a sigh.

"Why can't the others do it instead?" I ask him, now looking up and feeling cold sweat. His stare is so dark. His height makes him more intimidating. I don't show my sudden fear.

"Because I'm the only one not in this class. Now quit complaining and come with me." He grabs my arm harshly, but his hold is gentle. I wince anyway. He rubs it gently.

××《☆》××

As we reach the clinic, the nurse is disappointingly not there. Great.

"Sit down." Descamps says, a commanding tone in his voice. I sit on one of the beds.

He grabs a few things from the first aid kit. I look at him in wonder.

"I didn't know you knew how to take care of injur-"

"What the hell was that?" He cuts me off, caging me in with his arms on the bed. He's glaring. He's mad. Why is he mad?

"What?" I ask, clueless. What could he be mad about?

"Your injury. If you weren't so foolish and took care of yourself, you wouldn't have burns on you." He grabs my wrist and puts it up, showing me my own injury. I wince in pain, and something shifts in him. Regret and worry.

"Why do you care so much?" I say, now angry. Something shifts in him again. Annoyance. I whip my wrist from his hands. He grabs it again.

"It doesn't matter why I care. What matters is that you're hurt because 'you' don't care." He squints at me. "Plus, why are you wearing such small clothes? Is it because of Applebaum? Do you care what he thinks? Do you like him?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"He's nice to me. The only boy besides Pichon." He clenches his jaw.

"Pichon, huh? That piggy? Do you like both of them?" He chuckles. "The blind boy and the pig. You have bad taste." He leans in close. Too close. I feel his breath on my face. I glance at his lips, then back up to his eye.

"You call him blind when you only have one eye, and at least Pichon has respect for us girls. Unlike you." I tilt my head, urging him on. He stays quiet for a while. His eye moves from my eyes to my lips.

"Stop being a brat." He says, voice low. He lifts my hand up and blows on my palm. I feel myself relax, my breathing shaky. He still has his eye on me. I look at him. He doesn't look away.

He continues to blow until he has no breath left in him. He takes a disinfectant, spills a few drops of it on cotton, and gently pats it on my burn. I wince. He rubs my hand with his thumb.

"Be careful next time. I don't want to have to take you to the clinic again." He says, voice almost a whisper, but still low that you can see his throat vibrate.

"Trust me. Now I know that it would be you taking care of me, I'll be a lot more careful not to end up here." I whisper, too, feeling tension in the air.

He scoffs. "Didn't I tell you to stop being a brat?" He says a bit harshly, but his touch is still so gentle that you could fall asleep.

I don't say anything back. After he puts antiseptic on my palm, he gently wraps it in gauze. I watch his face. He's entirely focused, there's even worry etched on his brows.

He put my palm down gently. He looks up at me, eye scanning mine as he hovers his hand on my thigh. I nod.

He put his hand down. Both of us let out a breath we didn't know we were holding. He might've thought he hurt me because his hand caresses me gently. Very, very gently. I might pass out from relaxation.

On my inner thigh, there's a small burn. He grabs a cotton with disinfectant and does the same procedure he did on my palm.

Once he finishes, his hand stays on my thigh.

He bites his lip. "Be careful. Remember it." He says, his voice so low I could barely understand what he said. But he was so close, I could even hear the stutter in his breath.

"Okay." I whisper out, my breath moving his hair. The door opens, and the nurse comes in. Descamps steps away from me, and I feel cold. Like winter with no fire. Autumn with no coat. So, yes, it feels very cold.

"Ms. Pardine. Sorry I couldn't tend to you. I was on my break." I shake my head, dismissing it. I get up, and Descamps is suddenly by my side, helping me straighten up. I look at him. He doesn't even glance at me. Instead, he's looking at the wall to his left.

We head out of the clinic. It's break time already. Descamps walks away, disappearing in the tunnel, not even saying goodbye.

I walk towards Michèle and Simone. I sit on the bench, and they look at me worriedly.

"Y/N, are you okay? We've been worried since you left with Descamps. Did he do anything to you?" Simone asks, eyeing my injuries. I purse my lips.

"He only took care of me, surprisingly." I keep my head down. They nod, relaxing. I see Descamps' group of friends walk out the tunnel with Pichon's group just a few feet behind them. They talk, Applebaum's glasses not on his face. I furrow my brows.

"Hey, guys. Can you come with me later to change?" They nod.

I glance back at the boys. Descamps is now talking to Pichon. I start to worry.

"Why does she never talk to us? Celebrities do that. She says she's never been to Hollywood, but who knows?" Simone says, cutting me out of my trance. I already know who she's talking about.

"Maybe she's just introverted?" I say based on my observations. Simone shrugs. She looks to Michèle.

"Are you listening?" Simone asks her. She seems distracted lately. Michèle says yes. I doubt she had her head in the conversation.

"Hearings can take a while. Don't worry." Simone tells Michèle. I nod, feeling pity for her.

"Don't feel bad if he's going through this, Michèle. He just wanted to defend you. That was his choice, you know? He cares." I tell her, placing a hand over hers.

"Have you used the climbing rope a lot?" Michèle asks. Very random, but Simone answers anyway.

"No, why?" She says, smiling confused.

"No reason. Forget it." Me and Simone purse out lips and forget about it. We look around the courtyard. I see Pichon pop out of the tree next to us. I look at him confused. He walks to our bench and starts calling out for Annick.

"You can just talk to her." Simone tells him. Annick walks over to Pichon, and they walk away.

"Do you think he's going to propose?" Simone asks as a joke. I laugh.

"Probably." They laugh, too.

××《☆》××

"So," Ms. Giarud places her coat on her chair. "Who deserves to be class leader?"

Descamps raises his hand, Felbec, too. I look at Descamps confused. How does he know?

"Mr. Felbec. Did you find the date of the Battle of Marathon?" Felbec stands up.

"Fifth century, B.C." Felbec answers.

"Correct. Would you say 'twentieth century' if I asked about the Battle of Verdun?" The class chuckles. Descamps raises his hand again.

"Mr. Descamps. Can you do better?" Ms. Giraud lets him stand.

"Four hundred ninety B.C." Impressed noises come from our class. I raise my eyebrows.

"Congratulations, Descamps. That's very impressive." It is impressive. Very.

"Can you tell me where you found the date?" This is where I have a feeling he doesn't know. I'm right. But he plays it off.

"In our book." Wrong answer, Descamps. I smile slyly.

"Surprising. The Persian Wars aren't part of the curriculum." Busted.

"Maybe it was another book. I don't remember." He's bad at playing this off. I sigh. Too bad for him.

"Already? If you've already forgotten something that happened today, how will you remember anything when you get your diploma?" Ms. Giraud says matter-of-factly.

"I gave him the date." Pichon says, standing up. That's how Descamps knows. That's what they were talking about earlier. Ms. Giraud lets Pichon continue.

"Four hundred ninety B.C. is in the manual on Ancient Greece." Pichon answers her.

"And I know that because..." He trails off and looks to the side. "I read it in the book."

"Why did you give the answer to Descamps?" Ms. Giraud asks him.

"I wasn't sure I could do it." He fumbles with his hands. "Being class leader, ma'am."

"There are worse faults than humility. Certain students, boys and girls, should remember that." Ms. Giraud says, fingertips balancing her on her table.

"Pichon, you are our class leader." Tension as sharp as a knife spreads around the classroom. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable in the silence. Good luck with them.

××《☆》××

"Should I iron Laubrac's jacket before I give it back?" Michèle smiles as she asks us.

"I knew you liked him. I totally called it." I say in triumph. They laugh. Michèle suddenly gasps.

"I forgot my cardigan." Michèle remembers, the smile on her face dropping.

"Go ahead. I have errands to run." Simone says. We all bid each other goodbye and part ways.

As I walk to my flat, a hand grabs my arm and covers my mouth. I prepare to scream, but stop midway when I see Descamps' face. I push him away.

"What was that for?" I shout angrily at him. He puts a finger to his lips, shushing me.

"You're too loud. Do you want to get caught?" He steps closer.

"Get caught doing wha-" He covers my mouth again, and I lick it. He pulls away, disgusted.

"Ew, why would you do that?" He wipes his hand on my shirt. I move away from him.

"Stop covering my mouth." I whisper-shout at him. We stand there, silent, his hand staying on my arm. I see him gulp, his adams apple bobbing up and down.

Our breaths are heavy. It's the only thing we hear. He walks a bit closer to me. I look up, his height getting taller.

"What do you want, Descamps?" I ask him, whispering. He doesn't say anything yet, eye focused on me. He drops his head.

"A warning." He says, his voice breaking a bit.

"What?" What does he mean by a warning?

"He got off with a warning." Oh. Jean Pierre.

"It's not fair. He took my eye out." I don't know why he's talking to me about this, but I feel pity anyway.

"Descamps-" I cut myself off when his arms wrap around my waist and his head tucks itself into my neck.

My hands absentmindedly go up to rub his back. I whisper confort into his ear. He isn't crying. He's just standing slumped, absorbing my warmth. I let him.

He suddenly pulls away, some sort of fear in his eyes. He runs out of the alley, and I'm left alone.

I decided after a while that I should start walking back home. He stays in mind the rest of the night. Even in my dreams, he lingers. His touch, his scent, his breath. And I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter two: My eye only

Next- Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say

××《☆》××

End of chapter two. I think this is longer than the first because i added more additional scenes so the joseph and the reader can interact. The enemies to lovers are really coming into place in this. Applebaum is a sweetheart, but for those who loved him here, sad to say, this will only be a one-time thing. Unless i change my mind in the future. Hope you guys liked it and again, leave a comment or dm me for recommendations. Thanks for reading!!!

[jenna0rtega27]

Hey could you do a g!p Enid x g!p Wednesday and fem reader smut where the Enid and Wednesday get jealous because reader what talking to a boy and not them with lots of after care pls :))

You belong to us

Thank you for asking

18+

Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair x F!Reader/vampire

Summary: Request

Warning: Wednesday g!p, Enid g!p, threesome, smut, blowjob, penetration, jealousy, mention of Xavier, dom!Wednesday, dom!Enid, sub!Reader

Number of words : 2280

Masterlist

3rd person POV: Y/n reads her book lying on her bed. It is currently 7 a.m. and the young vampire is waiting for her two roommates to wake up. Being a vampire, Y/n never sleeps. Her two roommates are Enid Sinclair and Wednesday Addams. The two girls have been a couple for a few months now. After the murders of Joseph Crackston and Marilyn Thornhill, Wednesday and Enid became a couple after returning to school. Fortunately for them, the school was brand new when they returned.

But unfortunately for Y/n, she has feelings for both girls. But since they are a couple, then she didn't say anything. And she is also the only one who knows their secret. They both have a cock. She caught them fucking in the bathroom. To say she was jealous is an understatement. Seeing them sleep every night in the same bed sticks. Y/n would have liked to be with them. But she knows that will never happen to her.

The young vampire continues reading when she hears someone moaning loudly. She knows without looking that it’s Enid. The young werewolf gets up from her bed.

“Good morning Y/n. » Enid says happily and gives Y/n a kiss on the cheek. Y/n blushes but remains calm so as not to let Enid notice anything. Enid always did her with Y/n. Every morning she received a kiss on the cheek from Enid. And she blushed every time. And strangely, Wednesday didn't seem jealous because she didn't say anything. Or maybe she's making a plan to kill Y/n.

“Good morning Enid. » Y/n responds, smiling slightly and returning to her book.

After 5 minutes of reading, Y/n hears mouth noises. Like two people kissing. She turns her head slightly and sure enough, Enid and Wednesday kiss. They are sideways so Y/n can see everything. Wednesday opens her eyes to make eye contact with Y/n. Y/n holds her breath unable to look at anything other than Wednesday's eyes staring at her. To tease the young vampire, Wednesday adds her tongue to the kiss, still staring at Y/n. Enid moaned slightly. Y/n would love to join them in fucking each other. After a few more seconds, Enid stops herself.

Enid goes to change in the bathroom and Wednesday stays in her place with a smirk on her face. Then, Wednesday also goes to change and comes out 1 minute later.

“Okay, let’s eat before we’re late for class.” » Enid says and Wednesday nods. Enid is about to open the door but notices that Y/n remains in her bed with her book. “Are you coming Y/n?” »

“Oh no go ahead I didn’t do that anyway. » Y/n replies with a small smile.

" All right. » Said Enid and she leaves the room. Wednesday looks at Y/n with an emotionless look.

“If you don't come and eat in 5 minutes, I will kill you in your sleep and feed your flesh to the pigs and use your bones as weapons. » Said Wednesday and leaves the room without letting Y/n say anything.

Y/n huffs and changes. She doesn't want to make Wednesday angry. But she doesn't understand why Wednesday acts like this. Y/n has the impression that the young girl with the black braids cares about the young vampire. But Y/n can't think like that, because Wednesday doesn't like her. She only loves herself and Enid.

Once changed, Y/n leaves the room and heads towards the stairs. Once down the stairs, she walks towards a table. Arriving at a table, someone grabs her forearm, she turns around and finds herself face to face with Xavier Thorpe.

Xavier has always loved Y/n. He's made lots of attempts to go out with Y/n and go on a date with her but he always gets turned down.

Xavier lets go of Y/n’s arm and moves a little closer to her. Y/n rolls her eyes.

“Please Y/n. Let me ask you out on a date. I promise you won't regret it. » Said Xavier with sparkling eyes.

Y/n was once again going to refuse Xavier's request but before she can say it, she sees Wednesday and Enid staring at her in the distance. Enid has the exit claws and looks like she's ready to slit Xavier's throat. And Wednesday has a look that sends chills down your spine. Her arms remain alongside her body and she does not blink. Y/n literally got goosebumps.

" Kiss Me. »

" I beg your pardon? »

“Kiss me Xavier, I accept your date. »

Xavier smiles with pride and places his hands on Y/n's cheeks.

“I promise you won’t regret it.” » Said Xavier and immediately places his lips on Y/n's.

The young vampire closes her eyes and wants to vomit. But before the kiss can go any further, Y/n feels a tug which causes her to withdraw from Xavier's hold. The person pulling her holds her wrist hard which hurts her. Y/n looks up and sees that it’s Wednesday dragging her and sees Enid walking right next to her with her claws still out.

“Ouch Wednesday you’re hurting me!” » Y/n complains but Wednesday puts even more pressure on Y/n's wrist.

“Enid goes to the principal and finds a way to make us miss class. » Orders Wednesday monotonously. Enid nods and leaves for the principal's office.

Arriving at the room, Wednesday closes the door and pushes Y/n onto her bed. She lays Y/n on her back and straddles her thighs.

“For the very first time in my entire life, I felt jealous. I never had that feeling with Enid. » Wednesday said through gritted teeth. “You are ours, do you understand? » Y/n nods not knowing what to say or do. “I said do you understand? » Wednesday repeats with a deeper voice and cupping Y/n's jaw.

" Yes I understood. » Y/n replies and she already feels herself getting wet.

“Me and Enid wanted to fuck you so bad. But we weren't sure so we didn't do anything. But when I saw you watching me kiss Enid, my cock got hard. » Y/n can't believe this is happening today. She's wanted Enid and Wednesday all to herself for so long and now her dream is coming true. “Are you ok for me and Enid to fuck you.” » asks Wednesday. Y/n nods. “I want words Cara Mia. » Wednesday adds, caressing Y/n's cheek with her index finger.

“Yes you can fuck me. » Y/n replies almost in a whisper and looks at Wednesday's lips before returning to her eyes. A smirk appeared on Wednesday's face. She leans down and gently places her lips on the vampire's. Y/n moaned at the coldness of young Addams' lips. She didn't expect them to be cold.

Wednesday takes her hand and puts it in Y/n's pants but without going into her panties and slowly caresses her pussy and can feel all the wetness.

“You’re so wet.” » Wednesday said, pulling away from Y/n's lips and smirking.

Enid enters the room and goes to the bed where the girls are already there.

“Hey don’t start without me.” » Enid said, pouting.

“Come here Cara Mia. » Wednesday said without breaking eye contact with Y/n. Enid immediately walks over to the bed and lies down next to Y/n and Wednesday.

“When I saw Xavier kiss you I wanted to slit his throat with my claws. » Enid says as the anger returns and her claws come out.

“Calm down Cara Mia. Now Y/n is with us and we're going to show her who she belongs to. » Wednesday responds and gently kisses Enid to calm her down while remaining straddling Y/n's thighs.

Enid calms down and smiles wickedly as she pulls away from the kiss. “Yeah we’ll show you who you belong to Y/n L/n.” And you certainly don't belong to this Xavier Thorpe. »

Y/n gulped. She had never seen Enid react like that before. But she was so wet that all she wants is to be fucked.

Wednesday moves off of Y/n's thighs to lay down next to her to leave her in the middle. Enid grabs Y/n’s jaw and turns her to kiss her. Y/n moaned slightly. Compare to Wednesday's, Enid's lips are warm and warm.

Meanwhile, Wednesday places her lips on Y/n's neck and kisses her gently. She runs her hands over Y/n's clothed body. After a few seconds, Wednesday begins to suck on Y/n's neck. The vampire moans and Enid takes the opportunity to enter her tongue into Y/n's mouth.

The goth unbuttons Y/n’s uniform without leaving her neck. Once removed, Wednesday can see Y/n's black bra and it makes her harden at the sight. Y/n has small breasts. Which is perfect for Wednesday.

The girl with black braids takes off Y/n's bra and sees her nipples harden from the cold. She cups one breast and places her lips on the other. She just sucks gently and massages the other one. Y/n continues to moan into Enid's mouth and places her hand on Wednesday's back.

Enid also takes off her uniform and bra. Wednesday does the same thing. Y/n almost drools seeing the two people she loves the most undressing in front of her.

“Do you like what you see? » Enid teases with a smirk.

" Such. » Y/n cups one of Enid's breasts and massages it. Enid moaned slightly.

Wednesday kisses all over Y/n's body as she moves down to find herself between Y/n's legs. She gently removes Y/n's pants and she is now in panties. The goth moans at the wet stain that ends up on the y/h/c girl's panties.

Wednesday sticks her tongue out and licks the fabric. Y/n moans and wraps her legs around Wednesday's head. The girl looks up with a deadly stare.

“You close your legs again, I’ll fuck you until you fall asleep. Understood? » Said Wednesday holding Y/n's legs

“Yes, understood. » Y/n replies, nodding. Seeing Wednesday like this with her is a real spectacle.

Wednesday removes Y/n's panties and without warning, she licks a large stripe from the hole to her clit. She moans at the taste and Y/n moans when Wednesday touches her clit with her warm tongue. Goth continues to make great bands.

Enid takes off her pants and boxers. Y/n moaned seeing how big and thick Enid's cock was.

" Open the mouth. » Enid orders and Y/n does exactly as she is told. She opens her mouth wide and Enid enters his cock in her mouth. Y/n closes her mouth and sucks Enid’s cock. She takes the base of the cock with her hand and continues to suck.

Wednesday stops eating Y/n and takes off her pants and boxers too. She leans over Y/n and positions her cock so it's on Y/n's vagina. She collects the y/h/c girl's juice and slowly enters her. Y/n moaned at Wednesday's size. The goth begins to sink into her slowly so as not to hurt her. And once she’s fully in, she waits for Y/n to adapt to the size. After a few seconds, Y/n moves her hips to tell Wednesday she's ready. Wednesday how to move back and thrust into Y/n.

Y/n moans but continues to suck Enid who manages to move her hips back and forth to help Y/n. She puts her hand in Y/n’s hair to make her move her head.

Wednesday still gets up while fucking Y/n and stands on her hands. With one hand, she cups Enid's jaw and turns her head to kiss her.

Y/n became a complete mess underneath Wednesday.

" I'm near. » Y/n cries with Enid's cock in her mouth and cries at the feeling of getting closer and at the pleasure she is having.

Wednesday pulls away from the kiss and looks at Y/n. “Wait a little longer, Cara Mia. » Wednesday orders and fucks Y/n even faster. She puts one of Y/n’s legs on her shoulder to help her go faster. Y/n moans so loud that some students can definitely hear her.

“You’re ours okay? I never want to see you kiss Xavier or anyone else again because you are ours and no one else's included. » Enid says as she fucks Y/n's mouth faster as she feels herself coming too.

" Yes I understand. I am yours and no one else. » Y/n replies with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Good girls Cara Mia. You can cum now. » Wednesday continues to fuck Y/n at a crazy speed and adds her fingers making quick circles on her clit to help her come.

Y/n moans and cums on Wednesday's cock. Wednesday slows down but continues to fuck her to help her high. Enid cums in Y/n's mouth which makes them both moan. Y/n swallows and Wednesday also cums inside Y/n which makes everyone moan again.

Wednesday slowly pulls out and Y/n moans emptily. The goth lays down next to Y/n and Enid lays down on the other side of the y/h/c girl.

“Do you want to be our girlfriend Y/n?” » Wednesday asks, stroking Y/n's stomach with her nails. “Yes I want to be your girlfriend. » Y/n replies with a tired smile.

The two girls smile with happiness. “Go to sleep my love, we’ll be there when you wake up. » Enid says and gives Y/n a kiss on the lips.

“Sleep well Cara Mia. I hope you have a pleasant nightmare. » Wednesday adds and gives Y/n a kiss too. The vampire laughs softly at Wednesday's sweet words and falls asleep peacefully between her two girlfriends. And without disappointing Wednesday, Y/n had lots of sweet dreams of her two wonderful girlfriends.

She can't believe that all she had to do was make them jealous.

[blackswan7x]

— jjba: you ride Joseph Joestar’s face

character: Joseph Joestar, female reader

rating: NSFW. minors DNI.

Imagine…

Despite your protests, Joseph insisted he wanted you to sit on his face.

You objected saying you’d much rather lie on your back if he wanted to go down on you, but he wasn’t having it.

“When I say I want you to sit on my face, babe, I mean it. Besides could you imagine a more handsome seat for you. Honestly?” He had gave you his mischievous grin that was so gorgeous sometimes it made you ache.

So of course…you said yes.

Now, he is underneath you. You sit astride is face, positioned so you are resting your hands on his strong pecs and looking at the rest of his naked body. You try to touch his throbbing cock, hard and neglected and leaking precum across his lower stomach but he swats your hand away.

He had made it clear beforehand this was suppose to be all about your pleasure.

Soon, he has you whining and whimpering at the way he enthusiastically laps at your folds and teases your sensitive clit. He sucks hard suddenly and you throw your head back, your hands rest on his firm pecs as your arch your back.

Suddenly, he pulls away from your core.

“FUCK!” He groans loudly, causing you to shiver. “You taste so good, baby. Goddamn.”

He slaps your ass hard and you moan at how good it feels, any pain quickly transforming into endorphins that make you tremble. He grabs your ass with his big, calloused hands and spreads your cheeks apart.

You blush terribly, feeling so exposed to him but some part of you loves being this vulnerable to him.

“Oh my god!” He moans, “You’re dripping me for me.”

Any response you had is quickly lost as his mouth latches on to your engorged clit as two thick fingers press inside your swollen pussy. He curls his fingers in just the right way to stimulate from the inside as he continues his torturous licking of your clit

You rock your hips against his face, really riding him and it only prompts him to chuckle and increase his pace on you. Your thighs begin to shake and you feel the sparks of the pleasure to come deep within your belly

It all becomes too much. The sound of his moans as he worships your pussy. The feeling of his fingers filling you up. The added friction of your own hips grinding against his face. The rush of orgasm ignites within you, setting fire to your entire body.

Joseph works you through your high never stopping his fingers inside you or the suction of his mouth on your clit.

You clutch onto his waist as you cry out. You watch his cock twitch and somehow grow even harder as you moan. You shake and pant as the high leaves you, but you know you could go again.

You don’t care if he’s said this was all about you.

You need to taste him.

You need to give him as much pleasure as he’s given to you.

You lay down on him, already feeling electrified at the way his muscled body presses against your soft curves.

You take his thick length in your hand and begin to stroke him.

“Couldn’t resist me any longer cou— OH GOD!”Joseph’s smug words quickly turn to a groan as you take him fully into your hot mouth.

You use your hand to works his base as you hollow your cheeks and press your tongue along the bottom of his cock. You go until your cheeks ache and part from him with lewd pop of your mouth.

“Your next line is, ‘god, I love you…” you tease, before kissing his tip.

“God!” He moans, his hands gripping your hips, lost in the pleasure you’ve given him, “I love you….hey, wait! Th-that’s my thing!”

You laugh before taking him once more.

[joequinnisgod]

Caught in the act

Pairing: Joseph Quinn x f!reader

Summary: You wake up from a wet dream, but Joe’s asleep, so you have to take care of yourself. You end up in the shower, where he catches you in the act.

Warnings: smut, f!masturbation, shower sex, squirting

Word count: 2k

Your eyes slowly opened at the buzzing sound of your phone, tearing you from your dreamland. To not wake Joseph, you quickly reached for your phone and turned off the alarm.

After rolling on your back, you noticed something unpleasant that made you frown. You were all sweaty and a particular dull ache sat between your thighs. Pictures from the dream you were living in just a few moments ago started flooding your mind. After you opened your eyes again letting them adjust to the bright room, you turned your head to the side. Joseph was sound asleep. His eyelashes stroking his face, his lips all puffy and slightly open as soft snores escaped his throat every now and then. He had a long, busy day the previous day and he got home quite late so you didn’t want to wake him.

With your eyes closed, you started re-living your dream. Your fingers traced your skin all the way down to your panties and slipped them under the thin, soft fabric. With two fingers of yours you started gathering the wetness and spreading it around before you started playing with your clit. Not having the patience to tease yourself, after a few slow circles your fingers began picking up the pace. Your free hand made its way to beneath your shirt and you started massaging one of your boobs and playing with your nipple.

Soon, you had to realise it wasn't enough. You were used to Joe's heavenly, skilled tongue and fingers and the feeling wasn't the same at all. Suddenly you remembered the pastel pink vibrator you had in your top drawer, purchased a few years ago. You enthusiastically reached for the handle of the drawer, only to meet the sad reality again. The batteries in it died a few weeks ago and each time you visited the grocery store, you forgot to get new ones.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as frustration started to get under your skin. After not being able to come up with any ideas, you decided to just start your day. Glancing at Joe, you saw him still laying there, deep asleep. You walked to the en suite bathroom and washed your face before brushing your teeth. Still feeling sticky and sweaty from your sleep, you decided to take a shower.

You opened the glass door of the walk-in shower and opened the tap. After stripping out of your pyjamas quickly, you walked underneath the big, fixed shower head and enjoyed the hot water pouring down your chest. You stood there for a few minutes, just getting mentally ready for the day but your with your excitement not quieting down, it was a little hard. As your eyes wandered across the water droplets on the wall tiles, your gaze stilled on something. The handheld shower head.

"Back to the good old way." You murmured to yourself after a few seconds of thinking about it as your hand reached for it. You opened the tap for the detachable shower head, adjusting the temperature and pressure of the water. Not knowing any better, you sat down on the floor of the shower, with your back against the wall and your legs spread wide, and aimed the shower head towards your pulsing core. A loud gasp erupted from your throat, already starting to feel a little relieved.

"Oh, yes." You moaned quietly and carefully, not to wake Joseph. Your free hand went to your boob again, as your mind wandered back to the same place.

His lingering touches, his hot kisses, his burning, sweaty skin, his thick, heavy moans, his deep voice...

"You take me so well, baby."

The way his hips slammed into you, along with the unholy sounds filling the bathroom of a fancy place where a long forgotten award show was held.

"Joey, please..don't stop."

"I'm not planning on it, princess. I'm gonna make you cum so hard.. – he said between heavy breaths – the whole building will know what we were doing in here. And they're gonna be so..fuck...so jealous of us."

You looked at the both of you in the mirror. The way his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and concentration while looking at where you connected, then to your reflection was almost enough to make you come undone right away.

"Look at you, baby. Such a pretty thing. Being such a little slut..only for me."

"Only for you, oh." You squeezed his hand. "Joey, I'm so close." You panted.

"C'mon baby, cum for me. I wanna feel you fall apart around me. Show me how naughty you can be for daddy."

"Oh, Joey, fuck."

"Having fun there?" His voice startled you, making you jump and drop the shower head.

"Fuck..are you kidding me? I was so close.." You whimpered in between heavy breaths as a teardrop full of frustration rolled down you cheek as you reached for the dropped head.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, doll." He pushed his boxers down as he made his way towards the shower.

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not." He flashed a cheeky grin as he closed the door behind himself.

Just when you thought your problem was finally to be solved, he started spreading the body wash on his chest and stomach, actually taking a shower.

"What are you doing?" You looked him up and down.

"Taking a shower." He gave you a confused, teasing look. "You know..that's what people usually do in here."

"Fuck off." You aimed the shower head at him.

"C'mon, love." He reached his arm towards you to help you up from the floor. "What got my baby so frustrated and whiny?"

"You." You muttered as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Me?" His eyebrows ran up his forehead.

"Yeah."

"What did I do?" He chuckled.

"I had this dream about you. About us."

"Hmm..really? What were we doing?"

"You were doing me, Joe. So well.."

"And that's why you're whining?"

"No..it's because you weren't awake when I woke up, so I had to take care of myself. But that wasn't enough, and the batteries in my vibrator have been dead for weeks now and I aways forget to get new ones, and now you interrupted me right when I was about to cum."

"Oh, my poor baby. What do I do with you now? Hm?"

"Make me cum, Joey, please."

"Fuck..how could I say no when you're asking me so nicely? And how do you want me to do that?" His hand travelled down the curve of your back and caressed your ass before grabbing it firmly, making you moan softly.

"I don't care, just make me cum. Fast, cause we're both gonna be late."

"Okay, I have a photoshoot, but where are you going?"

"I'm going out to have late breakfast with your mum."

"I thought that was tomorrow."

"No, it's today, but please do something with me now. What will I tell your mum when I'm gonna be late? Sorry I'm late, I was busy 'cause your son was fucking me senseless?"

He pressed his lips to yours in a heartbeat to shut you up.

"Jump." He murmured as he tapped the back of your thighs.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his lower back, making your aching core touch his hard cock. A gasp left your mouths as he stepped to the wall you previously sat against and pushed you up against it. A small hiss left your lips because of the cold walls, giving Joseph the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You took your hand from the back of his neck and traced it down from his chest to his angry length. You started tracing the veins with your fingertips to rile him up even more before wrapping your hand around it and slowly starting to pump him up and down.

"Fuck..I'm not gonna last if you do that." He swallowed thickly.

You lined him up with your entrance and moaned out loudly as he started to push inside you, filling you up. Your hand went back to his head, tugging on his curls.

"Fuuck.." A breathy, deep moan fell from his lips. You couldn't help but clench around him, making his breath hitch in his throat. "What..what happened in your dream?"

"We were in the bath- oh..in the bathroom..during an award show and..we couldn't wait 'till we got home, so..so we did it in the bathroom...in front of the mirror."

"Shit..we can do it in front of the mirror."

"And we will when we get home..but don't you dare stop now."

"Anything you want, my love." He took a hand from under your thigh and caressed your hot skin from your leg to your breast at first. He gently massaged it, making your eyes close and your head tilt back against the wall. His hand then came up to your throat and his fingers were wrapped around it in a second, squeezing the sides of it gently.

"Joey, I'm gonna.."

"You gonna cum already? I haven’t even been inside you for five minutes. My poor angel, so worked up, so needy, huh? Look at me, baby." When he didn’t get any reaction from you, he let let go of your throat and cupped your cheek. "You with me? I wanna see those pretty eyes."

You were so lost in the feeling of his cock so deliciously deep inside you and his scent filling your nose, that you didn’t even notice him stilling his hips at first.

"No, no, no! Why’d you stop?" You opened your eyes and looked at him with an upset look on your face.

"I said look at me. Keep your eyes open for me, doll. Can you do that for me?" His thumb stroked your cheek lovingly, yet somehow still in a mean, teasing manner. His lips came close to your ear as his voice got quiet and low. "Can you do that for daddy?" He started moving his hips again.

"Oh, fuck. I’m so close Joey.."

"Cum for me, baby. C'mon..soak daddy's cock."

Your hand went to your clit, circling it fast and impatiently. The feeling of Joseph’s hand leaving your cheek to wrap itself around your throat again was only fuel to the flame. Your back arched off the cold, wet tiles and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your frequent, sinful moans bounced off the walls. At the same time you felt his hand choke you harder and suddenly everything became so overwhelming. For the first time in your life you felt liquid gush out of you, right around his cock.

"Thaat's it baby. Good girl..oh, fuckfuckfuck."

You felt Joe's hot seed spill inside you, making your orgasm even more intense. He drove his hips into you at a fast pace, making sure to get the most out of your orgasms. His thrusts slowed down at the end after he rode out his high as well, until he didn’t stop completely.

"Fuck..that was so good" You whispered as you pressed soft kisses along the side of his neck, gently sucking on the skin.

"You fucking squirted." A proud smile sat on his face.

"I’m not surprised..I’ve been edged three times this morning." You whimpered to him before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you." He murmured into the kiss.

"I love you." A content smile spread on your face.

"I really gotta get something we can sit on in here."

"I'm not against it..I had to sit on the fucking floor."

"God..every time I'm gonna look at the shower head, that's the only thing I'm gonna think of." You chuckled as you shared a few more kisses.

"When'd you brush your teeth?"

"When you were a little too busy. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen." He pressed kisses down your chest.

"So you were watching me like a fucking perv?"

"Mm-hmm...can I have that view again when I brush my teeth tonight?"

You slapped his arm as he let you down onto the floor, sighs leaving your lips as he pulled out of you. His hands grabbed your ass again as he pulled you close to kiss you one more time, before starting your actual shower.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! Have a beautiful day / night!! <3

[scrollonso]

Crazy In Love¹

A Strollonso AU where Fernando succeeds the Spanish throne and makes it his goal as king to make the Prince of France his groom. (3.4k words, dark!nando) [@catboysracing] {l could've made nando a lot worse but I didnt want this to be 10k words 😭 this is a very rushed rough draft so if i make this a series it'll be more drawn out,, or maybe not idek its 02:26 im tired ☠️}

masterlist - next part

Lawrence stepped out of his carriage, holding his hand out to his wife as she carefully placed a foot on the ground, using Lawrence's shoulder for support as she planted both of her shoes on the stone pathway below them.

Lance peeked his head out before exiting, following his fathers lead in holding out his hand to help his sister, Chloe, out as well. His other siblings had already been married off and attending this ball in the Royal Palace of Madrid was his parents' way of finding their youngest children suitors.

"Very good, my boy" The king praised before the four of them began their walk into the palace. They were shown to the ballroom where most of the guests were straight away. The room was all white with gold detailing, artwork littered on the ceiling as spirals of gold framed the dozens of doors surrounding them

"Pardon me" The queen spoke softly, lightly touching her husbands arm before disappearing through the crowd to make her way to Maria Theresa the Archduchess of Austria.

"Excuse me, Father, Can I go speak with Marie?" Chloe spoke seconds later, her father simply nodding at the girls request. She smiled and muttered a thank you before finding her way to her friend, similarly to her mother.

Lance hated these things. Being in a closed space full of hundreds of people. He couldn't help the sour expression on his face as he looked around the bright room, eyes settling on his half brother Esteban. Lance was more than aware of his fathers infadelity and how he had three children with other women. Lance wasn't too fond of the younger two but he'd grown up close with Esteban and his mother Pauline de Mailly.

"Stop scowling, Lance." Lawrence spoke sternly, greeting his youngest son with a slap to his back

"Sorry, Father." Lance spoke, quick to fix his face as he turned to the king "May I be excused, Father? Esteban is on the other side of the ballroom."

"Go on."

Lance couldn't help but smile as he reached Estebans side, being quick to give him a nod

"Votre Altesse" Esteban hummed, trying to stop himself smiling as his little brother rolled his eyes at the title, he never called Lance Your Majesty unless he was teasing the younger boy "Brother, How are you?"

"I'm well, how long have you been here?"

"Oh, not long. Me and my mother arrived no more than an hour ago." Esteban spoke, Lance nodding at the response

"Have you had any of the food?" Lance asked, hoping his brother would say no so they could eat together

"I have not, shall we go together?" Lance smiled once more, nodding as he followed the older man to the long table of food and refreshments.

Fernando was speaking with Duke Maximilian III Joseph of Bavaria regarding the state of their allies during the ongoing war when he first spotted the French prince, his justaucorps a warm brown embroidered with intricate and colourful flowers. The boys hair was long and wavy, he was constantly brushing it out of his face as he spoke with the slightly older man next to him.

The new king was unsure of who the man next to him was but he was well aware of who Lance was. Fernando had met with Lawrence the second Ferdinand had died, as the new king it was his duty to keep up alliances between the dynasties. With Spain and France being the largest two dynasties as of then, having a relationship with Lawrence was very important to him.

As the conversation came to an end he excused himself to find the Frenchman again, pleased at how easy it was. He was standing off to the side as the man from before spoke with a woman from Sweden, Fernando taking the opprotunity to finally speak to him.

"Monseigneur Lance, it's a pleasure to meet you." Fernando bowed his head, holding a hand out to the shorter prince who's eyes shot up, they were hazel and seemed to sparkle in the dimly lit room.

"Sire," Lance spoke softly, taking Fernandos hand as the Spaniard placed a kiss on his knuckles, the younger boys face flushing pink at the usually meaningless action "the pleasure is all mine."

"I hope your journey here wasn't too strenous, it's a long ride from Versailles." Fernando spoke, letting go of the boys hand then stepping back slightly

"Of course not, I always prefer the carriage rides to the actual balls, anyway" he stated matter-of-factly, only realizing how rude it sounded seconds later. "Apologies, I'm not sure why I said that."

Fernando smiled, covering his mouth to let out a small laugh "There's no need to apologize, I feel the same."

Lance wasn't sure how to respond, all he could do was flash the king a smile, not expecting to relate to him of all people.

"Is it stuffy in here to you?" The Spaniard asked, cocking his head to the side before continuing "Would you like to ride around with me? Get some fresh air."

"I'd love to." The teenager responded with no hesitation, face lighting up at the idea

"Let's go, then. I'll give you a personal tour of my dynasty as long as you'll return the favour." Fernando said, holding his hand out once more, but this time to steal Lance away

Fernando stood beside the door of the carriage, helping the prince get in before getting in himself. It was nice, Lance thought, being treated how princesses are treated. As the carriage began moving he couldn't get the feeling of the Spanish mans lips on his knuckles out of his mind, it was embarrassing just how much he had replayed it already.

"Will your family be staying the night? Most of my guests are but if you're leaving before dawn I'll be sure to return you in time." The king spoke, Lance's eyes focusing on the mans mouth as his lips moved, hardly registering his words.

"I'm sure we will be, my mother and sister prefer to get a decent amount of rest before returning home after balls."

"Perfect, that gives us plenty of time, then." Fernando nodded to himself, moving to sit on the same side as Lance as he pulled back the curtains, the sunset illuminating the streets perfectly.

The smaller boys eyes found their way outside, practically twinkling as he admired just how gorgeous it looked at this time of day

"It's beautiful" He whispered, not bothering to turn and see the older mans reaction

"It is" The Spanish man said quietly, he knew what Lance meant, the landscape was beautiful. Of course Fernando knew that, he lived here, but he only thing he could see was the Prince next to him, he was truly beautiful.

The two continued down the road for a few more minutes before they reached town, Fernando noticing his guards escorting Jesuits from their home right away. He swiftly closed the curtains and began distracting Lance, not wanting the sweet boy to witness the men in black cassocks being pushed and shoved through the streets of the small town they had entered. The new king had made it his first order to expel every resident of the Spanish Empire that was concerningly loyal to the Pope as soon as he had been crowned. He would never admit it as he was too full of pride but he felt threatened by the men devoting themselves to the pope. He was above the pope. He was king. He had power and he was going to make sure every commoner he ruled over was aware of that.

"Hm?" Lance hummed as he noticed the curtains draw shut, turning his body to face the larger man, having not taken in just how drastic their size difference was. Not only was there a difference in power from Spanish King to French Prince but there was also a difference in aura, the mans eyes on him felt intimidating, Lance gazing hesitently at the man as the carriage fell quiet, Fernandos lidded eyes not leaving Lance's for a second

"We're rebuilding in this area, I'd hate for you to see how much of a mess it is right now." He lied, the words slipping off of his tongue as if they were as true as scripture, reciting it as if it was a verse he'd spent weeks remembering.

The credulous boy just nodded, having way too much trust in the man he'd become acquainted with just minutes prior.

"I'm sure it looks fine, every part of your kingdom I've seen so far has been stunning." The Frenchman reassured, wondering if maybe the new King was insecure about the state of his colonies.

"Why, thank you, Monseigneur Lance." Fernando smiled, partially because of the sweet words coming from the boy at his side but also because of just how easy he was to trick "you're too kind."

"No need to be so formal, Your Majesty." Lance scooted back, eyes following Fernando as his arm moved to open the curtains once more, now far enough away from his men to insure Lance saw nothing. "It's just us"

"If I'm to just call you Lance then please, call me Fernando."

"Well, Fernando." Lance started, looking outside of the carriage before turning back to the man "Can you tell me more? About your dynasty. I've only learned what's in the books"

"You've read books about my kingdom?" Fernando laughed dryly, finding it funny how the Prince of France spent his free time reading about the Spanish Empire.

"I've read about many things." Lance nodded, locking his fingers together in his lap "My Father would rather me learn than fight in the war."

"Ah, yes." Fernando nodded, having forgotten about what was currently happening on his allies land. "I understand where he's coming from. I was hesitant to put my sons in command as well."

"How many sons do you have, Fernando?" Lance asked, not having read much about the new kings family

"Three, they're all around your age" Fernando looked outside, smiling to himself as he watched Lance turn to look as well "Carlos is my eldest, then Lando, then my youngest boy Oscar."

"You have only sons?" Lance asked, still looking outside, watching as their surroundings began to get darker and darker

"Yes, just three boys."

"What about their mother? There isn't a queen, is there?"

Fernando shook his head, leaning on the wall behind him before responding, arms crossed over his chest as he watched "Their mother died a few years ago, Tuberculosis they think."

"Oh." He whispered, only now turning to look at the Spaniard, biting his lip slightly in an effort to hide his newfound discomfort "I'm sorry, I- I didn't know."

"Don't apologize." He spoke, harsher than he had before. "Was nothing I could do, the boys are old enough to deal with it and I had more important things to do than wallow in my own self pity."

Lance just nodded, fidgeting with his fingers as he avoided the Spaniards gaze, feeling embarrassed for even bringing it up, although a part of him was relieved to find out the King didn't have anyone at his side

The man reached out to grab Lance's hand, quickly letting his coachman know they were getting out and to wait for them.

The naive Prince followed blindly, letting the man ahead of him pull him through unfamiliar land as if they'd known one another all their lives. Fernando couldn't help but take note of everything Lance was so quick to let him do to him, he couldn't help but wonder just how far he could push it.

They eventually reached a short stone pathway and at the end was a small pavillion with a bench nestled towards the back where plants were growing up the wood. By then it'd gotten darker, Fernando glad to have matches on him as he lit the lamps around the wooden structure

"Woah" Lance breathed out, admring the garden he'd found himself in as Fernando dusted off the bench, still holding onto the boys hand as he pulled him to take a seat

"I haven't been here in ages. I figured if I was going to go back it'd be fun to not be alone." Fernando hummed, the last time he was here he'd killed his father.

"Gosh, if I lived closer I'd spend all my time here!" Lance laughed, smiling up at the man who had yet to take a seat

"I used to, when I became King the first time I hardly had time" He spoke, looking around as soon as he finished, eyes falling on the steps in front of him, the place he'd met his father before quite literally stabbing him in the back. It was what the old bastard deserved. Without his actions Ferdinand would've never became king and Fernando would still be stuck in Naples.

"The first time?" Lance hummed, unbuttoning his justacourps and sliding it off before folding it neatly in his lap

"Si." Fernando nodded, finally taking a seat next to the Prince "Before my brother died I was the king of Naples and Sicily. My eldest, Carlos, is taking over as soon as he finishes being stubborn about his knightly duties."

The boy laughed, he'd grown so used to just hearing people around him speak that everything about Fernandos accent made his sarcasm even funnier. "You're very experienced, Fernando"

"I am." He confirmed, meaning it in more ways than the innocent boy could imagine. As a ruler? Yes, of course. Killer? He supposes. Husband? To some extent. Sexually? Very.

"How long did you rule over Naples and Sicily?" He asked, eager to learn more about the mysterious man beside him

"Twenty-four years, I took over when I was eleven so my mother helped me rule until I was married off and began having children."

"Wow, I feel like I haven't done anything as prince" Lance laughed, tracing the neatly done sewing on the cloth he had on his lap "My father took over France at five, his mother helped him until he was thirteen as well, but sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be king."

"You could be my king." The Spaniard spoke calmly, not sure why Lance began to react the way he did

"Hm?" He questioned, unsure if he was understanding the mans accent correctly

"Be my king. I have no bride, nor do I have a groom." The man shrugged, watching as Lance's facial expression controrted "It is not the 16th century anymore, is normal to have two kings, Lancito."

Lance was aware that it'd become more normalized to see two men ruling side by side, a part of him had always yearned for the connection between a King and his King Consort but until now he'd figured it'd just been out of pure curiosity and a need to figure out the unknown

"Are you asking me to madry you, Fernando?" Lance asked, knowing it seemed obvious enough but he had to be sure, maybe this was just a Spanish thing.

"Consider it." Fernando spoke, holding Lance's hands in his own "Don't say no straight away, this will give us both what we want."

"I'm not sure my father would say yes-" Lance began, eyebrows furrowing as the Spaniard cut him off

"You're father likes me, I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear his son has been proposed to by none other than his greatest allies king."

"I know, I'm just not sure he'll be comfortable with me being so far from home." Lance's voice got quieter as he spoke, not wanting his words to upset the man before him

"I'll take you to visit every chance we get, it'll be like you never left." His voice softened, realizing that if he was to get the French Kings son to marry him he'd have to play nice.

"Well, then.." He dragged out his words, looking at their hands together before responding. There was such a drastic contrast between them, the Spaniards naturally tan and thicker hands making the boys pale and lanky hands seem even smaller. "I suppose" He finished, figuring he wouldn't find anyone better than the Spaniard. He'd seen his siblings get married to ugly and unjust aristocrats that he was relieved someone so kind was asking for his hand in marriage.

The taller mans lips curled, he quickly stood up and pulled Lance to him, the Frenchman leaving his coat on the bench beside where he'd sat before being greeted by the sudden feeling of lips on his.

It was embarrassing to think about how bad of a kisser he had to be. He just tried to follow Fernandos lead, fingers trailing over the gold detailing of his dresscoat as the kiss began to deepen, the kings hands finding their way to the boys waist to pull them even closer, bodies practically connected as Lance settled on the tips of his toes in order to make this easier.

Once Fernando pulled away Lance felt light headed, lips now puffy and red as he breathed harshly, covering his face from the man out of pure embarrassment.

"Do not hide from me, Lancito." He cooed, leaning over to pull the boys hands from his face, thumb brushing over his lips before he spoke again "te ves guapo" the king whispered, Lance unable to hold back a smile as he registered Fernandos words, face flushing a familiar pink as the man called him beautiful.

"We should get back" Lance said softly, face turning to meet the Spaniards gaze as his hands lingered on his chest

"You're right, I should probably ask for your fathers blessing, eh?" They laughed, the prince nodding as the older man grabbed a lantern, calmly finding the way back to the carriage

Fernando couldn't keep his hands off Lance during the short ride back, hand inching further up the boys thigh as his face got hotter, now hidden in the collar of his casaca. It was painfully obvious how inexperienced the boy was, Fernando wasn't sure what he'd done in his past life to deserve such a reward but he was beyond grateful.

It didn't progress past teasing touches, Fernando curious to see just how worked up he could get the boy before he disappeared back into the ballroom to speak to his father.

The answer was very, as they came to a stop outside the palace Lance couldn't hide the look of pure arousal on his face as he felt the Spaniards hands leave, whining at the feeling of his touch fading

"Fer..." He whispered, grabbing weakly onto the mans sleeves as he begged for just a little more

"Patience, let's see what your father says before continuing this, mi rey" Fernando negotiated, kissing the boys jaw softly before exiting the carriage, disappearing inside before Lance had the chance to follow behind.

"How have you been, Your majesty?" The King asked, earning a short response from his ally. "I've come to ask something of you, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead" Lawrence nodded, watching the Spaniard with curiousity

"I'd like to ask for your blessing, King Lawrence." He stated plainly, looking the man in front of him in the eyes "I'd like to make your son my King Consort."

Lawrence nodded right away, arm moving to pat the tanned mans back, smiling similarly to Lance "I'd love to give you my son, I'm shocked you felt the need to ask, Sire."

They both laughed, Lawrence's practically coming from his stomach as he closed his eyes, Fernando returning a short, knowing, and dry laugh.

Lance wandered back into the ballroom, greeted with a light hug from his mother, it wasn't normal in his family for her to show affection to him like this so he was almost worried something had gone wrong but as soon as he saw Lawrence and Fernando side by side he knew what'd happened, he was now set to marry the King of Spain.

[empressdede]

Me, U & Jealousy - Chapter 2

Previous chapter

This story is written in both past and present. Italics is the past and regular font is written in the present.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Two

“Girl c’mon, just think about how fun it’ll be. You can’t seriously expect me to believe you don’t want to go to our first high school party!” Jada had been trying to convince Sorai for the whole day to accept Britney’s invitation to her party that was taking place the upcoming weekend.

It wasn’t that Sorai didn’t want to go, she just wasn’t dumb. If Sorai’s there then her four unwanted bodyguards would be as well. It wouldn’t be a good night if they went because she knew they would do everything in their power to keep her away from any action.

“Jada, if I go then the ‘big brothers’ gone try to go and I already know how that’s gonna end. Me in the corner sipping on juice, while they get to be the life of the party.” Sorai stressed rolling her eyes.

“Just tell your parents your sleeping over at my house. That way their parents won’t suspect anything. C’mon Rai, Cameron said he was going for you.” Jada continued, she was gonna pull all the stops to persuade her friend to come to this party.

Sorai rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll go. But you can’t tell nobody I’m going. I’m serious Jada, those boys are so irritating.”

“Who’s irritating?” Josh asked as he busted in her room. Sorai let out a sigh of feigned annoyance.

“You and yo crew. You won’t ever give me a break.”

Even though the boys were too over protective over her, she did love them as if they were her own brothers…. Well almost all of ‘em were like a brother to her anyways.

“We just looking out for you Rai, all these lil boys are the same. They only want one thing and they gone have to see me before they get try to get it.” Joshua stated with a shrug because he was serious. Nobody was going to take her innocence if he could help it.

“Aye man they gone have to see us Uce.” Jon echoed as he walked in with a couple boxes of pizza. His youngest brother following through.

“Did y’all really have to ‘watch’ Sorai while her parents are out for the night? She’s 16, you know?” Jada asked sarcastically but this was how it was every other week.

Sorai’s parents would go out for the night and have the Fatu brothers watch her to make sure she was safe. And at first, it was cool to have other people to hang out with seeing as Sorai was an only child. But as time progressed, Sorai wanted to be treated like a grown up.

“Sefa’s the same age as me and they still want him to play babysitter for me.” Sorai explained with an eye roll to her best friend.

“Awe, don’t be too upset Sorai. Everyone knows I’m way more mature than you. That’s why I have to watch over you.” Joseph replied back in a teasing manner

“Aye man, we ain’t come here to hear allat. Let’s just enjoy movie night and when your parents come back we’ll be on our way.” Jonathan cut our banter short.

That was the plan, it was always the plan. Movie night in my room, and all of us passing out due to the itis. But after Jada passed out the older brothers hopped up.

“Aye man, Joe just sent us an invite. I guess Kiara got a couple friends at her crib and her parents ain’t home.”

“What you just gone leave me here by myself?” Sorai asked with a raised eyebrow and Jon shrugged.

“Sefa can watch you till we get back.” Jon suggested

Sorai rolled her eyes as she watched the older brothers leave. Boys are so stupid. She thought you herself.

The room fell quiet, the only sound heard in the room were Jada’s soft snores and the TV playing the movie Friday the 13th. Jada had fell asleep on Sorai’s bed and Sorai and Joseph were still sitting on the air mattress on the floor while they watched the movie in silence.

“You know I heard of the scheme you and Jada were trying to come up with." Joseph had spoke into the quiet room.

Sorai felt herself freeze at the revelation. Damn, she really couldn’t do nothing with these boys around.

"What scheme?"

"The one where you lie to your parents about sleeping over at Jada’s house so that you can go make out with Cameron at Aaliyah’s house party."

Sorai let out a defeated sigh. She wasn’t going to continue to play dumb with him if he obviously knew what she planned to do.

“So what… you gonna snitch on me now?”

Joseph let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t say all that. I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go to the party.”

Sorai rolled her eyes. “You’re just saying that because of Cameron. He actually likes me ya know?”

“Sure. And Lemme guess, your smitten with him too huh?” He asked teasingly.

“I’m still going. You guys can’t keep everyone away from me. How can I ever expect to gain any kind of experience if you guys shun everyone interested in me away?”

“Experience? And just what kind of experience-“

“Not like that!” She had hissed at him. She didn’t understand why he was giving her such a hard time. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any experience. His on and off girlfriend made sure the whole world knew that.

“You’re the one going on about experience.” Joseph replied, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“So Monica can tell the whole world you blowing her back out, but I can’t even experience what could be my first kiss with the guy that I really like? How is that fair Sefa?” Sorai asked, a small pout forming on her lips.

He rolled his eyes. “Okay Rai, I’ll let you go to this party on a couple conditions.”

“A couple conditions?” She repeated with confusion.

Joseph nodded his head at her. “1. I gotta talk to Cameron before the party. This is non negotiable and 2. I’ll come with you to the party. I’ll make sure my older brothers don’t come so that you can have fun with your friend. Deal?”

Sorai flashed a smile at him and nodded her head in agreement.

As annoying as Joseph and his older brothers were, Sorai really did appreciate them always looking out for her. And even though she never said it out loud, Sefa was her guy best friend. He’d look out for her on behalf of his brothers but sometimes he would help her indulge in whatever she wanted to do…. Sometimes.

“Can you at least promise to try to like him Sefa?”

“Sure.” He agreed with a a monotone.

“How come I gotta like Monica but you won’t even try with Cameron? I don’t even like the bitch.” Sorai stressed.

Joseph let out a sigh of annoyance. “I’m not even seeing her anymore. And plus, you don’t like Monica because she didn’t want us to be so close.”

“That’s not the point Sefa.”

“Alright, Alright. I’ll try to give him a chance.” He finally agreed but they both knew he only agreed for the sake of the conversation.

She just hoped Cameron didn’t scare easy. She also hoped that Sefa would take it easy on him because she really liked him and she just wanted to know what it was like to have a boyfriend.

The two friends let a comfortable silence fill the room as they paid attention to the movie playing on the screen.

When the twins had returned, they found everyone sleeping. Jada on Sorai’s bed softly snoring away and on the floor Sorai and Joseph on his designated air mattress fast asleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“So,” Kayla started as soon as we were out of earshot. “Wanna tell me the history behind that?” She asked teasingly.

Sorai let out a small sigh. “Our parents are best friends. So even though I am an only child, those boys are the brothers I never wanted to have.” She briefly explains.

“Oh I didn’t know they played big brother to a sister.” Kayla replied fully intrigued, the amusement still apparent on her face.

Sorai shrugged and didn’t elaborate any further. She didn’t really want to talk about the people she haven’t seen in five years. Five fuckin years, and while it did hurt her feelings in the past, she’s completely over it now.

“Hey Kayla, what’s up?” A voice called out from down the hallway.

Both girls turned around to find one of the wrestlers, Cody Rhodes, walking towards their direction.

Sorai’s interest peaked. Finally, something to look forward too. She thought to herself as she let her eyes trail over the male figure that stood over six feet.

“Hey Cody. Nothing, just showing my new colleague around. It’s her first day.” Kayla stated with a smile.

She watched as Cody smiled back at her, Sorai’s eyebrow raised, oh?

“Whenever your free, come by my locker room. I got a couple of things I wanna go over with you.” He then turned to Sorai and flashed her a welcoming smile. “Welcome, I hope Kayla’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“No, not at all. She’s been an absolute treasure to be around.” Sorai complimented.

Cody let out a small chuckle, turning his gaze back to the women beside her. “That she is.” He agreed.

Interesting. Sorai thought to herself. “Yes, Well… it was a pleasure to meet you Cody. Hopefully we’ll be able to work with each other soon.”

“You too…uh?” He trailed off once he realized he never got her name.

“Sorai.” She answered

“Right. Well, welcome to the company Sorai. See you later Kayla.” Cody bid his goodbyes before walking down the hall.

Sorai smiled as she turned to face Kayla who was watching the man leave, nibbling on her bottom lip as she did.

“So,” she started, teasingly; Kayla turning to her, slightly red in the face. “Wanna tell me the history behind that?” Sorai asked, flipping the question back on Kayla.

Kayla rolled her eyes, shrugging her shoulders. “There’s no history. I think he’s cute but I think he’s only playing with me.”

“Playing?” Sorai repeated almost mockingly. The two girls continued their journey down the hall.

“Kayla, he stared at you the entire time, it was almost like I didn’t exist.”

Kayla shrugged again. It was clear she didn’t really want to talk about whatever was going on between them.

Sorai guessed it had to do with lack of confidence so she decided she would advise her on one thing.

“Well I’ll tell you what. If you want to know how he feels about you, mention something you like. An event or something and be sad that your going alone, If he tells you ‘that’s tough, you’ll find someone’ then he’s not interested. But if he suggests that he goes with you, then he definitely likes you.”

“He could be suggesting that just to be nice ya know?”

“No man, is that nice unless they like you. Trust me.”

Kayla raised her eyebrow at her in question, “And this has worked on you before?”

“Every single time.” Sorai assured

Kayla flashed her a thankful smile, nodding her head as she took the advice. Maybe working here won’t be so bad if I can already play matchmaker. Sorai though to herself.

The silence between the two was a comfortable one as Kayla led Sorai wherever they had to go next. Both girls lost in their thoughts for two completely different reasons.

It wasn’t until they stopped in front of a door who’s name read Roman Reigns, that Sorai realized where Kayla was taking her. She rolled her eyes.

“Can’t you take me to my new office instead?” Sorai asked, but it was too late. Kayla had already knocked on the door.

“I would love to, but 1. I have a feeling if I didn’t bring you, they would’ve hounded me down for it and 2. I have a new theory that I would love to test out.”

Jonathan opened the door and shouted a greeting towards Sorai.

“Bring her to my office when you guys are done. I got something I gotta do real quick, so I’m trusting you guy can keep her occupied until I’m done?”

Jon threw his arm around Sorai’s shoulder, bringing her into a side hug. “We haven’t seen our lil sis in a cool five years Kayla, if she not back in yo office by the time you get there, you can come find her here.”

Kayla nodded her head and shared a look with Sorai before walking down the hallway to look for a certain superstar.

And if Sorai was a hatin’ ass bitch she would’ve hated Kayla for leaving her with these boys like this. But, she wasn’t. She knew what it felt like to want someone so bad that they yearned to be close almost every single second. But damn did she owe her one.

Sorai let Jon pull her into the locker room to face the men who broke her heart from leaving, five years ago.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

𝚂𝚘, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛? 𝙸 𝚐𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 🙂🫶🏾

Tagging the lovelies: @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @skyesthebomb @christinabae @leighla3 @whatdoeseverybodywant @harmshake

[itrithenbartist]

lil spicy hc's for sdj

literally 18+, any and all blogs that's ageless DNI otherwise you'll be blocked. Any minors DNI.

so with all that out of the way, here's my personal thought process for the dang man. also this is going to be gn for everyone to enjoy. and try to censor myself as much as possible so i don't get clocked by tumblr lol...also added is that i only recently got into this game and that i don't know everything so im sorry if there's a lot of things that aren't really good listed...thank you <333

-of course if you played the extended demo, you know he loves to praise mc, right? Oh man now can you just imagine the power he has??? Mr. Jack will use that for basically anything like to condition mc to go back to him...sort of like pavlov's experiment.

-now, if you uno reverse poor jackie boy...the outcomes is without fail, so good. he'd be all flush and whiney, immediately just do everything he can just to be told he's good. he's not above groveling. just to hear mc call him "good boy" makes him into a puddle of jello.

-now putting into perspective of joseph/jack...one's weakness doesn't go away when they transform. the weakness is the filthiest sloppy toppy mc can give. it doesn't even have to be that good, pretty sure especially jack would just love seeing how excited mc is to give it...he's about to blow no matter what...

-he loves giving head, favorite thing ever to do. sure he can stick it in...but why would he do that when he can give mc the best head they've ever had in their life??? he has to make mc nut (i hate how i have to use that) at least, like 2-3x before he even Considers helping himself. what a gentleman.

-is 100% okay with letting mc top. proper equipment or bought equipment, doesn't matter, he would be so proud of mc. the entire time he's getting absolutely demolished and ravaged by mc, he's still praising them, telling how good they feel, and how good they are to him.

-obviously we've seen how he tops, how he absolutely loves tearing mc apart and putting them back together again...he just adores watching mc's face as they get closer and closer to the edge. the best pleasure for him is to see mc getting the pleasure they deserve

-most def a tease. he always wants to please mc, don't get him wrong. but also he loves how borderline delirious he's made mc, making them work hard and 'earn it'...of course his rewards is so delicious.

-now if mc would flip the table on him...he'd be putty in their hands...and he would be pouting the entire time. being unable to do anything but just sweetly beg for some release off his c*ck...

-if mc says anything about how big he is...it's a wrap. jack is not egotistical in the slightest, but he will no forget what mc said. will be thinking about it Forever

-we all know the premise of the game, he's so possessive it's safe to assume he'd leave Marks all over mc's body. only stops putting it in visible places when mc complains how many times parents scolded them for leaving the apartment like that

Here's a bit softer hc's i think:

-loves when mc and him laugh during s*x...it makes him so elated that even when mc is asleep, he replays the memory in his head over and over again

-he's been locked in that tape for so long...of course he's touch starved. this man Yearns for any form of affection.

-genuinely loves to get to know mc, their favorite music, and pictures, and just everything, it makes him so happy to know everything about mc

-going back to about how he wants so much affection and attention...literally is the epitome of when someone says "i want to crawl into their skin, that's the only way i can be close enough"...yea that's him. cannot stand being without mc's touch for a second.

-loves when mc does small...nothings. like simple things that most people would just skip over. take for granted...not him, not jack. jack would worship everything that mc does.

last one:

-jack/joseph love fat mc. like big belly, smaller belly, whatever. apron belly? muffin top? they eat that shit up daily. chef's kiss thank you for coming to my ted talk

[silentcrowsilentravens]

Stars alpha reacting to their partner pulling a Richard and sacrificing themselves for them?

"Pulling a Richard" lol.

I'd like to apologize in advance to Lisa Trevor for this.

Joseph Frost, Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, Brad Vickers, Barry Burton, and Albert Wesker reacting to their s/o sacrificing themselves to save them.

(Gender ambiguous).

Warnings: death, blood, gore.

Masterlists here!

Joseph Frost

Arklay Mountains. It’s the evening of July 24, 1998. Led by Captain Wesker, you and four other members of the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team are searching for signs of Bravo team and pilot Kevin Dooley, with whom contact was lost the day prior. 

You trudge through the tall grass, gun unholstered and flashlight scanning over every dark shape in your path.

A persistent sense of unease hangs in the air. You’d be hard-pressed to think of another time you’ve felt so on edge while on the job. 

There's shifting behind you. You whip your head around.

Joseph is standing there with his gun. "Jumpy?" he teases half-heartedly. You roll your eyes at him and resume what you were doing.

"Hey... wait a sec..." He motions for you to come over.

"What is it?" You point your light down as you approach. It catches a metal object laying in the grass between you. It's a gun. A standard-issue Beretta.

Joseph bends down to pick it up, which is when you realize that it's attached to something.

It's...

It's a hand.

A human hand with no human attached to it.

Joseph drops the severed part in shock. Both of you jolt away from it with a yelp.

Upon further inspection, realize that you know who it used to belong to. You recognize the fingerless glove and the wristwatch. They're part of a S.T.A.R.S. uniform. More specifically, the uniform of Edward Dewey from Bravo team.

For a moment, the only thing you can hear is the wind and your heart pounding in your ears. You can do nothing but stare in disbelief. 

There have been a lot of deaths lately. Gruesome ones. 

You’ve seen the crime scene photos.

You’ve seen the crime scenes.

They’re difficult to stomach.

But the feeling that washes over you here and now is particularly visceral. Every last drop of blood in your body has run cold. You feel dangerously close to hurling.

Edward is someone you see almost every day. He...

He’s a great man. A friend of yours.

He can’t be...

You finally manage to tear your gaze away and look at Joseph. 

“...Eddie can still be kicking,” he says blankly. “Guy doesn’t need both hands to live.”

Yeah. 

Yeah, Edward can still be out there. Alive. Hopefully. He's tough...

...

Is that...

...growling you're hearing?

Out of the corner of your eye, you realize something—multiple somethings are rapidly approaching. Joseph notices just a beat later than you do.

“Joey, watch out!” With all of your might, you shove your partner out of harm’s way.

He hits the ground. 

A bloody creature collides with you, its sharp teeth sinking into the exposed skin of your forearm. You cry out, wrenching your arm to the side in a desperate attempt to make it release you. It does, tearing a chunk of flesh away in the process, and quickly latches back on.

A second beast joins in, causing you to lose your balance and fall.

Followed by another one.

And another.

And another.

There are so many. They look like dogs and smell like rotting corpses, but you aren't paying much attention to that. You're in so much pain, it's difficult to think. They're quite literally eating you alive and all you can manage to do is flail about, weakly attempting to get them off.

Joseph shouts your name in alarm, scrambling to pick up his gun. His weapon-mounted light illuminates the mass of creatures pinning you down. Blood and viscera glisten.

He fires round after round, trying to kill them.

Jill, Barry, Chris, and Wesker rush over to help.

Your screams abruptly stop, cut off by an awful, strangled, gurgling noise as a set of teeth manage to rip your throat out.

"No!" Joseph keeps firing, unable to process it all. Just because you've gone quiet doesn't mean you're dead, right? Right? There's a chance you're still alive. There has to be! "Get off! Get off!"

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

"Joseph, it's too late!" Chris grabs Joseph's shoulder, trying to make him stop. Joseph won't. "We have to go!"

This can't be happening. This can't be real. You're not gone. You're not!

The remaining beasts turn their attention toward the rest of the team.

Finally, Chris and Barry seize Joseph by the back of his tactical vest and physically drag him along as they start running. He doesn't stop calling your name, doesn't stop reaching for you even as your body becomes further and further away from them.

"Brad!" Chris shouts as their helicopter abandons them. "Brad! Where's he going?!"

This night can't get any worse. They end up seeking refuge in a mansion. The moment Jill slams the doors shut and locks them, Joseph plops down on the floor, breathing hard and cradling his head in his hands.

He can't believe it. You're gone just like that. It all happened so fast... And if you hadn't done what you did, it would've been him instead.

He wishes it were him instead. His eyes begin to burn.

Jill Valentine

It's the dead of night in the summer of 2005. You and Jill are stranded in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea on the Queen Zenobia, which just narrowly avoided being completely obliterated by the Regia SOLIS.

Unfortunately, the ship still ended up getting caught in the shockwave of the blast, leaving you to deal with even more water pouring into the ship.

It's time to clear out and fast.

Both of you are swimming through the flooded corridors in search of an exit when eventually, you make your way into a room that has yet to fill completely. The surface of the water is in view. You speed up, sparing a glance over your shoulder to where Jill ought to be.

She isn't there.

You come to an immediate stop, a jolt of panic passing through you as you spin around in an attempt to locate her.

You find her a little ways back, having fallen behind because she's busy grappling with a sea creeper that's caught up to her. Damn things!

It's gotten ahold of her legs and she's fighting to keep its wide maw away. Despite their spindly limbs, earlier encounters have let you know that they're rather strong.

There's already been quite a stretch between this and the last opportunity you got to get some air. In the time it would take you to pop your head out and swim back to help Jill, it could already be too late.

With that thought at the forefront of your mind, you ignore your body's desperate pleas to breathe and make your way over.

You unsheathe your Bowie knife. Using all of your might, you drive it straight into the B.O.W.'s soft shell.

Blood turns the water red. The creature reels back with a high-pitched cry and you take the opportunity to seize your partner.

With a tight grip on the equipment harness strapped to her back, you begin to swim upward, pushing yourself to go as fast as you can.

You're so close. Fresh oxygen is just within reach when something grabs hold of your ankle and sharply tries to yank you back.

Looking down, you find the same sea creeper giving things another go.

'Get offa me, dammit!' You slam the heel of your boot down on its covered head until it releases you, then kick away.

You lift Jill and force her above the surface, managing to get her arms hooked onto a ladder leading up to a catwalk.

There's yet another tug on your leg, far harsher than the last.

You release Jill, not wanting to risk pulling her down with you.

Bubbles begin to stream past your parted lips and water floods your lungs. The burning in your chest is beginning to worsen exponentially as you're dragged away, simply unable to hold your breath any longer than you already have. You're certain this is it for you.

Jill coughs and sputters. As the darkness begins to fade back to the edges of her vision and she's able to form a thought other than 'I need air or I'm gonna die down here', she processes that you haven't resurfaced along with her.

Her still-pounding heart leaps into her throat and she curses, diving back down without a moment's hesitation.

Her eyes instantly lock onto a red cloud in the water, which both you and the sea creeper are in. It has you in its grasp and you aren't struggling. You aren't moving at all.

As Jill closes the rest of the distance, she continues to hope against all hope that she can save you.

The handle of your blade is sticking out of the creature's back. She yanks it out and plunges it into a new spot, tugging you free and kicking the thing as hard as she can, sending it into a wall.

With you in tow, Jill makes her way above the water and back to the ladder.

You aren't breathing anymore when she successfully gets you onto the catwalk. She hastily begins to perform CPR, determined to fix that. She has to.

Unfortunately, she can't. It's already too late for you.

Finally, resignation begins to set in and she lets her hands still on your chest.

Jill is no stranger to losing people, and there's a persistent nagging fear in the back of her mind about losing more. You've often been at the forefront of it.

She's always tried to push it aside, though, always hoped that it wouldn't come to pass.

Her fingers tremble slightly as they curl into fists. She lets her head hang.

If only she hadn't let that damn B.O.W. catch up to her...

There's a lump forming in her throat that she tries to swallow as she stands, sending you a silent apology for letting you down.

...

Even if she wants to stay here with you, she knows this ship isn't going to last much longer. Cursing under her breath and blinking away the tears beginning to form in her eyes, Jill keeps moving. She has to...

Chris Redfield

"We're picking up a large bogey on radar. It's heading right for you!"

Just when you thought shit had already hit the fan, that message came through on comms and not even a minute later, a tandem rotor helicopter appeared, dropping off another absolutely massive—probably a good thirty feet tall—B.O.W. onto the team's already full plate.

Echo needs three anti-aircraft guns taken out before further help can be given, so everyone tries to provide cover for Finn as he sets the charges needed to blow them up.

The wrecked buildings around you provide little cover from the ogroman, which is intent on crushing the lot of you.

Chris points out a weakness that can be exploited: Soft, exposed red flesh around where a big metal connector is sticking out of its back.

You and a few others distract the beast with bullets. Chris manages to leap onto its back while you do so, ripping out a bit of protruding bone and driving it straight into the weak point. The process is rinsed and repeated a few times before the ogroman dies, dissolving into a foul-smelling, steaming goop that leaves you coughing.

Two anti-aircraft guns down, one more to go.

Everyone's comms crackle. "There's another giant B.O.W. closing in on your location!"

A loud roar rings out.

A massive hand grabs onto a rooftop, sending shingles raining down onto a few j'avo.

"It's the one we lost at the Two of Hearts," Piers points out.

Chris orders the team to prepare to engage. You follow Finn to the last gun, making use of an underground passage that leads you into another building. When you're standing on the top floor, the target of the objective comes into view, sitting on the ground below beside a barricade.

"Let's try to make this quick."

The ogroman has other plans.

Finn and Piers, a little ways ahead of you, head down the ladder.

You and Chris are stepping out from behind a partially destroyed wall when it turns and spots you there.

The two of you begin to unload your clips into it, not getting too many hits on that weak spot thanks to the way it's positioned itself.

Click.

Click.

Click.

"I'm out!" you announce.

"Me too," Chris says. "Look out!"

A massive hand shoots out toward you.

You both dive out of the way in time. You land back behind the wall, and Chris is still out in the open stretch. Another hole is smashed into the building.

The ogroman draws its arm back, then raises it up and prepares to sweep it across.

"Chris!" You don't even think, you just act, launching yourself back onto your feet and sprinting toward him. It'll hit him if you're not quick enough!

The arm grows closer.

With mere seconds to spare, you shove Chris back to the floor.

All the wind is knocked out of you as the ogroman makes contact, sending you sailing straight over the edge.

You make a graceful arc before colliding harshly with the pavement down below.

"Shit!" Chris shouts your name in alarm.

He needs to get to you.

"Cover me!"

He slides down the ladder while other members of the team show up to keep the ogroman busy.

A red puddle has begun to form beneath you. By some miracle, you're still responsive, but only barely.

"You're gonna be alright. You're gonna make it. Just hold on, okay?" Chris begins to drag you over to cover. You let out a groan, unable to process any of what you're hearing. "I need you here." Speaking into his comm, he calls for urgent first aid.

Before long, your feeble movements begin to peter out. Chris feels his stomach drop.

"No... No, come on. You have to stay with me. You have to!" You mean so much to him. He can't lose you. He can't. Not like this.

One last raspy, rattling breath leaves your lips before you're gone.

The grief, the devastation is like an instant weight settling upon Chris' shoulders. He slams his fists against the ground and cries out, leaning down to rest his head against your chest.

This is his fault... He'll never forgive himself.

Brad Vickers

"Pizza's here," you announce, shutting the apartment door with your foot. It's late in the evening, and you and Brad decided to call in and order one for dinner.

(Both of you also went ahead and ordered one for Brad's friend, Jill, who has scarcely left her home since being suspended. Brad would've been as well, had he joined in on the shouting match she and three other S.T.A.R.S. members got into with Chief Irons over the mansion incident. You know Brad still feels guilty about it).

"Brad. Pizza." You pop open the box and waft it in front of his face before placing it on the coffee table. He snaps out of it and sends you a small smile.

"You pick out something for us to watch already?"

"Uh-huh." He places the TV Guide down and picks up the remote. "They're showing one of our favorite flicks tonight, actually."

"Yeah? Which one?" You plop down beside him on the couch with a few paper plates in hand.

...

Hours have passed, and you've fallen asleep living room. The movie has long since ended, the remaining half of dinner is sitting abandoned, and Brad is snoring lightly beside you. You might've remained that way until morning...

...if not for a loud noise from somewhere on the street below waking you up.

You slowly straighten up, removing your head from your partner's shoulder.

Then, you begin to process the not-so-distant sounds of chaos. There are sirens and people screaming.

'What is going on...?'

An orange glow is bleeding from around the edges of the drawn curtains. You get up and pull them open. Multiple fires are burning.

You hurriedly wake Brad. "Hey. Something is wrong," you tell him as you drag him over to the window. "Very, very wrong. Look."

"Holy shit." He blanches. "We need to go."

You throw on a coat and shoes while Brad puts on his S.T.A.R.S. getup. He grabs his Beretta. All you have is a pocket knife.

The two of you make your way out of the apartment, hurriedly heading down the corridor and into the stairwell.

When you reach the emergency exit at the bottom of the stairs, you encounter a problem. Before Brad even gets the chance to push the door open, something rips it off the hinges. It's a huge figure clad head to toe in a black outfit, which is dotted with small yellow hazard symbols and staples.

"S.T.A.R.S...." it growls.

After a moment's hesitation, Brad seizes you by your sleeve and begins to high-tail it toward the front of the building. Time to try the front doors instead.

The thing gives chase. It's fast. Surprisingly so.

Brad aims his gun over his shoulder and opens fire. The bullets appear to have no effect. Not good.

It lifts its hand. A thin tentacle shoots out quick as lightning, wrapping around one of Brad's ankles and tripping him up. He lands harshly on the floor, his weapon slipping from his grasp. It begins to drag him.

"Help!"

You stagger to a stop, whipping around and grabbing hold of him. All that accomplishes is making the pursuer pull you along as well.

"Let go of him!" You take your blade and slice the appendage in two. The half still attached to it retreats. You help Brad up.

"S.T.A.R.S.!"

A new tentacle pops out of its sleeves. The moment you catch a glimpse of it, you put yourself directly behind Brad.

Rougher than before, the pursuer swings its arm back, yanking you over to it.

"Brad, run!"

Brad doesn't. He freezes in place.

It picks you up by your face, squeezing so tightly that it feels as though your skull might shatter. You struggle. "Run! Before it gets y—"

Your sentence is cut off by the tentacle going straight through your mouth and out the back of your head.

You're tossed aside, dead as dead can be.

You land facing Brad, your face stained red and your eyes wide open. He feels himself begin to shake.

Then, he runs.

This can't be happening. This seriously can't be happening!

He should have stepped in to help you. Doubly so after you had done that for him.

He should have done something. Anything but just stand there! What the hell is wrong with him?!

'Oh, god...'

When it seems that he's finally lost the pursuer, Brad slumps against the wall and slides down it until he's sitting. Alone in a random building, he cries harder than he has in a long time. He's so incredibly angry with himself for practically letting that happen.

There's a hole in his heart where you used to be that can simply never be filled again. You're gone. Gone. He can't believe it...

Barry Burton

As the Starlight slowly sinks into the waters below, explosions rattle it, illuminating the pitch-black night sky with bright oranges and yellows.

You, Barry, Leon, and Lucia stand safely aboard the deck of the Umbrella submarine Barry hijacked. Admittedly, you're still a little mad that he scared you again. A few years back, when you were both part of S.T.A.R.S., he pretended to betray you and the others the same way Wesker had.

He did it to protect your daughters and kept the ruse up long enough for Wesker to let his guard down. Tonight, he pulled a similar stunt. He made a fake deal with Umbrella and acted as though he was going to hand Lucia over to them, abandoning you and Leon on the ocean liner in the process.

"Sorry, honey," Barry says, noticing the sour look on your face. "I couldn't risk them finding out."

You sigh. "No, I get it. I just can't believe I fell for it again, even if only briefly."

"I guess I must be that good of an actor, huh?"

"I wouldn't go that far," you tease lightly. "It was just the panic of it all..."

"Ouch." Barry puts on a hurt expression.

Somewhere behind you, you hear the crackle of a radio. "Hey, I'm finally getting through to headquarters," Leon announces.

Barry places a hand on Lucia's shoulder. "I'm sure Polly and Moira will be excited to meet their new sister."

Lucia's eyes widen. "You guys were being serious?"

"Of course!" Your hand lands on her free shoulder. "Welcome to the family."

She grins. A genuine, happy-as-can-be grin.

"HQ, this is Leon. Mission accomplished. We're heading home."

You glance behind you in an attempt to see Leon, but he's standing closer to Barry. Your gaze only finds his shadow. You look away.

Over the sound of the rain and explosions, your ears manage to pick on a subtle gurgling noise.

Once again, you turn your head. The shadow is beginning to change. It's distorting and growing.

With dawning horror, you realize that all of the B.O.W.s haven't been eradicated, that it isn't actually Leon standing with you guys, that he's probably still aboard the Starlight.

"We aren't out of the woods yet!" is all you can manage in warning before the Tyrant finishes turning into its true form, red, intestine-like tentacles shooting out of the wide cavity in its stomach.

Barry doesn't even get the chance to fully pull his magnum from its holster before you throw yourself into the path of danger.

Rather than your husband, the appendages end up grabbing you instead. With how your arms end up pinned to your sides, you can't grab your pistol or knife to try and free yourself.

Panic instantly tightens itself around Barry's lungs. "Good god! Lucia, get inside!" He opens fire on the monster, desperate to make it release you.

It swings you all around, making it difficult for him to get a clean shot. It slowly but surely begins to squeeze you.

A big gray forearm collides with Barry, sending both him and his weapon flying across the deck.

The monster leaps off the sub and into the cold ocean, slowly sinking.

"No, no, no!" Barry practically throws himself over the railing, grasping it with one hand and desperately grabbing for you with the other. Just barely, he manages to take hold of your webbing.

The monster tightens its grip and there's an audible crack. You stop struggling.

...

Barry stills, his fingers going slack. He can't breathe, can't believe it. The devastation hits like a sucker punch to the gut.

Your body fully disappears into the dark waters. This is one of his worst nightmares.

He curses, banging his fist against the sub. It should have been him, not you! Why did you do that?

...He knows the answer. It's because he means as much to you as you do to him.

He knows he would've risked himself like that too if the roles were swapped.

He wishes that they were. What is he meant to do without you?

Albert Wesker

By all accounts, Albert Wesker should be dead. Instead, he's woken up as something else. Something more than human.

And now, he needs to leave this place before it turns into a pile of burning rubble. It isn't clear how much time is left before the self-destruct sequence goes off, but it ought to be enough for him to make it back out the doors.

Most of the bioweapons are easy enough to take out and get past.

There is, however, one problem—one nuisance that is refusing to leave him alone: Lisa Trevor. She's followed him all the way back up to the mansion proper. Since she doesn't have the good sense to give up, he's had to take a different route in an attempt to lose her.

Finally, he thinks he might have. The exit is close. Just down the stairs, in fact. He can see it.

A door behind him flies open. He turns, tightening his finger on the trigger of his Samurai Edge.

"Captain Wesker!"

Oh. It's only you.

Albert is pleased to see that you've made it this far. Not that there was much doubt in his mind that you would. You're one of the best S.T.A.R.S. has to offer when it comes to your combat abilities.

"Where'd—" Your eyes widen before your features twist in concern. "What the hell happened to you?"

It's evident that you haven't run into Jill, Chris, Barry, or Rebecca since everything that happened down in the basement labs. This could work to his advantage. He was hoping to have you join him.

Sparing a glance at the absurd amount of red staining the front of his tactical vest, Albert tells you, "It's nothing serious."

You head closer and stare at him incredulously. It's a lot of blood. As in, more than should be outside of anyone's body if they're still alive. Maybe not all of is his? He isn't acting like he's injured.

"...Alright, if you say so," you reply, unable to shake your worry completely.

"Come with me. We're leaving." Without waiting for another second, Albert starts heading down the stairs.

"But what about the others?"

"There's no point in going after them now,'" he answers vaguely. "I'll explain everything once we get outside."

You hesitate for a moment before beginning to follow him...

...Only to be stopped moments later by an awful, raspy moan and a hunched figure hobbling into the entrance hall with surprising speed.

'What is that?!'

It's clad in a raggedy blue medical gown, wearing a mask that appears to be made of stitched-together human faces, and making a beeline for Albert.

He moves to pull out the gun he just reholstered.

The monster hunches further. A load of worm-like tendrils shoot out of its back.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. Wordlessly, you throw yourself between the two of them in order to save your captain from further injury,

As though they were sharp knives, two of the tendrils pierce straight through you. One through your stomach, and another through your chest. You land in a limp pile on the marble floor, blood pouring from your wounds and past your lips.

...

No...

No, this won't do at all.

White-hot anger slowly begins to crawl through Albert's veins.

"You have no idea how grave of a mistake you've just made."

Yet again, he deals with her, this time ensuring that it will be the last time. You watch through half-lidded eyes, unable to truly process any of it. You're teetering dangerously on the edge of nothingness and it's far too late for you to be saved.

Albert just about unloads the rest of his ammunition into Lisa, saving his last bullet so that he can send the chandelier crashing upon her.

"Be a good girl and stay dead." He sneers, then turns to you.

You're already dead. He picks you up.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll fix this. I will help you rise from the ashes as I did. I will make you something more."

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x reader [10]

Description: Marc finds out the truth about Dove, and pays the mortal price.

Word count: 12.6k

Trigger Warnings: okay so; HEAVY TRIGGER for drug use and overdose/ accidental suicide. guns. blood. gore. abusive relationship. poverty. HEAVY ON THE ANGST PEOPLE. suggestive tones in parts.

authors note: I'm sorry this has taken forever and a day to post, I had planned to upload on valentines day however life got in the way in every way it possibly could and so this got put on hold for few days, I hope that's okay! enjoy!!

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Boys, get down here. Dinner’s going cold.” She called up the stairs, her voice already that of a tired mother. Mathew practically skidded past her bounding down the stairs, god knows that boy knew how to eat, even if the parsnips were stone cold he would still devour them whole, “Where’s Mikey?” She yelled after him, her tattered apron tied around her waist, greasy fingerprints dragged down the whites. 

“In his room,” Joey said, his bulky glasses deep in his new crossword book, “Nine down, a second chance at life?” 

His sister looked up the stairs worried, her natural expression whenever Mikey wasn’t under her constant watch, before she met his gaze, adjusting fake pearls around her neck. 

“Huh?” 

“Second chance at life. Nine letters.” He repeated, scratching the light smattering of facial hair he had only just been able to grow. He felt her fingers deftly begin to fix the tie around his collar, the golden fairy lights wrapped around the bannister illuminating where her red nail polish chipped around the edges. 

“After life?” She guessed, straightening his shirt out for him, fussing like she had always done. He shook his head, wincing as she screeched over his shoulder into the dining room. “MATHEW, PUT THE ROAST POTATOES BACK- THOSE ARE FOR EVERYONE,” She tutted under her breath. Sometimes he forgot she was only seventeen. “Sam, can you get the stuffing out the oven,”

A grunt of agreement from the second boy, before a six foot tall, moody boy shuffled past the open door with bumblebee oven mitts on which took every ounce of attitude out of him. 

“One word,” Joe said, his eyes flicking over to the vinyl player that stuttered on its eighth run through of ‘Fairytale of New York’. 

The tinsel she’d braided into her hair rustled, eyes identical to his own watching his mouth quirk in thought. 

“You’re supposed to be the genius of the family,” She teased, her finger nudging under his chin affectionately before she released him, pecking his forehead as he passed her to go take a seat at the table. She fussed some more over the baubles hanging from the tree on her way to the kitchen, straightening out the few stragglers, her pruning fingertips brushing over the fleece blankets covering the back of the sofa, as if she needed to feel their home to remind her where she was, “How about Migration?” 

“Good, but it ends in T,” He called out to her, watching his eldest brother look up guiltily where he had a dollop of mash on a spoon, his mouth already full.

It seemed their sister caught onto his greed as she sharply smacked him over the back over the head, ripping the spoon from his hand, “Pig,” She spit at him, not that it seemed to phase him too much as his eyes already set on the small beef loin, the fat dripping off the plate tenderly, “I’m going to get Mikey. Resurrect?”

His eyes lit up at the suggestion, scribbling it down in his book. The cinnamon candle burnt strongly in the centre of the table, warm and spicy, just how Christmas should smell. 

It didn’t negate the fact they had all had to go easy on showers for the week, or that the house was freezing at night or that it was obvious all of their “Fancy day” clothes smelled like a charity shop. 

Joseph was only thirteen and already he’d noticed how exhausted his sister seemed every day. He’s stopped thinking about it so much, seeing as she’d always been that way, but the drain on her body was clear as anything nowadays. 

Joey was just a kid, but so was she. 

It wasn’t long before the final two of their little family came traipsing down the stairs, Mikey’s hand tight in his sister’s. At twelve years old, he was still a dot of a boy, scrawny, practically all ribs she would say, and he was a weepy one too. It wasn’t a surprise the kids at school were so cruel, even their own father, when he bothered to drag himself home from the pub or his friends’ sofas, would say the fire had died out a little more with every kid that came out of his ex-wife. His sister was so fierce she could melt the world’s core if she wanted to, Joey was convinced of it. Matt simply was untouchable despite the kids at school taking digs at him just as often as they did Mikey, as if he knew from birth he was getting out of this hell hole, that he was made for better than this. Children could sniff out the ones among them that were struggling like a cadaver dog onto a corpse, and once they latched on they rarely let go. Then was Sammy, and well, one look at him and he spoke for himself. At fifteen he was already broad enough that the kids picking on Mike turned to deadly silence when he was around; grumpy as a mule, cold as their mother, a boy with a bitter face. His sister would rub her thumb over the scowl that marred his brow, trying to flatten the crack where his nose met his forehead, where the anger seemed to settle. She hated seeing them upset; had the unshakable need to fix them. 

Joey was her smart boy, trying to fly under the radar and cause her less anguish than he saw the rest of the boys gave her. He thought sometimes, when she would come home at 2am in her clothes from the club, bruises on her arms, when she would make them both a cup of tea and help him with homework, he thought then that he might even be her favourite. They all vied for her attention, only her and Matthew even remembered their mother, it only made sense that she was the next best thing for her boys. 

But she was more than just a stand in for their mom. She was their everything, even with the fights over who was doing laundry, the yelling between her and Sammy when she would have to pick him up from the station for the nth time that month for petty thievery, even when Matt started wolfing down a rogue handful of carrots that had fallen onto the dinner table and she had all but dragged him by the ear into the kitchen to go get them drinks. 

They revelled in their little bubble, knowing the only thing they’d be given for free in this world was each other. 

And when they had finally sat down for christmas dinner, the smoke from the DIY Christmas crackers tiny Mikey had made lingering with a sulphur bite to their nose; when Sam flashed them all a rare laugh as she read out the terrible jokes hidden inside, the paper hats falling down over their eyes as they laughed, their full tummies hurting, plates polished of every scrap, Matt ofcourse eating the left over yorkshire puddings as if they were crisps. When they’d sat in front of the TV that only had four channels and a hefty video player underneath, Joey fiddled with the only film they ever bothered to watch on Christmas Day. 

The sepia scene met the soft orange of the fire she’d lit for them, every light besides the ones on the tree turned off for their movie. Joey and Mikey sat practically two inches from the screen, a somewhat stale bowl of popcorn passed between them. 

They watched in awed silence as Dorothy ran down the country lane, Toto at her heels, her auburn hair jumping behind her in bunches as she looked over her shoulder. 

Running away, always running away, same as she was every year they watched. 

“She isn’t coming yet, Toto. Did she hurt you?” Judy Gartland fawned over her pet, the gingham dress bunching around her knees. 

Worried, always worried. Always preening. Always fixing.  

And by the time the twister came to rip her away from her family and send her to Oz, the girl who wasn’t Dove just yet was already asleep on Sammy’s shoulder, the grumpy boy knocking his head against hers affectionately, silently, the crunching of popcorn and the slurping of an off brand Cola the only things that cut through the sound of the movie.

Unaware, naive to what was about to happen to her. 

—

Dove and Steven had a glint in their eyes that she was sure would never be wiped off as they walked beside one another, their pinky fingers clasped tightly together. 

He had a dopey look on his face, not even watching where they were going as he stared at her side profile, seeing the warmth meeting her eyes for the first time in a while. Her cheeks were starting to hurt from the smiling, biting her bottom lip like she had a secret. 

She would glance back at him every so often, only to see him already staring, his brown eyes softer than a cup of hot chocolate, swirling with adoration and melting at the sight of her meeting his gaze. 

After the fourth or fifth time, she reached up to brush her nose gently, “Do I have something on my face?” 

He didn’t even answer, he just pulled her in for another kiss, his free hand tugging at the fat of her hips, squeezing gently as he kissed her with a greed she felt high on. 

She held back a whine, the hands on her body kind and loving, overwhelming, invading, saturating her with something so entirely like home she felt her face run hot. 

She giggled into his mouth as he released her, her hands finding the sides of his neck, thumb running over either side of his jaw as she felt him smile under her touch. 

“Steven?” He seemed dazed, eyes never leaving her lips as she said his name again, giddy like his brain had malfunctioned and slowed, “Do I have anything on my face?” 

He mumbled something wordless, shaking his head slightly, looking back at her goofy smile as she waited for a real answer. As if it had only just caught up with him, his brow creased, meeting her eyes with a bit more clarity than before. 

“Huh?” He asked, to which she giggled and kissed him some more. She was sure her heart was pounding out of her ribs, and that he could hear it from how closely he was pressed to her front. 

“You’re staring, I thought I had something on my face,” She said, his nose brushing against hers as he dipped in to kiss the laugh lines of her cheeks, “Do I?” 

Steven shook his head, his gaze fanning over the entirety of her face and landing where he wanted her the most, back to her lips that smiled at him in content. 

“No, just,” He stopped himself from kissing her again, worrying he was smothering her, though some part of him knew she craved the touch as much as he did. She told him as much by the way her fingers intertwined in the root of his hair, pressing into him like a cat purring under his hand, “You make me really happy,”

Her throat bobbed, the smallest of tears springing to her eyes as she kissed him one last time. She wished she could meld her body to his, couldn’t wait for them to have a moment alone when she could take him fully if he would have her again. Truthfully, selfishly, she couldn’t give a damn about Harrow all that much anymore, her entire being hollow the moment she pulled away from him. He’d changed the epicentre of her world the moment she’d heard those three words. 

He loved her. 

She didn’t deserve it, but he loved her. 

Shuffling away from him, not entirely unaware of how his hand was reluctant to drop her waist, how his lips chased hers, how he seemed to pout when she put some distance between them. 

“You make me really happy too, Steven,” She said, her voice mellow and buttery, moving to hold his hand properly, the two of them setting off back to where Layla seemed to be fiddling with something from her backpack.

She knew she would never be good enough for him, that he deserved someone so much better, but it was difficult to hear the horrid thoughts that whirred around the abyss of her head when she heard him softly chuckle, smiling to himself as if he couldn’t believe the words out of her mouth. 

Sometimes it’s not about deserve. That’s what Marc had said. And maybe she could start believing him. Because it was Marc, and Marc knew everything. Marc would know what to say, know how to soothe the feeling of rot that threatened to ruin Steven’s sweet words, his soft kisses. 

Marc would fix it. Marc would understand. She was sure of it. 

–

“We’re going to belay down there,” Layla explained, securing the mountaineering rope to the clasp on her waist, tightening the notch and giving the cable an experimental tug. 

The two of them blanked, looking at one another in their own sets of gear that the woman had them step into with little explanation. 

“I think we should be right on time, Harrow shouldn’t be too far ahead of us-” Dove started, only to be cut off by the older woman with a scoff and an eye roll.

“Belay. It means we’re going to lower ourselves down using our own weight.” Dove’s face fell in embarrassment, smiling sheepishly as Layla shook her head with a hidden chuckle. 

“Right, got it.” She held her hands up, nudging Steven’s when she saw his smile widen, if that had even been possible, “Floor is yours,”

Layla hid her laugh with a cough, taking one confident step off the ledge and down into the tomb, the rope gently dropping her into the darkness. 

Dove and Steven watched with bated breath, the former leaning forwards to ensure she had reached the floor safely. Her eyes squinted, not seeing all too much other than the broken steps that would have once been functional, that were half buried in sand by now. 

“Be careful love,” She felt his fingers loop into her harness, keeping her safe even though they both knew she could survive the fall and much worse. 

She smiled, ready to reply when she saw a flash of Layla’s torch from below, and the woman’s face returned.

“Alright, it’s safe. Come down one at a time,” She instructed, the younger woman sticking a thumbs up at her and moving back into a hard chest where Steven hovered over her. 

“I’ll go first,” She said, reaching for the clip and tightening it to her harness the way Layla had. 

“Wait, shouldn’t I go first? Make sure it’s working properly?” Steven said, though his voice hardly matched the chivalry of his words. She smiled toothily at him, tugging on the rope once to set it in place. 

“Put it this way, honey. I can survive broken legs, but I need every bit of you to function or else I don’t know how I’m going to repay you,” It was new. It was flirty. She had a cheeky twinkle in her eye that reminded him she was able to be girlish and happy and tease him and call him honey and it all felt normal and he wanted more of it by the bucket load. He’d not seen her like this perhaps ever. He fell in love with her even more. He didn’t even think he could.

His mouth moved in an attempt to say something, his face tinging red at the implication of her words. 

“You don’t have to repay me,” He murmured, feeling her fingers loop through his belt, a heat to her gaze that had his skin prickling. 

“I know,” She pecked his lips one more time before they had to be parted even if it was only for a matter of a minute or two, “I just really want to,” She drew back when she heard his breath stutter, his cheeks growing all the more darker in their cherry red shade, and gripped the top of the rope the way she’d seen Layla do. 

“Ok-kay,” The man stammered, his palms sweating, nose tingling with heat. 

“See you in a minute,” She quipped with a deep breath for courage, stepping into the darkness as her body weight tugged against the rope. 

Her feet met the sand faster than expected, stumbling a moment before she steadied herself, fingers quickly undoing the harness that sat around her thighs and waist. 

Taking in the small entrance to the catacomb, she saw Layla crouched over the foot of a statue, her own torch clamped tightly in her grasp. Figuring she was conducting her own search, she chanced a look back up to where Steven’s dopey grin looked down at her, as if cartoonish pink hearts swirled around his head. 

“It’s safe!” She called up, as she fumbled with the latch around her harness, “Just need to get this off-”

The wind was knocked out of her as a body crashed into her own, two startled voices filling the cave, two hands pinning either side of her, landing on her back with a shooting pain through her brow. 

She groaned in unison with the heavy body atop her, feeling where his head had banged against hers. 

“Guess you could say I’m really falling for you,” Steven’s joke melded with a grunt as he pried himself off her, feeling Marc huff in annoyance from inside the head. 

“Huh?” Her voice was muddled, her face scrunched in pain. She barely heard what he said before he had stumbled to his knees, holding his hand out to lift her off the floor. 

“I said- Nothing- Sorry love,” Steven stuttered, his hand pawing at his aching temple, pulling the girl back to her feet, “Guess I just need a bit of practice at that Belay thing,” 

“A bit?” Layla scoffed, though she watched the pair with a hidden smirk, the bumbling mess of limbs as they dusted themselves off and unhooked their gear, “You okay?”

“I’m aces,” He said, turning to where Dove had dirt collecting in her hairline. Reaching a hand up to help her brush it away gently, he was distracted by the huge statue of big cat, most likely a lion, engraved into the stone, “Look at you,” He murmured breathlessly. 

It was her turn to warm under his brazen words, stilling her movements, fingertips rubbing away the traces of sand clinging to her clammy skin. 

She laughed with more shock than anything, though it sounded more like a choke, swallowing heavily as she braved to meet his gaze. 

Her brow furrowed as she flicked a glance over her shoulder at the artwork along the wall, untouched for hundreds of years, the paint lines a thick and dark umber red as if sketched only yesterday. 

Looking back to him, she crossed her fingers he hadn’t seen her flattered expression, knowing better than to be embarrassed around him yet she couldn’t deny those three words spread the heat back through her gut that he had satiated only moments earlier. 

Clicking her torch back on, she threw her attention away from those soft brown eyes, back to the sculpt of the lions, the stone cracking as chalky under their years of solitude, but striking nonetheless. 

“If they just sprang to life right now and asked me a riddle for passage, I’d be thrilled,” Steven said, his voice that of a boy at Christmas, “I’d shit myself, but I’d be thrilled,” 

Giggling behind besotted eyes, Dove moved to head further into the tomb, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw freshly drawn initials in the sand. 

Glancing back to where Layla seemed to shrink in demeanour, she gestured to the markings with her light, “Did you do these?” She asked, curious to her motives. 

“Yeah,” She cleared her throat, averting her eyes to the wall opposite them where vibrant blues and sunflower yellow strokes stared back, “Yeah it’s for my father. He would have loved to be here,”

“Big history buff is he?” Steven asked, the three of them setting off through the tunnel, leading them further into the crypt.

“So much worse,” The El-Faouly woman replied with a smile, falling into step with the duo, “Archeologist with a mission,”

They all breathed a laugh, the air stagnant and musky around them, the smell of a place only the dead seemed to know the past few thousand years. 

“And to him it was a dream worth dying for. And he did,” She went on, Dove’s face falling into solemn sorrow. She knew, if Layla was anything like she was, she would hate the idea of hearing an apology, would hate the idea of someone feeling sorry for her. She had barely been treading water the past day or two, fighting to stay in Layla’s good books, she feared if she were to show any remorse now it would only earn her a slap to the face. 

“Did he dig it?” She asked, her face forlorn and wary as she toed the boundary between their friendship. Casting a glance back at Layla and Steven, she gulped, “So history, you could say he dug it?” 

The light bulb went for both of them, Layla frowning with a defeated grin. 

“That was awful,” She playfully shoved the younger woman, who took it with no bother, smiling back in relief her joke had been taken kindly, “That was the worst-”

“I quite liked it,” Steven inputted helpfully, also earning a bash to the shoulder as Layla laughed. 

“Not a word from the two of you now unless it’s something useful,” She scolded, leading the way through the tightening corridor, the darkness encompassing them in something that felt like comradery. 

“Did you want to hear the one about the dinosaur’s dog-” Dove started, the words echoing around them as they headed further in, only to be stopped again by Layla’s softened voice. 

“Do-you-think-he-saurus rex!”

–

She stared at the house, the one she’d been born in, the light in her room long since switched out. She wouldn’t blame them if they’d taken over her room, it was the biggest one, though that wasn’t saying much. She could see it now, Mathew shotgunning the double bed the moment she left, there was more than enough room for Billie’s small cot next to him. She’d grabbed what she could the day Oz had taken her away, but she wouldn’t bat an eye if they’d sold the clothes she’d left, or even thrown them on the fire to stay warm. 

No, she wouldn’t blame them for erasing all memory of her. She’d been the one to leave, not them. As far as they knew, she’d not made contact whatsoever. Her letters had never been sent, never even left the house. 

She’d not seen home in three years. It was smaller than she remembered. Darker. 

The duffle bag was clutched tightly in her hands, wringing the fabric of the handle between her fingers. The accelerator had been to the floor the entire way here, the blood was still caked thick in her hair, under her nails, stained parts of her skin. 

Frank’s blood. She wondered if the neighbours had called the police yet, if they ever would since he kept them so isolated. Wondered if she was already a suspect in his murder. 

She shook in her shoes at the thought, though that may just be the December night air. 

A figure came storming out of the front door, hands in his pockets, his coat thin and moth eaten. 

Mathew had never been a tall boy, not even at eighteen when she’d last seen him, especially not now at twenty. He was always thin in his face, despite devouring the most out of any of them, his eyes always tired. Though, becoming a dad at such a young age would do that to someone. 

He stopped in front of her, his eyes roving over her with a grand mix of anger and worry. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost, as if he’d seen a dog returning home with its tail between its legs. Which was sort of how she felt. 

“Matty-” She breathed, her exhale clear as day in the freezing night, only he scoffed at the words. He may as well have spat in her, “I don’t have time to explain-”

“What?” He growled, lip sneering in a way that looked too much like their mother, “Where the fuck have you been?” 

She baulked, eyebrows furrowing in a way that she willed herself not to burst into tears. She wanted to head inside, wanted to curl up on the old, ratty sofa they’d had since she was young, wanted to feel Sammy’s head knock against hers affectionately, the only sign the grumpy boy ever gave that said he loved her, despite the fact she knew. She wanted to scold Matty for eating all the bacon out the fridge, help Joey finish his sudoku, wanted, no, needed to see Mikey, see he was okay. Last time she’d been here, she’d found him stashing pills for his friends she knew had a one way ticket to juvie or the streets. 

She’d left for all of them, left to get them a better life. And now she was standing outside her childhood home, drenched in bloodied clothes, her body used, beaten, betrayed. Grace was gone. Frank was dead. 

This was all she had left. Her boys were all she had left. 

“I don’t have time,” She repeated, forcing the duffle bag into his hands, hoping he missed the way the blood collected beneath her nails. She’d scrubbed off what she could before she left, but she knew had it been daylight he’d notice the red ichor immediately, “This is for you,”

“Wha-” Matty looked as if he could swing for her, and she knew she deserved it. She’d left them. Her bottom lip trembled at the very thought. He said her name, only now it seemed dirty, filthy, tainted, like that name had been said by so many awful men she felt as though it was muddied even Matty when he said it, “You leave us to rot for three years, and all of a sudden you just swan in here with presents-”

“Mathew, be quiet,” She barked, hearing his voice grow louder and louder, echoing in the silent street she used to run down to catch her bus, “I have to go,”

He stopped, staring at her teary eyes for a moment, and then laughed. Loud and cruel, and she knew his vitriol was still ongoing, knew she wouldn’t even stop him if he wanted to throw a cruel hand across her face for running away. 

She was such a coward. She was a liar. A murderer. But she was a coward above all of that. 

“Did we stop being good enough for you, huh?” He spat, trying to hand her the bag back, “I don’t want your pity or your little presents, take it-”

“It wasn’t like that,” She pleaded, wrestling with him to keep the bag strap in his grasp,  “Mathew, just take the bag,” 

He shoved her away, but she didn’t relent, her mind set on getting him to take the damn money, the fucking notes that mean nothing to her anymore. There had to be at least thirty grand in there by now, probably more. 

“We needed you, and you weren’t here,” Matt stumbled away from her as she forced the bag into his chest. His voice trembled in a way it hadn’t since he was a boy, since she used to bathe him with that damn toy boat, wash his hair with dish soap, “Social Services know about Mikey and the pills- they want to take Billie away-”

She stopped at that, the two of them looking at each other for the first time since she’d shown up. His eyes were watery, where hers were empty. His sister had always been strong, Matt didn’t think he’d ever seen her cry in all the years of shit she’d trodden through for them. She had always looked exhausted, as if her brain was fired up every moment of the day, as if she could go for a three day nap and it wouldn’t so much as touch her. 

But this was worse. She wasn’t tired. Wasn’t thinking hard. His sister didn’t even look alive. 

Whoever it was staring back at him was not the girl he remembered. Someone could tell him a wraith had crawled into his sister’s skin and dragged her back here with the sole mission of getting him to take the damn bag, and he’d believe them. 

She looked dead. She felt it too.

“Is that-” He stopped himself, a bitter hand reaching up for a mark on her face that glinted under the moonlight, “Blood?” 

She froze, and for a moment neither of them said anything. 

Her breath rattled in her chest, the stickiness of Frank’s blood clinging her clothes to her skin, and he realised once he’d actually taken the sight of her in, that she smelled metallic, that she had a thousand mile stare that had not been there the day she’d left them. 

“Everything I’ve done, I did it for you.” She said after a moment’s reprieve and the anger brewing in his frown wiped immediately, the words soothing his fury into a simmering guilt. 

He tried to say her name again, only to have her cut him off, shoving the back into his arms with finality, her eyes blank, leaving no space for questions, for retaliation. 

“Get Mikey a lawyer. Get him to rehab. Read the letters, or not, I don’t care,” But she did. She cared more than anything. Cared so much she needed to run, now, cared so much she knew every moment she spent talking was more time for him to be incriminated in what she’d done. “I have to go, it’s not safe,” 

He wanted to hug her; he’d never been the affectionate one, she usually saved her cuddles for the younger ones. He wished he’d hugged her now. Wished he’d dragged her back inside, gotten her warm in front of their fire, forced the truth out of her. Anything to tell him what that look on her face had meant. Anything to make her stop seeming so dead it scared him like a child. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t, not even as she all but sped away in a car he’d never seen before, a limp he’d not noticed through his anger fogged brain as he’d stormed down their front path. 

He barely caught Sammy, filling their entire doorway with his form that had only grown tenfold, if that had even been possible, since his sister left, looking like a kicked dog behind angry eyes that glinted with rare tears. 

“Come on, Sam,” Matty said, brushing past his little brother, though he towered over him for a nineteen year old, heading inside their small house that had felt colder since she’d abandoned them, “We’ll sort it out in the morning,” 

But Sam didn’t. He watched the broken tail lights of the car speed off into the distance, until they were no more than a sound rattling around the silent neighbourhood. Only then did he let himself begin to cry, hoping she came back for them soon. 

–

“It’s a maze,” Layla said, as the three of them traipsed through the tunnels that certainly looked like they had seen better days. Dove startled a bit at the bugs that skittered up the walls as the light hit them, no doubt a little frightened themselves at the rude intrusion from the trio, though she stuck behind Layla. She’d fought demon jackals, men with guns, lived a double life but bugs were what scared her. 

“It’s a-maze-ing,” Steven replied, snickering to himself, which had her giggling too, shaking her head at the man behind her. 

“She means there are six paths, Steven,” D ove clarified, and he hoped the light covered the way his cheeks rouged. 

“Right, yeah, yeah,” He replied, sticking his head down one of the thin alley ways to scope out the labyrinth they’d found themselves in, “Six points,” 

Dove hung back as Layla went towards another one of the pathways, eyes clocking a stone surface planted directly in the middle of the antechamber, the sand laying thick over the top, yet uneven as if the stone wasn’t entirely flat. 

Her brows furrowed, and she traced her finger deeper in the dust, carving out where the ridges grooved into the table. She made an almond shape, an arching line parallelling it, before she realised what the marking was, her brows shooting into her forehead. 

She saw a torch flick over where she worked, felt Steven’s body press against her side as if he’d forgotten what personal space was exactly. 

“You don’t think…” He started, watching how her soft fingertip swirled around into a spiral the two of them had seen a million times walking past the exhibits on the way to the gift shop, “This whole structure is-”

“The Eye of Horus,” She finished, curving around to create the iris. As if proving her point, Steven’s light reflected off the the shiny stone of the table, producing the identical symbol on the ceiling of the room, which had her nudging his hand, pointing to the light, “Look at that,”

“Wow,” He hummed, his eyes flicking between the eye and the wonder on her face as she smiled wryly at the stone, “It’s the royal symbol, protection in the afterlife.”

“I mean the resources needed to build this-” Layla added, looking between all of the corridors that had certainly not been crafted in a day’s work, nor had it been done cheaply, judging by the quality of stone that surrounded them. She stopped, her eyes wild with excitement as she looked at the two of them, “Her final avatar was a pharaoh,”

A breath whooshed from Dove’s lungs, jaw gaping, feeling Steven practically buzzing in his shoes beside her. 

“A bloody pharoah,” He repeated, the joy coating his words like a kid on Christmas. He and Layla chuckled between one another, before their gaze fell on Dove, who stared at the drawing in the sand as if it would outright speak to her.

“So you think it’s a map?” Layla asked, her fawn eyes dropping to the girl who bit her lip unsure. 

She nodded, gaze scanning over the drawing again, as Steven’s rough finger followed where her own hand had traced just moments before. 

“Right. So the eye of Horus is also the Eye of mind, yeah?” He asked, his face now more serious than she’d ever seen him, as he thought harder, “Representing the six senses, six points.” He gestured to each of the corridors that lead away from the chamber they huddled in, “So you’ve got the eyebrow that denotes thoughts. Pupil, sight obviously.” He followed each of his words with his calloused fingers, the same ones that had been down her trousers not so much as a few hours ago. She felt her stomach writhe at the thought, “This point here is, uh, hearing. Smell. Touch. And this long line ending in a spiral is the tongue,” 

She felt her eyes train on his lips as he said it, his gaze falling to her face where she stood besides him, watching every movement on his lips as if she could barely hold herself back from meeting their mouths then and there. 

“The avatar would be Ammit’s voice,” Layla murmured, entirely unaware of the heated thoughts racing through the girl’s mind as she stared at the man, his own expression indiscernible, meeting her eyes with his own chestnut hues, “We should head this way,” 

Layla took off towards the route the tongue pointed them to, the two of them hanging behind for a moment, unable to rip their eyes from one another. 

“What’s that look for?” Steven asked, chuckling nervously as he tried and failed to pull his gaze away from her where she licked her lips slowly. Leaning towards him, her fingers found the front of his jacket as she pulled him closer, kissing him gently, though there was a subtle bite to it that went straight to his trousers as he melted. 

Pulling away, she looked at him with a spritely kind of excitement, as if she loved every moment of looking at him like that. 

“Did I ever tell you how amazing I think you are?” She asked, her face warm with adoration, and the words had his cheeks blazing instantly. 

“You mentioned it once or twice,” He joked, both of them knowing full well the girl was known to give him every compliment she could even before they had been brave enough to admit how they felt for one another. 

She snickered, pulling away from him to follow where Layla had wandered off too, looping a pinky finger in his own to encourage him to follow. Had she not, he was sure he’d be rooted to the floor, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down, or even for his cock to calm enough that he could move without feeling it press against his trousers. 

He cursed himself moments later, when his brain caught up to him, that he hadn’t told her just how amazing he thought she was. 

Yet Steven felt his jeans tighten again when he thought of one other way he could show her just what he felt. 

-

The heavy panting was the only sign either of them were even there as they walked through the narrow corridor, the smallest slither of light meeting them at the end, not unlike when they had trudged into the Great pyramid. That had seemed weeks ago, when in reality it had only been six days, how her life had been flipped upside down all the more since then. 

Her head rattled on her shoulders, thoughts flitting over Layla and her whereabouts as they stepped through the hallway, dust thickening in their lungs with every pant. Her ears were alert to the smallest of movements, her heart pounding in her chest, the image of that thing, the resurrected Heka Priest, replaying in her head, the screech of its rotted vocal chords keeping her arm hairs standing in goose flesh. 

“She’ll be alright, won’t she?” Dove asked solemnly, her brow creased so tight she reminded herself of Sammy, knowing they had always looked the most similar out of all of her brothers. She knew, by the way Steven blanched at the sight of her worry, that she looked as guilty as she felt, “I shouldn’t have left her-”

“We didn’t have much choice, sweetheart,” He sighed, grabbing her hand tightly in his own, stopping in the middle of the darkened chamber to look at her properly. She tugged her lip between her teeth as she averted his gaze, the disappointment in herself shadowing over her chest, “We did everything we could- it’s Layla, she’s done this a thousand times with Marc. She’ll know what to do,” 

Though he was more convincing himself than anything. He wasn’t so sure from the way Marc scoffed inside the headspace that she had in fact not run from undead creatures that threatened to rip her limb from limb a thousand times. Not even once. This was new territory for all of them. 

She didn’t seem convinced as she nodded, her lips quirking as if she was about to say something, only for him to kiss her forehead before she could. 

“I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if something happened to her,” She confessed, after he drew back, watching her thoughts swimming behind sad eyes, as if he could see the way she bit her tongue to stop herself from calling herself the worst names imaginable. 

He stroked her cheek gently, tilting her chin to meet his gaze, his chocolate gaze warmer than summer and he smiled at her sadly. 

“None of this is your fault,” He said, though she said nothing, chewing her cheek silently, “The faster we get the ushabti, and the faster we can go find Layla. Deal?” 

She nodded again, and he squeezed her hand, pulling her towards the end of the corridor with a small smile. 

Steven Grant was not a brave man, not by any means. But for her, he would be. He thought the same as she had, worried for the El-Faouley woman more and more with every step they took towards the tomb, his own body on high alert for an incoming attack from one of those creatures. 

The end of the hallway drew near, the path widening out to accommodate an entrance, water trickling between the tiles in a silent stream, and he held her hand tighter as they navigated over the stepping stones, her boots slippy over the moss that clung to the rocks. 

It wasn’t until he reached the end, where the corridor opened out, that he let go of her hand in favour of flicking his torch on. His entire body froze at the sight, satiated in awe of the tomb before him. 

She hopped the final stepping stone, hands grabbing onto the wall and his shoulder for support before she followed his gaze to the room, and her jaw dropped too. 

“First ones in, tomb fit for a pharaoh,” Steven hummed, stepping further into the antechamber, and he wasn’t wrong by any means. The walls were all but covered in bright paints that had yet to wash away, the tales of heroic battles and armies surrounding them like one huge mural. Solid gold plates, figurines, vases scattered neatly around the room, each one shiny and polished as if the death bed had never been touched since the day it had been sealed. Four bronze horse statues the size of her watched them enter, carefully avoiding the water that surrounded the sarcophagus in a deep pool, stepping between cracked slabs towards the coffin.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding as she saw the sheer amount of engravings on the sarcophagus, each one proving the power the dead king had held over his people when he’d died. It was more than she’d seen even on one, more than she would ever see. 

This was a wealthy, wealthy pharaoh, she realised, her brows flicking into her hairline

“Thutmose II?” Steven guessed, leading the way to the coffin, the excitement blaringly clear in his voice. He couldn’t so much as catch his breath behind his smile, “Nefertiti. It’s gotta be one of the bigg’uns, Dove,” He said, flicking a grin over his shoulder as her eyes scaled every inch of the tomb. Her jaw hung open, ignoring the dusty task of musk in her mouth, the stagnant smell of water, her eyes pure wonder of what she was seeing. 

This was the stuff of movies, of adventures she read to Joey and Mikey before bed, never did she think she would be part of it, let alone with Steven Grant, a man so quiet he apologised to pigeons, who jumped at his own shadow, who missed his bus every single morning. 

“Must be, I’ve never seen so many offerings,” She replied, willing her feet to hold steady as they stepped between the stones and water carefully. “The engravings, there nothing like I’ve studied before,” 

“Oh wow, look at that,” Steven gawped, taking the final step onto the centrepiece, heading towards the sarcophagus with ravenous eyes, “Look at all these relics,” 

She was hot on his heels, quick to hop over, and expand her search with an eagle eye as she closed in on the sarcophagus. 

“Hold on, Macedonian?” Dove stopped in her tracks, clicking her torch on and nearing the engravings with wide eyes, “It can’t be right-”

“That’s Macedonian,” Steven echoed, kneeling next to her with wary fingertips. He brushed over the markings, a gobsmacked laugh coming from his chest, “Well-b-but the only pharaoh-” 

She grabbed his arm with a clawing strength, head drinking in the facts before her, gently hands following the engravings as if she needed to touch it herself to believe what she knew to be true, “H-He insisted on calling himself Egyptian,” She swallowed, standing on shaky knees to behold the rest of the coffin, her heart hammering. The two of them approached either side of the king’s burial place. “Steven, I think we found the long lost tomb of Alexander the Great,” 

Taking a moment, if not to catch a nervous breath, their eyes met across the top of the sarcophagus, an identical expression of astonishment on their faces. 

She couldn’t help it then; she started laughing. Nervous and yet amazed, she was lost entirely for words. 

“We have to open it, Steven,” She said, her chuckles dying out, a hand flying to her forehead when she realised what a desecration they were about to cause, “The ushabti has to be inside, we have to open it up, oh goodness-”

“Everything inside me is screaming not to touch this thing,” Steven agreed, shaking his nerves out through his hands while watching her also fret over the slight grave robbing they were about to commit. 

“You want Harrow to get to Ammit first?” Marc snapped from the glint in the cursive gold writing across the sarcophagus’ chest. He seemed to have roused from his silent protest and come back swinging, Steven thought with a bitter huff, his hands coming up to the side of the opening. 

“Alright, alright, alright,” He replied, a nervous grip settling on the cold sandstone. His eyes flicked to her again for reassurance, though she herself looked to be coming to a sobering understanding they needed to disgrace the burial sight to get what they wanted. She nodded, her hand drifting to clutch over her mouth in shock, like she needed to stop herself from protesting his actions, and with that he pushed. 

The smell of death invaded her nose, choking her for a moment as the stone slid to reveal the mummified corpse of the man historians had been babbling about for decades. 

This had once been a conqueror, a king, a pharaoh everyone whispered about, a man who’s name was spoken a thousand times a day on the guided tours in the museum.

And they had found him. 

A plated scarab sat across his chest, one she assumed was a sister to the one they had used to find him, the one Harrow took, below it; a huge, solid battle axe with engravings the entire length of its sharp edge. An offering to a man so revered for his wars. 

A shiver trickling down her spine, she looked up at Steven through wide eyes, the two of them entirely stumped for words at what they were discovering, the thousands of years they had just peeled back with one fell swoop. 

“Oh man,” Steven shook his head, barely ripping his eyes away from the mummy for a moment as she moved to stand at the head of the sarcophagus.

“Where’s the ushabti?” Marc spoke again, this time from the fresh golden sheen on the axe, seeing no other offerings or trinkets inside the coffin besides the weapon. 

“Well, if you’re going to hide it for all eternity, you’d probably put it in a place where the average looter wouldn’t think to look,” Steven replied, his heart a hummingbird behind his chest, almost, almost as excited as he had been when he’d been kissing her against that post. 

Almost, but not quite. 

She stayed silent, attuning her ears into keeping watch for Harrow’s men approaching, or hopefully even figuring out where Layla was, while Steven’s brain whirred, conferring with Marc. 

She hoped he wasn’t mad at her for Steven pushing him out of the headspace, for throwing that mirror into the sand the moment he’d gotten his lips on hers. She hoped he would understand. Marc always understood. 

Steven’s face smoothed out in realisation, whether he had come to it on his own or Marc had helped she wasn’t sure, but she grabbed his wrist gently nonetheless. 

“What is it?” She murmured, his eyes trained on the tightly wrapped linen, an almost horrified look on his face. 

“Alexander was the voice of Ammit…” He trailed off, his hand coming to rest on the corpse’s jaw, “All right, I’m gonna try something, I’m gonna do something here.”

His fingers found the lip of the cloth where the head met the body, weaving their way under and tugging them away carefully. 

Dove released a shaky breath, her hand returning in shock over her mouth, knowing that this was technically known as grave desecration, let alone ruining thousands of years of history. 

“Steven, oh my god-” She gagged as the smell hit her, the man beside her writhing in sickness as his fingers touched the mummified skin beneath. 

“Oh god- so sorry- sorry, Mr Great,” He choked on his words, the disgust running over his skin when he touched something cold and wrinkled. 

He tore the bandages with more force, the linen coming away easily, but they both shuddered hearing something crack under the weight of his hand, something she could only imagine was a bone.

Steven pulled the cloth away to reveal a perfectly mummified face, and the sight wasn’t so uncommon as she’d thought since they had two preserved in the museum. But seeing it so up close, without the temperature controlled glass, it made her want to vomit and stare in awe all at the same time. 

Steven took an unsure breath, before he went even further, his fingers resting on the lower mandible, pulling back whatever remained of the lips to slip between his teeth, his other hand holding his cranium still. 

She forced herself not to wince as he started tugging the mouth open; the look on his face was torture for him enough. 

“All right, open up. Oh, sorry, Mr Great,” He bit out, bile rising in his own throat at the sensations beneath his hand, the jaw cracking and ripping down with a nauseating crunch. His hand reached down the gullet, and she had to turn away then when he started rooting around the throat, resisting the retch that fought her own mouth, “Oh, sorry, oh god, I couldn’t be more sorry,” 

It wasn’t until she heard a squelch they both heaved, Steven’s own noises of disgust filling the tomb as his entire upper arm wormed its way into the chest cavity, and she thought he might just be the bravest man she’d ever known. 

His arm twisted for a moment, before he started pulling it out, not without some resistance from the collar bones, only for it to come away with one final tug, and in his hand producing a small ceramic figure of an alligator headed woman, and two audible gasps filled the silence. 

“Steven-” She started, turning to him with something warm and gooey and close to pride in her eyes, “Steven, you did it!” 

She threw herself at him in a hug, ignoring every morsel of her that cringed when she imagined where his hand had been, feeling him squeeze her to him just as tightly.

“We did it, we did- I could never have done any of this without you,” He replied, nosing her hair for a moment before he pulled her away to look at her face, beaming with glee. It didn’t matter then, that he had been chased by that creature, or that he’d been shot at, or that he’d been digging around a dead man’s throat. It didn’t matter then that his life had been turned upside down, or that he was actually one man split into another, or that he’d lost his job. He didn’t care. Because seeing how she looked at him, as if she’d just watched him solve string theory or win a nobel prize, healed every wound he’d ever had. 

He only needed her; only ever wanted her. 

“I really do love you,” She said, and he wondered it she’d heard his thoughts, fought the urge to kiss her then and there. 

Her head snapped to where they had entered the tomb, something wary in her gaze until he saw Layla appear in the doorway, looking entirely scraped up, as if she’d just been dragged through the caverns backwards. 

“Layla!” Dove called, bounding over the stepping stones, “Layla, are you alright- we got the ushabti-”

“Layla, look! We won!” Behind her Steven held up the figurine, the pair of them with billion dollar smiles on their faces, watching the woman approach on shaky legs, “And the ushabti goes to; us. I had to go digging down old Alexander the Great’s gullet, but we found it,” 

Dove giggled at his teasing, shaking her head, and fighting the urge to yank Layla into a hug of her own. They had done it, they’d won. Now they could get out of here and away from Harrow, she could go home, go home with Steven-

She was quick to notice the stare Layla pinned on the man behind her, something visceral and in pain beneath her skin, something raw, a wound ripped open. She knew it well, knew it like an old friend. Layla was the pure image of betrayal. 

She stalked forward silently, not paying the younger woman a scrap of attention as she approached, stepping over the cobbles with not a single hesitant foot. Her eyes gleaned with unshed tears, something rageful keeping them bay. 

Dove stopped still, her eyes trained on the woman, her smile dissolving into confusion. 

“Layla, are you alright-” 

“Can he hear me?” Layla cut her off, not giving a shit for her soft lilted voice or her concern. She only cared about Marc, Harrow’s words rattling in her head like a foghorn calling every shred of anger she’d ever felt for her ex-husband to arms. 

“Alexander? No, I don’t think so, god I hope not,” Steven snickered, and Dove winced. Layla’s eyes darkened, her honey tones near black in the lowlit antechamber, and the younger woman knew whatever had happened in the moments passed since they’d parted, Layla was now out for blood. 

“What happened to my father?” The El-Faouley woman spat, her hands shaking with anger, and Dove could do nothing but wait for Steven to understand that she wasn’t kidding around.

She dared a glance at the man who stood there like a lost child, whatever celebration and relief they had felt swept away in a matter of moments. Seconds. 

She knew from the silence that lingered Layla already suspected something. 

“I’m talking to you,” Layla seethed, stepping towards the man without a bat of an eyelid at the woman who watched whatever progress they’d made swirl down the drain like yesterday’s newspaper. 

“What?” Steven murmured, a frown on his face as Layla’s hands came up to shove him in the chest hard. 

“I’m talking to you, Marc,” 

He barely stumbled, barely blinked, but she saw it. Saw the way the innocence melted away, and his frown became cold and distant. She saw the moment Marc took the body, and her heart dropped at the flash of guilt that glinted in the crook of his eyes as he saw his ex-wife’s expression in the flesh. 

“Come on, let’s go, let’s go-” He tried to pull her away, but Dove knew it was his own brand of avoiding the subject. She’d never hold it against him, who was she to judge someone for running from responsibility, but she knew. And so did Layla. 

“No,” The woman dug her heels in as he tried pulling her to the exit, her empty fist weakly beating on his wrist while he yanked on her coat. 

“We have to go right now,”

“No, Marc, no,” She fought, the venom in her tone only growing. He tugged her harder, the two of them all but grappling with one another for control. 

“We have to go, right now,” He repeated, eyes flicking to where Dove stood still, her hands playing with one another nervously, “Come on, we gotta get out of here-”

Layla forced his head back to her, away from where the younger woman moved between each foot, watching it play out like a tragedy. 

“What happened to my father?” She said again, louder this time, and it was clear no amount of deflection would stop her from getting an answer.

“Listen to me,” Marc said with a seriousness Dove had never heard, real life panic in his tone that had her shifting to check the doorway for signs of Harrow’s men following closely behind, “We need to leave right now, I will explain everything, I swear. But we have to go,”

“Did you kill Abdullah El Faouley?” Layla’s voice cracked, because the answer would break her if it were true, if it was what she feared. 

“Of course not. Of course I didn’t,” And it was the first honest thing Marc had said to her in years. The pain in his eyes at the accusation said it all. 

Layla sighed in short lived relief, running a hand over her face. 

“But you were there,” She said quietly, and the four words cleaved Marc’s resolve right down the middle, his brow furrowing in agony, “You were there, right?” 

“I was- I was there,” He confessed, Dove’s stomach turning over in anguish. She wanted to hug both of them to her in entirely different ways. Wanted to grab Layla, stroke her hair the way Grace used to when she was upset, hold her to her chest and tell her how sorry she was that her father was taken from her so cruelly. She wanted to pull Marc in, slot him right over her heart and tell him he wasn’t bad, not even now, not ever, that he was good, pure, golden goodness, just as good as Steven. That he wasn’t guilty, he was just unlucky. 

“My partner got greedy, he executed everyone at the digsite. Shot me too, I was supposed to die that night,” Marc spilled out, his expression bleak, distraught. 

She knew better than to interrupt, than to get in between the two of them when they fought like this. That is, until her ears pricked up with her inhumane senses, the sound of guns cocking and creeping footsteps dragging through the sand stones they had just come from, whispers between comrades that they were getting close to what they had been searching for. 

“Someone’s here,” She said, before she could think better of speaking. Their heads turned to her, as if they’d forgotten she was there, Marc’s face a picture of a tortured soul. She angled her head to distinguish what the men were saying, try give her some pointers how long they had, “Harrow is getting close, I can hear his watch-”

“Who’s Grace?” Layla asked, her tone guarded, as if she’d begged the question the entire time she’d known the girl, “Marc’s not the only one who’s been keeping secrets,” 

But Dove was frozen. Entirely frozen. Not so much of a breath in her chest, not even a blink.

Because hearing that name again, her name, hearing Layla take everything close to her and toss it around as a conversation piece shattered her into a million small pieces, floating down neatly into the water right then and there.

He saw it.

When her eyes glazed over, as if hearing the name pressed play on a movie she’d not seen in years, and she no longer stood there, with them, but she was transported somewhere else entirely. It was the same as when she’d been in the car, staring out that window, he wanted to yell out to her, grab her delicate face and scream Where do you go? Come back to me, take my hand and come back to me. Where are you where I can’t follow.

Because she wasn’t there, inside her own body. And she feared she would never be again.

She was back in that room, in that window sill, replaying every single night she’d spent in Grace’s room. Who’s Grace? She was opening that door, the one Frank told her not to go in, she was staring at the body, the unmoving one, the cold corpse, frozen in pain, what was once her entire world ripping away from her soul, pulling her apart right down the middle, the empty bottle staring right back at her from the bedside table as if to say ‘I won, I won.’ Who’s Grace? She wasn’t there, wasn’t in the tomb at all, she was rotting in her bed, lying still and waiting for death to take her too, because it seemed impossible that the person who had been made as her mirror image in every way but looks could be culled but not her.

How could she explain who Grace was? How do you even begin to explain to a person what every cell of your body is?

“Harrow said you let her die,” Layla said, and she knew she’d hit a home run with whatever that look on Dove’s face meant, knew that everything he’d said had been true, “He said you could have saved her and you didn’t-”

“Don’t,” It was a snarl, something unearthly and rotten, but the grief in the single word was clear as a bell, “Stop it, Layla,”

She hadn’t ever spoken to her like that, had snapped and rolled her eyes, but never had such a clear threat to her words.

The woman blinked in response, the hairs on her arms standing on end at the voice that was entirely not Dove’s coming from her throat. It was monstrous, and part of her wondered if it was Seth who had in fact taken her body, only to see the eyes she knew well staring back at her with the image of a deer at the barrel of a gun.

Vulnerable. Ready for slaughter. Ready to be laid bare on the butcher's block.

Layla thought twice before she opened her mouth again, second guessing pushing for more answers, but something in the way the girl looked told her there was a truth to it.

“And Frank?” Layla asked, watching Dove’s hands shake. With anger, Layla guessed, anger that her little secrets were being poured out on the cobbles for her precious Steven to see.

Layla was not a cruel woman, not by any means. But she despised liars. And Dove was one of them.

“You and Harrow seem to be best pals, Layla, why don’t you ask him who Frank was,” Dove hissed, and it was like Marc was looking at someone else entirely, like he was watching a mutt backed into a corner snapping at everyone who approached, like watching game gnaw at its own leg to be free of a trap, “He got what he deserved,”

And Marc didn't doubt it. Not even when he reeled back in shock at her tone of voice, not expecting it from his peaceful dove, but then again Layla had ripped all sorts of wounds open in the interest of her own search for answers.

Marc opened his mouth to reinforce their need haste, only to hear for himself the footsteps draw nearer, and the three of them swivelled to look at the direction they came from.

“They’re here,” He said with a pit opening in his stomach, right around where his heart had fallen, springing into action as Layla paced across the stones, searching for a hiding spot.

“There must be another way out,” Dove said, though she felt her brain wrestling with images of that day, that last day, the feel of the mirror beneath her fingers, the scars that to this day marred her palm from the glass as she’d driven it into his chest.

“You find it, I’ll hold them off,” Marc ordered her, backing on himself to grab the battleaxe from inside the sarcophagus. Layla followed orders without protest, heading for the small alleyway she had come from, knowing she couldn’t go back that way with those creatures lurking behind the walls.

Crouching behind a pillar, she watched them with doubtful eyes. She knew they could find her in a matter of seconds. She was beyond angry at both of them for their deceit, yet she watched Dove summon the claws of her suit around her hands, ten blades sprouting over her natural nails in a small motion.

“Get out of here-” Marc waved her off, trying to nudge her body towards where Layla crouched, only for her to gently brush his hands away, careful not to scratch him with her talons.

“Marc, I’m not letting you do this alone- you don’t have a suit-” She argued back, hating the way he was still ready to go down swinging for her, hating the way he’d brushed off what Layla had said because it was Layla and Layla had every reason to throw her under any bus coming.

Her heart plummeted even more, dragging her shame down with it, and she understood then what it was.

He didn’t believe she’d done anything. He didn’t believe something was wrong, something was wrong with her. Didn’t believe she had lied, and kept things from him, didn’t entertain the idea for a single second that she was not the Dove he thought she was.

She knew if he would ask, she wouldn’t have the heart to lie to him to his face, knew she couldn’t keep betraying the undying loyalty he had to her. Knew he would take Steven away.

But she also knew he wouldn’t ask in the first place. Because to Marc, she was innocent of everything everyone accused her of, no matter how true.

She felt even worse than before, if that had even been possible.

She could only steel her face over as Harrow entered the room behind her, the infuriating tap tap tap of his staff against the floor giving him away.

And in a split moment, twenty armed men followed him, crawling out from the corners of the room, their rifles loaded, torches trained on the two of them, the red aimpoints hovering over their chests. She tried to account for every single one of the guns and their wielders, but she couldn’t. There was just too many.

The only way they were getting out of here alive is if he ran, if he ducked out with Layla and left her here to fight alone. But she knew he would never. Not unless she were to throw her body over his, take every single round of ammunition in her suit, keep him protected until they had run dry, but even then she knew he would fight against having her in front of him.

She couldn’t just stand by, couldn’t just let him go, no matter how much she dreaded what was coming next, how much he would hate her once she told him. But maybe he could understand, maybe he would. He had killed people before, she knew he had, he never hid from that. Killed those who deserved it. He hadn’t cared, hadn’t treated her differently when Hellhound had slaughtered those men. She wished she was back in that bathtub, back in their hotel room, the room full of lavender and vanilla, wished his hands were back in her hair telling her she was going to be okay.

She wished. Because that was all she had left.

“Just you two?” Harrow asked, his voice a wisp of smoke in the dark tomb that seemed to be closing in on them as the men steadied their aim, fingers resting on the triggers, “The rest is silence. I remember the first morning, I woke up knowing Khonshu was gone. The quiet was liberating,”

Harrow pocketed the scarab that nestled in his palm, stepping carefully towards them, his damn stick tapping at the floor like death had come knocking.

“And you, little dove,” Harrow turned to her, her eyes a cold glare, twitching with every knock of the wooden cane against the floor, “The truth can be just as liberating as being rid of the voice that controls you. But maybe, you already know that.”

She couldn’t disagree more. There was nothing liberating about what she’d done to Frank. She was a woman haunted, forever tainted by that day. She was ruined, she couldn’t believe she’d ever thought she could be fixed.

“Why don’t you tell him the truth?” Harrow goaded, her insides shrivelling as she saw Marc’s chocolate hues flick to her for a moment, “Ask her, Marc.”

“Marc, I can explain-” She said, eyes locking onto where he clenched a tight fist around his weapon, Harrow's words cutting her off.

“You’re a free man. And ofcourse with that freedom comes choice.” Harrow continued, “You can choose to pretend not to see the guilt writhing under her skin like a serpent. Or, you can choose to keep dear Steven safe,”

“Safe from what?” Marc snapped, his hackles raised at Harrow’s words, as if there was ever a moment of doubt he would choose anything over Steven’s wellbeing, or perhaps it was the way he questioned her that did it.

“Safe from the woman who slaughtered her own boyfriend, maybe?”

Harrow’s tone was soft, gentle, like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb upon the room, a tidal wave of cold overcoming the space between them.

“What?” Marc scoffed, almost a genuine laugh emerging at the levels Harrow was willing to stoop to in order to get the ushabti, including making up ludicrous tales, “What kind of shit is that, you can’t honestly think I’d believe that-”

He looked back to her, expecting confusion, aghast, anything except the deep pools of guilt encompassing her entire being as she stared at him.

He went cold.

No. No, please, no.

He said nothing, did nothing, not even when she tugged a lip between her teeth to keep it from wobbling.

“Please,” She whimpered, stepping towards him with empty hands, “Please, I can explain,”

Only he stepped back, and with it ripped whatever remained of her soul away from.

His eyes no longer were warm nests of mousy brown, his expression no longer soft as he took her in, his jaw tight and feathered with hesitation.

“I can explain, please listen to me,” She begged, she wasn’t above sinking to her knees and pleading against his knee in tears, “I was going to tell you, I tried-”

“You lied to me?” Marc bit, his face empty of whatever it was that he’d regarded her with before. The hands in her hair as she bathed were a million miles away, the kindness that had shone upon her like a warm summer now pelted her like hail in a storm.

“It wasn’t like the others, I had to-” She said, her hands shaking as she dared another step towards him, only for him to take another step back, “I thought you would understand,”

“I killed people because it was service to Khonshu, or-or because people's lives hung in the balance, not because I chose to,” He snapped, drawing his hand away from her like she’d burned him with her very being, “You killed your own boyfriend? You told me you stole- you lied to me,”

“No.” Steven’s voice was a whine, a bleat of agony inside the headspace, a man who was watching the only thing he’d ever had for himself slip away, “No, she wouldn’t Marc, she-”

“Please, just listen,” Her eyes had welled now, “Please, I- Marc, watch out!” She jumped at him, not missing the way his knuckles had quivered on the axe at her sudden movement, only for her to shove past him and descend onto a figure that had been moments away from grabbing the Ushabti.

It was like a switch had flickered then, and the rest of the room was invited into their conversation.

Marc slashed at one of the men who dived for her, snapping his forearm clean in two, the rifle falling from his grasp, and she clawed at the guards wrist, ripping through tendons and flesh like it were fabric.

He heard another of the men squeal as she slashed his face, he cut down another of Harrow’s men with a swift blow to the arm, ichor spurting over his hand at the contact.

He barely even blinked an eye as he threw the battle axe at the next one in his path, though he hadn’t even felt the handle leave his palm as it hit its mark and another one of the men went down.

He knew it made him somewhat of a hypocrite. But it wasn't just the blatant lie that had caused his walls to clamp down around him. That man, whoever he was, had been her boyfriend. And Steven... If he hadn't known something so telling about her, how could he be sure she wouldn't flip and do the same to Steven.

She wouldn't. He wanted to say he knew she wouldn't lay a hand on the man clawing at his brain in torment, but Marc felt he didn't know anything about her anymore.

She had killed someone. His dove, his innocent dove, that he had spent weeks feeling like filth for so much as touching, feeling as though he had ruined her, only to find out she was just as tainted as he was. She had lied to him. She had every chance, every moment he showed his soft underbelly, to tell him the truth, and she hadn’t. He was supposed to keep Steven safe, and he was dropping walls left right and centre for someone who could have had him lined up as her next target.

Dove’s head whirled around when she heard him grunt, fearing he had gotten a barrel to the face, or even a rogue fist. She took a sweeping glance at him from head to toe, the relief tangible in her bones, seeing he was rattled and angry, but not bleeding.

She needed to set this right. She was a liar, she knew that, she was a murderer, she knew that aswell. She didn’t deserve any of the kindness she’d been shown, she’d known she was on borrowed time the entirety of their friendship. She had known this was coming any day now.

It still hurt like a bitch to be confronted with the truth. And the truth was Marc glared at her like hated her. Marc wanted nothing to do with her, as liar, a con, an actress. A whore.

She had to fix this; if she even could. She had to try. For Steven.

Dove had gotten all of one step when Harrow pulled the pistol out of his jeans.

It was like a slow motion picture from there, like she was in the back seat trying to steer the wheel, sitting front row of the audience as the movie played out in front of her.

Harrow lifting the gun at Marc’s chest, pulling the trigger once, his aim true enough that a crimson hole bloomed through the man’s sweater in seconds, spraying out of the wound and onto his outfit.

She heard herself scream, heard his name coming from her in a deafening squeal, something weak and horrified in the tone. She heard the second bang of the bullet leaving its chamber, puncturing in the gut in a second deadly hit, Marc’s body stumbling back as the wound poured faster, harder, his eyes glazed into an entirely empty concoction.

She heard herself call him again, didn’t realise until it choked through a sob that she was crying, inconsolably actually. He swayed for a moment, before the weightlessness took over and he tipped backwards on his heel, and his cold gaze fell to hers for a split moment of reprieve of what she knew was coming.

She didn’t even realise until she had crouched over where he’d fallen into the water that she was sobbing, didn’t realise until the tears started falling on his face that she was crying over him, over every word she was supposed to say to him.

She didn’t realise until the heartbeat she adored so much, the one she’d planned to spend every morning pressed up against, had stopped beating, and Dove was swept up with a feeling she despised.

In all of two seconds, Dove was all alone again, and Marc and Steven were dead.

TAGLISTS.

KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST 

@shirukitsune @s-u-t @ahookedheroespureheart @willowseason @imonmykneessir @acceptedbyace @broadwaytraaaaash @mythicalmo @stevenknightmarc @avery88 @fandombrackets @thelostlovedone @raythecomputerart @nyctophile-moon-child @unknownduck0 @emily-roberts @cheshirecat484 @lockleywife @strangeobsessed d @thebestrouge @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @dumbhxeredrose @badbishsblog @jvexoxo  @sxftie-mari i @mythical-goth @cillmeslowly @wildwallflower24 @ameliashideout @moonsua1 @latenightcravingz @blackqueengold @jesfreedark @uncle-eggy @onefinnedwonder-fm @homuraak3mi @animechick555@1800-get-alife @peachipeachy @hoemadegrace @raineisms

[smallandsneezy]

Too Much of a Good Thing

 the estate gardener who is wildly allergic to flowers fucking the governess. this is a sicktember post, but I'm dreadfully late. so happy day two on day 14!

Evangeline had always taken great pleasure in the way her heeled boots sounded as they clicked down the hallway. The combination of the tapping shoes and the way that her long woolen skirt swished against her legs made her feel powerful and prepared, had her stand a little straighter. It was with that straight bearing that she came around the corner and nearly ran straight into Joseph, the manor’s gardener.

“Oh!” she startled, teetering precariously back on the boots she had just been so pleased with.

He reached out for her, his big callused hands grasping her shoulders and steadying her. 

She rebalanced and he released her, stepping back sheepishly. Getting a better look at him, she realized he was covered in dirt, from the patches on his knees to the beds of his finger nails. 

“Done with lessons for the day, miss?” he asked brightly. The two talked relatively regularly, often passing each other in the garden when Evangeline went out for her daily constitutional. 

“What have you been working on that’s got you so filthy?” she teased, beaming at him to show she was kidding. 

He brightened at the chance to talk about his flowers. “Oh, the most lovely chrysanthemums miss! This variety really shines this time of year.”

“I hadn’t known anything bloomed in October,” she mused. 

“The late fall bloomers do, miss. I could…show you sometime.” Joseph offered shyly. He looked almost shocked at his own gall and seemed to be already bracing for her indignant response.

Evangeline smiled almost ear to ear. Why not? It was 1910 now, after all, and she was trying to devote herself to living more adventurously. 

“I think now would suffice if you’re amenable.”

A similar grin to hers spread across the man’s face, making him all the more handsome. 

“Let us go then.”

--

She should have seen it coming. His nose had been growing steadily redder with every moment that they spent in the garden. He hadn’t commented on it though, even as it twitched steadily more with every flower he showed her. 

“And these, of course, are the chrysanthe-” he broke off quite suddenly, his eyes glazing over. 

“Are you quite alright, sir?”

The man’s mouth was agape, his nose positively rosy by now. “I…I…” He stuttered, look humiliated.

Was he going to…

“HURUSHOO! Huh…huh…AHISHAH!” He practically bellowed them, too distracted by the itch to cover, and Evangeline felt a heat between her legs start up. Her glasses were soaked in his spray, and he looked horrified. 

“Goodness! Bless you!”

“I’m…HRUSHOOO! huh…HUH…HRASHAH! I’m so so sorry ma’am.” Joseph said shyly, a flush floating high over his cheeks. 

She could only blink and remove her glasses to clean them. She had never understood when people said they were ‘speechless’ before, but now she did. 

“Oh…Again…huh! Hahh!!—HATSCHIEWW!!!” That one had doubled him over, and Evangeline felt her breath start to quicken. 

“It’s all the flowers…Too much of a good thing, I suppose. They’re always doing me in. HUHRESHOO!!”

Evangeline couldn’t bear it. She leaned in and kissed him, wet nose and all. 

He stiffened slightly, clearly surprised, but relaxed almost instantly, kissing her back, sniffling frantically every time they stopped for breath. He pulled her into a flowered alcove, thick with bushes and chamomile. She pressed up against him, breathing hard. He placed his leg in between hers, and she pressed herself into it, it taking every ounce of her gentle upbringing not to whine with pleasure. Abruptly he pulled out of their kiss, nostrils flaring. “HAHRESHOOO!! HAH…HAH…HARASHOOO!” He, having no choice otherwise, had pressed himself into her bosom, which was now drenched in spray. These were wet sneezes, and he seemed to have no handkerchief on him. She offered hers to him now, but when he reached for it desperately she pulled it back. Now he was the one whining, his red itchy eyes begging her for it. 

She wrapped the dainty handkerchief, with her around his swollen nose. “Blow.”

“Miss, I can’t. It’ll get all wet, I can’t do that to a lady. I don’t need to, I’m perfectly well.”

She pulled it back from his anguished grasp and plucked a chamomile flower from beside them. 

“Miss?” Joseph asked. 

“If you don’t need to, surely this won’t be a problem.”

She danced the chamomile across his nostrils, which pulsed with irritation.

“I’m…ahh….AHH…AHH AHHCHOO! HAHSHOOOO!! I’m so allergic miss.”

She raised her eyebrows, brandishing the handkerchief. “And?”

“Please! Please let me have the handkerchief.”

“Okay. Since you asked so nicely.”

She extended her handkerchief and gently covered his nose with it. “Now, blow.”

He did so, with gentle soft blows. He did indeed drench the handkerchief, and she could feel the dampness against her hand. It made her shudder. 

“Thank you miss,” he whispered. 

She kissed him on the nose. 

[jasontoddsmommyissues]

Unsmooth Operator

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Femme!Reader

Summary: It’s summer in Hawkins and Eddie finds himself caught up on the cute girl working at the record store in the mall

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, brief mentions of sexual content (nothing sexual actually happens), swearing, potentially lethal levels of adorableness 

A/N: First of all, sorry it’s been so long since I posted my last fic. My poor little ADHD self is a slow writer, I’m afraid. But anyway, I kind of wrote this as a sort of prequel to my Henderson!Reader fic, but there’s no direct mention of Reader being related to anyone, so you can either read it as that or not. Also, special thanks to Mr. Joseph Quinn for confirming that Eddie Munson has no game. 

My Master List | Ao3

-

It’s June in Hawkins and the summer heat has already grown practically unbearable. The shitty window A/C unit Eddie’s been using has finally crapped out, and in the heat of the day the trailer is approximately the temperature of the sun. Mercifully, he’s found a sweet, air conditioned refuge in the newly built Starcourt mall, a temple to 20th century decadence and consumerism that also happens to be a very pleasant temperature inside. 

Jeff and Gareth are tagging along today, which is fun except for the quick pit stop they had to make at the homegoods store so Gareth could pick up some new linens for his mom. They’ve finished that now, though, and Eddie’s already got their next destination in mind. 

“I’m gonna do it”, Gareth insists as they go, “I’m gonna get a tattoo.”

“Your mom would kill you”, Jeff replies.”remember when she caught you smoking? I thought she wasn’t going to let us see you ever again after that.”

“It’s different now”, Gareth tells him, “I’m 16. I’m gonna be a junior. It’s time I make my own choices, you know?”

“Good luck with that”, Jeff laughs. 

“Let’s hit the record store next”, Eddie cuts in, “I want to pick up the new Bob Dylan album for Wayne.”

“More like you wanna see the cute girl working the register”, Jeff teases.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Eddie retorts, desperately hoping his cheeks aren’t actually turning as red as he thinks they are.

In truth, he does have an ulterior motive for wanting to go to the record store, and it is you. You’ve been going to Hawkins High for the past three years, but admittedly Eddie had never really been more than vaguely aware of your existence until this past semester, when you two had PE together. He had this routine he’d do where he would imitate the gym teacher when the man wasn’t looking, and it never failed to elicit a giggle from you. One day Eddie noticed how cute you looked when you laughed and well, he’s been a little bit stuck on you ever since. 

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Gareth comments, as if it’s just that easy.

Sweet, naive Gareth. Maybe for guys like Steve Harrington it’s that easy, but Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington. Gareth wasn’t there for Eddie’s early high school days. He wasn’t there during Eddie’s sophomore year when two hot juniors decided to prank him by convincing him their cheerleader friend was “super into him” or his junior year when he invited that girl from drama club to join Hellfire and she laughed out loud at him. Most girls don’t even want to be seen with Eddie “the Freak” Munson, let alone date him. 

“Jeff’s talking out of his ass”, Eddie lies, “come on, let’s go.”

You are, of course, there at the counter when they walk in, and oh God, is that an Iron Maiden shirt you’re wearing? Fuck, as if he couldn’t be more into you. 

“Um, Eddie, you good dude?” Gareth asks him and he realizes he’s stopped right there in the entrance of the store, just staring at you. He quickly turns away and walks the rest of the way into the store, thankful that you’re currently checking out a customer and probably didn’t notice him ogling you like a total weirdo. 

Admittedly, this may not have been a good idea, at least if he wants to convince Jeff and Gareth he’s not into you. He quickly grabs a Bob Dylan tape and starts making for the door, desperate to just get out of there and spare himself anymore humiliation.

“Um, you gonna pay for that?” Jeff asks and fuck. He’s shoplifted before but he’s not interested in getting barred from the record store, so he’s not gonna risk it today. 

“Right”, he mutters and then he forces himself to go up to the counter. 

He feels like his heart is going to explode in his chest when he walks up and you flash him that brilliant smile of yours.

“Hi, Eddie”, you greet and his eyes grow wide because you know his name. Well, obviously you did, you had a class together, but it just sounds so good coming from your mouth that he momentarily ceases to function. 

“Did you need help with something?” you ask after a moment.

“What?” Eddie asks, “oh no. Just um, just this.”

He sets the tape on the counter and you grab it to ring it up.

“Dylan”, you comment as you do, “not your usual fare.”

“It’s for my uncle”, Eddie explains, “he’s a big fan.”

“Cool”, you say, “I like your vest by the way. Dio. Nice.”

Well, that’s it. It’s over. Eddie’s done for. 

“That’ll be $6.30”, you say.

“Oh, right money”, Eddie sputters and fishes a ten out of his pocket. He knows Jeff and Gareth are standing nearby, watching this all play out and probably laughing with each other about it. He’s definitely never living this down.

“You want a bag”, you ask as you finish gathering his change. 

“Oh, I um, I guess”, he replies, not actually processing the question. You hand him his change, then place the tape in a bag and slide it over to him. He goes to grab it, and because he’s not at all paying attention to anything but you, inadvertently sends the display of Beach Boy tapes sitting on the counter tumbling to the floor.

“Oh shit”, he hisses, “oh fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay”, you reply, coming around the counter, “I keep telling Doug he shouldn’t put that stuff so close to the register.”

You bend down to start picking up the tapes and years worth of Wayne’s lectures on behaving like a gentleman come flooding back to Eddie, so he quickly follows suit.

“Let me help you”, he says.

“Thanks”, you say and you’re smiling again and Eddie kind of wants to die. 

With the two of you, it doesn’t take long to get everything cleaned up and back in order. 

“I’m really sorry”, Eddie says again as you make your way back behind the counter, and then before he can stop himself, he blurts, “maybe I could make it up to you somehow?”

“What?” you ask, clearly unsure of what he means.

“I mean like, maybe I could buy you a-a coffee or something sometime”, he stammers.

You peer at him for a moment, and he braces for the inevitable rejection he’s about to endure.

“I like ice cream”, you say, “if you meet me here at 3 tomorrow, you can buy me some ice cream and we’ll call it even.”

Maybe Eddie’s already dead and this is heaven. That or he’s being punked somehow. Either way, he stands there like an idiot for a second, trying to process that you just suggested the two of you meet for ice cream. 

“Um okay”, he says.

“Cool”, you grin, “see you then.”

“Right”, he says, “see you then.”

And then he’s swiping his bag from the counter and stiffly making his way back to Jeff and Gareth, his body still trapped in a state of shock.

“So”, Jeff prompts, “what was all that?”

“I um, I think I’m meeting her for ice cream tomorrow”, Eddie informs them. 

The two younger boys exchange glances, mouths stretching into a matching pair of shit eating grins. 

“Talking out of my ass, huh?” Jeff teases.

“Shut up”, Eddie snaps, “I’m just being polite okay? It’s not like a date or anything.”

“Sure it isn’t”, Gareth replies smugly. 

“Whatever”, Eddie huffs and the others know not to continue the conversation, even if they spend the rest of the afternoon exchanging amused glances at each other.

-

Eddie waits until he’s back at the trailer to let everything sink in. When it does, he feels a vague sense of panic washing over him. 

Embarrassing as it is, Eddie’s never had a real, serious girlfriend before. Hell, aside from a brief flirtation with Tammy Thompson that ended in a very awkward hand job in the school parking lot, he’s never really had any experience with girls (or boys for that matter) at all. And Tammy was the one that initiated that. He wasn’t even really into her, he was just desperate for some sort of female attention. 

You, though, he is into you. Very, very much into you. And he has no idea what the hell he’s supposed to do or say. He finally, finally has a chance to go out with his dream girl, and he’s almost certainly going to say something wrong and scare you off like pretty much everyone he’s ever been into. 

He wonders what the weather in Wisconsin is like this time of year, because he’s halfway to hopping in his van and heading there now, never to be seen or heard from in Hawkins, Indiana again.

Then again, maybe he’s over thinking it. It’s not like the word “date” ever came up in your conversation. Maybe this really is just him paying you back for his clumsiness, and afterwards you won’t even spare him a second thought. In the end, he figures that whatever the case, he’s not just going to leave you high and dry, so he has no choice but to go. 

-

Eddie shows up outside the record store at 2:45 the next day. He stands there awkwardly, fiddling with his rings and secretly hoping that you don’t show up and he doesn’t have to deal with all of this.

No such luck though, you appear exactly at 3, looking as cute as ever in your jean skirt. 

“Hey”, you greet and Eddie momentarily forgets how to speak.

“Hey”, he repeats, unable to formulate a coherent enough thought to do anything but copy your greeting.

“You ready to go?” you ask and he nods. 

The record store is a fair bit away from Scoops Ahoy, and for probably the first time in his life, Eddie finds himself unsure of what exactly to say. Thankfully, you take the lead.

“So, have you heard Megadeth’s album?” you ask, “I got it the first day it came out and I love it.”

“Me too”, Eddie says, and he can feel himself being knocked out of his stupor then, “you know, my friends and I have a metal band.”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah”, he tells you, “we perform Wednesdays at the Hideout, if you ever want to come see us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind”, you smile and Eddie thinks his heart momentarily stops. 

Walking into Scoops Ahoy with you by his side is an almost unreal experience. You and him go up to the counter and Steve Harrington is there in his little sailor suit that Eddie almost feels sorry that he’s forced to wear. 

“Hey Steve”, you greet.

“Hey Y/N”, Steve replies, and then he notices that Eddie’s with you and he gets this super confused look on his face. 

“So, uh, get whatever you want I guess”, Eddie says.

Once you two have ordered and gotten your ice cream, you eat it while idly wandering around the mall, just chatting about anything and everything. Eddie, as always, is frequently cracking jokes, and God is it mesmerizing to see the way you laugh in response. 

It’s quite the disappointment when you’re finishing your ice cream and you’re bidding him farewell. 

He knows he has to at least try to see you again so he tests the waters with a quick “that was fun, we should do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that”, you smile.

“Awesome”, he replies.

“Here”, you say, rooting around in your purse, “give me your hand.”

He obliges, and you produce a pen, which you use to scribble something onto his outstretched hand.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“My number”, you reply, “call me tonight or tomorrow?”

“Sure”, he tells you. 

“Great”, you say, “I’ll see you, Eddie.”

“See you”, he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as absolutely lovesick to you as he does to himself. 

You flash him one final smile before departing, and he just stands there awkwardly for a second, watching as you go. Once you’ve disappeared from sight and he’s snapped out of his trance, he peers down at the numbers you’d scrawled onto his hand. He has to remind himself that it’d be weird to get them tattooed onto himself permanently. He can’t believe that it worked. You went on a date with him, in public, and didn’t care if you were seen together. You laughed at his jokes. You gave him his number and asked to see him again. You liked him. 

The trailer is as unbearably hot as ever when he returns, but for once, he doesn’t care. He’s too excited to call you later and hopefully set up another date. 

[oletus-writer]

Can I have Luchino (hunter), Wu, and Antonio with a s/o that’ll make the most wild dirty jokes and laugh their ass off about it? But if anything even slightly dirty actual happens they’ll get red in the face and look away or cover their eyes. They’re just like “THIS IS INAPPROPRIATE I REFUSE TO LOOK”

Sorry that this took a while - I’ve been getting a lot of requests, surprisingly. (Also I have written things I never thought I’d write. The nsfw keigan alphabet was nothing, but this? Not exactly a challenge but I had a lot of fun.)

Luchino (hunter), Wu Chang, Antonio x reader who makes inappropriate jokes but is actually shy

Warnings: nsfw themes

Luchino (hunter)

When he first met you, you had asked him how his penis worked, which surprised and amused him. I mean, it was nice not to have another shocked person, asking how it happened, but why the question?

‘Well… I have a hemipenis, which is the practical term for two penises, inverted inside my cloaca. A cloaca is a hole where animals use to urinate, defecate, and have sex with. This is common in reptiles, and, since I am half a lizard, it would make sense for me to - hang on. That’s not how you properly greet people, is it?’

Soon, Luchino got used to your jokes and even began to look forward to hearing them - it’s not everyday when someone cracks such crude jokes in the manor, let alone to a human lizard hybrid.

When the two of you started dating, he was hesitant to make any sexual advances in fear of you rejecting him because of his situation. However, when he did, your bashfulness first of all surprised him, then brought out a playful side to him.

‘Amore mio, what’s this? You’re shy? How cute. You’d be even cuter being pounded by me, no?’

Xie Bi’an

As the only person on the list that would feel slightly embarrassed to have heard those jokes, Bi’an hides it well. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t find it funny - you’ll hear some breathy laughter from the man.

‘You have quite the mind. Do you stay up late and think of these jokes?’

In a duo hunters match together, he was surprised when he began unbuttoning his shirt because of the heat and you turned red as a tomato. What were you embarrassed about? He was under the impression that you could not care less if he stood naked in front of you.

‘You’re quite red, do you have a fever? No? Then why are you blushing so much? Ah… if that’s the case, I shall button up.’

It doesn’t come as much of a problem when the two of you are dating, since Bi’an likes to take it slow and is more romantic than horny. However, when the time comes, he hopes you won’t be too shy.

Fan Wujiu

When you made your first joke, he was one of the people who audibly laughed - sometimes, he’d make similar jokes just to see Bi’an flustered.

‘Heh. You and I will get along, I think.’

He’s going to flirt at you, as a joke at first, and then, it kind of clicked. Wujiu liked you more than a toy, liked seeing your embarrassed expressions, but there was a pang of hurt when you began to avoid him.

‘You’re avoiding me? Come on, I’ll tease you less.’

After this, he was a bit avoidant - he stopped his touches and lessened his teasing remarks. Perhaps this absence made you reconsider your feelings towards the man?

Antonio

Finally there’s someone to match with his dirty brain. An unstoppable duo, the two of you are, a power couple. So it came no surprise when the announcement came that the two of you were official.

Romance with Antonio was a whirlwind, but a problem soon arose - you were too shy to have sex. When he discovered this, he too teased you relentlessly.

‘Why are you suddenly acting like this, songbird? You had no problem with traumatising Joseph, but won’t even look at my tits? They’re good tits, too, for a cadaver.’

Teasing remarks aside, he’ll do his best to be supportive, and would encourage some casual intimacy, such as touching your waist, sleeping in the same bed, etc. For you, he’ll take it as slow as you’d like, even though he’s itching to get a move on. Suppose that’s what masturbation is for.

‘Passero, would you like to sleep in my bed tonight? It feels awfully lonely without you. No pressure, though.’

[idyllicbarb]

not impressed

SUMMARY: in your eyes, nothing is special about the lsu quarterback.

WARNINGS: cussing, drinking, smoking, fuckboy!joe, fratboy!joe, cocky!joe, euphoria inspired

- - - -

You're new to LSU, transferring from a small community college back in Georgia. It's only been a few months here in Louisiana for you but things have been good so far. Joining the majorette team and becoming popular around campus. Men want you but you don't want them, too caught up in enjoying your new college life.

You adjust your bra top, gaining looks from a few college boys that were standing around you. Rolling your eyes, you check your phone for any new messages. Somebody at LSU decided to throw a party for the football team, typical. Your majorette teammate, Naomi, had dragged you out the house so you could find yourself a man just for the evening.

But all the dudes at the party right now were either weird or sluts, huge whore bags. That's how a lot of men on campus are, especially the football team. You never understood how girls would just flock to them, only seeing dick and a potential to become a NFL wife. Shit like that never amused you, you have big dreams too, who wants to be cooped up in a house all day with three to four kids plus having to cook and clean? Yeah no.

Naomi walks back in the living room from using the bathroom, re-joining you on the couch, "You okay?" She asks. Before you can answer her, a loud group of men enter the house and you just know it's the football team.

You roll your eyes before sending a knowing look Naomi's way, she laughs silently before scooting closer to you. "I'm fine, this party is about to give me a headache though," You mutter and Naomi hums in response, "Well, we can always go back to the dorm."

"No, no, I never go out and I want to. It's college, we're supposed to be having a good time." You say in response. Justin and Ja'Marr walk in the living room, giving daps to people they know before heading over to you and Naomi.

You may have not cared for the football team but you've grown fond of Justin and Ja'Marr. They're like two bad ass twins. Ja'Marr shoves your forehead making you slap his wrist in response, "You asshole!"

"We ain't know y'all was coming. Especially you, Y/N, you an old lady, you probably got old people teeth in ya mouth right now." Justin teases gaining a laugh from out of Ja'Marr.

"Don't push it, I'll flick your little ass." You push Justin back slightly with your foot. He fakes a hiss before laughing again, "Stop playing before I get my boy, Joseph on yo ass."

"Ooh! See me personally, Y/N, I would never go for that." Ja'Marr shrugs his shoulders.

"You go for that and then some, Ja'Marr," Naomi rebuttals making you laugh. He sucks his teeth before tapping Justin on the shoulder, they both walk off weirdly.

"Losers," You mumble under your breath and Naomi giggles at your comment. A few seconds they return with the hottest topic on campus, Joe Burrow.

"Keep messing with us and our dawg Joey B gon Mickey Mouse two-piece y'all ass," Justin says and you look over at Naomi before the both of y'all bust out in laughter.

"Y'all weak, I can beat y'all up, easily, light weight." You reply standing up but only to get softly pushed back on the couch by Joe.

"You haven't even seen me fight."

"Well first off, I wasn't speaking to you, but since you opened your mouth, I don't need to see you fight. You look like you'd get beat up." You tell Joe, gaining attention from a few of his friends and teammates.

"Joe you gon' let her talk to you like that?" You hear somebody ask from the kitchen. You stand up getting in Joe's face, "He sure is, because "Joe" isn't going to do a got damn thing to me."

Joe turns his attention over at you as Justin and Ja'Marr slowly back away from the scene. "It'd be best if you watch your mouth."

"Is that suppose to be a threat?" You question while about to to take off your shoes. Naomi stands up and grabs your hand, leading you upstairs into a random empty bedroom.

"Girl! You can't be talking to Joe like that." Naomi blurts out and you turn your head at her. "Y'all scared of him or something? He doesn't faze me."

"Nobody disrespects him-

"How was I disrespecting him by telling him the truth? Do you seriously think he'd win a fight?" You tilt your head meeting Naomi's eyes, she looks away attempting not to answer.

"Exactly, just because he's known doesn't mean anything to me. You should know this by now."

Fixing your hair in your pocket mirror, you catch Naomi staring at you. "What?"

"You know he's going to be on your ass now, right?"

You look at Naomi, "No, no, I don't know, enlighten me."

"He's just like the big guy around here and everyone just respects him. You might be the only person who treated Joe like he's a regular human being," Naomi stated.

"He is a regular human being!"

- - - -

You're currently sitting on top of the kitchen counter drinking some jungle juice. After you and Naomi's conversation, you both decided to rejoin the party. You gained a few looks from people who are believed to be close friends of Joe. You don't care though, you weren't going to treat Joe as if he's superior because in your eyes, he's not.

Joe walks in the kitchen with a woman on his arm, she stumbles over her feet before putting her head down when a few people snicker. You shake your head, turning your attention back to your phone.

"You look lonely," The three words make you snap your head at a man who looks drunk out his mind.

"I look completely fine, do you?"

Joe moves past the two of you, mumbling, "Shouldn't you be anywhere but here?" under his breath. You laugh quietly before focusing your attention back on the dude in front of you.

Before the dude can even reply to your question, Joe taps him on the shoulder and the two of them walk off somewhere. You roll your eyes, waiting on Naomi to get done flirting with whatever man she can have for the night.

This party is lame, and you're two seconds away from beating thee infamous Joe Burrow up. Such a prick! Getting mad at you for not playing with him. Such a dweeb in your eyes.

Justin and Ja'Marr slide next to you, "Yo!"

You laugh before sitting up straight, "I haven't seen you two all night. Must've been getting pussy."

Ja'Marr shrugs playfully before looking away, letting you know that he indeed, got pussy during this party. "That ain't the topic, what needs to be talked about is you and our boy, Joe."

"What about him?"

Justin scoffs, "What about him? You can't be talking to him like that! He big dawg. We was tryin' put y'all on with each other, but you damn near punked him in front of his folks!"

"Justin's right. He coulda had you drooling for him at any moment." Ja'Marr adds in his two cents making you squint your eyes at the both of them.

"Ain't he a fuckboy? He's a blunt, passed around!" You loudly say making people snap their head in your direction.

"Nah! Nah! Don't be saying that." Justin puts a hand over your mouth when Joe appears back in the kitchen.

"Who a fuckboy?" He asks, the whole time he's staring directly at you. Joe knows you said it, he just wants to hear the words come from you. But you can't because Ja'Marr is currently trying to make up some kind of lie.

"See, you gon' get yourself caught up, Y/N. Real shit, Joe don't play them games." Justin tells you before mushing you back softly.

"Fuck yo' teammate who is also your friend, respectfully."

- - - - -

"Wanna take a swim?" A frat boy asks you, you nod your head slowly stripping off your clothes and placing them near Naomi's belongings.

You grab the dudes hand and walk towards the pool, people staring at the both of you murmuring words under their breath.

Joe and his teammates are smoking cigars when he sees you stepping into the pool, "Just what the fuck are you doing?"

You snap your eyes over at him, "You see I'm in the pool, cunt." People start oohing and Joe's face turns red. Never has a woman disrespected him constantly.

His teammate, Tyler, taps Joe on his shoulder, "You gon' have to handle that." Joe's friends murmur words in agreement. He peers his over at you again, watching you attract people with the way you're moving your body.

"Yeah, you right. I can't take the disrespect for too long."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you like the girl, Joseph." A child-hood friend of Joe's, Derrick, says. Joe hears a few people agree with his friend, sucking his teeth, Joe flicks Derrick off.

- - - - -

The party is slowly coming to an end and you're grabbing all of your belongings when suddenly Joe walks up to you. "You know, it's very disrespectful to call somebody a cunt.

"Hm, am I suppose to care?"

"No.. but I-

"Exactly, I knew you weren't slow! Have a good night.. Mr. Burrow." You give Joe a fake smile, walking off to your car with Naomi trailing behind you. Joe can't help to grin, his first time ever being told off by a woman. He's impressed but you're not.

"I think he's definitely into you," Naomi mumbles once you two reach your car. You hum, not really thinking too much into the thought. Maybe, maybe, Joe might have a crush on you. But who cares, certainly not you,  right?

[harringtons-cupid]

Happy 29th birthday Joseph Quinn x Fem! Reader

➻Wc: 2.1k

➻Warnings 18:

Very Smutty: Cunnilingus, fingering, clit spanking, ass spanking, skin grabbing, biting, scratching, nail digging, nipple sucking, creampies (pls use protection!), daddy kink, squirting, neck sucking. Brief car sex, making out, alcohol use. Slight fluff

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You had bought a new red dress, he always said he liked you in red. You were feeling confident as the day rolled along.

His agent helped you with the plane tickets, the hotel and the other finicky details. All you needed to do was get Joe in the car.

His agent helped you with the plane tickets, the hotel and the other finicky details. All you needed to do was get Joe in the car.

He was lying naked on your bed, gazing at you with those beautiful brown eyes. His hands were grabbing every bit of skin, pulling you right onto his hard throbbing cock.

His hands roughly rubbing your clit, making you gasp and whimper at the sensation. Your legs were positioned either side of him on the bed, his cock was grinding between your folds and teasing your entrance.

You moaned into his mouth as he kissed you, your clit twitching as he slapped it hard. Feeling it pulsate against his skin, his tip edging further and further inside you. Your cunt clenching with every movement of your clit, your nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck baby, I’m going to try to not move until your cunt is dripping wet and begging to be fucked” he growled into your ear.

Making you whimper at his words, biting your lip as he flicked your clit. Feeling it grow wetter and wetter with every movement, his cock twitching inside you.

He brought your nipples closer to his mouth and sucked aggressively on them, feeling you move slowly on his cock from the intense pressure. His fingers still playing with your clit as you rocked back and forth.

“Joe, it feels so good” you whimpered, moving quicker with each moan.

Your cunt was dripping around his cock, pulsating and needing to move. Your nails scratched his chest as he gripped hard onto your hips and slammed your cunt down on his cock.

Listening to you groan as his tip hit into your sweet spot that was feeding your insatiable hunger to be fucked.

He held you down as he began to slam hard into your cunt, the wet sounds flooded his ears. Your clit twitched from the on and off attention it got from being slammed down onto his pelvic bone with every thrust.

Edging you closer and closer to your orgasm, your body shaking, your breath hitched as he gazed at you. Seeing you in such pleasure was the best birthday gift you could ever give him.

''You going to cum all over Daddy's cock for his birthday baby?'' he hummed, the pain from his fingernails made you rock back and forth.

Your moans turned into gasps as your eyes shot open and rolled back as you felt yourself cum. Nodding and whining as you squirted hard over his cock, covering the bed and his thighs.

He smirked, continuing to thrust inside you as you collapsed onto his chest to catch your breath. Your hot and sweaty bodies sticking together as his tip hit your soft spot over and over.

After gaining the energy, your clit clenched around his cock hearing him grunt and groan beneath you gave you the overwhelming feeling of power. Leaning backwards rocking your hips on his tip, it felt sensitive inside as you rode him closer to his orgasm.

''See Daddy, it's your turn to cum. You going to fill this pussy up, Daddy's birthday treat'' you smirked, watching his eyes flash darker as he let you fuck him.

''Oh fuck baby, I'm going to fill your pussy up for my birthday'' he grunted, his cock twitched inside you.

You could feel him trying to refrain from cumming to early but you rode faster and faster until he fucked a thick load of cum inside you. Not stopping until more his cum leaked out, if he got you pregnant right now he really wouldn't mind.

Panting heavily as you fell onto the bed next to him, laughing as he closed his eyes and pretended to snore. He smirked and leant over to kiss you before climbing off the bed and dashing into the bathroom.

As he showered, you organised the rest of the plans with his agent. Your stomach was bubbling with anxiety and excitment, after an hour you both stood on your doorstep as you waited for the car to arrive.

Joe's hand in yours as the blacked out car pulled up, his questioning had begun to annoy you but you hid it well. It was his birthday.

Much to his protesting you forced a black satin blindfold over his eyes as you drove to your first destination.

His favourite restaurant in New York was reserved completely for him as you led him inside.

Watching as his eye lit up with delight at the sight in front of him, you were brought to a table for two overlooking Central Park. You ate lusciously at the restaurant for lunch before taking a stroll through the park.

As it grew closer to the evening, Joe's hand in yours. He pulled you closer to him and kissed you.

''Thank you for a lovely day baby, I have enjoyed it so much'' he grinned, kissing you once more before walking back towards the arranged car.

''It isn't over yet'' you giggled as he fought the black satin blindfold once more.

As he opened the eyes, in front of him was a black tie outfit as you winked at him. He sighed and raised his eyebrows before quickly changing with you in the car, taking your hand as you quickly blindfolded him again and led him into the second venue.

''A bar? oh baby you've out done yourself'' he blushed, resting himself against the bar.

''Not just any bar though baby'' you giggled again, ordering over the bartender for drinks.

''It's the one where we first met'' you both spoke in unison, laughing as your lips smashed together.

The bartender took your drinks as you both remised about your first meeting, you were in a similar outfits which when he noticed his eyes shone even brighter and kissed you harder.

Pushing you hard against his body as his tongue slid into your mouth just as the bartender placed down the drinks in front of you and waited for your payment. Playfully fighting Joe with your card, you won and teased him about it being 'his day'.

You spent just under 2 hours at the bar before you shoved another blindfold over his eyes and shoved him into the car again. His tipsy protesting made you laugh as you dragged out in front of the final venue of the night.

His hand in yours as undid his blindfold, the fancy restaurant was full of live and bright lights. Round the corner all your friends sat around the table, raising their glasses and cheering at the sight of you both.

Joe grinned happily pulling you in for a hot kiss in front of everyone, causing more loud cheers from your friend group before sitting down.

You had arranged a set menu for the whole group with your friends paying ahead, spending a couple of hours with the group before giddily being pushed into the restaurant toilets by Joe.

His hands were all over you as he grinded your clit against his hands, heavy breathing against your face as he kissed you and smirked.

''I have wanted to fuck you since I saw you in that red dress'' he smirked, nibbling onto your neck where his words were mumbled.

''Joe, why don't we sneak out the back? Everyone else is going to go home soon anyway'' you winked, pointing towards the signs on the wall.

A bottle of champagne clinked in your bag as you ran out the staff delivery door giggling with Joe as the cool air hit your faces. The blacked out car started at the sight of you, still giggling as you jumped inside.

His hands were on you as he pushed you onto the backseats of the car, pinching and biting every bit of skin. His rock hard cock pressing against your skin as he lifted up your dress, pulling down your underwear and dropping them onto the floor. He found your clit and sucked softly onto it as the car pulled to a stop, giggling he stopped and stepped out the car.

Your clit throbbing from the brief attention, picking up your belongings and rushed after him. Once inside, his clothes were scattered across the house following them upstairs. Biting your lip as your eyes fell upon his completely naked body once more.

His hands grabbed you and pushed you hard onto the bed, your ass up in the air as his head buried deep between your thighs. Sucking your clit hard as your hips rocked in his face, his fingers played with your opening before sliding them one by one inside you.

Gasping at the pleasure as you rode his fingers hard, pushing your cunt against his face dampening his beard as he edged you closer to your orgasm. Your legs trembling as your head buried deeper into the bed, your moans were loud and quick.

Your eyes rolled back as your body shook, his fingers curling deeper and deeper inside you until you felt yourself squirt all over his face. His fingers continuing to slide in and out of you faster each time until you felt like screaming, your body twitched hard as you felt yourself cum for the second time.

Smirking to yourself, he let you fall onto the bed for second as he stroked his cock and positioned it between your entrance and teased your clit before sliding it inside.

Pulling you closer, he pushed your head back into the bed as his hands spanked hard onto your ass cheeks. His cock sliding in and out of you from behind, the bed rocked as you gripped onto the bed covers for minimal support.

''Fuck Joe, my cunt is so sensitive please be kind to me'' you practically screamed into the bed covers.

He laughed which rippled against your body as he thrusted harder into your dripping cunt, watching it slide in and out of you. Spanking your ass hard, enjoying the feeling as it rippled against his cock.

Panting “fuck, fuck, fuck” hard as you slid back onto his cock from behind, his fingers scratching your back as you continued to thrust back onto his cock until his moans turned into whimpers.

His hands gripped onto your hips and slammed your cunt hard onto his cock, not letting you move a muscle from the speed as his cock made your cunt wetter and wetter.

Your body shook as he thrusted harder into your cunt until you felt yourself cum for the third time that night. Squirting harder onto his cock, the sounds of your cum hitting his body and coating the bed.

He kept fucking your cunt until you felt like you couldn’t cum anymore, his fingernails hurt your hips as he groaned hard. His head tipped back as his eyes shut tightly, his cock twitched as it hit your walls hard.

“Fuck baby, Daddy is going yo fill your cunt up even more today.” He moaned pathetically as his body began to slow down his thrusts.

You rocked your hips weakily on his cock as he twitched more quickly inside you, his body shook as he came hard inside you. Not stopping completely until the mixture of your cum seeped out your sore and swollen cunt.

He hummed as he leant backwards, watching the cum slide out you with his cock. His fingers slid between your entrance, dipping inside you and lifting out the cum mixture.

Sucking it slightly off his fingers before lifting your head up and forcing his fingers in your mouth until you gagged. Making sure you tasted it too.

He spanked your ass and clit hard until you whimpered with overstimulation and exhaustion. Kissing down your body as he let you collapse onto the bed.

His body snaked around yours from behind, gripping hard onto your body as his head nestled into your neck and hummed.

“I love you baby, thank you for today. We both got some treats today” he kissed your head and neck as he felt you fall asleep quickly in his arms.

[adiluv-moved]

❥ PHOTOGRAPHER + BUBBLY S/O HCS. ˚⊹꒷

☁️୧・꒰word count꒱ 1101.

⚜️୧・꒰warnings꒱ slightly rushed ꒰attempted to beat the 'not posting tonight' allegations꒱.

🪻୧・꒰adi moment꒱ request here! must say, i'm a big fan of joseph's beautiful gorgeous nature! apologies for those that don't have the hyacinth emoji available ꒰my laptop included꒱—i promise that this looks good on supported devices. still, i really loved this prompt, and i hope you enjoy! ꒰ ´ ˘ `꒱

꒰⚔️꒱・Joseph certainly would’ve never expected to find somebody as bright as you residing within the accursed Oletus Manor. Or, at the very least, somebody who was able to stay so bright even after discovering the true, disturbing nature of the game. Most others had been quick to fall into a state of despair ꒰even if temporary꒱ after coming to such a morbid realization, and while Joseph wasn’t taken too far aback by such knowledge—having had a hidden dark-side of his own—the repetitiveness of it did eventually manage to get to him. So seeing you, all optimistic and cheery, continuing to hold out hope for something better… for freedom… it ignited a spark of hope within him, shocking as it was.

꒰⚔️꒱・Truthfully, he really does admire your positive outlook on life, a sentiment that’s heightened if you’ve had a particularly difficult past. It’s easy to say that the manor’s appeal usually does arise from the desire to have a new life, something that—in its own, twisted way—does come true. This ability of yours to stay so kind, despite the hardships you’ve faced both in and outside of the manor, is one that he respects—especially knowing that such a thing couldn’t be true for himself.

꒰⚔️꒱・I imagine that Joseph would very much enjoy flustering you. There’s something so utterly interesting to him about the way that your normally loud demeanor vanishes whenever he flirts with you, instead replaced by a blushing, stammering mess. Much to your dismay, this task is one that proves to be relatively easy for the photographer, too—his previous life having required him to know how to charm people. After all, it’s much easier to find willing models when you know how to flatter them, no? But, of course, he means every word he tells you.

꒰⚔️꒱・As an extension of this, he also enjoys teasing you whenever you become flustered by his gestures of affection. Your reactions are just so… so adorable, really—he just can’t help but want to see the way you attempt to hide your reddened cheeks! He might even pinch them, too, assuming that he’s feeling especially playful. However, as much as he relishes in riling you up, he’s also quite good at understanding when he’s crossing the line—and he’ll be quick to stop himself if he notices that he’s taking things too far.

꒰⚔️꒱・I’ll be honest, you’ve dragged him onto the roller-coaster at Moonlit River Park at some point. He’s never really been the type to enjoy the circus—his status as a Count does place certain expectations on his shoulders, ones that he’s been taught since birth to uphold—so let me tell you… That ride absolutely broke him. While he would’ve attempted to maintain his composure at the beginning, he’d end up screaming his lungs out for a majority of the ride, hitting notes higher than you’d thought possible on the loop and cursing out a mix of both English and French loud enough for your teammates to hear.

꒰⚔️꒱・The poor man wasn’t even able to get out of the cart by the time that hellish experience was over, entire body trembling like a leaf during a hurricane as you attempted to pull him out. You were genuinely worried that he would’ve collapsed right then and there, and he had to brace himself against one of the metal posts at the coaster’s final station as he surrendered. Joseph would later make an attempt to keep the news of his embarrassing reactions under wrap, though Freddy wasted no time in informing your fellow survivors about the events of the match. I… wouldn’t be too shocked when he uses that map to reach his quota of serious games against you. 

꒰⚔️꒱・He’d rather be damned than allow anybody to destroy your cheerful personality, an attitude that applies to both the other survivors and his fellow hunters. For the most part, any sort of rudeness directed towards you isn’t something that he’ll address in the moment, instead preferring to watch from the sidelines and comfort you once they’ve left. Once your spirits have been restored, however, and he parts ways with you… his response becomes much different.

꒰⚔️꒱・Say what you want about him, but Joseph feels absolutely zero shame in targeting a survivor until they decide to apologize to you, and most other hunters already know that it’s a bad idea to try and go head-to-head with a trained ꒰and highly skilled꒱ fencer. He does take quite good care in maintaining his rapier, after all. 

꒰⚔️꒱・He’ll always encourage you to express yourself, even when you aren’t necessarily feeling all that positive about your current living situation. While he certainly does know that your positivity is a part of you, he also knows that it’s incredibly unhealthy for one to live life whilst not allowing themselves to express any sort of negative emotion. If you’d like to rant to him about something, or if you just feel like moping, then he’ll be glad to lend you an ear. Can’t have you bottling your feelings up, now can he? Especially not when he adores hearing that delightful voice of yours.

꒰⚔️꒱・Although he loves you, and is eternally grateful that you’d decided to accept the baron’s invitation—Joseph just can’t help but find it downright cruel that somebody as wonderful as you ended up stuck within such a horrible place. It’s a terrible twist of fate, in his eyes, that you’re forced to suffer through these games—possibly even for the rest of your life, seeing the ever growing amount of residents within the manor. This isn’t something that he talks about often, though he longs for nothing more than a life where the both of you could’ve met outside of Oletus’ doomed walls, regardless of how unlikely such a thing would be.

꒰⚔️꒱・In any case, it’s an idle fantasy that his mind simply can’t help but wander to every now and then—more so whenever the night approaches. His desire to cuddle with you often leads him to share your bed, thoughts often drifting to you as he holds your sleeping form in his arms. His dreams grant him no reprieve from such reveries, either, thoughts of a peaceful life with you plaguing his slumber. 

꒰⚔️꒱・How lovely it would be, in some sort of other life, to be back within his own manor—waking up in his room with you beside him, living blissfully without ever having to come in contact with the baron. The both of you could travel the town—country, even—if you wished, strolling around like one of those couples in his favorite paintings. Oh, if only there were a way to escape…

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