#than I was about the gnarly violence

[social-cocoon]

I watch all the live action ATLA eps and overall I think it was fine. The first ep was atrocious but the rest of them weren't so bad, though some of the changes they made started losing me in the last 2 eps.

Also I may have become a giant Kyoshi fangirl

[leonsrightarm]

the tumblr girlies were right about saw

[alexiroflife]

"my duty to you"

fluff, pining, suggestive themes, kingdom au, (i was inspired by the dynamic in the movie "Epic" w/ queen tara & ronin or this one if yall know what i'm referencing)

bodyguard!toji fushiguro x royalty!reader

Synopsis: toji, a man raised in poverty who has been forced to turn to violence for the sake of survival, finds himself at the princess' side as her personal bodyguard

to sum it up: toji has never been fond of royalty, yet he submits to his responsibility to protect you with passion he has not shown to anything else

WC: 14,242

Warning(s): mentions of trauma, violence, assault, vaguely suggestive themes

Toji knows he was never cut out for an uppity lifestyle.

He’s a gruff man, rough around the edges with an air of dark mystery radiating about him. He has never believed himself to be an attractive man, at least in the realm of those who make women drop to their knees and swoon with romance. He’s more fermented, well-aged, well experienced, and he has the looks of someone who has endured hell and more, not those of a freshly groomed prince blooming in his wake.

Toji, though a man of difficult upbringing, having undergone more of reality’s harsh lessons than almost anyone in this world, has a specific set of skills that comes in handy no matter the setting. He is not a man of incredible wealth, prowess, or poise, but he can associate himself with the likes of those who are by means of what he does, and what he does remarkably well. His talents are the only reason, he believes, why he has been in your service, smack in the middle of your world for teetering into two years now.

Raised in the slums, orphaned by his absent parents, Toji taught himself a way to live. He thinks that he was born hard, when he looks back, for no one else could have survived the way he had after those years of scrounging around for food, desperately searching for change and a decently comfortable pile of grass he could sleep in. As the world grew harsher, pushing against his growing mind and body, Toji pushed back harder, angrier, more solid and more grounded. He was blessed from the moment he entered this earth with unique physical qualities that gave him an advantage when fighting to live, his internal and external mold serving as an inhuman benefit, as though he was meant to struggle the way he had all of his life. As though fighting was his destiny. 

The dark haired man had encountered many different means of keeping himself afloat over the years too, some more grim than others that he refused to look back on. Nevertheless, after the will of the merciless wind had tossed him around feverishly for far longer than he realized would have been normal for anybody else, he understood that his place in this world was to stand proudly as a man capable of unspeakable violence, inept at the art of killing for the sake of his own gain. 

It’s a dog eat dog world. Toji learned this before he even hit puberty, and therefore, he learned what it meant to transition himself into one - a far more gnarly beast than any of the world’s nastiest entities of evil could conjure. If he only had the choice of eating or being eaten, Toji was going to devour before another dog could get the chance to bare his teeth at him. 

Well into his familiarity with his own brutality, his craft honed in and sharpened to perfection and his years of youth having flown by with the snap of his fingers, Toji is recognized by a crowd that he’s despised for as long as he can remember. 

He is in the middle of a boxing match, one of many he participates in for the hell of it and the cash rather than as a profession, when a representative from the palace ogles him from the crowd, standing out as a sore thumb amidst the screaming patrons clinging to the velvet ropes of the ring, drunk off stinking liquors and spit flying excitedly from their mouths in awe as Toji, undefeated, lands a particularly gruesome blow to the face of his opponent. His foe collapses, blood smearing from his crooked nose, and the jade eyed man filled with years of pent up rage and stress, straddles the nearly unconscious man’s torso and plows his fist into his face repeatedly with wild, shrunken eyes and tight lips. 

Toji only takes notice of his visitor in the midst of his abuse, eyes flickering up quickly to mull over the crowd when he finds a terrified face masked in a black cloak, attempting to shrink into the rest of the room. But Toji sees him clearly, a palace ambassador with no place in an underground ring so far from home.

The dark haired man refuses to even look at him as the owner tells him that he has a guest. He unravels the wrap from his stained fists, back tensing. Toji tells him to fuck off, not even having to whip his head around to see who it is. He can tell by his boss’ tone and the silence of the said visitor that he is exactly who he believes him to be. That, and Toji never receives visitors, for the people who are well aware of his reputation stray far away, fearing the worst from his seemingly deadly lust for blood. 

His owner, however, does not turn the man away. Toji understands that he must have been paid a good deal in jewels by this cloaked man to allow him to stay back here, not leaving until he asks for some kind of favor. An agitated exhalation rises in Toji’s chest, heavy eyes tossing over his shoulder to glare at the ambassador. He gulps, trembling hands reaching up to lower his hood.

“The fuck do y’want?” Toji spits.

The ambassador’s hesitant gaze scatters over his bare back, his fists, the scars littering his skin and lip, and the murderous glow in his venomous eyes. He looks terrified for his life, face dotted in beads of sweat and eyes still full of innocent light quivering. “I-I’m here on- on behalf of the King and Queen.”

Toji stills, brows drawing together. The man’s words seem to have an impact on his boss, normally an uncaring man, for he leaves with a swiftness once royalty is mentioned, sworn to silence by hush money. 

Toji scoffs, shaking his head and turning back around to refocus on his task. “You got the wrong guy,” he dismisses. “Now beat it before I kill ya.”

But he doesn’t, standing his ground rather poorly, clearly shaken by the fact that his life has been threatened for what Toji can only assume to be the very first time. He rolls his eyes at the sentiment, at how weak, fragile, and perfectly stupid palace folk are. “S-Sir, please-”

“Sir?” Toji raises a brow, crouching to sit down heavily on his bench, tossing his bloodied bandages onto the ground before him. His abdominals, bulky and intensely defined, ripple with his movements as he slides his towel from his shoulders, swiping it over his skin roughly. “I ain’t no sir, pal.”

The ambassador stiffens, lips pursing together. “Um- Mr. Toji…?”

Toji twists up his mouth at him unimpressed. “Fushiguro.”

“Yes! Y-Yes, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Christ, it’s just Fushiguro.”

“Oh,” he nods erratically. “Yes, then. Fushiguro,” he clears his throat. “I’m afraid it’s a matter of great importance.”

“Clearly it is to you lot, or else your dumbass wouldn’t be here,” Toji grumbles, settling a hand on his thigh. “I don’t have time for bullshit. You either get to the point, or the King and Queen are gonna be down one messenger.”

Toji is a violent man. He has had to be violent in order to live, in order to eat, in order to sleep, and now in his late thirties, it has become embedded in who he is. Violence is his first response to every circumstance, to every person who approaches him, to every dirty look that he is thrown, to every unknown within this world that has been nothing but greedy, cruel, and selfish to him. 

Even so, he is not always keen on his word when he threatens such things. He knows that if he were to lay a hand on this toothpick, he would be hanged and quartered within the hour, and Toji isn’t too keen on allowing the kingdom dickheads be the reason his life comes to an end after he fought so desperately to even reach past his twenties. This ambassador knows this, and yet, he is still shaking like a leaf as though Toji has any authority over him, because in truth, he does here in his territory, only temporarily. Toji can use the fear he inspires and the intimidation of his capabilities and large frame to attempt to shake a palace ambassador off of his ass, but there is nothing more to his stern words other than a desire to be left alone.

“You must listen,” the little man continues to press. “The King and Queen- t-they send me for the sake of their daughter!”

Toji groans. “I don’t give a shit who they sent you for, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

“I fear they are fully aware of who they sent me to speak with,” the ambassador’s brows angle with a sense of urgency. Toji, having been bored by the conversation, rubs his fingers over the bridge of his nose and tilts his head tiredly. “N-Not many of us know about the things you do, but I was told to seek out the strongest, and you are… him.”

“What the hell do they want me for? I ain’t got shit for you pricks. Just leave me be.”

“Fushiguro,” he calls again before Toji can stand and turn away. “I understand you may not care about what the kingdom needs, but you are being offered a great deal of money. A generous salary.”

Toji’s ears perk up at this. He rises slowly, sauntering over to the man with slim, suspicious eyes and a taut jaw. Sweat glistens his bare torso, rolled up sweats hanging low on his waist. As he grows closer, the ambassador takes notice of his great size up close, and his eyes widen as he cowers away slightly from the man that casts a shadow over him completely. 

Toji stares down over his nose and tilted chin with a frown. “A salary? From the King and Queen themselves?” he repeats, and the man whimpers a hum in affirmation. “The hell is going on? What could possibly be turning their panties in a bunch to offer a job to someone like me?”

“It’s their daughter,” the man re-emphasizes. 

“Who?”

“The princess!” he says as though it is obvious, a desperate expression taking his features. “She needs security.”

“From what?”

“The King and Queen grow old, and so does the princess. Their reign is coming to an end, and with that, the princess’s life is often endangered by those seeking to take her right to the crown while her parent’s grow less capable of ruling. There’s already been two assassination attempts and one assault attempt within the past few months,” the ambassador explains, severely. “The princess needs someone to look after her, to be by her side as she prepares to rule as queen and as she looks for a husband.”

“And you want me to be her bodyguard?” Toji raises his brows.

“In a sense… yes.”

The dark haired man snorts in the ambassador’s face, the latter deflating at his reaction. “Of all people, you want me?”

“...Yes. That is correct.”

“What, the brat doesn’t have knights or something?”

“None that are capable of what you do.”

“And how the hell do you know what I do? You come to one match and think you're an expert on my life?” Toji grits his teeth, leering down at the poor man. The ambassador raises his hands in defense, stepping back anxiously. “I see everyone and everything that crosses my path. I’ve never seen you before in my life, and all of a sudden now you show up with a job offer from the fucking King and Queen. Gimme a break.”

He walks off, irritatedly throwing his towel in the corner and ripping open his locker on the other side of the room. “You’re right. I haven’t been watching you, but I’ve been asking around town about someone who could fit the role for weeks, and everyone was too afraid to mention you until a few days ago. Since then, I’ve heard stories.”

“People here like to gossip,” Toji murmurs.

“But your name scares people, right?”

“I don’t care what my name does.”

“Fushiguro, please,” he begs. “I don’t believe you are a man who cares about what happens in the palace-”

“I’m not.”

“But you must care about a sense of duty? Of justice? Of compensation, at least?”

“Obviously I care about money more than I do any of the other shit you just mentioned. But you tell me one thing,” his face hardens. “What the hell has the kingdom done for sorry asses like me, huh? Why should I be the one to help them when they haven’t helped me a day in my life? They’re all a bunch ‘a stuck up, frilly airheads stuck in their own bubble of what they think is urgent. So what if the princess gets a little spooked here and there? Maybe it’ll teach her a life lesson about what the world is really like. ‘Cause I’ll tell ya this, the girls where I come from don’t get to have a bodyguard before bad shit happens to them.”

Toji isn’t entirely sure why he is making a point to shame the people at the top when in the end, he knows he is going to take the job. Money, Toji finds, is incredibly valuable where he is from, and considering the hands he has dirtied in the past to get it, this proposal is practically nothing. Still, that doesn’t mean he likes the kingdom any more for their lack of involvement with the lower classes. His morals, which remain very few, go against this proposal he already knows he is going to accept - slaving away for those who made him a slave to gruesome fates, but hell, what can a man really do when he’s at his wits end and unfathomable riches are being presented to him on a silver platter?

He can complain, yes, but nothing can rank higher than the money the palace is practically drowning in. Besides, he doesn’t have to stay, he thinks. He can entertain this little charade for as long as he has enough funds to set him up for life, and then he’ll be out of there. In and out, quick and easy, and this place would never see his face again. 

A grim look befalls the ambassador’s face while Toji rummages through his belongings for his clothes. He is clearly discomforted by Toji’s words, which was the goal the man aimed to achieve in the first place. 

“We can not force you to do anything you do not desire to do yourself,” the ambassador starts, and somehow, Toji senses that the man is lying for the sake of making it appear as though Toji has a choice. “But I implore you to consider. The princess is unlike her parents. She is younger, eager. There is a legacy she must carry and people she must lead. Without her, the entire kingdom collapses. Including your village.”

Toji’s nose twitches. “Maybe that’ll do this shithole some good,” he grumbles.

The ambassador sighs, shoulders slumping. “Please… think about it.”

Toji rolls his eyes, turning and knuckling a hand to his hip. “How much money ‘we talking here, buddy?”

And oh, is the pay fucking obscene.

Toji doesn’t think he’s ever fathomed such grand numbers and jewels in his head, having been restricted by his village’s limitations, but once he hears his pay manifested into reality by a simple verbalization, his guilt trip seizes and he is signing his life away almost happily.

From then on, Toji is bound to the likes of you, his signature scribbled messily over a royal contract and securing him to you from now until your death… at least, that is what the fine print says. His plans, however, differ, and when he has fled from you, he will be hundreds of miles out of the kingdom’s reach.

That is his plan. To run away, but you unfortunately do not make this a very plausible task for him.

After days of training that Toji does not at all listen to, of watching elder royalty turn their nose up in disgust at the way he speaks and carries himself, of hearing murmurs of disapproval as he saunters down red carpeting with the head guard to meet yet another person that he will not remember the name or importance of, of being sworn to secrecy - to only serve as a protective, lethal air of silence and nothing more - to refuse any and all physical or verbal interaction with the woman in his protection, and of being fitted into a stuffy black uniform clad with gold detailing that serves only for show since he would have hardly bothered to lift an arm in that uncomfortable ass thing, let alone kill someone, Toji finally meets you.

And he has to admit that you are not at all what he expects.

Adorned in a regal soft pink gown that crowds from your waist and pools down to the floor, cuffing delicately at your wrists through sheer sleeves and tugging over your torso snugly with a corset, you stand before him in your chambers like an angel gracing earth. Your bejeweled gold crown sits upon your head with complementarity and your ringed fingers clasp each other before your lap. You're decked in what Toji can only assume to be century old gems, necklaces, and chains which he has to physically fight himself from reaching to pluck from your body and run off with. Standing before him, he decides that you are worth at least twenty times more than the almost forty years of life he has spent picking around for specs of funds. 

The thought agitates him. 

While he wishes he can say that he is the only one agitated, he notices a flick of fire in your (e/c) eyes as you size him up, trace your gaze over him with judgment and a pout on your glossed lips. Your presence is almost frightening with power as the two of you stare at each other, him with blank indifference and you with very apparent disappointment. 

When the head guard eventually takes his leave now that you are in the hands of your newly bestowed bodyguard, the door closing behind the two of you as you enter the hall in preparation to go handle your duties, you stop in your tracks, dress ruffling along with you. Toji, who has been told to remain ten feet behind you at all times, freezes like a statue, eying you when you whip your head around to glare at him.

Toji’s heard of elegant aestheticism, of the otherworldly beauty that the royal family carries, but he hadn’t believed it until he sees you face to face - though he’ll admit, he imagined you to appear less… aggravated and more peachy? Light. Dimwittedly sugary.

“Listen up,” you demand, a shocking bass carrying in your tone. You’re dominant, he noticed, or at least you are attempting to be. You stand proud, tall, chin lifted and eyes narrow. This certainly isn’t the picture of spoiled naivety that he imagined you to be previously. “I don’t know whatever the royal guard told you, but I’m not a damsel in need of protecting. I didn’t agree to whatever this is or whoever the hell you are invading my life.”

Toji’s brow lifts in intrigue. You certainly are not what he expected. Not at all.

Encouraged by your tone, his lips quirk up into a subtle smirk. You drag your brows together in confusion, eyes catching the scar that stretches over the right side of his lips. “Do you find me amusing?” you frown.

“A little bit,” the dark haired man responds quickly, leading you to reel slightly in shock. He appears so unaffected by you, and you’ve never encountered a person who hasn’t scrambled to kneel in your presence or nervously abide by any and everything you say. The gaul of this stranger, you think, to stand before you so casually and smile as though your position of authority is some sort of joke.

“I beg your pardon?” you scoff. “You should mind yourself when you speak to me.”

“I’m not paid to speak to you, doll, let alone be sweet on you,” Toji scratches under his jaw, his posture slipping into something resembling his nature rather than that of a rigid guard. His hands find the pockets of his uniform slacks, hardly caring at all how disrespectful the stature appears to you. “In fact, I think you’re bein’ a little rude by tryin’ to strike a conversation with me in the first place.”

“Well, I did not advise you to answer me. I expected you to simply listen,” you state firmly. “Clearly, you are incapable of doing so without having something to say.”

Your comment is snarky, judgmental, and Toji at least finds that you match the idea of snobbiness that all royalty withhold. “If I got somethin’ to say,” he starts. “I’ll say it. You don’t gotta worry about me being untruthful with ya, I’ll tell you that. I’ll give it to ya straight.”

“And how do you think the royal guard would feel about such a thing?” you posed. “If they were to hear even a second of what you are saying to me now, you’d be booted from my side and this palace immediately.”

“And what exactly makes you think that I care about that?” he chuckles, watching you shift with sudden uncertainty. This man does not appear to be swayed by you in the slightest, and it is a bit off putting to you as a woman accustomed to your every beck and call being honored. “I thought you weren’t happy about what the ‘royal guard’ had me doin’. Besides, if you wanted me out, you’re the princess, yeah? You could kick me out yourself. I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”

Your lips tighten, eyes digging further together. His attitude is strange to you as well as his dialect, the manner in which he speaks. Even his appearance is strange, for while he is dressed in your palace’s fabrics, he is drabber than everything around you. And even with this royal clothing, his face and build do not match his suit. 

He has tired bags under his poisonous haze of ivy hues. Dark tendrils of inky hair sprout over his forehead, his ears, and into his sharp gaze. His facial structure is hard, mature with hints of stubble sprouting over his chin, remnants of what you assume to be the guard forcing him to shave. He’s bulky as well, remarkably so. He’s an unnaturally large man, and his muscles bulge against his clothing as though it is going to burst with the raise of his arm. 

His eyes, however, are pools of green you have never seen before - not once in all your twenty seven years of living. While the people that you surround yourself with carry a light in their twinkling gazes sparked by a passion for protecting your throne and the privilege of the lives they lead, your new bodyguard’s eyes are a stark contrast. Even from afar, you can see the exhaustion swirling about them as he looks at you slyly. He’s weary somehow, the windows of his soul revealing a glimpse into his world, into the things he has seen, and that is how you deduce that he is not the same as you. Not at all. 

This observation of yours only gives you more reason to question him.

“Who are you?” you command. “You’re not from here.”

“You must be a smart one,” he quips sarcastically.

You grit your teeth. “Answer me, now.”

“You know my name, darlin’. That’s all you need from me.”

“Not if your princess demands to know your identity.”

“You ain’t my princess, girlie,” he stops you. “You’re my job. And I don’t do a lot of talkin’ on the job.”

You make a noise of displeasure, something between a grunt and a gasp, and Toji only revels in the way he has thrown you off. You sputter, taking a step forward with emotion. “Now you wait just a minute-“

“Princess!” a voice calls for you from around the corner, down at the end of the long narrow hallway by your bedroom door. You quickly swish yourself around into the direction of the address, and Toji watches how your dainty fabrics dance along with you, even long after you have stopped moving. Seconds later, an ambassador appears, peeking his head around the wall. “Are you well? You are needed in the second floor den to review some papers regarding your upcoming coronation.”

Frazzled, you nod unceremoniously. “Yes. Yes, my apologies,” you breathe out. “I am coming. My guard and I were just… I was merely informing him of my expectations here on out.”

Toji would have rolled his eyes at the way you all speak, the sound of it on his ears rather exhausting. He can hardly keep up with the properness of it all. 

“I see,” the ambassador nods. “I shall inform everyone that you are on your way.”

The man leaves, and you take a moment to breathe in and dust yourself off. You murmur under your breath to yourself what Toji can only deduce as assurances and affirmations, little words you tell yourself to keep your rather striking confidence instilled. You clasp your hands once more, bracelets clinking as you regain your composure. Toji stands in silence, watching boredly.

“Whoever you are,” you begin, turning your head to your shoulder so that your voice is audible. “I don’t need you. Despite what my parents say, I manage fine on my own. Keep your distance.”

The green eyed man watches you walk off, forcing himself to begin following at a reasonable pace. His eyes train on the back of you as you trek ahead, and he finds himself lost in his thoughts, formulating his opinion of you.

You do not take to him easily over the course of your adjustment to each other, and neither does he. You find his presence to be a burden as he trails after you everywhere you go, far more invasive and persistent than your knights have ever been. He becomes your second shadow, and while you are accustomed to having been followed around all your life, Toji’s approach is impossible to ignore. 

Even from ten feet away, you feel him there, watching, and it drives you mad. 

He’s light on his feet, for if it weren’t for his obvious mass trekking in your footsteps, at times you would have forgotten that he was even nearby. How someone as big as him could travel so quietly, you did not understand.

And worse than his hovering is how foreign he still is to you. You know absolutely nothing about him, and your parents, who you find to be useless in their aging stupors these days, will not bother to tell you anything about where he is from. It isn’t the fact that he frightens you, per say, despite the rather frightening energy that he emits. You notice the way people stare as he follows your path, how they internally conjure their own ideas about who this ominous figure is and what he is doing in a place so very clearly unfit for his type, but you are not scared. You believe him to be a nuisance more than anything, and if he is there to protect you, you feel you have nothing to necessarily worry about in regard to your own safety. 

In fact, you feel unfathomably secure, though irritated more often than not.

What you seek from Toji are answers. He abruptly appears out of nowhere under the vow that he will be stuck to you like paste to parchment for the rest of your life, and you are expected not to question his arrival? To question his place of origin? To question what he has done to secure a place as the Princess’ bodyguard with no experience in this field? To question what he has done to be trusted by royalty with your life?

It doesn’t make any sense to you, and you feel that it is unfair to be kept in the dark as the future queen in place of your parents. And every time you try to go to him about it, he either ignores you or gives you that cunning smile, scar stretching and lips spreading.

Toji himself is itching to get out of here the second he’s nestled in. He despises the atmosphere, the sneering looks, the air of shrewdness that envelopes him everywhere he turns. You’re an ungrateful thing, and that only makes his job all the more aggravating. You don’t know how good you have it, and yet you look at him like he’s doing more harm to your life than good when he is literally ensuring that you are out of danger’s path.

He studies you from his position ten feet away, watching how you take on tasks and prepare for the day of your coronation, communicating with villagers surrounding the palace walls with a generous grin and a glowing energy about your presence, and how you patiently sit with your parents at breakfast, lunch, and dinner each day as they practically wither away in their seats. You are always so poised and polite in the presence of other people, authoritative and strong, yet when he is alone with you, you’re wallowing in displeasure, throwing him heated glances and clenching your jaw tightly. You find it hard to behave elegantly in his company, and that fact alone gives him some hint of satisfaction. 

But what Toji truly can’t stand above all the waiting that he has to do on you with no sign of action are the meetings you have with princes from far away, seeking to take your hand as their bride and fulfill the role as king. Toji’s found himself biting his tongue more times than he can count when he’s standing with his back pressed to the wall in one of your many tea rooms, the umpteenth shiny haired, pearly teethed virgin bowing his head before you and pompously chanting about all the wonderful things he would bring to your life if you were to allow him to wed you. Toji finds the whole thing ridiculous, for obviously you don’t want to share your crown with another man, especially not a husband, but the unspoken law of your reign requires that you must find someone to stand by your side. And of course after that is done, Toji is still expected to follow you around day in and day out.

And for what? What purpose does this bring him aside from money? He hasn’t even been given his first stipend a month into this little endeavor, and he’s beginning to think that the whole ordeal is a scam, that he had been tricked into a false agreement. He should have known when the guard outright refused to pay him up front beforehand due to their lack of trust in his goals, which in truth was fair, because the Fushiguro would have run for the hills the second he got his hands on those riches. Nevertheless, he’s growing tired of the repetitive tiredness of his routine. He was promised a chance to at least defend your honor by fighting, but despite the King and Queen’s concerns, he has not seen a single threat to your life yet. 

At night, a weight drags down on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling in a daze. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here, how he even came across such a thing. Back home, if the townfolk were to hear about where he had run off to, they’d all laugh. Toji Fushiguro, the man hungry for blood now at the will of the government that destroyed his childhood, his life. What a fucking joke. 

And you’re so perfect, it destroys him. To be serving such a deplorable image of sovereignty, to see your angelic face decorated in breathtaking clothes and to follow you around like a damn puppy with nothing to show for it. In your company, he is reminded of his place, of how much higher you are than he is. Though Toji is a man who has never cared what the higher class thought of him, in your wake, he feels helpless. He wants to say that he is holding out for a better future, that he is doing this for himself, but it doesn’t feel that way. He knows it’s not for him anymore, but for you, and what could you possibly bring him other than crisis after crisis, heart clench after heart clench, and more bubbling, searing aggravation over his place in society?

You are terribly beautiful, and Toji is not. He sees that the more he’s at your side, taking in the way everyone looks at you in comparison to how everyone looks at him. These palace walls are stuffy. They suffocate him, turn him against himself and almost make him forget who he is, and he can not stand it. 

He is convinced he needs to leave in the dead of night, to flee away without a trace left behind, off to a new world with no money and no plan. He believes that it would be a better fate than being stuck here… that is, until he is finally paid.

A monthly salary of a thousand gold and silver pennies combined. He is handed the sack of funds while he is off duty, hours after you have gone to sleep as though the exchange is illegal, and in the privacy of his cabin, his eyes glimmer with the reflection of the money in his grasp. His brow twitches, eyes still and jaw tightening.

He hadn’t believed it to be real before he got his hands on it.

He stares into the bag, into the past years he has spent on his knees crawling for barely even a scrap of this, into the future of tranquility where he can turn to rest without having to bloody his hands for the right to buy a sandwich, into everything he has ever done amounted into far less than one bag of this payment. He’s stupefied with disbelief, with greed, and hurries to escape that very night.

Toji is stripping himself of the bullshit pajamas the guard has sent for him to wear, tucking away the bullshit uniform he’s been snug in for weeks, and stuffing his pay into his beaten bag that he had tossed under his barracks. He changes back into his old clothes, the black shirt that hugs him comfortably and the sweats that pool over his calves, and he sneaks to the door when he pauses.

A glass window breaks just above him, and he whips his head up above. It’s coming from where your room is.

The dark haired man hangs his head low, conflicted. He could go, abandon you and pretend that none of this ever happened. He could go back on his promise to the kingdom, sentence himself to death by hand of royalty if he were to ever be discovered in his new home. He could flee from you, risking the chance of you dying under his protection and run off to live the life he has always dreamed of living, far from home, swimming in gold and silver.

Or he could stay. He could conquer whatever imposing danger he has detected within a half of a millisecond, his senses failing to fool him yet, and save your life. He could keep his promise to this awful society. His promise to you, and remain stuck forever.

Toji is inching out of the door, still pondering, leaning toward the latter hesitantly when a muffled scream rips from the open space of your window that has just been broken in. Your scream.

The dark haired man doesn’t know what takes over him as he drops his bag to the ground and rockets himself through his own window, foot first, to shatter the glass. His hands grip the rim as he flips himself over to face the exterior brick, digging his chipped fingernails into the crevices of the old stone to scale the side of the building that led to your room with swift agility. He claws his fingers into the ledge of your window past the grapple of a rope that was likely used to break in in the first place. A jagged edge of glass cuts his skin, but he hardly feels it due to the roughness of his callouses. 

Toji kicks his feet up and piles himself into your room, rolling onto the floor within a matter of at least five seconds. He rises slowly, chest rippling into his tight shirt as he visually locates what harm is befalling you.

You’re on your bed, kicking out against the cloaked figure hovering over you with a dirtied hand pressing over your mouth, his knees kicking open your thighs and another hand holding a dagger to your throat. A bruise circles the eye of the intruder just above the cloth worn over his mouth, likely a result of your fist to his face.

When you look up and find Toji, your panicked eyes widen in relief, your brows pressed together desperately as you screech out against the attacker’s palm. Your hair, normally so meticulously pinned is sprawled messily over your silk sheets, your satin nightgown threatening to ride up your thighs, ripped at the hims, and sweat pools over your chest as it glistens in the moonlight with each heavy, anguished breath you take. 

Toji’s eyes go dull, his face blank with something horrifying, yet familiar to him. You tremble, whimpering unintelligible sounds as the intruder turns to face Toji with foolish anger. “Get back!” he shouts through his mask. “Get back or I'll kill her!”

The knife’s tip presses further into your chin and you inhale sharply, squeezing your eyes tight and mustering up whatever strength you have left to turn and push away. 

Toji says nothing, staring emptily into your attacker’s eyes.

Toji finds that there is a certain coolness that takes over his body and mind mere moments before he goes in for a kill. He isn’t sure if it's a form of tranquility, or perhaps his fellowship with the act having done so many times over. His eyes gloss ever, and every muscle in his body smoothes out into a relaxed state. He is motionless, still as a sculpture, but his eyes are hungry with rage, flecks of red bleeding into the garden of his IRISES, honing in on his target before he pounces.

You don’t even see Toji move before your attacker is ripped off of you and you can finally breathe, scrambling to press your back to your headboard and stare ahead in horror. You swear you had only blinked, but by the time your teary vision refocuses, Toji is drenched up to his forearm in blood, a curved blade which seemed to manifest out of thin air clutched in his hand. His arm is curved over his mouth, reaching back over his alternate shoulder as though he had just made a slicing motion. His breathing is slow, smooth, and a headless body collapses onto your floor.

Wide eyes of fear-stricken (e/c) stare at the mangled corpse leaking out onto your expensive carpet, and you don’t even notice the splatter of blood that has reached your cheek from Toji’s nimble action. You’re hyperventilating, attempting to gather yourself after having been stolen from your sleep and held at knifepoint, and now suddenly your attacker is dead on the ground. It had all happened so fast. Your head is spinning, and you’re shaking terribly. You can’t even see straight. 

With a heavy exhale, Toji lowers his twitching bicep to his side, tossing his weapon off in the corner with a resounding clang! He rolls his head on his neck, stretching it from side to side and cracking it softly, before opening his eyes to find you. 

You stare at each other in heavy silence, you in grateful, terrified disbelief, and him with the knowledge of how you will react to his violence. He has seen it before. The screeches that follow, the running that ensues.

He waits for it, but… it doesn’t come.

Instead, you just stare at him like a deer in headlights.

He moves to ask if you are alright, to do something to break the air, when your door bursts open after hefty pounds at your door. Your parents and a few guards, who Toji now sees are quite useless, stand in the doorway, wide-eyed. 

Your parents move to comfort you and envelop you in their arms while the guards run to the scene in shock, mulling over the body that lay before Toji. He gets an earful, angry reprimanding about having done such a horrible act right before your eyes, and Toji looks over at you, finding that your eyes are already in him.

You try to speak up and say that he had no other choice, to actually defend Toji in your shaken state, but the authorities around you hear none of it and usher to whisk you away while Toji and a few knights are left to take care of his mess. You look over your shoulder, gluing your gaze to him as you are pulled carefully away. 

By the time Toji is finished, cleaned, and has been lectured by the guard, he finds himself rather exhausted, but all he can think about is whether you’re alright or not. He is told that he can find you in the library on the west wing. He ventures out and reaches the space, finding you seated in a lavish sofa before your fireplace with the room guarded by your father and mother who whisper urgently with more knights. When they look up and see Toji, however, they fall silent and immediately part to let him in. 

He quietly approaches, shutting the door softly behind him. He doesn’t make a sound, but you turn upon sensing him in the room. You’re cuddled into a warm blank that is wrapped over your shoulders, eyes heavy and tears damp. You sit in a sullen state, a still mess.

Toji rounds the sofa to stand far on your left side, body half concealed by the shadows of the unlit side of the library. The fire kindles gently over your face and in your eyes as you stare. Toji thinks that you almost look like a child this way, so vulnerable and disheartened. 

He’s seen things like this happen to women every day at home, only he didn’t always make it to help in time. For the first time since knowing you, he sees the same trauma in your eyes, the glimmer of innocence dimming ever so slightly. 

The dark haired man is not good with emotions, and he knows for damn sure that he will not know how to approach your own. He isn’t even meant to be speaking with you, but something deep in his bones is compelling him to you after witnessing you in such a horrible state. 

It’s his job after all. 

“You hurt?”

The question is gruff, blunt, and you look at him but not with an expectation for more. You sit with your knees to your chest as well, a position he has failed to ever see the Princess herself in. 

Eventually, you shake your head and look back to the fire crackling before you. “No.”

He hums, darting his eyes over you quickly. He sees a thin line of blood on your chin where the blade had been pointed into your skin. “You lyin’?”

You glance at him tiredly. “I am not injured,” you say again.

“Alright. You’re not injured.”

You look down, picking at your blanket as you chew on the inside of your lip. “…Toji.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you an assassin?”

The question catches Toji off guard, almost making him laugh. “That’s a little personal, doll.”

“I believe I deserve to ask right now. Forget the rules, the guards were not there. You were.”

He relaxes. You’ve got a point. “No. I ain’t an assassin. At least not every day.”

“But you have… done that before…”

“How else do you think I got the job?”

“Right,” you mutter as if reprimanding yourself for asking something so obvious. “You’re rather fast.”

He’s unsure where this stream of questions are coming from. You are still mellow, speaking below a whisper, but your eyes are in a different space away from what is before you. 

“Fast’s an understatement,” he mumbles and you give a nod, at least agreeing. “But yeah. I’m fast. Among other things.”

“And how long have you been…?”

“Killing?” Toji concludes the sentiment for you. You clamp your lips, retreating into yourself. “You can say it. It’s not gonna hurt ya.”

“Well, how long?”

Toji shrugs. “A while now I guess. I’m not a killer, but I do what I need to do when I have to.”

You nod, unable to find a verbal response to his words. Your lips purse forward and your eyes still beam into the fireplace in a daze.

Toji crosses his arms. “You scared of me yet?”

You exhale, corners of your lips tugging to the side. “You saved my life,” you say. “I am not scared of someone who has been hired to protect me.”

“That wasn’t really a pretty sight for a princess to see, though,” Toji attempts to reason.

“Yet you were not the man with the knife to my throat, were you?”

Toji falters. Once more, you’re right, but he’s a bit confused. He would have expected you to turn away from him, to reject his violent nature after seeing what he could do. But here you are, complacent with his abilities. Is it because of the shock?

He looks at you closer, but does not see any lingering signs of unawareness, or any stupor that freezes your mind and body. While you still look like you are slightly in a trance, you appear to simply be contemplating instead of suffering from shock. 

How are you so chill about all of this?

“I heard you’ve been attacked before,” Toji says rather bluntly. This makes you peek up, locking your eyes with his steely ones from afar. 

An exhale shakes your body. “So?”

“So?” he echoes with a scoff. “That’s not a big deal to you?”

“I told you before that I did not need you,” you say somewhat gently. “What you have seen tonight has happened more than you think, and will continue to happen in the future.”

“I hate to break it to ya, doll, but it didn’t look like ya didn’t need me. You didn’t really have much of a choice but to let me help you.”

“I have gotten out of those situations before. I could have gotten out of this one.”

Toji looks at you oddly. “Not from where I was standin’, you couldn’t.”

“I’m not weak,” you frown.

“I didn’t say you were. Hell, I saw the black eye you landed on the bastard before I snuffed his ass out,” Toji grumbles. “But you’re the Princess. Fightin’ isn’t your thing, it’s mine.”

“Do not attempt to fool me into thinking you wish to fight on my behalf,” you look him in the eye as you speak. “After all, you believe me to be inexperienced, don’t you? Sheltered. Naive.”

A moment of silence passes as Toji stares at you intensely, face cold. “Yeah. I do,” he admits. “If you’ve seen enough shit I’ve seen, you’d get why.”

Your eyes dance over his face with a pensive expression of patience. Your brows are slightly angled, denting the spaces between them, yet you breathe so deeply that it almost fools Toji into believing you are at peace.

“When I was six years old,” you start abruptly. “A tutor of mine tossed a candle to my head because I could not complete my times tables correctly. The wax and flame burned my shoulder badly when I tried to dodge. I have worn long sleeve gowns since,” you confess.

The dark haired man frowns, befuddled while you proceed.

“My grandmother, who had been heavily involved in my bringing when I was a child, was obsessed with cleanliness. Every night before I went to bed, she would inspect my room to ensure that it was tidy. If a single spec of dust was found on my floor, she would raise the back of her hand and smack me clear across the face. ‘You are a princess,’ she would say. ‘Princesses do not behave like slobs.’ Then she’d make me clean the room all over again. If it was still not to her liking, she would continue to hit me, and so on. I had welts on my body for years. I would try to ask my parents to tell her to stop, but they ranked her authority over my own every time. They believed her to be teaching me discipline. Now I do not sleep at night without inspecting every inch of my room for anything that is out of place.”

Toji’s face smooths slowly into something unreadable as he listens to you.

“When I was seventeen, I learned that men sought to ruin me. Diplomats and countrymen would visit with the same look in their eye when they saw me as I grew, seeking to force their hand to mine. One of them was banished after having been caught throwing himself onto me when I was alone. He left bruises on my arm from gripping me too hard when I tried to run away.”

Toji falters completely now, internally guffawed by your revelations.

“Over the years, I have been beaten, assaulted, and almost killed by those close to me, by those envious of me, and by those who want but can not have me. And now, with the influx of assassination attempts, I can do nothing but what I have been doing all my life; stand strong and kick.”

Your eyes swirl with honesty and grief as they lock with Toji’s pools of torment. “I may not know who you are, nor do I know where you came from or what you have been through, but do not assume that because we do not share the same origins that I am a stranger to the world’s cruelty. The kingdom tricks you into believing that we are a perfect society, when in reality, we are tainted by dark secrets swept under the rug and generational traumas. I have seen enough of reality within these palace walls surrounded by people I am meant to trust, only I do not trust any of them but myself. 

“I can see it in your eyes that you are broken too. You carry yourself in such a way, but do not allow that to blind you from any hardships I have experienced in my life. We are not the same, but I know inhumanity very well.”

Toji, rendered speechless for the first time in a very long time, watches as you lean over and reach to the other side of the sofa for something on the floor. You gradually reveal his satchel, the one he had dropped to rush to save you, and sit it on the cushion beside you. Toji’s eyes widen slightly when the contents of his bag clink together like wind chimes brushing each other in the wind.

“One of the royal guard found this in the hall,” you say calmly, lowering your hand back under your blanket. “I told him to let me hold onto it. That you must have misplaced it. Were you planning to leave tonight?”

Toji exhales, threading his fingers through his hair and glancing over the floor. Still moved by what you had told him about your upbringing, the man finds himself caught off guard once more by your confrontation. You’re smart, he has to hand it to you. Much smarter than he had previously given you credit for.

“Let’s face it,” Toji sighs. “You and I both know I don’t belong here. The whole kingdom knows. This place isn’t where I’m s’posed to be.”

“And still you took the job anyway,” you challenge. “This was your scheme all along? To take off with the first bit of money you acquire from watching over me?”

“Do you expect anythin’ more?”

“I expected you to be wiser,” you admit. 

“I am bein’ wise.”

“By fleeing from the only life of luxury that you have ever known?”

“I don’t live in luxury here, doll. I’m your bodyguard.”

“Even so, your bag is full of enough money to buy yourself a home, and that is only the first monthly payment. That isn't a luxury to you?”

“Luxury, to me, is doin’ what I want when I want it without havin’ to worry about anything else ever again.”

“Then where are you supposed to be?”

“Far from here.”

“You did sign a contract, you know. The guard and my parents would not take well to your abrupt absence. You would be treasoned.”

“Which is why I’d be long gone before they could find me.”

You sigh, turning away. Toji monitors you for a sign of disappointment, of anger, of desperation, but instead you remain indifferent. “I will not stop you if you choose to go,” you say.

Toji cocks a brow, lowering his arms to his sides. “You won’t?”

“You are your own man with your own ability to make decisions. I do not fault you for wishing to leave. I do not know you well enough to do so.”

Toji eyes you harshly, stepping closer and breaking the barrier of a ten foot distance. He approaches the other side of the sofa, peering down at you heavily as if to piece you apart. “You’re just gonna let me go,” he tests. “The hell do you gain from that?”

“Must it be about what I gain?” you ask. 

“I’m just a little shocked you’re not more pissed about this.”

“Toji, I was the Princess before you came and I will continue to be the Princess after you leave. I am not angry about what life you choose to live if it is separated from mine. I do not know what is best for you. That’s for you to decide.”

“And what about your guard?”

“They will be fine.”

“What about you?”

You soften. “I will be fine too.”

His mouth twitches. “I ain’t convinced.”

“Do you wish to leave or not?” you question. “You can not worry for my sake and desire to run away at the same time.”

“I ain’t-“ he stops himself, shaking his head and pressing his hands into the armrest. He wants to deny caring about what will happen to you, but his current hesitation over leaving proves otherwise. “You coulda died.”

“I could have died many times,” you counter. “I always manage.”

“And if one day, you don’t?”

“That will not happen.”

“Yeah, only if I’m there.”

You raise your brows and Toji catches himself, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He glances at his bag and reminds himself of his future, of his plans, of his life, and then he looks back at you, swarming in your wool blanket with such lovely eyes. Free of your jewelry, your crown, and your extravagant gowns and makeup, you look more human. You look softer, and Toji battles a newfound internal conflict - his growing desire to stay. 

Slowly, a soft smile rises to your lips that does not reach your eyes. Your soft skin, aglow by the flames before you, illuminates the warmth of your expression. “Do not tell me you are beginning to feel a duty toward me?”

“Duty ain’t in my vocabulary,” Toji defends, looking away. 

“Then why are you still here?”

He catches the testing look on your face and exhales in weary amusement. “Don’t get smart with me now, Princess. You won’t win that battle.”

“Just make up your mind, Toji,” you tilt your head and toss him a knowing look. 

You carefully shift and maneuver your body around so that you are laying your head on the cushion with your legs curled up to you, Toji’s bag still sitting on your left. The said man’s eyes follow the motion. “What’re you doin?” he asks.

“I’m going to try to get some rest,” you murmur, though you do not close your eyes. You stare ahead in exhaustion, but no urge to sleep comes over you. “You may do as you please. If you are not here in the morning and your bag is gone, I will assume that you have left.”

Toji looks back at his bag, torn. He’s itching to grab it, to swipe it up in his grasp and make a break for it, but there you are. The Princess, soon to be Queen of everything Toji has ever resented, and suddenly he feels a human connection to you. The things you told him, the steadiness of your voice as you spoke, the maturity in your eyes, the hidden, harbored scars, the arrogant will you carry to proceed into this life alone despite your susceptibility to harm… it got to him. 

And when he saw your face as you lay trapped under your intruder, how your body writhed with the involuntary will to fight despite your disadvantage, Toji was taken completely by an urge, a responsibility to protect you. To look after you. To kill for you. 

Therefore, neither of you say a word when Toji moves to pick up his bag and toss it onto the floor. In its place, he sits at your feet and tosses his arms over the back of the headrest, legs sprawled out before him as he watches the fire beside you. 

He stays there until the sunrise, and solidifies his fate.

After that night, Toji feels himself changing. Time goes by and you only grow stronger, approaching your coronation swiftly and taking on the role of Queen with regal pride. Toji finds himself staring at you when he’s by your side, which you have appointed him to after having a tense conversation with the royal guard, resulting in him no longer having to linger ten feet away at all times. He stands rather closely now when it is appropriate to do so, glaring ahead menacingly as he towers over your frame while you conduct meetings or speak with foreign princes and diplomats, who Toji keeps a sharp eye on with the knowledge of what you shared with him about your past interactions. 

He thinks of the pressure that weighs over you, and studies how you harbor so along with your traumas with so much poise. You don’t allow the things you have gone through to weigh you down, to deter your path, and he grows impressed with the strength of your mind. Without such, you likely would not be where you are today. 

Toji becomes one of the very few people you entrust your life with, if not the only person you fully trust to take your life into his hands. Despite his initial plans to leave you, he proves himself loyal to you, standing guard outside your room every night instead of retreating to his chambers and preventing disasters before they even happen. With his keen senses and hawk-like gaze, he catches suspicious figures in crowds, which he can recognize easily due to his upbringing as well. He used to be one of those lurking shadows, stalking packed spaces to find a target, only he was always too swift to be caught. 

Toji now takes to disposing of the people who mean you harm in private, away from your vision. While you are well aware of his capabilities, Toji has a tendency to become borderline sadistic when killing for you. Inspired now by his respect for you and your budding relationship, the honesty in your eyes and the sanctity of your life in his hands, he is more ruthless than he ever has been before in private, and he does not want you burdened by the vision. The guard does not question him, taking to caring for your parents and watching the palace walls while Toji handles the direct threats unto you. No one in the palace questions him any longer, for you have grown close to him and he to you, and the proof of him risking himself time and time again for the sake of you forces all heads away and onto the next thing. 

During the day, he is still and mute, a brick wall of eerie, bulky freight, but at night when you are alone, he’s making you laugh, sharing stories with you about gruesome bar fights he has been involved in and past jobs that have given him a run for his money. You always listen with curiosity, eyes bright with intrigue as a long forgotten book lay in your lap as you watch him, absorbing tellings of a world far from your reach. He does his best to leave out gory details, like the things that tend to keep him up at night, the things he is ashamed of having lived, but you always understand. You can always see more of him than he lets on in his gaze, how he stands and tenses, how he looks away after having held your gaze for too long. 

The dark haired man finds that he has never felt such security that you bring him, that while he keeps you safe, he feels safe in your defense, in your presence, in your path. You ease his mind somehow with your gentle grace and your unearthly beauty, with your loud cackles that he draws from you after dinner when he walks you to your room, a far cry from the contained chuckles you allow to slip when cozying up to someone for diplomatic and political purposes. 

You ease his mind with your warm grins, your soft hands that brush his arm when you get his attention, with the sweet breath that tickles his ear when you lean up to cup your hand over your mouth and whisper something to him. He always has to lean down for you as you reach up on your tiptoes, informing him of a task he must carry out in secret when all he can think about is the shiver that racks his spine when your coo of a whisper flutters directly into his ear. 

Toji does not want to admit that you make him feel strange when he starts to notice the way his chest tightens as you brush past, the air of your perfume lingering in his nose. He does not want to admit that this foreign warmth he now feels takes over his entire being, melting his hardened soul after he believed it to be beyond repair. He does not want to admit that he recognizes this feeling as love solely because he has never felt it before, never experienced the visceral pump of his blood into his heart or the honeyed comfort that slips into his understanding of lust. He does not want to admit that you attract him as more than someone he wishes to ravish, but as someone he has come to cherish deeply. 

He does not think it affects his job, for he has been at your side for nearly a year when you are finally appointed Queen and he still performs incredibly well. He stands at the upper corner of the grand hall, diamond chandelier twinkling brilliantly above your head in your wake as you inch your way down the aisle and up the purple velveted carpet. The kingdom watches you in awe, your gold encrusted gown dragging delicately over the floor, manicured hands clasped before you as you approach with your chin high and your chest puffed. You are a vision of artistry, of indescribable, unfathomable beauty, and Toji knows he loves you when he catches himself smiling gently as he watches you graze the room like fresh dew beaming on a crisp, sunlit morning. 

There is no sign of an attack when your new crown is placed upon your head, thanks to Toji and the word of his talents spreading like wildfire across villages, lands, and kingdoms alike. The entire world by now must know of the Queen’s bodyguard, who sticks to her side like glue and wipes out anything that even thinks of creeping into her path. His reputation proceeds him once more, yet now, he is proud of who he has become. He is proud, now, that he is killing for the good that is you, a woman deserving of every goodness that comes to her in this world, instead of for his own survival.

You do not marry. You refuse once you gain the power to deny the visiting of any more suitors, much to Toji’s relief. He had never been a fan of watching men kiss your feet, take your pretty hand in theirs and look you in the eye with a bent knee. He would have killed them all if you had not frowned upon so, for he did not believe anyone to be as deserving of a woman working to rebuild the economy for the sake of Toji’s village and all those who suffered along with him with such compassion and selflessness, not even him - as much as he cared for you.

Somehow, Toji’s duty to you triumphs over his desire for you. While he struggles, he respects you more than he has respected any human being in his life. His job is to make sure that you live, and that you do so peacefully and happily. You have transformed him into a noble man, and how you did so, he barely knows. What he does know, however, is that he loves you as much as he honors you. You are his Queen, he is your bodyguard - your right hand. He would never interfere with the boundaries set between the two of you, with the responsibility he has to you. 

Consequently, he stubbornly pushes away the telling looks that you share with him, your eagerness to jest, to press your touch to him and feel you near him, to remind yourself that he is still there. 

He knows. He sees it in your eyes, the unspoken yearning, the reason why you do not wish to marry anyone else, and you know that he knows, but he says nothing. He breaks his gaze away, he guides you back with a gentle hand to your waist and upper arm, and he leaves you every night, redrawing the line, keeping you at such a close distance. 

It’s been two years. The two of you now know one another better than you’ve known anyone, and Toji has been with you through thick and thin, through the death of you parents, the conflict with the council over the uncertainty regarding a future heir, your silent fatigue that only shows itself at the end of the day when no one else is looking and it is only you and him as he bids you good night. He’s seen it all, and you have seen him just as clearly. 

Tonight is no different as you enter your room sluggishly, sinking into the edge of your bed as you gaze ahead, an emptiness in your eyes. Toji stands at your door, examining you sternly. You look beat, aged by the years and the burden of ruling. The veil of composure lifts from you, and you slump, gown crowding over the floor and your aching feet, which dangle over the bed. 

Wordlessly, the dark haired man sighs and closes the door behind him. Within a second, he is kneeling before you, calloused hands grazing over the many layers of your gown to delicately cup your ankle. His touch pulls you back to reality and you look down, brows curling ever so subtly.

Toji cradles the back of your ankle and grips the stem of your glass heel. He slowly glides the cramping footwear from your foot, setting it to the side once it is free from its confinements. You watch him with ardor swelling in your gaze, his hands so rough when handling others, smoothing over your skin as though you are fragile.

He moves to your other shoe and glances up when he catches you staring in that way that makes his heart ache. “What is it, doll?” he murmurs, the nickname he bestowed upon you once condescendingly having stuck in a sweeter, more genuine manner. 

You don’t answer. You only gaze gratefully, tiredly, while Toji sets your other shoe to the side. He stays down on his knee, looking up at you. 

“You alright?” he asks and you sigh deeply. 

“You are the only person in this world I feel I can be myself with,” you eventually say earnestly, gently. Toji blinks, shifting slightly and nodding slowly.

“Back at ya,” is all he can manage to say under your loving stare. He almost feels suffocated by the way your eyes swallow him whole. “I get what you mean.”

“Everyone is just so-” you lift your hands in an attempt to physically depict what you want to say, but the words fail you and your arms stall in the air. “So-”

“Shitty?” Toji fills in with his own words for it, and you smile with a light giggle.

“Yes,” you drop your hands to your lap. “Shitty.”

Toji chuckles, the sound of you cursing still so funny to him. “Don’t I know it,” he agrees. He looks over your gown before back into your eyes, preparing to stand. “I’ll go call for the maids so they can’t get you outta this thing. You need to sleep.”

“Don’t,” you shake your head the second he moves to get up. He stops, sinking back down. “Not right now. I don’t want to see anyone else but you.”

Toji clenches his jaw, your words so sweet it kills him. “Don’t you wanna change? You get cranky in this thing after dark,” he jokes. 

“I know,” you say. Something flickers in your eyes as you look over his figure, a hint of desire swirling into weariness. “You do it.”

Toji furrows his brows. “What?”

“I want you to help me out of my dress instead,” you whisper. The green eyed man thinks he must have heard you incorrectly, his eyes going wide as he registers your request. “There’s nightgowns in that dresser over there. Bring one to me.”

“(Y/n),” he warns, heart fluttering and skin flushing over his chest. “I’m not gonna do that. It’s not right.”

“Why not?” you press. “As your Queen, I am giving you a task.”

“Yeah, but-” he scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna strip ya. That ain’t… I won’t do that.”

“Toji,” you lean forward, lids heavy over your eyes. You call his name sternly, yet still so quietly, and he can not help but bide by your will each time his name slips from your tongue in such a way when you need him. “I am asking you to help me. It is not wrong if it is what I want.”

“It’s wrong ‘cause I’m your bodyguard, not your-”

His words die in his throat before he can finish his sentence. “Not my what?” you mumble.

He gets lost in your gaze, in your scent, and he is struggling to find the words. His face is tense, brows knitted and lips curled, his scar creasing along with them. “I’m not in any place to do this stuff. You know that.”

“You are because I say that you are.”

“Anyone ever tell ya you can be a little cocky?” he smirks lightly to sway the mood. 

“Yes,” you roll your eyes. “You have.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he snickers. “Well, you are.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Help me out of this dress.”

“Doll-”

“Now.”

Toji exhales, for he finds that he has no other choice once you have made up your mind about something. He pushes himself to his feet and stands over you, holding his hand out to you. “C’mon,” he mutters.

You slip your dainty handy into his palm and allow him to pull you up gently to your feet. Your face meets his chest, his height never failing to shock you up close, and when you look up he’s already peering down at you with heavy eyes. 

“Show me how to undo this thing,” he says impatiently under his breath, and you can tell by his hastiness that his nerves are jumping.

“I will, but you need to take your time. It’s fragile,” you whisper and he nods slowly.

“Alright.”

“Can you remove my jewelry?”

He inhales sharply. “Alright,” he says again.

You turn slowly, moving your hair out of the way to expose your neck to him. He grits his teeth, seeking some sort of self control as his fingers move to unclasp your many chains of expensive necklaces. His knuckles brush your skin, and he watches as bumps ghost over your neck after he has touched it. 

Your scent invades him as his hands lower over your shoulders to bring your necklaces down from your chest. His chest bumps against your back accidentally, brushing over your shoulders, and you both twitch at the contact. God, he feels like a teenage boy, losing himself over breathing you in. 

You tell him to go place the necklaces on their stand on your armoire, then to find a nightgown for you to wear. Toji feels weak, rifling through your clothes as though it is a sin to even be seeing them. Your silk fabrics smooth over his fingers before he pinches one into his hand and brings it to lay out on your bed. 

“Now, see the string tying my corset in the back?” you ask over your shoulder, Toji humming distractedly when he locates it and stands behind you again. “Unravel it.”

As though entranced by your demand, he does, despite every voice in his heading screaming in protest. He should not be with you like this, the Queen, so privately in your room lit daily by the kiss of candlelight and swarmed by the scent of patchouli incense and your damned perfume. Toji’s head feels hazy, thick digits tugging at your string and drawing it out slowly, watching as the ribbon unfolds and drapes down your train.

“Now what?” he murmurs.

“Loosen it so I can take it off.”

“Heh?” he scrunches his brows, looking over the weaving of the lace between your corset. 

“Just peel either side of the corset back,” you clarify. “Now that it’s untied, it will come apart.”

He obliges with uncertainty, cautiously tugging back either side of the thick fabric, the lace stretching and pooling over your back. “Okay, I’m going to raise my arms so you can pull it over my head.”

“Jesus, this thing is so damn extra.”

“Be quiet and just do it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You lift your arms into the air and Toji catches the way your curves peak out. His eye twitches as he pulls the corset over your head, off your arms, and from your body. A second corset, thinner and more form fitting, graces your waist and exposes your bare back to him, as well as the healed burn on your right shoulder that you told him about so long ago.

He clears his throat, setting the outer corset onto the bed with his fingers stilling on your hip. “What now?” he asks.

“Do the same with the rest. This one’s connected to the bottom part.”

“...What about your… uh…”

“There’s another layer under it, don’t worry,” you assure him. “Why? Is my fierce and scary bodyguard nervous?”

“Don’t even,” he grumbles and your shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

The ruffle of your clothing fills the air as Toji works his fingers through the second set of lace, loosening it and pulling it from your body. You slide your arms from the thin straps of this layer and allow Toji to drag the fabric down. His eyes train on the way it smooths over your frame, a nude colored set revealing as he pulls, pulls, pulls until the fabric is pooling around your ankles.

All that you are covered in now is a hoop cage over your hips and sleeveless underwear the same shade as your skin tone that holds you sinfully tight. Toji’s heart is in his ears and the blood in his body is surging out everywhere, including toward his crotch. He’s biting down on his teeth so hard as he holds your arm and helps you step out of the net like framing for your gown, breaths labored.

Your dazzling (e/c) hues catch his as his hand lingers on your waist and your arm, his figure now before you again. He keeps a tough facial expression, but his eyes yet again give him away as he coolly takes in your body, the way your cleavage pools out of your garments and your skin milks into a breathtaking glow. 

You feel his thumb swipe over the curve of your back, experimentally caressing the space as his other hand slides up your arm and over your shoulder. His thumb touches your chin, reels back hesitantly, then touches again, sliding delicately over your cheek. You welcome the contact, your hands raising to press against his lower abdomen as he lingers over you, so closely, so intimately. You can feel his abdominals, rigid and tense, contract beneath your palms though they are barely touching him, and you look down at how small your fingers look pressing into the wall of his stomach. 

“Doll,” he murmurs, voice gravelly and husky as it breathes out. You hum, lashes fluttering when his hand slides to hold the entire side of your face. He melts before you, your beauty so striking that it almost scares him, and nothing has ever scared Toji Fushiguro before. “You need to get to bed.”

“In a bit,” you mutter, gaze wandering over his lips and back up to his eyes. You sink into him, inching closer until he’s surrounding you, swarming you. “Stand with me like this longer.”

“I can’t stay here much longer. You know that.”

“What I say goes. I say you can.”

“(Y/n).”

“No,” you breathe, shaking your head as he looks over your features softly. “I do not care.”

“Well, I do,” he says, brushing a piece of hair gently from your forehead. You lean into his palm, a soft pout on your lips. “I’ve got one job, and that’s to keep you safe, y’understand?”

“And that is all this is?” you murmur, eyes darting over him. “That is the only reason you protect me? Because it is your job?”

He tilts his head slightly, smoothing his hand up and down your spine as you push yourself closer to him. Against his better judgment, against his instincts, he allows you. Even if just for a moment. Even if he never gets to feel you this way again, so plush against him, yearning and wistful.

“You know that ain’t true,” he tells you.

You bring your hands up, smoothing them up to his chest and you coo. “So stay,” you beg. “Please.”

“You’re killin’ me, y’know that?” he exhales, his nose brushing against yours as you close in on him, just centimeters away from his lips. 

He holds you, shares the same breath as you, and in this moment he forgets about the barrier between you. He forgets where he came from, he forgets what your role in this world is, he forgets his duty to you and how complicated it is that it has now molded into some emotional connection. He forgets that you will need to marry one day to continue your legacy, that he himself is not a King nor a man of royalty, that he was born of hate and abandonment while you were born to be something. He forgets, as your warmth consumes him and the taste of you is so close he can smell it, that he could never take your relationship beyond what it already is. That he is not, and never has been, a man made for love yet somehow you have fooled him into believing that he is made for loving you.

“Why are you fighting me,” your eyes close, fingers inching over his shoulders and arms wrapping around his neck.

“‘Cause I can’t let myself do this to ya,” he grumbles.

“Why?”

“Stop asking me questions.”

“Do you love me?” 

The question is a heated gasp against his mouth, and Toji, no longer harboring the willpower to push away from you, can only respond honestly.

“Y’know I do.”

Your fingers tangle into his silky black hair and his hand brings your faces together. “Then stay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips feel like a fluff of cloud melting into his, the rich, sugary taste of your mouth clashing into his own. You’re soft against his hard body as you crush into him, swooning and sinking as though you no longer have the strength to stand and he is catching you, bringing you to him as though it is the last time he will ever touch you in such a way, the last time he will ever have the privilege of tasting your sacred mouth.

Toji is a rough man, but he handles you gingerly, gradually as he savors you for everything his life has ever been worth. You overstimulate him with your mind numbing squeezes and the gentle sounds of satisfaction that slip from your throat into his. Toji thinks he can die blissfully happy as he encircles you, ravaging your lips with hard brows and a fuzzy mind. He crowds over you, so tall and big that you have no choice but to succumb to all of him in his embrace. He overpowers you, and you adore it, ruffling messily through his locks as his hands wander your hips generously, appreciatively, lovingly. 

He guides you back, leaning over with his hand firm to your back to ease you onto your bed, lips still locked. His body is thinking for itself as his lips swarm you, tongue gliding into yours and searching every space of your cavern. You arch into him needily, sensually, and Toji pushes further though remaining mindful not to hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. 

Your thighs lift to crowd his torso as he curves down into you, hovering over your gorgeous body. His lips crash into your cheek, over your jaw and down your neck, sliding his tongue hungrily over your skin with heady groans. Your lips part and your head tosses back onto your sheets, hushed gasps and contented sighs spilling from you, and even the noises you make are as angelic as you are. 

His large hand cradles your head as he ducks down to care for your chest, hot lips sucking over your skin like he is enjoying a meal. Your hands tighten in his hair, his mouth easing you into astounding pleasure before his lips are back on yours, more desperate, more lustful. 

“Toj…” you moan and he grunts into you, arms caging you beneath him and lower half pressing into your own. Your blurry eyes peer past strands of his hair as he consumes you, kisses you, worships you. 

“Yeah, darlin,” he exhales into your mouth as your bodies writhe against the barrier of clothing. “Talk t’me. What is it, my girl?”

“Do not… mmm, don’t leave me. Not tonight,” you plead in between weighted kisses.

Toji pulls back to look you in the eyes, hands exploring all over you. “Nothin’ could take me from you now, doll,” he swears, pupils enlarged and shrinking the green expanse of his eyes. “I’ll take good care of ya, promise. I swear on m’life. I got you, baby, I got ya.”

You whimper and his lips find yours again, kissing into you his promise of devotion.

Toji swaddles you with love for hours on end, into the early morning, molding marks of his loyalty over your stomach and down your legs, kissing over your scars, and pulling release after release from your core. He’s tender, firm but soft as he makes love to you and molds the shape of him into your essence. Imprints of your fingernails into his skin and your teeth marks into his shoulder encourage him to drag every moan, every ounce of fluid from your body. And god, you feel better than Toji could have ever envisioned. You’ve ruined him with your passion, with your pretty entranced gazes and your loving kisses, your insatiable need for him to give you more and for yourself to give him more. You’re sweet. So sweet, and Toji loves you more than himself, therefore he promises to give you what you want tonight and to return to his responsibility tomorrow.

It is his duty to you after all, to protect you, to love you from afar.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Hitchhiker || Chapter Fourteen || The Proxies

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: hella smut, hoodies a dick, rough sex, hair pulling, degrading, violence for like two seconds, just a sprinkle of blood but no blood kink, readers a horny ass mf, face fucking, breath play, slapping

<— previous chapter

You laid flat against the metal examination table, trying your hardest to not visibly cringe at the feeling of the coolness against your skin.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean you’re quite literally just now getting your stitches out. Then you plan to learn how to fight within the hour?” Nova questioned. EJ’s hands were oddly hot to the touch as he removed your stitches, his lips sealed as Nova went on her motherly lecture. Tim was right beside her, arms crossed and cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. How he convinced EJ to let him smoke in the cabin, you’d never know.

“This is extremely absurd and just, you know, ugh!” Nova exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried not to look down, your wound finally healing to your liking. The last thing you’d do was fuck it up now. “It’s also reckless, endangering, and just the slightest bit stupid,” Tim added. You rolled your eyes are EJ took a step back, his job now done. “You’re gonna have a g-gnarly scar,” Toby chimed in. You sat up, both Nova and Tim in a hurry to guide you to slow down. “Will you two knock it off? Jesus Christ,” You hissed. You shoved both of them off of you, rising to your feet.

“If training with Brian or Hoodie makes them feel better about Cat Hunter being a peeping tom then so be it,” You continued. You went to storm down the hallway, annoyed at the relentless overprotectiveness. Tim caught up with you, the sound of Nova, Toby, and EJ all bickering growing more distant as you walked forward.

“Yeah but you’re not training with Brian, you’re training with Hoodie.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Brian would go easy on you. Hoodie likes to see people in pain.”

“Luckily for me i’m a masochist, so that’ll work out.”

You steered into the nearest bathroom, pulling your hair into a ponytail. “He’s not going to take it easy on you,” Tim continued. You tightened your ponytail, before sliding a long sleeved shirt over your head. “I wouldn’t want him to. Cat Hunter certainly wouldn’t,” You replied coolly. You doubted anything could hurt more than being stabbed. You briefly stared at the scar that now tainted your skin, before shoving your shirt all of the way down. Picking up hand wraps you wrapped them around your hand, ensuring a good portion of your knuckles were secured.

You went to turn out of the bathroom, Tim hot on your trail. In the spare bedroom you had been sleeping in apparently Brian had rearranged it, shoving everything into the corners to give you both space to tussle. Just as you reached the door, Tim grabbed your shoulder to stop you from darting inside. “Hoodie’s weak point is his legs. They move faster than the rest of him. If he gets you on the ground knock his feet out from under him,” Tim instructed. You met his gaze, the brunette pulling the cigarette out from between his lips.

“Got it.”

You turned to the door, your fingertips just barely grazing the handle.

“Hey y/n?”

You sighed, looking over your shoulder, “Yes Tim?”

Tim grinned mischievously, taking a long inhale of his cigarette.

“Beat his ass for me, will ya?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself into the room. Hoodie’s gaze instantly fell on you, giving you a small wave. “I’ve gotta warn ya, I will not be going easy on you,” He said cautiously. You closed the door behind you, the door clicking shut. “So I keep hearing,” You mused. Hoodie raised an eyebrow, his puzzled expression one concealed under his mask. “It’s not a joke. Cat Hunter won’t have mercy on you and I won’t either,” He informed you. Shifting your weight on each foot, you narrowed your eyes. “Are you just going to yap or are you gonna hit me?” You asked cockily.

It was then you had wore out Hoodie’s patience, the proxy throwing himself at you. A flash of mustard yellow temporarily blinding you, your feet throwing you to the left. You narrowly missed his punch, causing him to stumble into the wall behind you. “See? I’m not as easy as you thought I was gonna be,” You gloated. He gritted his teeth, shooting daggers in your direction. Swiftly he turned around, grabbing you by your waist. You had expected him to throw you down on the bed, your eyes widening in terror as he threw you down on the ground instead. The air was knocked out of your lungs, a shooting pain going up your back.

Gasping for air you clawed at the ground, forcing yourself onto your elbows to prop yourself up. “Again,” Hoodie said plainly. Unsurely you rose to your feet, rising your fist. Hoodie frowned at the sight, grabbing your small fist. “Untuck your thumb. You’ll break it if you tuck it inside of your hand,” He advised. You used his brief instruction to your advantage, kicking his shin as hard as you could. Hoodie glared at you, seething as he launched himself at you. You managed to dodge a couple of his punches, one of them finally landing on your nose. A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over you, your vision briefly hazy. You stumbled back a few steps, your fingertips touching your nose.

Drops of blood coated your fingertips, your breath becoming shallow. You looked up at Hoodie, your once lover now turned into a sadistic fighting machine. “Hoodie I’m done,” You say firmly. You went to turn towards the door, his large hand grabbing your forearm. He twisted it backwards, a yelp of pain escaping your lips. “You’re done when I say you’re done,” He hissed. Panicking you stomped on his foot, the man gritting your teeth as he released your arm. You quickly turned around your palm connecting with his face. The impact was softer than you would’ve liked it to be, the mask providing some sort of cushion to him.

When you realized the impact wasn’t as strong as you wanted it to be, you lifted your knee. With all of your strength you kneed him in the crotch, the masked man instantly hunching over. You were breathing deeply at this point, taking a couple of steps backwards. You wiped your upper lip, the crimson paint smearing across your hand. You tried to ignore the nauseating sensation, watching as Hoodie collected himself. He steadied himself against the wall, panting as his mind was in a whirl wind. You swallowed, bending over and leaning against a wall. You put your hands on your knees, the blood from your nose dripping onto the floor. It was then the bedroom door swung open, a horrified Tim standing in the doorway. His gloved hands gripped the wooden frame, before storming inside.

Unfortunately, he saw what you and Hoodie were too blind to see. Hoodie, an alter who was created due to his sadistic tendencies, up to a certain degree lacks self control. From personal experience Tim knew it didn’t matter how much he cared for someone. Once he felt that nagging little shock of pleasure from inflicting pain, it was over. His common sense and personal feelings towards the individual were overridden. Offering to train you of all people was a terrible idea. Now you on the other hand, were too stubborn to know when to quit. Hoodie could’ve beat you to a bloody pulp and you’d egg him on to continue until you lost consciousness. Both of your ignorance only made Tim more angry.

“Enough of this bullshit! Y/n you’re fucking done. Go get cleaned up,” Tim barked. You shot him a dirty look, his face briefly showing concern as his gaze fell on your bloody nose. You forced yourself to stand up straight, cracking your back as you did so. Hoodie yanked off his ski mask, a visible purple bruise forming around his eye. Had you hit him that close to his eye? You swallowed as you two looked at each other, both of you sharing the same thought. “Get out Tim,” Hoodie said calmly. Tim felt like a hopeless mother, whose two children had turned to the devils crack. “What?” Tim sputtered. You didn’t break your eye contact with Hoodie, the fight far from over. “You heard him, get out,” You repeated. Tim stood his ground, before shaking his head.

“If I hear anymore thudding i’m coming back,” Tim muttered. Against his better judgment he grabbed the door handle, walking out of the room. “No Tim to save you now,” Hoodie taunted. The sadistic smirk that crept up his lips made him almost look like a foreign stranger to you. “Wouldn’t wanna have it any other way,” You replied. Before you could comprehend it, Hoodie was on you. Your back clashed with the closest wall, his large gloved hand wrapped around your throat. You squirmed under his grasp, swallowing as he restricted your airway. “Cmon. Fight me off. Get on with it,” He instructed mockingly. You thrashed your limbs underneath him, your finger attempting to pry his hand off of your throat.

Your attempt to move your legs annoyed Hoodie, the oldest proxy wedging his knee in between them. He stared down at you mercilessly, noting the audible whimper that left your lips. Hoodie recognized that sound. It wasn’t one you released from genuine pain. He chuckled darkly, smirking down at you. "I knew you weren't as vanilla as Brian wanted to make you seem," He snickered. Re-adjusting his fingers he squeezed your throat tighter, your breath forced to become shallow. He pushed his knee up higher, rubbing right against your throbbing core. You let out another whimper, your body betraying you. "Fuck you," You hissed, your fingers were still attempting Hoodie's off of your neck. This seemed to only amuse him further.

"I fuckin knew it. Brian tried to tell me otherwise but I knew you were a pain slut. You looked so happy after Masky had his way with you," Hoodie told you. Hoodie could feel your pulse quicken under his grasp, a sadistic grin spreading across his lips. He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry i'll make you feel way better then Masky. You want that, don't you?" He purred. His teeth grazed your earlobe, your hips involuntarily grinding down against his knee. "Just say the word, i'll leave you squirming," Hoodie instructed. You nodded profusely, mumbling an agreement as you grinded down against his knee. "Good whore. But first, you owe me," He hissed. He released you from his grasp, shoving you down onto your knees. You ignored the harsh wood that dug into your knees, your focus centered on the man who stood before you.

"Open your goddman mouth," Hoodie barked. He began to undo his belt, before shoving his pants and boxers down in one shift motion. You flattened out your tongue, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock as it stood in front of your face. Hoodie pushed you backwards, the back of your head hitting the wall. "If you try to pussy out and use your hands i'll cut em off. Understand?" He asked. You nodded, opening your mouth. It felt restrictive, the inability to move making you wetter by the minute. You kept your hands on your knees, Hoodie quick to shove his cock to the back of your throat. The unexpected action made you gag, your eyes watering and head going to move out of instinct. Your eyes only widened more when you realized you had no where to go, your lungs running out of oxygen. "Loosen your jaw slut, cmon," Hoodie grunted. You tried to complete his request, your focus shifting to breathing through your nose.

Your fingers clawed at your knees, the man finally beginning to buck his hips. He pulled out slowly, before ramming his cock back down your throat again. His soft grunts and the sound of his cock abusing you flooded your ears, your core throbbing with desire. "Touch yourself for me. Go on slut. Desperation is painted all over your slutty face," Hoodie huffed. He continued to fuck your face, your hand now slipping down to your cunt. You drew circles around your clit, relishing in the feeling of some sort of friction. Your groans sent vibrations around his cock, the man above you biting his lower lip to conceal his sinful noises. "I should've done this sooner. Such a perfect mouth," Hoodie panted. He gripped the bottom of your chin, holding your face in place as he held his cock down your throat. "You're such a pathetic whore. Allowing me to use you like this," He taunted. He briefly pulled his cock out of your throat, your lungs gasping for air.

Saliva trickled down your chin and his shaft onto the floor, his hand still holding you firmly. "I have a surprise for you doll face," Hoodie snickered. He watched as your hand continued to circle your clit, getting off on every word that came out of his mouth. He dug in his back pocket, pulling out your missing pair of red panties. The moment your brain registered what he was holding, he shoved them in your mouth. You cringed at the feeling of the fabric against your tongue, the man crouching down before you. You could faintly taste something salty in the clothing, your hand not letting up for a moment. "Do you know how long i've waited to have you like this? All horny and desperate? At my disposal?" He asked. Mockingly he stroked your cheek as lovingly as he could muster, your eyes full of lustful terror. "You can't blame me for using your panties to get off. You were too busy taking my best friends cocks," He grinned, tapping your face.

You felt so disgusted, that disgust only making you wetter. "So desperate to get off huh? You'd cum just from my words?" Hoodie mused. You felt your face flush red as you realized your hand hadn't let up for a moment. Hoodie grabbed you, taking your place and sitting against the wall. He roughly grabbed your shorts and panties, practically ripping them off of you. He grabbed your waist, forcing you to straddle his thigh. "Go on doll face. Get yourself on my thigh," He ordered. Unsurely you put your hands on his shoulders for support, grinding your cunt down against his thigh. You could visibly see a wet patch forming against his jeans, Hoodie's hand slowly jerking his own cock. With his other hand he grabbed your throat, forcing you to look at him in the eyes.

"Just know if you cum on my thigh I won't make you cum again," He informed you tauntingly. You gripped his shoulders tighter, your desire to cum clouding your judgement. You continued to roll your hips against his thigh, the rough material of his jeans only sending waves of pleasure up your spine. Your eyes threatened to flutter shut, a sharp slap delivering itself to your face. You yelped in pain, Hoodie chuckling darkly as your skin turned bright red. "Doesn't feel so nice being hit, does it?" He taunted. You shook your head no, your sinful noises muffled by the panties wadded in your mouth. Hoodie was growing impatient, his large hands grabbing your waist forcing you to grind against him faster. "I'm getting bored doll face. Better hurry up and cum before I change my mind," He threatened. You moaned loudly, your clit brushing against him just right. The cord inside of your stomach tightened, your orgasm coming faster than you would've liked it to.

You bit down on the fabric, a muffled warning unable to escape your lips as his fingers dug harder into your hips. "Hoodie!" You cried, pawing at his chest as you came on his thigh. You felt humiliated, your juices soaking his pants. "Oh you slut, you've done it now," Hoodie huffed. He grabbed you again, repositioning you to his liking. This time he forced you to your feet, your face and chest smushed against the wall as Hoodie positioned himself behind you. One of his large hands cupped your head, the harsh wood scraping against your cheek as Hoodie rubbed him up and down your soaking folds. You squirmed under the sensation of his tip brushing against your swollen clit. "You're such a fucking tease, you know that? Letting us all use you but making me go last?" He hissed. You swallowed as he shoved himself inside of you, your eyes screwing shut. Your walls struggled to get accustomed to his girth, your gummy walls clinging onto his cock as he shoved himself in deeper.

"You're paying me back though, aren't you doll face?" He snickered. He leaned closer to your ear, his cockiness practically radiating off of him. "I'll be able to watch you fall apart on my cock again and again and again," Hoodie whispered. Your eyes widened, his hand guiding you to look to your left. Sure enough, an old fashioned camera sat on the bed, pointed directly at the two of you. "You always wanted to be an actress right? Congratulations on your first big role," Hoodie chuckled. He fully bottomed out inside of you, grabbing both of your arms. He pinned them behind your back, face now fully smushed against the wall. He yanked your panties out of your mouth, relishing in satisfaction as your own saliva trailed down your chin at its removal. "Gonna wanna hear you moan my name over and over," He grinned. He began to slowly move his hips, his fingers harshly digging into your arms.

Hoodie tossed the panties aside, the unholy noises finally falling from your lips freely. You whined as he began to pick up the pace, his cock brushing against your g spot. “I make you feel so much better than the other two, don’t I?” Hoodie purred. The pain had fully faded into pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut as you let the man behind you use you as he pleased. When you failed to respond he delivered a sharp slap to your ass, causing your legs to quiver. “Answer me slut. I’m better than them, aren’t I?” He growled. You babbled a mindless agreement, strings of curses leaving your lips as he pounded into you. Hoodie watched as he thrust into you, your juices creaming around his cock. It made him fuck you harder, your moans only growing louder.

“Such a noisy whore,” Hoodie snarled. He grabbed a handful of your hair, his other hand ensuring your arms were held behind your back. “Open your eyes slut. Tell the camera how good I make you feel,” He grunted. His thrust were merciless, his cock abusing your g spot as it pleased. “So good, so fucking good Hoodie,” You groaned. You cringed as he yanked at your hair harder, pounding into you so hard he was fucking you against the wall. “I’m gonna cum in you. Understand? You’re my fucking cum dump,” He huffed. He could feel your walls squeeze him tighter at the sound of his filthy words. “Awe you like that don’t you? If I could have it my way i’d keep you chained to my wall so I could fill you up anytime I want to,” He groaned. He could feel himself getting close, your walls milking his cock. “Fuck, such a tight fucking hole,” He mumbled. With those words his hips stuttered, his cum painting your inner walls. You bit your bottom lip, your own orgasm still boiling in the pit of your stomach. Hoodie groaned as he pulled out of you, watching his cum drip down in between your inner thighs.

“Fucking hell,” He mumbled. Slowly you turned around, meeting his satisfied gaze. “What about me?” You asked. Hoodie tilted his head to the side. “What about you?” He replied. He began to redress himself, the action making you form a look of horror. “Y-you didn’t make me cum,” You stuttered. Hoodie buttoned up his pants, taking a step towards you. “I told you if you came on my thigh I wouldn’t let you cum again. Listen better next time doll face,” He grinned. He planted a kiss to your forehead before fixing his belt. “Go clean yourself up, you’re filthy,” Hoodie teased, cocking his head towards the door. Humiliated, you glanced over at your shorts, shoving them back on as your core continued to throb. You trudged to the main bathroom, only to find it locked.

Fuck.

You stormed down the stairs, the living room empty. Using EJ’s bathroom was not something you wanted to do, but you needed to find somewhere private. You crept into his bathroom, flicking the light on. It was empty. You sighed as you shut the door, clicking the lock shut. Glancing in the mirror you looked like a fucked out mess, your spit still staining your chin along with the dried blood from your nose. You studied yourself for a moment, before trying to comb through your hair. It was then you heard an all too familiar voice.

“Fuck Jack! Please don’t stop, fuck!”

Your face turned red as you realized the wall to his bathroom and bedroom were connected. You could hear Jack grunt as he pounded into Nova in the other room. The walls were so thin you could hear the sound of skin clapping together. You knew it was wrong, the way her moans made your core throb. You put one hand over your mouth, concealing your loud breathing. With the other you brought two fingers to your aching clit, drawing fast circles around it.

“You like that? Yeah? Fucking take it.”

You had hardly heard Jack speak, but the sound of the two of them going at it was enough to get you off. That you were sure of. It was then you heard the shower curtain move, heat running to your cheeks. “H-hello gorgeous,” Toby greeted. He climbed out of the tub, watching as you scrambled to remove your hand from your shorts. “Toby! What the fuck are you doing in here?” You whisper yelled. Toby shrugged, taking note of your frazzled appearance. “There’s t-two bedrooms in this house. Both of which had couples f-f-fucking in them when I wanted to nap. I’ve slept in bath tubs before,” He explained. He brought himself closer to you, pressing you against the sink. His fingertips teasingly traced your jawline, making you shudder under his touch.

“Did y-you come in here to t-t-touch yourself? To the sound of EJ f-fuck-king Nova?” He whispered tauntingly. You felt your face go red. “No I didn’t! Hoodie didn’t let me cum,” You whined. Toby grinned at your confession. He shoved your pants down to your ankles, exposing your glistening cunt. “Why didn’t you just s-say so? I’ll take care of you,” Toby purred. He dropped to his knees, bringing his mouth to your aching heat. You gripped onto the sink, your hand flying back over your mouth as he began to devour your cunt. His large, slender hands pried your thighs apart. He licked Hoodie’s cum from off of your thigh, cleaning you entirely with his tongue. You whined as he sucked at your clit, trying your hardest to keep your sinful noises concealed.

“F-fuck, i’m gonna fucking cum, please let me cum Jack!”

Nova’s moans and pleas echoed through out your ears as Toby lapped at your folds. You gripped his hair with your other hand, grinding against his face. Toby gripped your thighs harder, his bony fingers promising to leave bruises in the morning. You could feel the cord inside of you tighten, your walls tightening around Toby’s tongue as he teased your entrance.

“Thats it, cum for me.”

Jacks words sent you over the edge, your body too desperate for release to ignore his command. You bit your bottom lip so hard you were sure it was bleeding, releasing all over Toby’s tongue. You squirmed as he cleaned you with his mouth again, swallowing every drop of your cum. He brought himself to his feet, undoing his belt. “C-cumming for Jack? W-when you d-don’t even know him? Filthy fuckin s-slut,” Toby whispered. He shoved his pants down, his cock springing out and brushing against your folds. He was quick to shove himself inside of you, your cunt dripping wet. “You s-should be thanking me f-for fucking you,” He growled. Faintly you could hear Jack and Nova resume their own sinful activities, her moans anything but subtle.

Toby realized you were distracted, a frown forming across his lips. He grabbed your clit between his index and middle finger, squeezing it hard. You whined, your eyes widening as you looked up at Toby. “Thank m-me whore. T-thank me for fucking y-you,” He huffed. You nodded, whispering babbles of gratitude as he began to thrust his hips into you without warning. You could taste the metallic liquid dripping into your mouth as you bit your bottom lip, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as Toby fucked you. He watched as your body went limp, allowing him to use you as a mindless sex doll. Toby noticed you were bleeding, forcing your hand away from your mouth.

He shoved his tongue inside of your mouth, lapping at the blood as it spilled from your bottom lip. You groaned, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your final orgasm. Which each snap of Toby’s hips you found yourself lost in euphoria, your eyes fluttering shut as you came one last time. Toby swallowed your moans, groaning into your mouth as he came inside of you. You were a panting mess, leaning your head back against the mirror. “D-don’t worry i’ll get you a plan b,” Toby mumbled, slowly slipping out of you. You found the strength to sit up, Nova and Jack’s sinful noises still audible as they went at it like wild animals.

“Hey can you pick me up a pair of scissors when you go?”

“What do y-you need that for?”

“Brian needs a haircut.”

—> next chapter

[kasugayamaisforlovers]

Experimental thought for my MotA gurlies: So I'm rewatching MotA to get a better handle on Gale and what's hitting me on the second time around is how human John feels versus how mythologized and illusive Gale feels? 

Exhibit A: You're Bucky and he's Buck?

We as an audience are introduced to Gale in episode 1 via the recitation of the Buck(ies) lore by Marge. And yeah, sure, John and Gale jump in to add color around the edges but tonally it’s a far cry from how anyone else in the show is introduced and, while John is intro’d the same lore, we come to know John with an intimacy that unravels any notions of manicured or whitewashed anything. We never really get this for Gale. 

Exhibit B: No Engine Cleven.

So before the fight between Curt and the RAF guy in episode 2 Curt’s regaling (pun intended) the homies with the story of Walla Walla wherein Gale buzzes the control tower with 3 of his 4 engines feathered. Now it's pretty clear from the dialogue that Gale's still got a functional engine, but Curt's telling the story and he insists on changing the details so that Gale's got no engines. 

The boys drink to ‘No Engine Cleven’--the myth.

Flashcut to the end of episode 3 and Gale's fort has taken a gnarly beating. By the time he gets in view of the runway in Algeria he has to feather all 4 engines. And he fucking does it: he manages to land sans engine power! He glides the crew to a safe landing, as if foretold. The No Engine Cleven prophesy made real.

So much of Gale feels like mythology, it's all stories and tidbits other characters seem to know on faith: Gale’s not a sports guy, Gale's an excellent pilot, Gale is Buck. And to be fair on each of these points we do get a little bit of bonus content. (Gale tells John about his dad which we come to understand is the crux of his sports dislike. We see Gale fly and know from his continued  survival and other characters' reactions that he's good. See exhibit 1 visa vis ‘Buck’.) 

Exhibit C: the deference.

Ok so bonk me with the rubber mallet if this is a reach but like the deference that characters (other than John) show Gale also makes it feel like Gale's something special/held apart. Like yes, I do get he's both hierarchically above a lot of the other characters and simultaneously one of the more central characters. We don't see a whole lot of interactions between characters and like Jack Kidd or Chick Harding to really compare how folks are acting towards Gale vs someone else higher up the ladder. But listen

Let’s take Croz as our test example as Croz interacts with Jack and Gale.  When Croz interacts with Jack he's definitely in a subordinate role. There's a scene wherein he recommends Bubbles for desk work and a later scene wherein Croz has inherited said desk work and is nervous about whether he's a good fit. Both times he approaches Jack with respect and the deference of a subordinate but there's nothing more to it. Jack’s a guy and Croz is a guy and so Croz feels like he can talk to Jack.

Take that in comparison to the first time Croz and Bubbles meet John and Gale. Croz and Bubbles want to pin a US map with the locations of the various crew members’ hometowns. There's a shyness in Croz’s behavior here that I think goes beyond ‘you guys are Majors’ and more toward ‘omg the popular kids. The dudes that set the tone for everyone else' there's a sort of starstruckedness to the interaction. (Help I can't think of another time he talks to Gale.)

My point is, the other boys talk to Gale and John like they're the big dogs. The Buckies occupy a space that’s nearer the men than command (Jack, Chick, etc) but higher than say a different crew member, or even other pilots (say Brady or Dye). But whereas we get some real interiority on John we never get to really dig in on Gale and it leaves Gale feeling like a marble statue. (Dare I say like a John Waynian archetype of masculine stoicism and competency and controlled violence? Is that too far?)  Like a mythical hero at least.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Six

TW: choking, noncon, dark shit, Julian

You’d be a liar, if you said you weren’t floating on a little cloud, as you go about your duties at the hospital. You’re smiling stupidly to yourself for no reason at all–and it’s all Tom Ludlow’s fault, of course. 

Later, when you’re sort of able to think clearly, you marvel at the way that man let you have your way without actually getting mad about it. You weren’t really sure what you were getting into, as you snapped the cuff into place. And maybe you’re still not sure who actually manipulated who. 

Maybe it doesn’t matter. 

All’s well that ends well…and that ended very fucking well, if you don’t say so yourself. 

You’d actually almost managed to forget about Doctor Julian for a little while. That is, until you hear a crisp click click outside the door when you’re getting something out of a supply closet and you jump three vertical feet in the air.

Ok, maybe not that high, but your soul certainly attempts to leave your fucking body. 

When you whirl to confront him–he’s gone. 

Bastard. 

Then several cases come in one after the other. Two gunshot wounds, a stabbing, a car accident, a gnarly burn. You are too busy to think about anything else but saving lives. 

Looking back, Julian undoubtedly banked on that, near the end of your shift. You are exhausted, and covered in grime, and hungry too because you missed out on your sandwich. It turns out that man can move stealthily as a cat, sneaking up without a sound behind you, until it’s too late and he’s bundled you into the lab, which sadly is rarely if ever occupied. 

You struggle, of course, to little avail. The way he bares his teeth as he pins your arms behind you betrays his enjoyment of this little ambush–too fucking much. His mouth crashes over yours, a punishing kiss that clashes teeth and bruises lips. He draws away just as you try to bite down on his wicked tongue. 

“Get off of me,” you snarl, though even now you're conscious of drawing attention, keeping your voice down. 

“Just wanted a little preview of our weekend festivities. Are you looking forward to it as much as I am?”

“No.”

Too late, you realize that’s exactly the answer he wanted. You can tell by his pleased smirk. He doesn’t want you to enjoy this at all. It would absolutely take the fun out of it for him. He makes it seem easy, to hold both of your wrists together in one of his large hands, his other lifting to brush away a stray lock of hair from your face. In any other circumstance the touch could have almost seemed tender–but you are a lamb in the jaws of a wolf, and you begin to tremble in his grasp. 

They do this–abusers. They lull you with some nugget of sweetness, put you off guard so that the violence is even more satisfying when they strike. It’s strange in a way, to compare this outwardly dignified man to the handsome redneck who used to knock you around back in Kansas. But really they are just two sides of the same fucking coin. 

You should fight back. Knee him in the groin, or maybe try out a headbutt. But your limbs seem to have forgotten how to function–and Julian has that little piece of damning lead in a baggie that could completely upend Tom Ludlow’s world. 

He feels it, as you remember that, the fight leaking from your bones.  “I’m proud of you, y/n. Someday, you won’t fight me at all.” 

You’re smart enough not to tell him this will not be an ongoing thing. Once you have that piece of evidence in your hands…you are gone. Maybe you’ll have to switch to a different hospital. Anything, not to have to deal with this asshole on a daily basis. 

Or, you could tell Tom, and this motherfucker will be unalived faster than you can say workplace harassment. Ok, maybe that’s not a good option, but it feels good to think about at this moment, when you are helpless in this monster’s clutches.

His touch migrates to your jaw, squeezing just this side of too hard. “I’m feeling…peckish, y/n. I think I’d like a little amuse bouche to tide me over until Saturday.”

Your heart drops to your feet.

“Amuse bouche? Who do you think you are, the Marquis de Sade?”

“Funny you should mention him. I think he had some very interesting ideas.”

“Julian…we’re at work.”

He just smirks, that cold glint in his eyes like a bared blade. 

“I think you mean to say, ‘Yes, Doctor.’”

You glare at him, and he waits, squeezing your wrists in his vice of a grip uncomfortably. 

“If you break my hands you will be in so much fucking trouble.”

He only finds your threat amusing at best. “Useful thing about being a doctor. I am well versed in the limits of the human body.” He squeezes harder, and you gasp. It makes his eyes shine like a kid outside the gates of Disneyland.

“How’s this for a limit? If you mark me up, Tom will come after you. He sees me naked every day.” You’re not sure if it's a good thing you mention this, but in the heat of the moment your protector’s name spills from your lips, invoked like your household saint. And you will admit, it feels good, to see Julian’s eyes darken at the mention of your intimacy with Tom.

“I think you're forgetting who holds the cards here to your boyfriend’s future. You had better come up with some good lies for Saturday, because I intend to leave my marks all over this beautiful skin.” He lets go of your wrists, but only to run his hands over your forearms, raising gooseflesh as he goes.

“How’s it feel to be a fucking creep?” You ask, genuinely, actually curious about the answer, trying not to give any reaction to his fingers teasing higher up your arms, putting every single nerve on high alert. 

His hand envelops your throat, fingers pressing against the sides and closing just enough to make it hard to breathe. “Please, go on,” he nods, looking down at you with a snarling grin. 

You don’t give him the satisfaction. You let him choke you in varying degrees and intensities and angles, saying nothing while he works at your throat like a he’s learning an instrument; what makes you cry, what makes your eyes roll back in your head, what makes you sputter and cough and gasp for the sweet air he’s depriving you of. 

Maybe you wish he would just strangle you to completion, instead of torturing you like this. Every time he lets you breathe it just makes the next instance of his huge hand around your throat that much worse. 

“Beg me to stop,” he hums against your ear, snaking tongue flicking at your soft dangling skin. 

You do. You beg, sweetly even. You beg for breath, which is something you never thought you’d have to do again after the freeing age of 18…and then after the horribly abusive first ex. 

But here you are. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the bouquet

lilac, chapter six

a/n: those kind of wet dreams are the best for real... like a fucking spell has been put on you, damn....

summary: “they should really put a warning up on those, plucking flowers is a dangerous thing.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, smut, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, renovating an inn, no work gloves this time purely for the slutty need of hands, patching up a porch, wet dream, masturbation, townies thirsting over frank, pov shift (the end is from frank's), going to a bar, alcohol consumption, lots of pining

word count: 2253

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“H-holy shit,” you blew out a shaky breath as you blinked open your heavy lids to stare up at the ceiling of your bedroom. 

Haven stirred from a dream but moments before, the imagery your mind had coaxed you with had been so intense that you still felt half asleep when you woke. 

Half asleep and dripping wet.

Subconsciously, your hand had crept down below your pyjama pants before you’d even opened your eyes, determined to finish the job your fantasy had started. 

Tangled in the sheets, it felt like you were still dreaming, the powerful and alluring imagery possessing your mind making it impossible not to tremble in want and near the edge faster than you’d thought imaginable. 

But as your body laid there reeling in the afterglow, buzzing pearl sensitive beneath your fingertips, that’s when you truly woke and realised what, or whom, your carnal vision had been about. Who’s touch had felt so real, lips so sweet and words so honeyed… 

Squinting up at the blossoming lilac flowers, the sun shined directly into your eyes as you raised yourself up onto your tip toes to see if you could reach them. The lower ones already plucked and secure in your left fist, your fingertips barely skimmed the deep green leaves on the gnarly branches you were attempting to grasp. 

With an airy huff, you looked around the garden and quickly spotted a weathered fold-up chair that could no doubt grant you the necessary centimetres.

While dragging it over to the right spot underneath the blooming shrub, you feared that the old seat would be too wobbly for you to be able to balance on, though when you tried, it turned out to sink enough down into the grass to make the boost be just stable enough to hold you. 

After snapping a few of the flowers off the branches, you came across one that was much fuller and more striking than the others already in your grasp, though when you tried to give it a firm tug, the unexpected stubbornness of the twig caused you to let out a curse for why you hadn’t brought out a pair of scissors with you. 

“Come on,” you mumbled through your gritted teeth as you yanked at it, eventually leaning back to utilise some of your body weight, though when you did, when your spine reached a curved enough angle, that’s when the damn flower decided to snap off, sending you tumbling down to your doom. 

Though as you let out a shrill yelp, you never managed to hit the ground, as you instead fell into a quick pair of arms. 

“Wow, I’ve got you,” the deep voice alone caused your face to go flush. 

“Uh,” you blinked up into the eyes of the one and only man whom your brain had decided to have a filthy dream about just last night, “h-hi!”

“Are you okay?” his strong grip on your form caused the vivid fantasy to come rushing back with a vengeance.

“Mhm,” you hummed, eyes fluttering hazily, “I’m good, I’m great,” your chest heaved as you then haphazardly raised up the bouquet in your grasp, “you know, just getting some flowers for the tables and stuff…”

“Yeah, I can see that,” an amused cock to his brow swiftly appeared, “I’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he said clearly, in a tone as if you’d hit your head. 

Nodding fuzzily, “okay,” your hands, still tightly wound around the pastel blossoms, rested in support on either side of his broad shoulders long after he’d planted you back down on the ground. 

“You good?” his head dipped to search your features, fiery touch still lingering on your waist a moment longer before it faded away. 

“Yep,” you averted your gaze, awkwardly gesturing up towards the grand shrub, “they should really put a warning up on those, plucking flowers is a dangerous thing,” finally peeling your palms away from his radiating warmth, “but, uh, thank you for catching me.”

Tongue sweeping out in an effort to snuff out his beguiled smile, he gazed down at you and uttered, “any time.” 

“So, um,” you cleared your throat, recalling why he was actually here today, “do you have t-the wood?”

“Yeah, it’s in the truck,” he gestured back over his shoulder towards the façade of the inn where the dirt road ended, widening out into a small patch before the veranda of the building flourished, his loaded vehicle indeed being vaguely visible from back here, “but we don’t have to work on the porch today if you don’t feel up for it.” 

“No, no, I’m ready,” you hastily shook your head, shifting all of the florets into one hand, “there have been giant holes in that thing for as long as I can remember, so I am more than ready to bid them adieu.”

“Great, then I’ll just go get it while you finish this up.”

“Oh, I’m actually done, I was just supposed to get them for my dad,” you then heard yourself adding, “also, I can’t in good conscience make you carry that stuff all alone,” nearly poking him with the bouquet as you implored, “I mean, you’re already helping me out so much around here, it just wouldn’t be fair,” raising up a pleading finger, your feet then began to back up, slowly carrying you towards the backdoor, “just give me one second, let me run in with this real quick and then I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he offered you even a hint of confirmation, your stride took off, rushing indoors, chest heaving as you eventually caught yourself on the kitchen counter, though not from your speedy pace.

Settling the flowers down, your fingers grasped the edge of the cool tabletop, nearly doubling over as you sucked in calming breaths in an attempt to rid your body of the tingling sensations the lingering dream triggered.

When you eventually swung the doors back open, a purposeful shake of your clammy palms on either side of your frame was the last attempt you made to cool down. 

Shoving the passenger side door shut, paint-chipped toolbox acquired and firm in his hand, you walked towards Pete as he unlatched the bed of the truck where lengthy planks of wood lay stacked. 

“Hey,” you hesitantly called out as you neared him, his head rotating at the sound of your voice, “I just wanna apologise again for what happened that day at your cabin…” 

“Christ, not this again,” he set the toolbox down with a heavy clank, “Y/n, you can’t keep doing this.”

“But-”

“No,” he nearly chuckled, “you literally did nothing wrong! One was an accident,” he counted on his fingers, “we’ve already established that, and the other? Sweetheart, that’s not something you should apologise for.”

Brows knit tightly together, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, “but I cried, like really cried, and dumped all of that shit on you…”

“You didn’t dump anything, you shared,” he countered, “hey, look at me,” dipping his head down to catch your tense vision, he then continued softly, “I know that it was uncomfortable for you, but that doesn’t mean it was wrong,” his wide palm reassuringly found the top of your shoulder, “it’s not wrong to talk about something that’s hard, that’s the kind of shit that helps you move on from it,” searching you edgy expression a moment, his warm touch then faltered in favour of the pile of lumber, sliding one of the long stacks out as he urged light-heartedly, “now shut up and grab the other end of this,” gliding it out far enough for you to grasp the other end. 

After curving halfway around the porch, you halted, “hold up,” fingers screaming out from the way the weight dug into your soft palms, “stop, one second,” you tried to prop your knee up under the many planks, “I just need to hold onto it a little differently.” 

Glancing back at you, “okay,” he muttered before the lumber gingerly swung away from you, careful not to collide with you as he unexpectedly hauled the long and hefty bundle up in a more secure hold on his broad shoulder, “I can also just carry these the rest of the way, if you want,” the nonchalant offer coming out as if the timber didn’t weight a thing at all.

“Uh…” your breath became a thing of the past as your eyes fixated on the way his burly muscles bulged under his rolled-up sleeves.

“I think maybe if you go back and just grab one or two on your own it won’t be such a pain on your hands. I mean, no offence, I’m just–” 

“No, that sounds great, you just–, uh,” your fumbling words cut off his suggestion as your feet already began to drag you back towards his truck, “I’ll go get some–, uhm, yeah…”

Dark hair gently falling down and tickling his brow, Pete’s eyes were fast on the plank under his broad palm as he fastened in two screws, securing the board and gradually patching up the gaping hole on the deck. 

Kneeling as well, your clutch on the other end of the slat didn’t do much in the way of holding it in place. Your whole body felt like jelly as you caught sight of the way the veins on the back of his hand popped out from the stain of pressing down on the buzzing drill, forcing the screw to embed itself into the wood. 

Lips slightly parted, you swore you felt your cunt clench around nothing as you fought the urge to let out an embarrassing whimper. 

Pete’s head barely raised as his index finger slacked its force on the bulky button, unceremoniously passing the power tool to you as he had done a dozen times by now so that you could take care of the task in the other end, “here,” though when you didn’t move to snatch it out of his grasp, his features perked up, “Y/n?” letting out a short whistle in order to snap you out of your trance.

“Yeah?” your pulse thumped between your thighs, “oh, thanks,” giving your head a swift shake before you seized the gimlet and huffed out a big exhale, hoping you weren’t blushing as hard as it felt like you were.

As you clutched the drill, screwing in a few bolts on your side of the porch, a voice from the garden caught your ears.

“You know, my second husband was a carpenter,” you spotted Donna right on the other side of the railing, wafting a bright floral fan mere inches from her amble bosom as if she was some saucy Victorian woman in heat, “I’ve always loved a man who’s good with his hands…”

Her obvious innuendo made you bite down on your grin in order to not burst out a laugh. 

Sucking in a controlled and mildly impatient breath, Pete averted his gaze and uttered formally, “hello ma'am.” 

“It’s awfully chilly these nights, don’t you think?” the rotund woman continued to brashly bat her eyelashes at him, “perhaps you could personally come fill up my stack of firewood? Help warm me up a bit?”

“Ma'am, I already informed you before,” he kept his tone polite yet detached, “I don’t do deliveries, I just drop firewood off at the market, but perhaps someone there could help bring some to you.”

Pushing the doors open to the unacquainted roadside bar Frank found himself at, he had no idea how long he’d been driving for, simply that the sky had turned black long after he reached uncharted land in his desperate attempt at clearing his foggy mind.

“Evening,” the proprietor greeted him as he slumped down at the bar, “what can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” Frank answered distantly, his head elsewhere as it had unfortunately become acquainted with ever since nothing short of an angel had walked into his life. 

“You’ve got it,” the bartender swiftly reached down into one of the compact coolers hiding back there and conjured an emerald flask, popping the lid off with an opener at his belt just before he slid it across the counter towards him, “here you are.”

Offering a courteous nod, “thanks,” Frank then began to drown his sorrows. 

The establishment was mostly empty, only he and one other customer on the other side of the bar acted as its sole patrons. 

“Hey,” the other man soon barked, “can I get a refill over here?” he lifted up his stout glass and tapped a ringed finger against the side, “and from the top shelf this time, I don’t want any more of this cheap hillbilly shit you try and call whiskey.” 

When the bartender obliged, unable to hide how visibly peeved the rude customer made him feel, Frank’s eye line followed the proprietor’s movements as he served up the drink, still lazily fixated as he handed it off into the boorish man’s inked hand. Swiftly downing it as he rose from his tall stool, Frank’s tired vision momentarily got a chance to rest on the reptilian tattoo that decorated the back of the stranger's right hand. His sharp suit rose up ever so slightly to reveal that the striking design curled even higher on his tan skin than what was visible, before he promptly slammed it back down, along with crumbled compensation, and left, the sound of a garish engine soon acting as his last and final farewell.

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

hi!!! congratulations on your 1k followers!! your blog is so great and you deserve each one of them!! i wanted to request a ficlet with the following picks: P, zombie apocalypse au, hurt comfort and 🔪!! can't wait to see what you come up with, congratulations again!! -@steveseddie

Aw, that's so lovely, thank you! This one was a lot of fun to figure out, and of course it has grown a little plot already. 😅

My world ends (without you)

Rated: E (for blood and violence)

Words: 997

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse AU; Established relationship; Blood and violence; Steve Harrington whump

One time, shortly after they lost Eddie, Max asked Steve if he never got mad. She didn't look at him, just continued staring ahead, knees hugged to her chest. Her face was dotted crimson from their latest run-in with the dead, like a smattering of extra freckles.

“Do you even care at all? About what happened to Eddie?” 

“Of course,” Steve said, fingernails digging crescents into his palm. “He was my friend.” 

She huffed. “Friend, yeah. Whatever. Point is, I'd be furious at these undead fuckheads, but you? You're so calm. I don't get it.” 

Steve hummed, thinking about how to explain. 

“Of course I'm mad,” was what he settled on. “But you gotta keep a level head, or you'll do stupid things. I got you kids to protect. And besides, you think those undead fuckheads asked for this? It's the damn virus that's screwing us all over.” 

It's funny how he remembers this now, months later, huddled into the shelter of a tree and peeling his pants away from his bleeding leg. Part of him is still hoping it's something else - that he cut himself falling through that window, that one of his last bullets ricocheted and got him, fuck, please anything but this. 

But it is. 

The teeth marks in his flesh, the way the wound is already festering and turning black, tell him all he needs to know. 

“Fuck!” he swears, falling backwards and staring up at the darkening sky through stinging eyes. His hand twitches for his gun - he'd rather end it now than happening upon Robin or the kids later - but then he remembers he's out of ammunition. There's nothing he can do. 

Nothing but lie here and let the fever take him and hope that whoever finds him puts a quick end to it. 

*

He doesn't expect to wake up again, not as himself. When he does, his head is cradled in someone's lap and for a moment, he thinks he's back at their camp with Robin, that it was all a nightmare. But then he realizes he's still in the forest and the pain in his leg hits him like a ton of bricks. 

“-quite the number on you, huh, big boy?” 

Steve's groan turns into a gasp. 

“Eddie? This isn't real, you're dead.” 

Eddie grins, briefly. It tugs on the big, gnarly scar covering his jaw and the side of his face, just where Steve saw him get bitten. Then, his face settles back into grim determination. 

“How long?” 

Steve blinks against the confusion and the fever. “Huh?” 

“Your leg, Stevie. How long since the bite?” 

“I … I dunno,” Steve slurs. His head is pounding. He's burning inside. “Few hours?” 

Eddie nods. “Gotta be quick then. Sorry, this is gonna hurt like a bitch.” 

He places Steve's head on the ground, bustling around with something in the fire he has built next to their spot.

“What’re you-” Steve starts to say, trying to sit. That's when he realizes his wrists are tied above his head and panic kicks alive behind his ribcage. “Eddie?” 

When Eddie turns, he's holding a knife. The blade is glowing orange.

“No,” Steve breathes, feebly straining against his bonds. “Nonono, Eddie, please!” 

“Hey,” Eddie says. “Remember when we first met?” 

The question comes from so far out of left field that Steve forgets to struggle. Eddie’s eyes are dark and serious in the firelight. 

“You said to make it outta this, we gotta trust each other. You trust me?” 

Steve doesn’t even hesitate. He nods. Eddie smiles, brief but pleased. 

“Then let's go.” 

Something nudges against Steve’s lips, something dry and leathery - a belt. 

“You'll wanna bite down on something,” Eddie says, regret in his eyes. “Believe me.” 

Swallowing down the humiliation burning in his throat, Steve opens his mouth. 

“Atta boy,” Eddie praises, but the joke falls flat between them. “Let's fucking do this.” 

And Steve's world disappears behind a wall of pain. 

*

“Y’know,” Eddie murmurs. He's propped them up against the tree trunk, Steve’s head tucked under his chin, fingers combing Steve's sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “I'd be lying if I told ya I never thought of tying you up and gagging you with my belt, but this was not what I imagined.” 

Steve scoffs weakly, eyes straying down to his bandaged leg. “Did it work?” 

Eddie shrugs. “Think so. Henry says you gotta cut the infection out before it spreads, but how much time you got depends on a lot of factors. Your fever seems to be under control , so that's good, but lemme know if you develop any unusual cravings. Brains, raw meat, that kinda-” 

“Woah, hold on, who's Henry? Did he …” 

Eddie interrupts his ramble when Steve’s fingers find the new scar on his jaw. He allows Steve to map the shape of it for a while before catching his fingers and pressing a kiss to them. 

“Yeah. He's head of a safe zone, about twenty miles north from here. He's a scientist … well, used to be, and … Stevie, he thinks he knows how to cure it.” 

“What? Eddie, that's incredible, where- We gotta tell the others, we gotta-” Steve has hardly startled upright when Eddie guides him back down. 

“Right now, honey, all we gotta do is let you rest. Plenty of time to break the good news to the others tomorrow.” 

And maybe it's the pain, or maybe it's the blood loss, or maybe it's the overwhelming bliss of having Eddie back, but Steve doesn’t find it in himself to argue. 

“Alright,” he whispers, letting his head sag against Eddie’s chest and allowing the gentle rhythm of his beating heart to lull him to sleep. “Just … don't leave again.” 

Eddie kisses the top of his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” 

He's broken that promise before. There's no guarantee he won't break it again, not in this fucked up nightmare they live in. But Steve trusts him. 

That has to be enough. 

Man, that Henry sounds like a swell fella, I'm sure nothing will go wrong.

More celebration ficlets

[princessbrunette]

protective stepbro!jj when a guy hurts/makes reader cry 🥵

ALL SQUARE ♡

CW: mentions of JJ’s dad abusing him briefly at start, violence, step-cest, angry JJ !!

JJ was pretty shitty with his feelings. God, he’d die before having an ‘open conversation’ with someone about ‘boundaries’ or writing in a diary like that mandatory counsellor who visit him after his dad had left some gnarly knuckle stains on his face for the trillionth time had suggested. No, it wasn’t his style. You keep moving, keep talking, keep runnin’ and nothing can catch up with you. Nothing can hurt you.

You were so different.

It was almost painful, how sensitive you were. Your lip quivered at those TV commercials where they’d show the abused puppies in cages waiting for adoption, JJ often having to beat you to your phone before you donated a handful of the money you didn’t have. Your eyes would drop to your lap in humiliation when his asshole father would make some kind of offhand impertinent comment about the bunnies on your pyjamas or the fact your fresh nail polish on your toes was making the living room stink of chemicals. No longer abusive, but still an insensitive asshole. JJ didn’t know how your mother subsisted, but then again she wasn’t like you— soft and saccharine, she was tough. She kept his father in his place, he needed that.

Your common sensitivity was why his heart only leapt halfway out the confines of his ribcage when he found you. He’d come home around 4ish, having stayed over at John B’s, something he used to be able to do for weeks on end but now couldn’t bare to leave you lonely in the house for longer than 2 days. He remembers now, your work uniform, when he sees the back of you first— white polo top hugging you, skirt bunching a little from your feet being curled beneath you on the futon, gold clasped necklace kissing the peach fuzz at the back of your neck. He smiles before he notices the way your shoulders are slumped dejectedly and you sniffle wetly into your knuckles.

He doesn’t greet you in his usual silly way, this time traipsing around the futon in the living room with his brow pinched until he was met front on with the confirmation that you were crying.

“What happened?” He sighs. Undoubtably, you’d watched a Tiktok of ‘Cats who didn’t get picked at the adoption centre today’ or accidentally smashed one of your pink plates you insisted you ate off.

“I hate this job, J.” You bleat, lips turned down and gloopy eyes flickering to him a few times. He sits at your side, hand hovering over you for a moment before deciding on your shoulder what he hoped was comfortingly. Okay, that answer was pretty valid. You’d recently picked up a job at the golf course, Kook central. He hated the idea of you shuffling skittishly around after those belligerent assholes, having them peak up the pleats of your skirt when you bend to fetch a ball or to snap their fingers at you when you don’t retrieve their champagne fast enough. But, you’d needed a job and he respected you for trying. He fought with everything to hold in the “I told you that place was bad news.” until he couldn’t, and said it anyway.

“I know.” You mewl pathetically, wiping your glossy nostrils on the back of your hand leaving a snail trail of snot down it.

“Talk to me, c’mon.” He shuffles a little closer, eager to hear the details, to find out who / what had made his sweet little step-sister so downcast. His brain flashes to what he might think would be the usual culprits. From what he’d seen however, Topper was oddly respectful to the help, Rafe didn’t care enough to bully them and Kelce just did whatever Rafe did, so maybe not.

“Y’know that property salesman guy, the — the one who’s got his picture plastered on all those benches outside the town square. I kept gettin’ in his way and,” You hiccup harshly, taking a moment to swallow it down as you collect yourself. JJ stares at your profile attentively, eyes wide and jogging his knee. He wish you’d hurry up and get to the point. “He kept yelling at me. Callin’ me names, like stupid and useless.” Your eyes finally meet JJ’s, flickering around for a moment hesitantly. He has a fresh cut on his jaw and through his eyebrow, his blonde hair sticking out his backwards cap curls at his temples, his eyes are a little tired and bloodshot but still wide and beautiful. Oh, you hated to see him mad. You push your sleeve higher up your arm, and look equally shocked to see the fresh bruise had darkened, the shape of yucky thick fingers curled around it. “He yanked me really hard n’I lost my footing and fell.” Your face crumples again, hot tears squeezing out your eyes.

JJ goes very still, his knee frozen and he barely breathes. Not only had someone been mean to you, but they’d laid their hands on you.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.” He seethes and you’re already shaking your head desperately before he’s even finished his sentence. “Yes, yes I am— not only, okay — not only is he laying his hands on a woman, alright — he’s laying his hands on you. That behaviour needs to be straightened out, and if no one’s gonna do it well —” He was up, pacing infront of you, looking around for something, some inspiration on what he could do to this degenerate Kook.

“Jayj!” You snivel, and it sounded so sad and small that it actually stops him in his tracks. He didn’t wanna scare you, no. Not you of all people, not when you’d been treated like this. He had a temper, it was true— his father’s son, but he was trying to be there for you. Be a good big step-brother. He sighs, rubbing his hands down his face a good few times trying to wipe off the anger, for now atleast. You could see the self restraint in him, his biceps were tense and his hands were flushed with colour and veins from the strain of it all. Made your tummy go all weird.

“Alright.” He relents and sits down right next to you again, taking off his cap and tossing it aside carelessly to run his fingers through the tangled locks, snagging half way through.

“I need this job.” You speak after a moment, and he turns his head to look at you. You looked so pretty, even when you’d been crying, snot and all. He rubs his lips together, eyes casted away once more as he nods.

“I know.” He wrings his wrists, the signs of restlessness still residing in him. “Sorry I freaked... C’mere.” He turns back, windscreen wiping the inky droplets of watered down mascara from beneath your eyes, hot hands cupping your cheekbones. “People are assholes, babe.” He lets the nickname slip out and your face gets a bit warmer. “You’re so much better than them, y’hear me? You’ll be alright.” He leans in and presses a kiss to the centre of your forehead. It feels appropriate, but he’s not sure what that means anymore — the line between the two of you having been crossed in such demented ways before. God, you look up at him so sweet when he pulls away, big watery eyes that would put a baby cow to shame. “You’re tough.” He lies, because you’re not tough, you’re so far from it— but your cheeks push up anyway, easily subdued by his care and affection.

“Yeah?”

“The toughest girl around. Even I’m scared of ‘ya.” He jokes and you giggle. Mission accomplished, for now anyway. The first part of the mission. He’d sweet talked you enough to have you curled up on the couch, exhausted from your long and stressful day, some reality show he couldn’t care less about buzzing on the TV. Yeah, that’ll do— some form of promise to go and grab some icecream to bring you leaves his mouth when he jogs out the door pocketing his keys and you believe him. He’s sure he can pick some up on the way home anyway.

But he passes the convenience store and heads all the way to the golf course. One of JJ’s many rules to mischief and misconduct was that if you walked with enough purpose, no one will question whether or not you belong somewhere. Which is how he strides straight in, past all the Kooks in their crisp shirts and board shorts, a jolly atmosphere in the air as the sun starts to set. Oh happy day, JJ thinks, how nice to be this ignorant to the world around you.

He all but skids to a stop when he spots him, the man he was looking for. Mr Mattegar, top salesman to Kildares richest idiots. Overpriced houses and redecoration jobs that remove any historical significance from a property? You best believe it’s Mattegars handiwork. He lounges at the bar, reddy-orangey cocktail in hand as he laughs obnoxiously loud amongst friends. JJ hangs back a little, nose twitching in anger as he disguises himself clumsily behind a large decorative plant. He’s lucky Kooks are so self absorbed, because no one spares him a glance.

Finally, the successful salesman departs from his table, heading towards the car park. Perfect, JJ notes, makes my job a hell of a lot more easy. The car park is secluded, away from the resort, and as JJ keeps his eyes trained on the Kooks back, he plucks a golf club from a passing trolley, clutching it in his tightly wound fist. He was going to find out which obnoxious Rangerover belonged to the culprit and partake in some much deserved vandalism, but this was better. His chest feels hot with vexation.

Another one of JJ’s many mischief guidelines fell along the lines of ‘Don’t think, just do.’ He stayed true to his word when he yanked up the paisley bandana tied around his neck to cover everything but his eyes and yelled out “Hey asshole!” Once the two of them were alone.

He didn’t think when he swung with the club, the metal head cracking against the aged man’s cheekbone. He yelps, falling backwards, and JJ is still yet to think when he swings again. “S’what you get! Laying your hands on little girls just tryna do their jobs!” He should have started thinking. The more he uses his voice, spitting out the expletives as he gives him a good few kicks to the rib, the more identifiable he’d be. This was a hit and run so uh, run.

He takes off, yanking his bandana off to pant wetly by the docks, tossing the golf club and watching it sink. He wasn’t sure why he’d referred to you as a ‘little girl’. It made him feel icky, weird, perverted. He leans over the side of the wall, watching the metal club disappear into the inky water as he catches his breath. Murmuring out a ‘God damn’ before continuing on home briskly, not even forgetting to pick up your favourite Ben & Jerry’s on the way home. What was that flavour you liked again? Phish Food?

You’re conked out when he gets home, lips parted and curled infront of the TV with a blanket draped over your legs. He exhales through his nose, placing the tub of frozen dessert aside on the table along with his keys as he slowly approaches, a small but anxious smile on his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, but for you there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do. He pulls the blanket over you a little higher, dropping a kiss to your temple. He’ll share the tub of icecream with you when you wake up.

[barksenji]

I posted this on reddit, but I've seen some gnarly posts about Venezuela here, so I'll post it here too.

"I'll try to answer all of them. I don't know if I can explain like you're 5 because I'm autistic af and English is not my first language, but I hope I can make myself understood.

I condemn practically everything about the government. In Venezuela, on average, only four out of 10 operating rooms in the country's main hospitals are operative, and the shortage of supplies in emergency rooms is around 37%, while in operating rooms it reaches 74%. As for my own experience, I have Classical Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, I had a shoulder subluxation and I still do, and I went to the Victorino Santaella hospital in my country, there's little personnel, to the point that in the area for traumatology you could see dry blood on the floor because there just wasn't enough people to clean it up. Not a little bit of blood, but a lot. If you want decent medical attention, you will have to pay a bunch of money.

I had a strangulated umbilical hernia, which again, is something that commonly happens with the EDS. My dad had to spend 4000$ dollars on the operation, which for us, is a unachievable amount of money. He had to sell his car, and beg his job for the rest of the money, because the car was old asf and only covered about 200$.

Many people say the government is progressive, it is not. In Venezuela the LGBTQ community has absolutely no rights, it's incredibly difficult for trans people to change their documents or access hormonal treatment. Abortion is not legal here, not even in rape cases, gay marriage isn't legal either, and domestic violence largely goes unpunished.

The minimum wage is around 3 dollars, my dad works in transit so he earns minimum wage, because I have so many medical emergencies he has to make illegal driving licenses in order for me to get treatment. It is incredibly hard for my mom to find a job.

If you want an overview of the whole political situation, this thread can explain it better than I can:

This also explains many of the faults with the government, really, there are too many, I can't count them all.

There’s also no freedom of speech in Venezuela due to Nicolas Maduro’s oppression. All the news channels that are available are on his side. CNNE was removed from Venezuela after doing a documentary on Maduro and also was DW. Our only way to inform ourselves are socials, and most venezuelans are speaking through there.

Maduro's government is not a socialist government anymore, it paints itself that way to outsiders, but it is not. Money that should be going to public institutions is not going to those institutions, hence why the hospitals are in such dire state and you have to pay for private clinics in order to get appropriate care. I don't know if you're familiar with the CLAP bags, The Local Supply and Production Committees (CLAP) is a distribution program of some basic imported foodstuffs promoted by the Venezuelan government since 2016 in which the communities themselves organized in committees supply and distribute priority foods through a modality of delivery of products, house by house at first, later distributed in a local of the community. The problem with these is that they're frequently infected with weevils, maggots, and even if they look "good" on the outside, they can be infected with bacteria and give you food poisoning. Worse is, some people are entirely reliant on these.

They're supposed to protect our indigenous people, but a Venezuelan indigenous leader who opposed the incursion of armed groups and illegal mining was shot twice while in a neighborhood in the capital of Amazonas state. Maduro is also the richest man in Venezuela.

In the protests that occurred in 2017, around 150 people died thanks to the armed forces and colectivos (paramilitaries on the side of the government), police came out with tanks (idk the name exactly in English) and ran over people who were peacefully protesting. Right now, I believe there has been 11 people confirmed injured, though there's probably more, since hospitals are asking for resources to treat the injured.

I think most of these payment methods are only available in Venezuela, but I saw a Paypal here and there, if you can help I'd thank you so much:

As for the self-sufficiency, I don't know. As I said, I'm 17 and heavily reliant on my parents. This country's also really not accessible for disabled people, I cannot go down stairs and have to walk with a cane, there's rarely a place where elevators are functioning properly: ironically, especially in hospitals. In the hospital Victorino Santaella, my dad has to carry me through a bunch of stairs, he has a bunch of hernias in his back so that's obviously no good for him. I'm also at heavy risk of fainting, so yeah.

Also: I don't know how the housing situation is in Venezuela statistic-wise, but for the young adults, is impossible to get a house. Houses can cost up to 100.000$ and more, the average job will pay enough for you to eat, buy toilet paper, basic needs and that's about it.

My friends, who were studying university, couldn't finish cause they had to get a job in a supermarket or bakery in order to be able to support their parent economically. It's horrible.

We also have no running water, when we do it's brown, our power goes off all the time and I have no health insurance"

Do I support María Corina? Or the opposition? I'm skeptical about them, they're still politicians, and Machado is a Zionist. I'm worried about idolizing these figures, deeply. But there's no alternative guys.

For gringos saying that we are supporting fascists, and whatnot. We have literally no other option. This didn't start with US sanctions, it just got WORSE with them. But these sanctions are a symptom, not the root of our problem.

Please, listen to venezuelan voices. If you're really a leftist, just a bit of research will be enough to convince you that this is NOT even a socialist government anymore.

[cressidagrey]

Welcome to the World - Chapter 2

Summary:

The quickest turnaround time between finding your mate and having a kid anybody in the history of Prythian has ever managed

Warnings:

Rhys bashing, Mention of Domestic Violence, Mention of Miscarriage, Mention of Child Murder, Mention of Adult Murder, Mention of Stabbing, Childbirth, Labour, a disgruntled Donkey named Thistle

(super pretty dividers thanks to @saradika)

He heard the door open and his mother’s voice, in conversation with another woman…and then steps on the staircase and he knew that the midwife had arrived. 

Finally. Thankfully. 

Somebody that actually knew what they were doing, because Azriel for sure did not know what he was doing. 

And still, now there was a very different kind of anxiety running through her, because…because that meant that he would need to go, to leave her alone and to wait until the baby was born…and he knew all that could go wrong during a birth. 

Snapshots of Nyx’s birth were seared in his brain, rearing their dark, ugly heads when he only dared to think in that direction. 

Everything could go wrong. 

He lifted his hand to Ciara’s cheek, feeling the soft, warm skin underneath his gnarly fingertips…everything beautiful in the world was right there in front of him. He didn’t understand why the mother had thought it prudent to give her to him. Didn’t think that he had done anything in his fucking life to deserve her. 

He had bathed in the blood of the enemies, and Ciara had burst into tears at only the mention of killing, her whole body shaking. 

But he knew one thing. He knew that he was going to fucking slaughter anybody that would ever put a hand on her or her child. 

He leaned forward to press one single kiss against her forehead, feeling her soft hair…breathing in nutmeg and clementines. 

Even now, with the notes of pain and anxiety running through her scent, it was the best thing he had ever smelled. 

It was so…perfect. So utterly warm and comforting and perfect. 

“It will be fine,” he promised her, forcing down the anxiety he was feeling. He wasn’t quite sure who he wanted to assure, him or her…he said it nonetheless. 

She really had enough of her own to worry about. She didn’t need Azriel‘s fear to bleed all over their bond. So he needed to get a fucking grip on himself so it didn’t get any worse. 

Ciara nodded, holding his hand tighter, small nimble fingers interlaced with his own. He was surprised to find callouses on hers as well, though they were concentrated on the top of her fingers, the sides…he had seen them on his mother's hands, on Rhys’ mother's hands his whole life. 

Needles pushed through fabric, again and again…one glance at the blanket lying carefully folded in that little wooden cradle made him wonder if she had made that.

And then there was a knock at the door. It opened…Nora, the midwife, was a female his mother’s age, greying hair shorn short, carrying along with her a massive bag, and bundles of linens. 

“So it seems like we’ll have a baby tonight,” she said brightly and Ciara sighed as he stood and Nora entered the room, putting her bag on Ciara’s desk. 

“How are you feeling, Ciara? You can wait outside,” she dismissed him without a second glance and he let go of Ciara‘s hand to leave the room…to force himself to walk downstairs, even when he wanted nothing more than to stay. 

He wanted to stay, but she hadn’t asked that of him and he was not going to put her in a situation where she thought that she needed to agree. 

So he walked downstairs. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked his mother who was bustling around the kitchen, needing something to keep busy or the nervous energy under his skin would drive him insane. 

“No, not really. Towels are in the armoire…I’ll put water on near the fireplace in her room…If you could take care of the animals…” she trailed off. He inclined his head. “Don’t let Thistle bite you,” she warned him with a grin, though it didn’t make him laugh. 

“You are jittery,” his mother said quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his arms and he turned his hand so that he could hold hers. As always, she swallowed whenever she felt the scarred texture of his hands, even centuries later still giving herself the fault for what had happened to him.

He had never given her the fault. Not for one second. They had both been stuck in a horrible situation.

And what his half-brothers had done to him, was not his mother's fault. He had told her that…multiple times. And still, still she thought differently. 

Thought that because she was his mother she needed to protect him against everything and anything. 

And it didn’t matter what he did, he couldn’t change her opinion…she still gave herself the fault.

“The one and only birth I saw didn’t end particularly well,” he answered honestly. 

Nyx’s birth was seared into his brain. He just prayed fervently that Ciara would have an easier time than Feyre had. 

Granted, she was a full-blooded Illyrian, but she was built slight but tall…what if the baby became stuck while passing through her pelvis and…

There was no Nesta here that could give up half her powers in exchange for Ciara’s life and the life of her daughter. 

“She’ll be fine,” his mother promised him. He gave her a doubtful look. 

She couldn’t promise him that. Something could always go wrong…and he couldn’t lose her. Not when he just got her. 

He had waited 5 centuries for Ciara. 

 “Females give birth to babies all the time, Azriel,” his mother pointed out drily.

He knew that. Of course, he knew that. But still. 

“Granted it’s her… first,” his mother’s voice shook and not the first time he wondered if he had been…if he had been his mother's only pregnancy. Or had there been more…maybe girls that hadn’t even been allowed to take their first breath before his father had…he shoved these thoughts away because they would do nothing but make him furious. 

“At least the first full-term one…that often is the most difficult, but Nora has delivered hundreds of babies,” she assured him quietly. 

“What do you mean?” he asked immediately. Why was it the most difficult one? 

Was it riskier? Why? 

“Her body doesn’t know what to do yet,” his mother said calmly, her hand tightening around his. “Ciara’s anxiety has been for weeks, which doesn’t help…Scared of the unknown. She’ll be fine , Azriel,” she assured him again. 

“But…” the protest was on his tongue before he could even think about it properly.

“But nothing,“ his mother said drily. “She will be fine.” She looked out of the window and he saw the snowflakes slowly drifting to the ground outside. 

Afternoon had come and evening would be there in less than a few hours, the sky already darkening. “It’s a good night to be born.”

It was. Icy but peaceful. 

His mother went upstairs and Azriel forced himself to go out to the barn in the back garden…

With no small amount of apprehension for his first meeting with Thistle the donkey. 

It was better that he got out of the house, before…Before the labour started in the earnest. 

He blinked twice as he saw the barn, which looked much better than it had the last time he had visited. 

Thistle the donkey wasn’t the only animal his mother had acquired. Though it was definitely the one in the worst mood. 

If he had ever met an animal that seemed to match Amren in both size and general behaviour…Thistle it was. 

Thistle had no hesitant to kick or bite and even tried to go for his wings when he wasn’t quick enough to pour grain in her trough for her liking

The wings were definitely beneath the fucking line of dignity! 

He glared at Thistle when she finally stuck her head in her trough and munched her way through her dinner. 

Which left him with the rest of the animals to take care of. 

Two more Goats were also waiting for their dinner and apparently to be milked…he couldn’t say that he had much experience with that, though there was a horrible diagram drawn on the chalkboard hanging on the wall…together with written instructions on what to feed which animal, and clearly whoever had last milked the long-suffering goats it had put everything back into place. 

He wondered if it had been Ciara or his mother…if it had been Ciara who was clearly willing to pull her weight and to work hard, even as pregnant as she was. 

Still, when he finally had a bottle filled with goat milk and the poor goat ran away,  probably happy to not have him pull at her udder anymore…he had a newfound respect for farm work because Azriel clearly wasn’t talented at it…give him some rabbits to hunt any day. 

He moved on to the chickens, who were clearly not amused by the fact that there was somebody with bigger wings than them. They blustered while screaming at him because he wanted to steal their eggs.  While being pecked to hell and back, he still reached out for the mental tether he had to Rhys, shoving any thought of Ciara and the baby far, far away from himself. 

* Rhys ?*

* Is everything alright? * his brother’s mental touch appeared nearly immediately . * Cassian said you are in Rosehall ?*

*Can I have the rest of the week off?* Azriel asked, keeping his voice even. 

* Is everything alright ?* Rhys repeated . 

*I need to take care of my mother’s donkey. * It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the complete truth but he wasn’t ready…wasn’t ready to have this conversation yet. 

And especially not right now, when it felt like he was hanging on by a thread. 

*Her donkey.* Rhys repeated unbelieving and Azriel pushed a memory of Thistle biting at his wing at him. 

The laughter was immediate.

*Yes. And her chickens and her goats and whatever other poor creature she has apparently now saved,“ he said drily. He wondered if his mother still had a cat. She used to always have one, but he hadn’t yet come across a mouser.

*Is Esmeray alright?* Rhys asked him, worry edging his voice.

*Just busy. You know how she gets ,* he deflected. 

Also not a lie. Just not the whole truth. 

* Take a few days, Az.* Rhys agreed.

At least Rhys‘ bad conscience was good for some things .

***

“You’re in labour, child.” And with that, Nora took away any hope she had of a stay of execution.

Labour. Her daughter would be born soon, regardless of what Ciara wished. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hold her baby or that she wasn’t looking forward to meeting her, to see her growing up…

It wasn’t that she didn’t want love on her, didn’t want to press kisses to her little head and see if she looked like Ciara…see if her hair curled or her nose scrunched and…

But once she was born…Ciara couldn’t protect her anymore. As long as she was safely in Ciara’s womb, Ciara could pretend she could protect her. 

But…

 “Up you go,” Nora said easily, helping her sit up on the bed and then stand, Ciara grimacing in pain at the change of position. 

“Good. Walking will make the pain the most effective,” Nora told her calmly. 

Right. She had told her that before. 

Something to do with the pull to the earth, making it easier for the baby to drop into position…

Ciara’s hand wrapped around the wrought metal of the footboard of the bed, hissing in pain. Another one of those pains, coming like waves of the ocean to crash into the shore… or crashing into her. 

“How do females do this multiple times?” She asked weakly, as another one of these waves of pain crashed through her and then receded, giving her a moment to catch her breath. 

“You’ll forget it once you hold your baby,” Esmeray said gently. “Move your wings to the side, sweetheart, I’ll rub your back.”

She did, weakly twitching them to the side…hers weren’t clipped, but she was quite sure that she did not have enough strength in them to fly. She couldn’t remember ever having done it anyway…and she hadn’t been willing to try while pregnant. Too worried to crash to the ground and hurt her baby. 

Esmeray’s hands pressed over the base of her spine as the next contraction built and she moaned softly in relief. Better. Still painful but better. 

And so it began. 

She walked her circles in her room, returning to lean against the footboard or against the walls when another wave hit her, letting Esmeray and Nora gently ply her with water to drink and then whatever weird tea it was, sweetened with honey and herbs. 

“You’re doing well,” Nora promised her, even when it was felt like she was making no progress at all, as the sun sank behind the horizon and night reigned. 

It was maddening .

She felt herself grow seemingly insane with every new wave of pressure that seemed to grow and grow and grow with nowhere to go…her legs growing weaker until finally, another wave of pain forced her to her knees in front of her bed, panting with breath, her mouth opening into a silent scream…her hands fisting into the quilt she had made out of fabric scraps at the shop…

The pain peaked and she groaned as a rush of warmth ran down her thighs, soaking the clean blanket beneath her with clear fluid.

What…she didn’t even have time to think about it before another wave of pain crashed over her, leaving her gasping for air.

“Your water broke,” Esmeray said, sounding delighted, still rubbing her back. "She will be here soon, sweetheart." 

No. No, she wasn’t ready. She couldn’t do this. Ciara just wanted…

But she couldn’t even finish that thought, because there was more pain. 

“Could you fill the bathtub, Esmeray?” Nora asked quietly. 

What? No, she…

“What’s wrong?” She gasped out between more rolling waves of pain.

“Nothing is wrong, Ciara,” Nora soothed her. Something was wrong. Something…

“You didn’t think I would need the water because the baby isn’t that big,” Ciara whimpered. What had changed? Why did she…

“She’s not. It will help you,” Nora assured her. “You’ll have less pain and could heal quicker.”

She should be able to stand it. She should be able to…

She went back to rocking, breath coming hard gasps, trying to find something to hang onto…

“In the tub with you," Nora said calmly, helping her stand, her legs shaking. Esmeray came to her other side and somehow between the two of them, she made it to the bathing chamber, every step agony. 

She leaned on the side of the tub, “I can’t get in there,” she whispered weakly. 

“You can and you will,” Nora told her, accepting no argument.

Ciara didn’t know how she managed it, just knew that somehow she slid into the warm water and for a moment it was pure relief.  She could still feel every contraction, but with the water helping her be buoyant, they didn't seem to hurt her nearly as much. They weren’t quite so maddening.

Still, exhaustion took over as her head lolled against the warm porcelain of the tub. Something inside her belly twisted and the sudden feeling of nausea made her start to move her hands over her mouth. 

Nora immediately placed an empty bowl under her chin as she vomited. “That’s alright, Ciara,” she said soothingly, Esmeray gently running her hand through her hair, holding out of her face as she reached again. "Your body knows what to do. It's getting rid of the food so it can work harder.”

Harder? Everything seemed to be tipped in black, her eyes closed…the pressure mounted. 

She couldn’t do this.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” it left her mouth in a weak chant. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this. 

“Yes, you can,” Nora disagreed. “You’re doing so well.”

No, she wasn’t. She wasn’t. It didn’t feel…

She couldn’t do this. She was too exhausted and nothing made sense, and she wasn’t strong enough. Not strong enough to do this and…“If I die, can you get her out?” She whimpered. 

Just her. As long as her daughter could live, she would die. That would be fine. It would be fine. 

She would die if it meant her daughter would live. 

The smell of cedar was suddenly there, a broad hand gently, touching her face, cupping her cheek. 

“You are not going to die.” 

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter seventy four

close to home | chapter seventy four

plot: the return of the whisperers sends the reader into a spiral

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,872 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: enjoy the next chapter lovelies

Josie was giggling wildly as you blew raspberries into her stomach. The four-month-old baby sitting on your lap had blossomed into one of the most giggly babies, and you couldn’t resist tickling her or making her laugh somehow. 

You smiled down at your daughter’s beautiful face before you scooped her up and pressed kisses on her fuzzy little head. Her hair was as dark as her daddy’s, with eyes as blue as the ocean not fifty yards from you. 

“Ya ready?” Daryl asked from behind you. 

You nodded and handed him Josie and watched his delicate touch. He gently bounced her up and down and kissed her cheek, only making her giggle even more. Which made Daryl smile so wide it made your heart flutter. 

“I’m glad we brought her.” You leaned against the dresser. “I’m glad we brought all the kids.” 

“Me too,” Daryl agreed quietly, focusing on his daughter. “We gonna have to bring her back lots so she can see the ocean.”

You grabbed your metal bow and ran your hands along the two names Daryl transcribed. Daryl Dixon and Josie Dixon, one on each limb of the bow. So, the two of you always knew what you were fighting to get home to. 

“I’m excited to finally get to use this,” You shouldered the quiver and the bow. “Even though I’ve been practicing since you got it for me, killing walkers over the fence is not the same.”

Daryl didn’t answer you, and you looked over at him. He was too engrossed with Josie, playing with her in his arms. “Earth to Dixon. We got places to be.” You teased. 

“How ‘bout ya go out there and I stay here?”

You snorted and walked over to him. “How about we both stay here?”

Daryl was about to agree to that when you both heard Michonne calling for you. He sighed loudly and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Can’ ever get a damn minute.”

“Come on, old man. We got people to train. Let’s drop Josie off with the other kids and get going.”

***

You walked alongside Judith and Michonne, the bow heavy in your hands. You weren’t using it as an archery weapon today. You were using it as a sword. With the tips as blades, you needed more practice hand-to-hand with it than with an arrow. Which is what you’d been doing since arriving at Oceanside a few days ago.

So you walked with Michonne and Judith as Aaron called out formations and made calls. You glanced around at all the faces you rarely got to see. Most of them needed training to deal with walkers, and if the whisperers did return, they needed it for them, too. They needed to practice fighting in a group, in formations. 

It reminded you of simpler times back at the prison.

Michonne called out for the hand-to-hand combat, and you followed her through the opening in the ranks toward the steady flow of walkers. You could feel Daryl’s eyes on you, ensuring you were okay. 

The first walker you approached was gnarly. It was blotted with seawater, and its skin seemed like it was almost melting off. Seaweed was curled into openings in its body. 

You grimaced as you twirled the bow in your hand before striking. With one sweep, the tip of the bow cut its head in two, and its body dropped. You spun around, ducking as another walker reached for you. With a swift kick to its back, it dropped. You grabbed your machete, tossing it in the air to catch it on a good angle, and brought it down into its skull. 

When you heard Michonne yelling, you looked up to see Jerry and Ezekiel moving away from the door to the boat. Within a second, the door and the wall itself fell, and a dozen walkers poured out. 

You smiled. 

Formations were made as the training group launched an organized attack. You brought down walker after walker using the blade of the arrow. Each time it cut through a water-logged skull, you felt your adrenaline rush. Each twirl of your body, each pull and push. You felt more alive than you had in months, finally outside the walls of Alexandria.

You, Michonne, and Daryl took care of the outliers while the main group took on a majority of the walkers. So when they were all dead, everyone was breathing easier. 

“That was actually fun,” You said as you approached Daryl. 

“Ya sick sometimes, ya know that?” Daryl said to you as you washed the tips of your bow off in the waves. “Ya say the craziest shit sometimes.”

You laughed and slung the bow over your shoulder. “I’ve been locked away for months. This is the first time I’ve been out of Alexandria. Let me have my fun.”

Daryl swung his arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple. “Uh-huh, let’s just hope our daughter ain’ inherit ya psychopath genes.” 

***

You were standing barefoot in the water with Josie on your hips, watching your friends pull in nets of fish. Kelly and Connie were among them, and you waited impatiently to speak to them. Something was off with Kelly, but you weren’t sure what it was. And Connie signed too quickly for you to understand. They arrived this morning, and you hadn’t had the opportunity to say hi to them. 

But finally, she noticed you and the sisters walked over. Connie immediately cooed over Josie, and you were more than happy to let her hold your daughter for a while. 

I’ve been working on my signing. Needed something to keep me from going crazy, you signed. 

Connie gave you a surprised look. Damn, I finally see you again and you had your baby and are signing better? All I’ve done is garden.

You and Kelly shared a laugh, and she spoke as she signed. “Looks like you learned quite a bit. We heard her name is Josephine?”

“Josie for short. She’s four months old, happy, and healthy.” You said, your hands moving quickly so Connie could understand. 

The three of you started talking about the mask Judith found earlier and the few search groups that went out to see if they could find anything. You all seemed worried, but you tried to reassure them that, hopefully, it was just the storm that brought it in. Still, with your luck, you doubted it. 

Eventually, Daryl found you, and Kelly and Connie had to go back to work. So you soon stood smiling at Daryl while he held Josie. 

“Carol don’ seem right,” Daryl said, his voice low. “Imma take her out and talk to her away from everyone. Wanna make sure she’s good. Ya gonna be okay here?”

You gave him a look and took Josie from his as he passed her on. “Yes, I think I will be perfectly fine, surrounded by all our friends. Go. Make sure she’s okay. She’s been on that boat since before the summer started.”

Daryl kissed the top of Josie’s head and then yours. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I’ll save you a dirty diaper.”

Daryl gave you a look as he walked away, and you laughed quietly and looked at your baby. “What do ya say, sweet girl? We save daddy a dirty diaper. Mommy doesn’t need to clean anymore ever again.” 

Of course, the four-month-old only tried to grab your nose as a response, but you smiled regardless. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you fed, sweet girl.”

***

“(Y/N), where do babies come from?”

You looked up from a feeding Josie to see Judith staring at you with that quizzical look she had. It reminded you of her older brother. You cleared your suddenly dry throat. “Why are you asking about that?”

“Well, you and Daryl had a baby. And Michonne had a baby with Dad. I just wanted to know.”

You bit your lip as you switched Josie around. Judith had seen you breastfeed a million times by now because she wanted to know everything about everything. Still, you kept yourself covered. “Well, when two people love each other and decide together that they want to have a baby, they have to, um, have a special type of hug.” 

Judith gave you that look that told you she wasn’t buying a word. 

“Look, babe,” You said, “Why don’t you ask your mom this question, okay? I think she would much rather have this conversation.” 

“But I wanna-.”

“Jude,” You gave her a warning tone. “I know you’re curious, and I love that about you, but right now, I’m trying to feed Josie. Do you wanna stay and talk about something much more interesting?”

She smiled and sat down on the couch next to you. “Can you tell me a story about me? About when I was a baby?”

You hummed as Josie finished, and you could finally start burping her. You stood up to do so, gently rocking her. “A story about when you were a baby. Okay, well, let’s see… did I ever tell you about what happened after we lost the prison?”

She shook her head. 

“Well, I was with your aunt Carol and an old friend named Tyreese. We managed to get you out when you were probably about Josie’s age, maybe a little older. And we were on the road with you for days, missy.” You glanced at Judith, who was smiling. 

“I bet I made lots of noise.”

“You sure did,” You smiled at the memories from so long ago. Had it really been so long? “But we kept you safe. And then we found our family and brought you back to your dad and brother.”

“Is that why mom used to let you take me outside the walls? Because you’ve taken care of me for so long?”

“Probably.” You said. Technically, you knew Judith longer than Michonne did. But you didn’t need to tell Judith that. Instead, you settled with a nicer version. “I’ve been caring for you your whole life, babe.”

Judith smiled and came over to you. She tickled Josie’s foot and looked up at you. “Just like you will for Josie. And I’ll watch over her, too.”

You chuckled and cupped her cheek. “Exactly. Now go find RJ and play, okay?”

***

An hour later, most of the scouting parties were back. Daryl was still off with Carol, but you weren’t worried about the two of them. Nothing could bring down those two. You’d told Michonne about Judith’s questions, who seemed less than thrilled.

You had just settled Josie in at Oceanside’s mini daycare for all the community's children when a bang louder than an explosion came from above, and you watched with wide eyes as something burned its way into the atmosphere. 

“(Y/N)!”

You quickly grabbed Josie again and went to Michonne and the kids. Before you could even try processing what had happened, Eugene was calling from Alexandria with an urgent message, so you all ushered to the radio to listen to him rattle on about forest fires and tell Michonne we needed all communities pitching in. 

Oceanside was a scramble as you and Michonne barked out orders. Groups were divided up, and water was getting geared up. 

You were in the middle of talking to Connie when Daryl came to you. “We gotta get Josie with the other kids. Ya gonna stay with her?”

You shook your head and looked at the dark clouds of smoke a few miles west in the sky. “No. We need every hand we can get. There are enough people staying back to watch the community and kids. Judith will look after Josie.”

Daryl nodded and took the baby from your hands. “I’ll drop her off, I heard Michonne yellin’ for ya.”

You kissed your daughter’s head briefly before telling Daryl you’d meet him with the rest of the prepping community. 

It killed you to leave your daughter because you hadn’t really left her since she was born four months ago. But the fire was important. So you looked back for only a second to see Daryl getting her settled with the rest of the kids, and then you went to find Michonne. 

***

It was well into nighttime when the community got to the fire, and you worked tirelessly alongside Daryl and Michonne to get the gear out. You helped Daryl get the makeshift water tank on his back, and then he helped you into yours. 

When you got the fire, you felt like passing out. It had already spread decently and was climbing up several trees. You looked up at Daryl, who seemed just as worried as you. And it didn’t help that you were in Alpha’s territory. 

“Daryl…” You said. 

He glanced down at you, and you could see the sweat on his face already. You knew yours matched. “Let’s just stay close, okay? Don’ need to be worryin’ ‘bout ya.”

You didn’t argue because you felt the same. 

So you and he worked on the south side of the fire with Cyndie and a few other women from Oceanside, spraying water and hitting it with mopes as fast as you could. It seemed like nothing you did was helping, and the smoke was making you feel sick. You only paused to get more water, and when Daryl made you put on his handkerchief to keep from inhaling too much smoke. 

Everyone worked until the sun rose, and still, the fire was blazing. That was also when more walkers started showing up. Someone wheeled over the cart of weapons, and you handed Daryl his crossbow and then grabbed yours. 

You’d only taken down a few when more trickled out of the woods, and you knew it would be overrun. When they got too close, Daryl grabbed an ax, and you watched him take out the closest one to you. 

Then you spun the bow in your hand and stepped forward, taking out two with the blades within thirty seconds. You heard a commotion from behind you, and you glanced quickly to see the team that was supposed to be digging the trenches join you. And behind them were Alexandrians. 

You sighed with relief as another walker approached you. You kicked it away from you, and it stumbled backward until it fell, and then Daryl sunk the ax into its skull. 

That was right when the walkers caught fire, and you shook your head. “Daryl, we need to go. Now!” You yelled over the noise. 

He glanced between you and the incoming walkers and then ran toward you, pushing you forward. When you caught up to everyone else, you grabbed another arrow and joined the firing team while Daryl worked at bringing a tree down. 

It could’ve been hours before the last walker dropped, and everyone got back to work on the fire. It probably was another few hours before the fire was finally out, and you collapsed in exhaustion next to a tree. Yumiko, who you’d been working with, sat next to you and offered you her water bottle. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled before taking a sip. “What a shit fucking day.”

***

After the fire, you, Daryl, and Josie went home. The both of you definitely had breathed in too much smoke, and it took a few days to breathe better. And getting Josie home was a top priority for you and him. You didn’t need to be there if more walkers were drawn out. You were confident that Oceanside and the fighters from the other communities that stayed could handle it. 

Besides, your top priority was Josie. It wasn’t Oceanside. No matter how hard of a pill that was to swallow. 

Even when she woke you and Daryl up at dawn for a feeding. 

You were sitting at the kitchen table as you fed her and watched Daryl stumble around the kitchen tiredly. He was still in his sleeping clothes, as you were, and you stared at him when the bottom of his shirt exposed his stomach when he reached up to grab something from the top cabinet. 

Then he returned to making you both something to eat, and you looked down at your daughter. She was nearly finished, and you couldn’t wait to set her down. Your back was aching. You hated breastfeeding. 

“Ya want an apple with ya food?”

You glanced up at your husband and nodded. “Thanks.”

Josie finally finished, and Daryl took her to burp her so you could eat. You rested your head in an open palm as you did, nearly falling asleep in the bowl of oats. But then Daryl was sitting by your side, putting Josie in the playpen in the living room and shaking your shoulder. 

“Ya okay?”

You nodded and leaned your head against his broad shoulder. “Tired.”

“Well, eat. It’ll make ya feel better.” He gave you a sliced apple.

“You’re always trying to feed me,” You complained before biting into it. 

Daryl grunted but didn’t say anything as he ate. The two of you finished eating in one of the comfortable silences you loved so much, and you kept looking at your husband occasionally. He’d changed so much since his brother’s death. Not that you didn’t admire him before. This new Daryl was something else. He’d taken on such a leadership role, and he did so much for the community and for you. 

In a wave of appreciation, you moved from your chair to sit on his lap. He looked at you with tired eyes, but his arms wrapped around you tightly as you leaned down to kiss him deeply. “God, I love you so much,” You mumbled against his lips. 

His fingers squeezed your waist, bunching up your nightshirt, and you could feel his fingernails digging into your skin. “We should go upstairs so ya can show me just how much ya love me,” He said. 

“How about I get on my knees and suck your dick right now?” You whispered before biting down on his lip. 

Before he could reply, you heard the front door burst open, and you immediately jumped off his lap. Michonne walked quickly into the room with a look on her face that made your stomach drop. 

“Walkers.”

***

Forty-nine hours later, blood sprayed on your face as you blood your bow blades from a walker's skull. Your head spun as you did so, nearly losing your balance. You’d been at this for two days, and waves of walkers kept coming. You’d already been outside the walls several times with the parties sent out, and you weren’t sure how long you could take it. 

Daryl stood a few feet from you, his own knife embedding a walker. When it was dead on the spikes, he came over to you. He looked you up and down and sighed loudly. 

This last wave was the biggest, and you sat on the curb to drink some water and eat food that someone had brought over. You hadn’t been home in a few hours, and you only went to check on the kids. You felt terrible leaving Judith in charge of Josie, but it was the safest thing to do right now. 

“Daryl,” You called out weakly, and handed him your water when he came over. He took a long sip and then you made him eat something. 

“Another wave, thirty minutes out.” You heard someone yell. 

You wanted to cry. 

Daryl sat down next to you and chewed on his fingernails. You could see how angry he was. You would be, too, if you weren’t exhausted. And the sun beating down on you didn’t help. 

Your husband glanced at you and used his thumb to wipe away blood on your forehead. “Ya lookin’ real beautiful, ya know.”

You snorted and shoved your shoulder into his. “Shut up.”

You heard someone yell that a freak was approaching, and both you and Daryl ran back over to the gates. You stood beside Rosita as you watched one of those masked freaks approach the gate, and you heard someone call for Michonne. 

“Fuck me,” You muttered. 

***

Your hands were shaking as you left the community hall. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Like a hand was wrapped around your throat. Your body was trembling, and you felt like you were going to throw up. No. You didn’t feel like you were. You knew you would. 

You’d barely made it to the grass yard behind the community before you lost whatever food and water you had in your stomach. Your body was shaking worse as you knelt on the ground.

“(Y/N).” You shut your eyes when you heard Daryl’s voice, and then you felt his hand on your back. “Take a deep breath, darlin’.”

“You can’t go,” You choked out, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and looking at him. His face was blurry through your tears. “Please don’t go. Please don’t.”

“Ya know I have to,”

Your heart was beating wildly and you felt a deep pit of desperation settle in your heart. “No. No. Please don’t go. Please. I can’t have you go out there, not after what happened. Please don’t go, Daryl,” You sobbed, reaching for his hands. 

“(Y/N)...”

You shook your head. “Please don’t go. Please.” You gripped his hands tight. “No. I’m your wife, and I’m telling you no. She wanted you dead for what happened. She tortured me 'cause she couldn’t kill you. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose you,” You were hysterical. 

“Okay, okay…” Daryl breathed out, wrapping you in a hug. “Okay. I won’t go. I won’t go, baby girl.” His hand ran down the back of your head as you pressed your soaked cheek on his chest.

“Don’t go…” You sobbed, “Don’t go…”

***

Twenty minutes later, you were passed out from exhaustion and your panic attack. Daryl was standing above you, holding Josie in his arms. He was worried about you. He felt sick over it. He’d never seen you like that--begging him not to do something for the community. You always knew how important the safety of the community was. It was something the two of you had in common. 

But things were different now. Daryl had a wife and a four-month-old daughter. You and Josie were more important than anything or anyone. 

So when Michonne came to tell him it was time to leave, he backed out. She was surprised but understood and instead asked him to help Gabriel look after the community. 

Instead, he sat inside the house, kept an eye on you, and cared for Josie. Gabriel would be able to handle it. He’d have to. Daryl had to look after you. 

***

You woke up before Daryl thought you would, and he’d been holding a sleeping Josie when you raised your head in panic to look for him. Relief filled you. 

“You didn’t go?”

“I told ya I wouldn’t,” Daryl said. 

You nodded and stood up. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “Ya don’t gotta be sorry ‘bout anythin’, baby girl.”

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

The scariest thing on the other side of Hawkins

For @steddiesmuttyseptember week 3 Prompts:  rough | lingerie | aftercare | sneaking around Tags: Talon Kink, Human/Monster Romance, Monsterfucker Steve Harrington, Monster Eddie Munson, Lingerie, Rough Sex, Insecure Eddie Munson, The Upside Down, Under-negotiated Kink, Graphic depictions of violence Beta: @stervrucht Wordcount: 6.3k Rated E Inspired by: @aidaronan's Cassiopeia, Orion, Bootes, and In the Woods Somewhere Ao3 Link

“Funny how Eddie can hear everything for miles, but needs you to say this specific thing to get him to show up,” Wayne says as he watches Steve take off his shoes and socks.

“I’m pretty sure he’s just making fun of me sir.” Steve wades into the ice cold water of Lover’s Lake. Wayne chuckles.

“Eddie the banished, prit...thee? Bless these plebians with your presence once more,” Steve chants as he wiggles his toes in the water. It’s very important, apparently, that he gets his toe vibrations just right. Then they wait. This is the hardest part. Steve and Wayne don’t make a sound, afraid they’ll miss Eddie when he surfaces, terrified that this might be the night when he stops coming back.

“Come on Harrington. You can give me more feelings than that .”

Steve exhales. Eddie breaches the water, grinning at them. His hair is even wilder and thicker now. He comes out of the water and shakes off like a dog, spraying water everywhere. He’s wearing nothing but swim shorts he pillaged from somewhere in the Upside Down. Wayne throws him a towel to wipe himself off before he joins them on the picnic blanket right up against the shorelines. Eddie keeps both feet in the water as usual. The three of them settle into the typical dinner-time conversations about sports, the kids, and the restoration effort at Hawkins.

“Dustin’s threatening to go rogue,” Steve says, skipping a stone across the lake. “He’s got it in his little head that he can help guard the portal. Because the last time I left the two of you by yourselves went so well.”

“He’s not giving you a hard time is he?” Eddie asks, “or there’s going to be mimics in his future.”

“Eddie, the kid just misses you,” Wayne admonishes. He inhales sharply. “I know I keep asking. But… you sure you need to do this?”

“Uncle Wayne, I keep telling you. I’m the scariest thing on the other side of Hawkins. I’ll be fine .”

Wayne shrugs and switches the topic back to baseball. Eddie sighs and lays across Steve’s lap so Steve can play with his hair. Eddie’s hair has layers now. The top is kind of rough and oily. The second layer is gloriously soft and downy. Eddie’s body is also covered in this soft downy pelt except for the patches of scar tissue, which are hairless. Steve likes rubbing over them, likes the variety in sensation. Good thing Eddie likes it too.

Too soon, it’s time for Wayne to leave for his night shift. He pulls Eddie into their daily hug. “You’ll be here tomorrow,” Wayne states.

“Absolutely. That’s a promise.” 

Eddie and Steve wave at Wayne until his truck disappears over the horizon. Eddie settles his head back on Steve’s thighs, purring as Steve cards through his hair and rubs along his chest, occasionally tweaking his lone nipple. Eddie gradually inches himself up to lick at Steve’s happy trail, stretching a leg out so he can leave at least one foot submerged in the lake so he’d sense it if anything got through the portal under Lover’s Lake. Even in this moment, Eddie can’t truly relax. Steve wants to take Eddie’s place. He wants to take his nail bat to the portal and smash it to pieces. He settles for sucking on Eddie’s ear instead.

“Ugh, Harrington, let me say hi properly ,” Eddie says, tugging at Steve’s polo.

Steve laughs and tugs his shirt off. He reaches into Eddie’s swim shorts. From a distance, Eddie almost looks like his old self. The soft down covering his entire body is skin colored. The most visible changes are his feet and hands. His hands got thicker, kind of gnarly. Razor sharp talons grow from all his fingers, too tough to clip off or grind smoother. They’d tried. His feet are longer now. The fur ends at the ankles, and is replaced by scales instead. The same scales are scattered throughout Eddie’s body, barely hidden by the velvety fur. Eddie’s scales are sensitive to everything. Steve’s already made Eddie cum before just by muttering sweet words directly onto the scales.

Today feels like a handjob day though. Eddie shivers as Steve strokes along the length, twisting a little. Steve wonders how it would feel in his mouth, up his ass. Sometimes, when Eddie is really worked up, he’ll curl his fingers involuntarily until his talons meet Steve’s skin. It reminds Steve of the night at the boathouse, of the cracked bottle at his throat, of getting pushed up against the wall, of the way Eddie stared at him. Brown eyes wide.

For now though, this is all Eddie is comfortable with. With Eddie’s long hair, and with his feet submerged in Lover’s Lake, they could pass as your everyday teenagers stealing a little smooch at the end of the world.

Eddie pulls away from sucking on every inch of Steve’s chest. “You ok?” He asks, frowning.

“What? Yeah? Why?”

“You seem distracted.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you have this faraway look, like a third-time widow wondering when the life insurance check is coming in,” Eddie says. He sighs and hides behind his hair. “We have been doing the same song and dance for a while… Am I boring you?”

“No, no. Eds. You know you’re not.”

“Then spill? Or I’m going to have to obsess over this all day Steve. It’s not like there’s a lot of distractions down there. There I’ll be, watching the portal to make sure nothing gets through. But in a half-assed and mopey way because I’ll be thinking ‘oh no, am I boring my hot boyfriend with my weak-ass dick game?’ Then eventually, I’ll bring the mood down so badly that a Demogorgon will decide to check on me. And we’ll end up having a strong, unexpected connection that—”

“More like your dick game is too strong ,” Steve says, cutting Eddie off before he rambles further about Demogorgons and fucking.

“Aha! Flattery! Elaborate?” Eddie lays on his stomach next to Steve and puts his hands together so he could rest his perfect face on them. He flutters his lashes while looking up at Steve.

“God, you’re an ass .”

“Right? I’ve been told by reliable sources that it’s one of my most cherished traits.”

“I meant your actual physical ass you dork,” Steve says, attempting to slap said ass. But Eddie rolls out of the way with his now superhuman speed. Steve imagines Eddie rushing across some room at that speed with Steve gripped in his arms, unable to move.

Jesus fucking christ . It was a mistake letting Robin read out that weird novel to him.

“Ah, ah! No ass-cess until you tell me what’s wrong! Get it? Ass-cess?”

Steve’s not ready to say it yet. But this must be love. Because he hears that line and still snorts because it’s Eddie saying it.

“Ok! I was thinking about… about the boathouse.”

“Oh,” Eddie’s face crumples. He starts slinking back into the water. Steve jumps to hold Eddie in place.

“No! In a good way!” Steve babbles, terrified that Eddie might go underwater and never return. “It was terrifying, yeah, but in a really hot way. And Robin recently got a bunch of free monster erotica as a gag gift. We got really drunk and acted out a few to each other as a joke, and now I can’t fucking stop thinking about the time you pinned me at the boat house so I couldn’t… you know… move. You were standing so close, pinning me so hard. And I, fuck man, you could have kissed me, or… something.”

Eddie’s face is inscrutable. Steve mumbles the rest. “I’m sorry. This is all so stupid. I’ll get it out of my system soon. It was all just… very recent.”

“How many awakenings have you had because of me Harrington?” Eddie asks, grinning so smugly Steve can’t help but bend down low to kiss it away. Eddie smacks Steve’s exposed ass with his wet feet. Steve gasps. “What?! Your ass was up and wiggling! What was I supposed to do? Not smack it?”

“Ugh, now my pants are wet,” Steve says, wiggling on purpose this time. “Maybe I should take it off.”

“Maybe you should,” Eddie says, sitting up and getting closer to put his sharp talons around the waistband of Steve’s jeans. His breath hitches. Maybe tonight, tonight will finally be the night Eddie loses that infuriating self-control.

But Eddie stops himself.

“Sorry,” he mutters, putting his hands away. “Almost got carried away there.” He starts heading for the water. “I should get back. The portal’s not going to guard itself.”

“What if,” Steve wets his lips. They’re so dry. “What if I went down with you? And we could mess around a little near the portal?”

“Excuse me? Am I hallucinating? Did I just hear you ask to swim down to the Upside-Down with me Harrington ?” Eddie asks sharply.

“What if I did? Eddie, I get it. You can’t be seen, or get too distracted from guarding the portal. And ok! That’s all very noble and reasonable! But if we hook up by the portal, you’d be right there to react if anything tries to get through, and no government goon will see you and try to force you into their lab.”

“Steve Harrington! How the fuck did you keep yourself alive with your zero , absolute negative survival instincts?!”

“You’re the one constantly telling me that you’re the scariest thing on that side of Hawkins,” Steve says, arms crossed. “What? Was that all just talk?”

“You want these ,” Eddie waves his claws around, clacking them together, “near your balls . Are you insane ?”

“Yes,” Steve says defiantly. “Or do you not want these,” Steve waves his hands around a bit, mimicking Eddie, “around your balls? I’ve been jerking you off. You never planned to return the favor?”

“I could seriously hurt you,” Eddie whines.

“You won’t,” Steve says, leaning into Eddie’s space, stroking his face. “We’ve been fooling around for almost two weeks now and you’ve never even broken skin.”

“You said yourself that you’re just going through a monster phase because of those stupid books.”

“That was me being a coward and you know it,” Steve can hear the desperation in his voice. But he seems to be getting somewhere closer to getting Eddie’s dick up his mouth, or ass—Steve’s not picky.

Eddie throws a weird half-tantrum in sitting position. He splashes a bit as he flails his legs and feet. He’s got his head in his face, muttering something. But Steve can see Eddie’s cock fill out under the swim shorts. He’s getting somewhere. He knows it. Steve gets up and goes around Eddie to straddle his thighs, ignoring the ice cold water lapping at his feet and knees. Eddie whines and tugs at Steve’s hair, so torn. Steve should feel guilty about pushing at Eddie’s limits. And he probably will, later, in the privacy of his own bed. But for now…

Steve puts a hand on Eddie’s crotch. Rubs it hard. “Let me visit. We’ll have a whole dimension to ourselves. Pin me down. Put your claws on my neck so I can’t move . Stroke me wherever you want. Choke me. Make me take it. You’ll make me feel so good Eddie. I’ll be right where you want me, safe . Knock me around. Throw me somewhere. Take as long as you want. As short as you want. Open me up. Knock my legs apart. Keep them open for easy access. Use me. Play with me. However you want. Please. Make me be good for you,” Steve whispers into Eddie’s ear, really hoping that the random zine Robin lent him was right about the hanky code. This is going to be super awkward if the black fabric in Eddie’s back pocket had just been like… a fashion thing.

“Fuck, fuck fuck, fuck ,” Eddie suddenly tags Steve into himself by the hair, hard. Steve gasps as the air gets knocked out of him. It feels even better than he’d imagined. Eddie stiffens, shuddering as he comes all over his swim shorts. Steve can finally feel his own jeans getting weighed down by the lake water. It’s going to be a really wet, uncomfortable drive back, but totally worth it.

“You freak,” Eddie says with a sheepish smile. “Alright, if you want it that bad. But promise me you’ll tell me to stop if it’s too much?”

“Eddie. You know I can handle myself.”

“I thought I knew that. Sue me for not being so sure anymore,” Eddie says gesturing, “ Fuck man, you’ve like, made all my brain cells drain down to my balls or something.” Eddie chews his lips. Steve grins and Eddie swats at him, giggling. “Could you do me a favor?” Eddie asks, trying and failing to keep his tone light.

“Anything.”

Eddie squeaks. If his fur weren’t in the way, Steve’s pretty sure he’d be fiery red. “I’d really like it if you wore lingerie?” Eddie says, rapid-fire.

“I think I can make that happen. Yeah,” Steve says, trying to sound super casual and normal about this. At least one of them has to. “Might take me a few days though.”

“That’s perfect actually. I need to… get some stuff ready.” **********

The next few days go by in a blur. Eddie spends most of it thinking about Steve. Steve working at Family Video. Steve driving the kids around. Steve hanging out with Robin. Steve playing basketball in tiny shorts. Steve shopping for lingerie and trying it on. Steve touching himself with the lingerie on, fantasizing about Eddie, him, for some reason Eddie still can’t figure out. Eddie also spends, probably too much of it hunting for soft things to make his outpost more suitable for… horizontal action. He finds a house with a room that basically has a shrine to dildoes in one of his search. So he also spent most of his actual portal guarding time training his throat, bobbing the dildo in and out of his mouth like some fucked-up lollipop while glaring at the sky for signs of Demobat swarms.

It’s all wildly irresponsible. He’s already almost let five or so creatures through. But, in his defense, he only almost let them through. And what’s he supposed to do? Fuck Steve Harrington, love of his life (hasn’t told him yet, can’t scare him off) into the rough dirt of the upside down? Travesty.

Steve told him yesterday that he got nice panties and a bra, blushing from head to toe. If Eddie jerked off to that for hours while sucking down on his training dildo… well, that’s between him and the Demodog that almost slipped past him.

Steve shows up for their usual family dinner time with a flushed face and glossy lips. Eddie’s pretty sure Wayne knew something was up. He left for his shift a little earlier with the world’s worst wink. He’s going to buy Wayne like all the tickets to balls in various baskets if the apocalypse ever ends and Corroded Coffin manages to make it big.

They make out for a while at the shore of Lover’s Lake. It feels different this time–more heat, more desperation. 

“Ok, I’m ready to go down,” Steve declares, pulling away. He turns to Eddie, still clothed in a muscle shirt and swim shorts. Eddie can see the outlines of something under the shirt. He begs his brain cells to stay in his head, at least for now. “Can you carry my bat for me?” Steve asks, handing Eddie his trusty nail bat.

“Actually, I had a better idea,” Eddie says. He’s planned this moment obsessively . Eddie picks Steve up in a fireman’s carry. Steve squeaks and points the nail head of the bat as far away from Eddie as possible. Cute, as if Eddie wouldn’t heal from anything in like a few hours or less. In Eddie’s mind, this moment was a lot more impressive, had a lot more… swan diving into the river like a graceful, ethereal mer-creature. But… they’re starting out from right at the shoreline as usual. So Eddie just walks in, carrying Steve. Judging by the thump thump thump of his heart, Steve doesn’t mind.

Eddie’s finally in his element once he’s in the water. Steve gasps when Eddie creates a water bubble around the both of them so they can breathe. “How did you think I was going back and forth?” Eddie asks, smiling.

“Didn’t think about it that much I guess,” Steve says, looking around the dark, still lake, then down to the bright glow of the portal below. “I thought you just swam as fast as you could from the portal to the surface. I mean, I’ve made that swim.”

“Right, but you were captain of the swim team and I can’t remember the last gym class I didn’t skip. I appreciate your faith in me though. Alas, I’m a cheat and a fraud.” Eddie clutches Steve deeper into his chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah, perfect,” Steve says, snuggling into Eddie with a contented sigh. Steve Harrington is going to kill him. Of cuteness. Eddie clears his throat and forces his dick to get a grip. He’s got a plan . He takes the time to give Steve a tour of the lake, of all the underwater rock formations he’s managed to find, of the beavers he’s managed to make friends with. In a perfect world… Well, in a perfect world, Eddie wouldn’t be this half-seal, half-reptile, half-human monster (yes, he knows the math is off) stuck guarding a portal to hell to make sure nothing goes through. But in a less imperfect world, Eddie would be able to maintain the air bubble long enough for them to fuck underwater, so Steve wouldn’t have to settle for the grim dark of the upside down. Too soon, Eddie has to take Steve into the hell dimension.

Eddie tries to hide his nerves when he leads Steve into his sad little outpost, freshly cleaned and decorated. Steve looks around. He doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“I was worried you’d be slumming it,” Steve says, running a hand over a Metallica banner and some basketball jersey Eddie had managed to find. “I’m glad you had time to decorate.”

Eddie decides not to tell Steve that it was just bare dirt before the last few days. He was too busy obsessively watching the portal, making sure nothing would get through, because the alternative would have been thinking about stuff and then he would have lost his mind.

“So,” Steve turns around, licking his lips. It’s so shiny, plush, and pretty. Eddie grabs Steve by his stupid muscle shirt and shoves him into the wall where he’s nailed on some gym mats. Steve moves easily. Eddie still cradles the back of Steve’s head, just in case.

Steve’s heart beats faster. He looks at Eddie, eyes wide and dark.

To be totally honest, that moment in the boathouse was not something Eddie had ever fantasized about. Sure, the general concept of Steve Harrington, pinned in place, free for him to ravish and tear to pieces (metaphorically) then to piece back together with soft words and softer hands? Eddie’s onboard. So onboard. But getting found by a gang of people who were mostly strangers to him right after he watched Chrissy break apart midair, then finding out that he’d been living above a hell dimension the entire time which no one had the courtesy of warning him about?

No, not sexy. The epitome of anti-sexy. Honestly, Eddie would have been offended by Steve’s boathouse fantasies if they hadn’t been packaged in such a pretty man and delivered so sweetly. Besides, he had more important things to worry about than Steve’s lusting over their shared trauma. Not accidentally slashing his pretty face for one thing.

And being able to rewrite the memory of that terrible night with right now , with this view of Steve squirming, looking at him with excitement and trust so deep Eddie feels like he might drown, is actually healing. Who needs therapy when you’ve got a Steve under your arms?

Steve twists his neck, not to get away from Eddie’s claw at his throat, but to extend it so he could give Eddie more room to latch onto. Eddie uncradles Steve’s head so he could free a hand to drag it over the muscle shirt. The fabric tears easily, melts apart under the sharp talons.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie growls, pushing Steve harder into the wall with his forearm while continuing to shred at Steve’s shirt. “It’s awfully late. And you’re awfully alone.”

“Looking…” Steve pants. It’s kind of terrifying how easily Eddie can cut Steve’s clothes away. There’s lace underneath. Eddie can barely hear Steve over his own heartbeat. He finally uncovers Steve’s lingerie. Jesus H Christ . Eddie was expecting like, a bra and panties from Macy’s. Steve is wearing some skimpy, lacy underwear version of a blue sailor’s uniform. There’s a lacy collar at his neck that meet in the middle to draw a wavy line down to his belly. That wavy line expands into a sort of see-through waistband that wrap tightly around Steve’s perfect belly and accentuates his happy trail. Steve’s tits are exposed, highlighted by the long line that connects the collar to the waistband . Eddie can feel how wide his mouth dropped open. Steve blushes all the way down to his belly and squirms.

“Looking for?” Eddie asks when he finally gets his words back. He’s got to get Steve’s stupid swim shorts off him. He kind of loves this. It’s like unwrapping a present. But he also kind of hates this because the present is right here and he still has to unwrap it before he can play with it.

“You,” Steve says. Eddie rips Steve’s boxers away in one slash. Steve is wearing a blue, nautical g-string underneath. The lace was not meant to hold dick and balls, especially not one that’s hard and leaking already. The fabric strains. Eddie can see Steve’s whole ass, beautifully accentuated by the blue and white lace. Eddie swallows so he doesn’t drool on Steve like a lunatic.

Steve whines and bucks his hips, looking for friction and finding nothing but air. Eddie shoves a leg against Steve’s crotch to give him something to rub off against. He can feel Steve’s pre-cum on his thigh. “This,” Steve whispers, grinding slowly, “please.”

For the millionth time, Eddie cusses out the upside-down in his head, this time for giving him fuck-off talons and not, you know, more arms to hold Steve Harrington with. Eddie lowers his hands to lift Steve up away from the wall by the ass, cupping the perfect cheeks lined perfectly in the perfect soft lace. He throws Steve into the queen mattress with the nice sheets Eddie had found in Upside-Down Loch Nora. Steve giggles as he lands.

Eddie pounces. Steve grabs Eddie into a bear hug and pulls him closer when Eddie hesitates at the noise Steve made when Eddie landed on him. They giggle as they wrestle to be the one on top. Eddie accidentally grazes Steve’s skin. Steve closes his eyes and moans. By the time Eddie ends up on top of Steve, with Steve’s arms pinned down as Eddie straddles Steve’s hips, Steve is a keening, scratched up mess. He squirms while Eddie does a quick check to make sure nothing is actually bleeding, just marked up.

“Fuck, Steve. You look…” Eddie searches for the right word, “like mine. Like I should carve my name into you.” Shit! Not those words.

But Steve doesn’t flinch at the weirdness. He keens and bucks his hips instead.

Eddie figures he might as well keep pushing while he’s ahead. “Like, right… here,” Eddie says, tracing his name over Steve’s chest through Steve’s boob window. Steve thrusts his torso into Eddie’s claw, and Eddie very nearly actually stabs him. Eddie reaches down to spank the top of Steve’s thigh, hard, taking a moment to appreciate the bloom of red. “Stop trying to stab yourself Harrington.”

“Maybe I’ll stop trying to stab myself if you stop stalling ,” Steve grunts, bucking his hips. Eddie feels like he’s riding one of those mechanical bulls. “Come on. Open me up.”

Eddie spanks Steve one more time and gets off of Steve, keeping one hand on that gorgeous chest. “I was going to. But since you’re being such a brat about it, you can open yourself up.”

“Aww, Eddie,” Steve pouts.

Eddie crosses his arms and puts on his best evil smirk. Steve… wouldn’t have thought there was a chance in hell Eddie was going to put his claws anywhere near Steve’s rim right? Steve sits up and looks at Eddie, pleading.

“Alright sweetheart. Just because you’re so pretty, I’ll lend you a tongue, ok?” Eddie manhandles Steve down onto all fours. “Start opening yourself up love, and I’ll lick into you at the same time.”

“Oh, oh yes. Fuck yes. That’s perfect.” Steve lubes up his hand and reaches behind to finger himself open, slow and teasing at first, trying to give Eddie a show, then faster as he loses himself. Eddie tests the limits of how far his tongue can reach, pokes around, tries to find the prostate. His tongue isn’t quite long enough, but Steve seems to enjoy it nonetheless. Steve keeps pushing himself back onto Eddie’s tongue. Eddie’s pretty sure he could come from just this, the feeling of Steve fucking himself on his fingers and Eddie’s tongue.

But Steve pulls away after working up to three fingers. “I’m ready now.”

“Baby, you think my dick’s that small?”

“I’m looking at it,” Steve says with a grin, grabbing Eddie’s dick to pull it down and giggling as it bounces back to standing. “Besides, my hand’s cramping.”

“Alright, alright. Princess ,” Eddie knocks Steve down on all fours again and licks his rim just for fun. Steve mewls. “Any—”

“Yeah yeah daddy , anything hurts even a little bit, I tell you to pull out immediately. I get it . Now. Please !”

Eddie spanks Steve again then slowly eases his way in.

Holy shit.

This is only the second time Eddie’s done this. The first time was in a rush in some dark bathroom in Indy before all the…monster stuff happened. They had to break apart before either of them managed to finish because the smell and cold tiles kept killing their boners. Doing this with someone he trusts, on soft, clean-ish sheets in the privacy of the outpost, being able to see Steve sway and gasp, seeing the way Steve’s whole body vibrates…

Eddie slams in and out harder than he intended, lost in the sensation. He slows himself down. This is Steve’s first time. He should go slow and gentle. Make love and all that. But Steve is moving faster now, fucking himself into Eddie, wailing. Eddie lets himself relax, focus on the hot tightness of Steve Harrington around him, on the grunts, moans and cries they’re making, on the sound of skin slapping on skin. He’s so close. He’s not sure Steve can come from this though. He really should ask. See if Steve wants a hand around his cock. But words are hard.

Something heads towards the portal. Some things.

Eddie pulls out. His balls scream in protest.

“What—” Steve mutters, looking back at Eddie, open mouthed, eyes glassy. “Did you—”

“Stay right here . Do not leave the bed,” Eddie feels like he’s yelling. Steve nods.

Eddie rushes out towards the portal where a fucking Demogorgon already has half a leg through. Eddie jumps on it from about 30 yards away, latching onto its neck as he lands. They fall backwards away from the portal. Eddie ignores the pain blooming across his back when he slams into the ground. He claws the Demogorgon open. He’s never been this furious. All his stabs are landing with more power than necessary. Meat and juice fly everywhere. He’s being stupid. They tend to travel in packs. He’s going to burn himself out. But he’s hopped up on so much adrenaline and pain and fury that he can’t help but waste time and energy shredding this one monster into pieces.

Behind him, he hears the familiar nightmarish flutter of wings. A Demobat swarm, trying to rush out through the portal. Images of Dustin getting shredded the way he did flits across his mind. Eddie untwists that new knot at the back of his throat and he feels himself… open.

Eddie remembers the first time he managed to do this. He’d fretted for weeks, trying to figure out where the monster ended and himself began. He got over it eventually, especially after Steve found him guarding the portal at Lover’s Lake. But it never feels great. He feels his body split into multiple pieces, turn into one giant mouth really, lined with layers and layers of teeth. Some scientist somewhere could probably tell him how all this makes sense. For now, he uses whatever the fuck his body is doing to launch his split-open body at the demobat swarm, swallowing most of them whole. He can feel some stray ones biting, trying to chew at what parts of him they can reach, trying to get past him through the portal. He feels his claws connect with most of them. Damn, he might have to go hunting for a few in the lake as well.

Somewhere, someone’s screaming. Eddie feels a woosh of air near his side. Eddie closes himself up, taking the Demobat swarm inside him to go… somewhere. Steve is right next to him, raising the bat again high over his head to sink it back into a Demodog. His underwear is gone because Eddie took it off, probably, or maybe cut it off. He’s still wearing the blue and white sailor corset with the nip windows. Steve twirls his bat then runs after another Demodog, the competent bastard. The dog launches itself at Steve and Steve just… bats it so hard it flies ten feet away until it lands on the ground, twitching. Eddie positions himself behind Steve. They stand back to back. Two more Demodogs circle them, head cocked. Steve roars and they back away carefully until they’re about 40 yards away. Then they turn tail and scamper off as fast as they can. Steve sinks to the ground, panting.

Eddie stands, unsure what to do. Steve definitely saw his secret, the way his entire body opens up into some fucked up flesh mouth monster. Eddie hasn’t even seen what he looks like when he’s in that state. Should he leave? Will Steve even want to be friends after this? His stupid dick continues to bob hopefully. Eddie begs it to please read the room .

Steve knee walks over to Eddie, ignoring the way the rough dirt of the Upside Down digs into his legs. Eddie lowers himself down so Steve can collapse onto him. They clutch each other. Eddie wants to cry. He spent all that effort so Steve wouldn’t have to get Upside Down gunk on him and it was all for nothing.

“How are you still hard?” Steve interrupts Eddie’s spiral with a giggle, poking at Eddie’s boner.

“I don’t know man. Rage? Eldritch powers?” Eddie says, clutching Steve harder into himself. He wants to pretend, for as long as possible, that Steve Harrington still wants him.

“I can take care of that,” Steve says.

“What?!”

Steve does this weird thing with his lips that Eddie thinks is supposed to be seductive. It’s awkward and adorable. Eddie has never been more confused in his life.

“Oh are you not… in the mood anymore?” Steve asks, folding into himself a little. “Sorry, I’m still kind of hopped on adrenaline. I should have been thinking…”

“No, of course, I’m… in some type of mood. But you still want to? After you saw the whole…” Eddie finally lets go of Steve to make a big flower opening type of gesture.

“I mean, yeah? That was cool. But what does that have to do with like, anything?”

“I told you to stay put !” Eddie sputters, mind reeling, trying to latch onto anything that might justify the spiral of self-hatred and sense of rejection he’s still feeling right now for no reason apparently.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If I stayed put, you’d be Demo-kibble by now asshole . You’re welcome .”

“Well usually I’m not that distracted and pissed off!” Eddie can’t believe this. He thought Steve would be scrambling to get as far away from him as possible so he can help El close the damn portal with Eddie on the other side.

The actual Steve scoffs and pushes Eddie down to the ground. “Shut up,” he mutters. Steve knocks Eddie’s legs open and starts lowering himself down on Eddie’s still hard cock. “Tell me no,” he whispers.

Eddie doesn’t think he could say no if Steve was coming at his dick with a car compactor.

It takes about three rounds of Steve Harrington bobbing up and down on his dick before Eddie finally catches on that he’s not having some weird Demo-bat induced hallucination. Steve still wants him. Cared about the whole ‘body-opening-into-some-monstrous-eldritch-dimension-entryway-full-of-teeth’ situation so little that he hadn’t even noticed that Eddie was self-concious. Once Eddie’s stupid brain catches up, he finally notices how Steve’s breath flutters just right, how much of a vision he is as he bounces up and down, eyes closed. Eddie grabs at Steve’s waist, careful not to scratch him, but desperate to feel even more of his boyfriend. Steve smiles, leans down to kiss him, deep and messy. Eddie comes almost immediately at that. Steve giggles into his mouth then lazily pulls off.

“You didn’t finish,” Eddie says, distraught. Steve’s dick bobs, kind of sadly, as Steve walks over to his bat.

“I don’t even care man. I feel like I’ve been fucked like, all the way through.” Steve says.

That won’t do. Eddie throws Steve over his shoulder and sprints back to the outpost, savoring the thump thump thump of Steve’s heart and his little gasp. Steve squeals when Eddie dumps him on the mattress again.

“Steve,” Eddie says, stroking Steve’s hair. It’s messed up, sweaty, and limp. It’s perfect. “I think I might get eaten by Demobats again if I don’t suck you off right now.”

“How does that even—” Eddie cuts Steve off by sucking down his entire dick in one swoop. Steve gasps and accidentally bucks hard into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie ignores Steve’s whispered apology and pulls him tighter onto his throat, telegraphing him to fuck into it. He’s not going to let all his prep go to waste. Eddie grabs Steve’s hands and forces them onto his mess of curls. Steve grips his hair and it feels so good that Eddie nearly loses his rhythm. His mind goes pleasantly fuzzy as he sucks harder, as Steve fucks into his mouth as instructed, hands tight around on his hair.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m, ah, gonna,” Steve shifts and tries to pull out. Eddie grips Steve’s hip and holds him firmly, accidentally nicking Steve with a claw. Steve, the gorgeous, perfect, beautiful, pain slut (apparently), cums with a shout right down Eddie’s throat. Eddie swallows then licks up and down Steve’s taint and torso before he throws himself down next to Steve.

“That was,” Steve pants, “the weirdest, most violent sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

Oh no.

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters. “I really… I wanted to make this nice. I should have waited…”

“No! You jackass. Ugh, I can’t word right now.” Steve shifts to collapse on top of Eddie like the world’s most gorgeous blanket. “This was hot . I’m going to replay this over and over again to the point it’ll be a problem hot. You’re incredible.” Steve grins at Eddie. Eddie grins back. Steve peers down at the sharp gravel and dirt embedded everywhere around his legs and winces. “We should do this again, but… maybe not directly on the ground next time.”

“And whose fault was that ?” Eddie asks, laughing. He can feel the itch of a road rash on his back. But he knows it’ll heal by tomorrow. He just needs to not scratch.

“Yours,” Steve says petulantly, leaning down to suck on a scale by Eddie’s hipbone. “How dare you tear into those things right in front of me. How else was I supposed to react?”

“You say that after you bit off a Demobat’s head in front of me. Then took out those dogs with your bat, dicks out, balls swinging, just twirling that stupid bat like it’s your arm.” Eddie pulls Steve up over his chest. They lay there for a while longer.

“We could… see more of each other like that,” Steve eventually says, so quietly that Eddie almost misses it.

“What?”

“I could stay with you. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t have to fight alone like this. What if I wasn’t here today?” Steve sounds pissed. Eddie strokes up and down Steve’s back. He needs to phrase this right.

“Steve. You don’t heal like me. We have no idea what the air down here would do to you.”

“So what? I keep doing this? Waiting for you top-side, worrying that you might not come back up one day? Leave you here to risk your life by yourself?”

It does sound pretty bad when Steve puts it that way. But.

“Yes. Wait for me top-side,” Steve starts to protest. Eddie grips him closer and Steve trails off with a choked whine. “Listen. You, the geniuses, Hopper, Nancy, El , all the most capable, badass people I know are looking to close this portal. We’ll get that round two against Vecna. We’ll close the stupid thing. And I’ll be free to terrify the good Christian folks of Hawkins yet again. This isn’t permanent. I’m going to survive this. I’m going to come back to you. Over and over and over again. Please. Trust me?”

“I’m going to woo you so hard when you’re back,” Steve murmurs, pressing harder into Eddie.

“You will . That’s a promise.”

[humanrindswrites]

scary movie

pairing: kirk hammett x female reader

summary: kirk's girl is a hardened horror veteran, just like him, but even veterans have their limits.

warnings: fluff, mentions of gore (they’re watching horror movies)

word count: 859 words

a/n: little factoid about me is that i love really gory movies but sexual violence is where my tolerance for extremity ends. also, if you've never seen cannibal holocaust just know that it has real scenes of animals being killed just for the sake of it. it's not a movie for the faint-hearted.

“So, what did you say this movie was called again?” Kirk asked as his girlfriend set up the VCR in the living room.

“Cannibal Holocaust,” she said once the machine was turned on and ready for the tape. “It got banned in England recently and the director got arrested in Italy because they thought he actually killed the actors.”

“Sounds gnarly,” he said as he took the videotape box from her. “Everything gets banned in England these days.”

“That’s true, they’d probably ban a movie because somebody got a paper cut.”

When Kirk first saw her in the video rental store, he thought maybe she was a beginner looking for something tame to watch with friends and could maybe find something that would get her jumping into his arms like a little lamb. Instead, he found out that she was just as much an expert as he was and liked her movies gory and borderline upsetting.

It was pretty much love at first sight for him.

She had her finger on the pulse for all the wild new movies coming from Europe and which ones were getting banned in Europe for being ‘harmful to children’ or some other ridiculous shit that some old people were saying. He was more versed in the classics but finding these scandalous new videos was something that he never really had the time to do anymore.

They made popcorn in the kitchen while the trailers played at the beginning of the tape, making it back just in time for the movie to start. The screen showed a beautiful sweeping shot of the Amazon rainforest set to a lush orchestral score, as if it was a nature documentary or a romance, lulling them into false security of what was to come.

When she’d originally told him that the movie was a nasty one, Kirk thought that she was just exaggerating. He’d seen some gory movies before but they’d never been as grisly and realistic as this. The two of them watched in stunned silence as people were killed, raped, beaten, and animals were slaughtered before their very eyes.

The videotape’s quality added to the horrifying visuals before them, making the carnage so much more disturbing than it likely was; the poor turtle’s exposed innards were spread across the screen as the eerie soundtrack screeched. Kirk had never expected her to jump into his arms during a movie, but he could feel her tense up and her fingers curl into fists against his chest with every brutal blow.

But no matter how extreme the scenes became, neither one of them could take their eyes away from the screen. Blood was spilt, brains were exposed, bodies were hacked to pieces, women were raped, and people were eaten. She’d promised Kirk a gnarly time and that was exactly what they’d gotten.

I wonder who the real cannibals are, the television said before the camera swept up into the New York City skyline and the credits rolled. They were both quiet until the tape stopped and Kirk picked up the remote from next to him to turn it off.

“You feeling okay?” he asked her. She usually had something to say once the movie had finished, but this time she was stunned into silence. “Hey, it’s only a movie.”

“I didn’t think they were going to kill real animals,” she said, her voice quiet. “I knew it was going to be gruesome, but nobody told me they killed the animals.”

“Aside from that, did you like the rest of the movie?” Kirk asked as he ran his hand up and down her arm.

“I don’t know. It’s something I need to think about. But I know I don’t want to watch it again.

“It wasn’t a Frankenstein flick, that’s for sure.”

“Nobody got raped in any version of Frankenstein as far as I remember.”

“Did you not like that part either?”

“No,” she said, a little louder than she’d intended. “I hate seeing girls get raped in movies. It’s why I hated The Last House on the Left.”

“Mm, that one was intense.”

“At least all of that was fake, not like this,” she said as she sat up and went over to take the videotape out of the VCR. “No wonder it got banned.”

“Are you saying you support movie censorship?” Kirk teased and stood up to help her clear away the dishes that had accumulated on the coffee table.

“I’m not saying that,” she said and playfully slapped him on the arm. “I’m just saying that I can see why people had such a strong reaction to it.”

“Maybe next week I’ll pick the movie so that we don’t watch poor turtles die.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

Kirk took her in his arms and thought for a second, humming in her ear and tapping his fingers on her shoulders for comedic effect.

“How about I Spit on Your Grave?”

“Okay, now you’re just teasing me,” she said as she broke out of his arms and took the dishes into the kitchen.

“Hey, you’re the one who always picks the hardcore stuff, I thought you’d like it!”

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

I'm so sorry it took me a little longer to update. I've got a gnarly head cold, but I'm in bed, and hoping to get the next part started after this one is posted. We’re getting to the meat of the story here now folks. There’s lots of fluffy cheesy fluff in this chapter, because it’s going to get real heavy later. Remember to let me know if you want to be tagged! 🖤

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery. ++ chapter warning for consensual choking***

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 7 — Concrete Jungle

The days were passing slower than molasses. I found myself working overtime nearly every day to give me something to do outside of being at home, AA, or waiting for Noah to call. Being a hermit was much easier when the only person I had to look forward to seeing was my dog.

We were so close to the end of the first leg of the tour, Noah only having two shows left before he came home for nearly three months.

I dreamt of how wonderful those three months would be. We talked about it often. He swore he was coming over the day he got home from Witchita, and we weren’t leaving my house for a solid week. As unrealistic as that was, I still looked forward to it, and scheduled vacation to have that entire week off.

I was soaking in the tub, music pumping through my earbuds when the sound of a familiar ringtone sang through my ears. I smiled and tapped my phone screen, answering the call.

“Hey babe.” I sank back down into the water, inhaling the lavender scent of the epsom salts I had added.

“Hey sweetheart, how was your day?” His voice was relaxed, calm and cool.

“Not the worst. Sam wasn’t there today, so I actually didn’t hate it.”

He chuckled. “That guy’s a real dick, huh?”

I snorted. “The worst.”

“Well, if he ever makes another pass at you, just tell him your big scary boyfriend will kick his ass.”

My eyes were closed, just relaxing at the sound of his voice. “My boyfriend?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I thought I said I didn’t want anything official?”

I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, well that was before big meathead dudes were hitting on you.”

“Mm,” I pulled my arm out of the water to readjust my towel under my head. “I’ll tell him my big scary boyfriend said so.”

“What is that noise? Are you doing dishes?”

“In the tub.”

He didn’t respond, but I heard my phone’s twinkling ringtone, indicating I was getting a FaceTime call. I snickered and ignored it.

“No way. You gotta wait to see it in person.”

I heard him groan on the other end of the line. “Not fucking fair! You’re all wet and bubbly.”

“No bubbles today.”

“So I can see through the water?!”

The jingling came again and I ignored it, laughing loudly.

“Shouldn’t you be in soundcheck?”

“That ended hours ago. I’m relaxing in my room before the show.” His voice lowered. “I’m so lonely.”

“See if Nick’s around.” I said nonchalantly.

He hissed. “Babe, I’m in a mood here, help me out.”

I giggled. “Say please.”

“You know I don’t fucking ask.” His tone was deadly now. I shivered at the sound, spreading my thighs a little.

“Fine, but no video. Last time I nearly dropped my phone in the tub.”

“Deal.”

It was silent for a beat. “You okay?” I looked over to the phone to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected.

“I’ll be better once I know you’re touching yourself.” My stomach dropped, a small moan leaving my mouth. His words were always so maddening, getting me hot so quickly.

I adjusted myself, spreading my thighs and letting my hands fall lazily over my slit, running my fingers gently over my sensitive spot.

“I am.”

“Good girl.” I pressed a little harder against my clit, rubbing slow circles around it. “Now, tell me how bad you miss my cock. How bad do you miss me, baby.”

I moaned louder now, bringing my left hand up to pinch my nipples. My undulations on my core increasing speed by the second.

“Ugh I miss you so much Noah.” I let my head fall back, eyes closed, picturing him in the tub with me.

“That’s right. You miss me touching you, baby?”

My voice was just breaths. “Yes.”

“You miss me eating that sweet pussy? Making you fucking scream?” His breaths were coming quicker now.

“Yes, Noah.” I answered louder, my hips buckling slightly at the thought.

“When I get home, you going to let me fucking destroy you, baby? Fuck you until you can’t even move?”

“Oh, fuck, yes...” I was so fucking close.

“I’m going to come just fucking thinking about it baby. Always thinking about you. That pretty, tight pussy. So fucking wet.” I could hear movement on the other end, I could tell he was as close as I was.

“Noah I need you so bad. Please come home. Please come home and fuck me. I need you so so bad.”

I heard him gasp hard on the other end. “Fuck!” His voice was sharp. He came.

I wasn’t far behind, letting out a small scream.

There was no words exchanged for at least five minutes while we both worked on getting our breathing under control.

After a moment, I heard him make a sound of disapproval. “I made a mess.”

This caused me to burst out laughing, him joining me only a second later.

“Fucking hell, Noah. I can’t wait to see you.”

He sighed heavy. “I know.” I could tell he was thinking, he only got completely silent when he was.

“Fuck it, come to Witchita! Catch a flight tomorrow and you can make the show. Then you can ride home with us.” I paused myself, now toweling off while the water drained from the tub.

“Excuse me?”

“You took the week off, right? I’ll book you a ticket right now.”

“Noah, you aren’t coming home until Thursday. I can’t leave Angel that long. And I can’t bring him on the bus.”

“Can Laura watch him for a few days?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, Noah. I’d miss two days of group.”

He huffed, obviously defeated. “Alright. I’m sorry, it was a dumb idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. I just need more time to plan something like that.”

He had to go, ending the call quickly to shower and head back down to the venue. With a promise of calling me after, we hung up.

-

I called Laura that night, telling her about Noah’s promise to keep me in bed for a week.

“I’m so fucking jealous of you.” I laughed heartily.

“You’re married!”

“I know! But you’re literally dating a rockstar, Leena. I’m jealous.”

I chewed on my thumb nail.

“He called himself my boyfriend, Laura.”

“Isn’t he?”

I flopped back on my bed. “I don’t know. It feels like it.”

“Is that so bad?”

I contemplated this. “I’m scared, Laura.” My arm covered my eyes. “You know how long it’s been.”

“I know, LeeLee.” Her childhood nickname for me brought me some comfort. “But Noah isn’t him.”

“I know he isn’t.”

“So don’t hold yourself back. Have you even told Noah about him? About any of your trauma?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

I could feel hot tears brewing. “I’m scared to love him, Lo.” My childhood nickname for her.

“Babes, if you’re scared to, then I think you already do.”

Well, that’s a lot to unpack.

I sniffled hard, wiping my tears. “Ugh.” I sat up. “He also asked me to fly to Kansas tomorrow. Go to the show and ride back with them on the bus.”

“That’s cute as fuck. Are you going to? You know I’ll watch Angel.” I rolled my eyes.

“I know, but that’s insane! I would have to leave in like 12 hours.”

“…and?” I didn’t respond, which told her how I felt. “Leena, you don’t do spontaneous, fun stuff anymore. Did you already tell him no?”

“Thank you for that.” I sighed. “And yeah, told him I couldn’t miss group.”

“Abel can handle group for one week.” I stayed quiet. My mind was actually considering it. “You could surprise him!”

“What?”

“Yeah! Show up without telling him, and hold up a sign that says LH hearts NS or some shit! He’s sappy, he’d love it!”

“I can’t exactly get in without him knowing. The show is sold out.”

“Can’t you call Nick or Folio?”

With that, my brain kicked into place and the plan all formed in my head.

“Laura, I’ll drop Angel off in the morning.”

She laughed. “See, you love him!”

I hung up without another word.

I dug through my contacts and found Nick’s number. The show should have ended at least an hour ago, so I guessed they were still in the green room, shaking off the energy.

“C’mon, pick up Nick, pick up.”

“Hey!” The voice was loud, a ton of background noise. “Is everything okay? Do you need to talk to Noah!”

“No!” I yelled into the phone. “No, Nick I’m fine, but I need to talk to you privately.”

-

Having filled Nick in on my plan, he was on board from the moment I said the word ‘surprise’. He thought it was a great idea. He told me Noah had been homesick, and he was sure me coming would perk him right up.

I booked the earliest flight to Witchita that I could, leaving at 5AM. Laura cursed at me when she opened the door to bring Angel inside at 3AM. I dropped a quick kiss on his snout and promised to text Laura the moment I landed.

I then drove to LAX, running through the terminal to my gate, barely making it on the plane in time.

My adrenaline was on high, my backpack filled to the brim with clothes, random toiletries I may need, my wallet, and my phone charger. Everything else would just have to do without.

I understood now why Noah takes a panic day before traveling, because this was anxiety-inducing to do. I hated flying, so my heart raced the entire nearly eight hours.

Once I touched down, I grabbed an Uber to the hotel, the same one I knew they stayed at. I had four hours until the doors opened. I asked Nick for a regular GA ticket, no VIP. I needed to be the first one there so I was in the very front. He needed to see me.

Checked into my room, I slipped in a quick shower to wash the flight off of me, shivering when I got out. I stared down at my bag and realized what I had forgotten.

“Oh shit!”

I picked up my phone and dialed Nick. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey, you here yet?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m in my room. Dude! I have nothing to make a sign out of!”

“Erm…what do you need?”

I ran my hands over my forehead feverishly.

“Poster board and a big sharpie?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Okay, give me 15, let me see what I can find. Text me your room number.”

He hung up and I quickly slipped my clothes on.

My phone rang, Noah’s face flashing.

“Hey you.” I even sounded suspicious, what the fuck? I’m so bad at this.

“Hey gorgeous, you alright?”

My blood ran cold. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh, just because you went to bed early last night and then said you were busy all day. I haven’t heard much from you.”

I laughed, relieved. “Oh yeah, just hung out with Laura all day. I just got home.”

“Ah, okay. I can’t talk long, I’ve got to get ready soon. But I just wanted to check in.”

“Oh, sure! I miss you.” I sat down on the bed.

“I miss you too, baby. Only a couple more days.”

I gritted my teeth. “Yup. Home stretch.”

We said our goodbyes and as I clicked ‘End’, there was a knock at the door.

Nick stood on the other side, 5-pack of poster boards and 3-pack of giant markers in his hands. He was sweating and absolutely out of breath.

“Hi…Leena…” he said in between breaths. “I ran to the corner store and got these. I hope they work.”

I took the items from him, taking note of the color of the posters.

“Neon green?” He nodded, putting his hands on his knees.

“Yeah. Trust me. He can see it way better on stage.”

I smiled brightly. “This is perfect, Nick. Thank you!”

He smiled back. “Anytime. Now look, we take a break between Death of Peace of Mind and Just Pretend where Noah talks to the crowd and gives his little monologue. It gives him time to get his voice ready for the song.”

I listened intently.

“That’s when you hold it up. He’ll have them turn on the lights so he can look at the crowd, and that’s when you hold it up.”

“But what if he sees me before then? Won’t it be obvious if I’m in the front?”

He shook his head. “Don’t let him bullshit you. When the lights are down, we can’t see shit up there.”

-

I was the second person in line, behind a red-headed girl who looked positively irritated. She was dressed in full Bad Omens merch, reminding me that I should have worn the shirt he gave me. Instead, I wore a black tank top, black jeans, and combat boots.

When the doors opened, I walked up to the rail in front of the stage, my sign tightly wrapped in my hands, and turned my back. I didn’t want to risk him seeing me from the back.

I pulled my phone out and shot him a quick message.

Me: Have a great show tonight, babe!

His response was quick.

Noah: Yep, last one till I’m home with you.

Noah: Call you after.

The show was so long, by the time the guys actually made it on stage, I was wiped. ERRA and Invent Animate had put on great sets, but I was here for Bad Omens.

When I heard the opening chords to Death of Peace of Mind, I felt my heart jump into my throat. I sunk low by the railing, listening to Noah’s enchanting voice sing the melody.

“You come and go in waves. Leaving me in your wake.”

I swallowed hard.

“You come and go in waves. Swallowing everything.”

The guitars and drums pounded out the last verse of the song, leaving the venue dark when the lights went out.

I began unraveling the sign, questioning my entire life. This was so corny. Is this how I really wanted to do this? Make such a strong confession to him? In a fucking sign? Like a prom-posal?!

My gut twisted. I couldn’t do this. But I had to. I came all this way. Nick nearly gave himself an asthma attack getting the supplies.

And there was my guy, sauntering around the stage, monologuing, right on schedule.

He would turn the lights up any second. It’s now or never.

I lifted the sign as high as my 5’1 frame would allow, closing my eyes to the rest of the world, internally cringing at how ridiculous this was.

“Woah, we got a sign over here!” His voice was boisterous. And he saw me, or my sign, rather, as I was hiding my face behind it.

I heard him walk toward where I stood.

“Let’s see what it says.” I peeked around the side for only a second, seeing he was bent over, squinting to read the sign.

“‘I love you Noah S’, awe, thank you, that’s so sweet.” He hadn’t walked away though. “What does that say underneath?”

He was quiet for a second. He was reading my name. ‘Leena R.’

The room fell silent, or for me it did. I heard nothing but the shuffling of the microphone being put on the stand. I lowered the sign to see what was happening just as he fixed his mic on the stage.

“Give me just a second, guys.”

The crowd screamed, and he jogged over to the area of the stage directly above where I stood. With no warning, he jumped down, causing the security guard to scramble over to him. He was unfazed, walking straight up to the railing in front of me.

His eyes were wide, a giant grin nearly breaking his cheekbones.

I was sheepishly smiling back, trying hard to maintain my composure.

“You love me?” I almost couldn’t hear him over the crowd. I just nodded wildly, moisture prickling behind my eyes.

Before anything else could happen, he reached up and hooked my neck, pulling me toward the railing and crashing his lips on mine.

All I felt was vibrations, likely from the crowd exploding. His lips tasted like mint and sweat, his gloved hand rough against the back of my neck.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to mine for a second.

“I fucking love you, Leena.”

-

I was still shaking, my hands tucked firmly in my jean pockets while the security guard walked me to the green room as instructed by Noah.

I could hear the concert continue, only two songs left. Noah had jumped back onstage and continued as if nothing had happened, able to breeze right past it like the professional he is.

“Okay, you can wait in here. They’ll be back here once they finish up.” I smiled at the security guard and walked past him into the room.

“Hey,” I turned to look at him. “that was a ballsy move out there. Good for you.”

I blushed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “Yeah? It felt kind of insane.”

He laughed. “It was fucking psychotic.” This wasn’t helping. “But to be honest, I never see shit like that happen. It was cool as fuck.”

He left before I could say anything else.

It wasn’t long before Folio burst through the door, obviously still hyper from the performance. Jolly and Nick followed, already chatting.

“I swear to you my rig was out of tune, dude! It kept giving me sour notes during Limits, and then Dethrone was a fucking mess.” Nick’s eyes scanned the room and found me sitting on the couch, waiting patiently. “Leena!”

I jumped up. “Hey!”

“Perfect fucking execution dude! Exactly how I pictured it.”

“Yeah? How embarrassing was it? Be honest.”

Jolly laughed, pulling his long hair back into a low ponytail. “Oh, it was adorable. I loved it.”

“It was fucking cringe, dude!” Folio’s voice called from the table that had snacks on it. He looked over, open water bottle in his hand. “It was rad as fuck!”

I relaxed my shoulders.

Noah came skipping into the room after a moment, pulling the gloves off of his hands.

“Hey!” He bound up to me, his arms coming to grab me by the hips, pulling me down to another kiss.

“I thought you couldn’t make it!”

I smirked. “I changed my mind.”

“So you didn’t spend the entire day with Laura, I gather?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I spent the day traveling.”

He had disbelief on his face. “How did you pull it off?”

“Called Nick. Booked a flight. Easy stuff.”

“I risked my life for that sign, by the way!” Nick hollered from the couch.

“Is that why you ran out of the room earlier?”

Nick just nodded in response. “I came through. Pulled the wool over your eyes.”

Noah lifted his brows at me, his expression was unreadable.

“You both are insufferable, you know that?”

-

I had brought my things to Noah’s room, not much need for my own. My legs were feeling heavy, so the walk off the elevator and down the hallway with him was my time to find the strength. Noah was a very…active…individual, and I assumed that he was going to be looking for some time together.

When we entered the room, he walked past me, immediately pulling his shirt off and sitting in the bed. Rather than looking at me with his usual hunger, his eyes looked exhausted when they met mine.

It occurred to me, Noah had been on tour for a couple of months. He was playing shows nearly every night while traveling, sometimes without even time to sleep in a hotel room. He needed rest.

“Noah?” He only tipped his chin up in response. “I think I know what you need.”

He raised his brow, the playful expression shadowing his face. “Yeah, and what’s that?”

“A shower.” It took him a second to process, but once he did, his shoulders relaxed forward and he huffed out an amused sigh.

“Yep, you’re right about that.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck.

I stepped over to him, putting my arms around his shoulders and pulling him in close. He pressed the side of his face into my chest in a comforting gesture, wrapping his own arms around my waist.

“Then, you need some sleep. Nick said we leave at 6AM.”

I could only feel him nod. I pulled back so he could look up at me.

“Why don’t we pick up on the fun stuff when we get home? And just work on recovering for now?”

I felt his body go slack.

“Oh thank God.” I shook with laughter. “I’m so fucking tired, Leena. I didn’t want to disappoint you, though.”

“You want to know a secret?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m fucking dead, dude. I’m so tired I could fall asleep standing up.”

He laughed into my chest, caging me in just a little tighter.

“Didn’t you sleep on the plane?”

“No, I uh…I’m not a great flyer.”

“Me neither, why do you think we still take a tour bus?” His voice was muffled by my shirt and he sighed heavily.

“You, mister, go get in a hot shower. Scrub off all that sweat. I will order us some food, and get a movie on.”

He groaned approvingly. “Today is the best day ever.”

He sounded small, which tugged on my heart. “I’m glad I came.”

“Me too.”

-

After a solid five hours of sleep, a morning shower (that may have included some touching), and a third cup of coffee, Noah and I were standing at the hotel check-in desk turning in his room key, and my completely useless one as well. We had fallen asleep not twenty-minutes into the horror movie I had put on after devouring a pizza. We fell asleep spooning, but he eventually rolled onto his back, and I woke up half-laying on him, sweat covering both of us.

Noah was always so chipper in the mornings, which was painful for me, as I was a creature of the night. Even after all of the caffeine, I was still wearing sweatpants, one of Noah's sweatshirts, no bra, flip-flops, and my sunglasses. My hair was hanging loose over my shoulders, not brushed out after the shower. I looked absolutely dreadful.

Still, he held my hand as we walked out to the bus, and helped my backpack off of me and let me on first. The bus was about what I expected, large, loungers lining both sides, a table near a somewhat kitchenette with a refrigerator and table. In the 'hallway' area were the bunks, a bathroom that was smaller than the one on the airplane, and in the very back was a couch with two large televisions, a couple of various gaming consoles, and some cabinets that Noah showed me were filled with snacks.

I had set myself up on one of the lounge couches while the rest of the guys loaded onto the bus. I was waving to each of them lazily as they stepped on, dropping things off in their respective bunks. Folio laid on the lounger across from me, immediately letting his eyes fall closed. I felt my own lids get heavy.

"Are we ready? Ron says we aren't stopping for at least six hours." Jolly called from the front of the bus. He received several yelps of approval in the back from Noah and Nick, who were putting their things away in the back cabinets. No response from the now comatose Folio, and just a thumbs up from me.

As the bus began to move, the vibrations had me lulled, pulling me closer to falling back asleep as my eyes watched the sun slowly rising from the window. An arm reached over me, pulling a shade closed and blocking the light, which was lovely.

I heard Noah's voice above me, so I angled my head to look up. "Going to take a nap, love?" The word made me turn my lips up tiredly.

"Mm, it's not even a nap. It's just going back to bed."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You want to lay in my bunk? The pillows smell like me." He winked, making me roll my eyes playfully.

"I'm too claustrophobic for those things." I sunk down into the cushions. "Besides, I'm so comfy."

He walked to the back, returning only a moment later with a large green blanket that was plush and warm, flinging it over me.

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on my lips. "Get some sleep. I'm going to go kick the shit out of Nick at Warzone."

"Fuck you, dude! I'm going to wipe the fucking floor with you." Nick's voice carried through the bus.

Noah was only gone for a moment before my eyes slipped closed and the movement from the bus had me in a nice, deep slumber.

The drive back home was long. Longer than I had exactly anticipated. It was now about 11PM, and Noah and I were snuggled on the couch in the back, watching through The Conjuring 2, under the same blanket I had napped under earlier. I was going to sleep back here tonight, and I had this pulling feeling that Noah was too.

I was laying sideways, pressed against his side and chest as he laid flat, legs crossed and spread long on the couch. He had one arm wrapped around me, and the other folded under his head.

I wasn't so much watching the movie, having seen it many times, but I was mostly studying him. My fingers traced the tattoos on his shirtless chest, taking note of freckles that were barely visible between the lines of ink.

After a while, I glanced up at him, seeing his eyes beginning to flutter closed. I reached my face up, and pressed a kiss to his jaw, catching his attention. His arm tightened around me, and he breathed heavy.

"I'm fighting for my life to stay awake here." His voice was deep and thick, sleepy.

I smiled. "Why not go to bed, babe? This couch is a little small for two of us."

"Cause you're wide awake, and I'm not going to leave you alone."

"I'm a big girl, Noah. I can put on something to watch and lay here until I get drowsy"

He just shook his head and cleared his throat. "I'll be okay."

I shrugged and began sitting up, needing to stretch. He followed suit.

His eyes watched me as I lifted my arms over my head, my crop top pulling and exposing the underside of my breasts. I saw his tongue slide over his bottom lip.

I quirked an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

He smirked, reaching out to press his palm into my side, making me shiver. His hands were freezing.

"Actually..." He pulled, nearly causing me to topple into his lap.

I let out a squeal, clapping a hand over my mouth. Jolly and Nick were passed out, their snores carrying through the bus. Folio was in his bunk, watching something on his tablet with headphones in. Noah had closed the door to the back of the bus when we first came back here, but I didn't want to be a nuisance, and wake everyone.

He quietly laughed, pulling my legs on either side of him, bringing my face down to his with a hand in my hair.

Our mouths connected softly, his hands coming to rest on my sides.

I pulled back slightly, my eyes glancing over at the door.

"It's locked."

I raised my brows at him, hands resting on his shoulders. "Yeah? Had ideas of how this night was going to go?"

I tried to keep my face even, but I was struggling not to crack a smile.

"I'm not as tired tonight." His voice was low, serious.

He pressed his lips to mine again, steady but not eager. We had time. We were only halfway back to LA, most everyone was asleep, and, most importantly, we were in love.

This moment together just felt different. There was a barrier that had been up, completely fallen now, leaving us bare to each other and vulnerable.

Slowly, he lifted my shirt over my head, drinking in the sight in front of him. His mouth came down on my chest, teeth leaving soft bites as he worked toward my left nipple slowly, painfully. His lips locked onto my nipple, and my head fell back. His hands pulled my hips down, only the fabrics of our sweats between us. The hard bulge ground against my core, making me moan softly.

We stayed this way for a long time, writhing together, his mouth moving from my nipples to my neck, to my mouth. I tugged on his shirt, pulling it over his head. For a second, I stood off of him, and intentionally pulled my pants down as slowly as possible, causing him to groan.

Once I had kicked them off, I reached down and grabbed onto his, only pulling them down enough to let his erection free. I then regained my spot straddling him, sliding myself over him, our mouths hot on each other. When I felt the head of his cock bump my entrance, we both froze for a second. His eyes latched onto me.

We both stared for longer than a moment, trying to decide what we do here. I wasn't on birth control. I knew I was clean. I trusted him to tell me if he wasn't. As stupid as it was, it didn't bother me. Nothing bothered me here. Nothing.

I sunk down, letting him slide into me, and I watched as his mouth fell open, eyes wide. This wasn't just us having sex on the back of a tour bus where someone could hear or see. This was more. This was something else entirely.

I felt every inch of him, all the way to the hilt, and my eyes fluttered closed, my bottom lip caught in my teeth. I was adjusting to the size, having only felt it the one time before, months ago.

"Look at me." His voice was nothing more than a breath.

I opened my eyes, staring at him, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I couldn't say if it was from the slight pain of the penetration, or the sheer emotion I had for Noah.

His hands held me in place by my sides, keeping me from moving an inch.

"I love you, Leena."

A tear spilled down my face, and I sucked in a hard breath.

"I love you, Noah. So fucking much."

I felt his fingers release me ever so gently, and I bucked my hips, causing the most delicious friction that pulled a moan out of both of us. Again, I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep myself from giving us away, and began a slow rhythm of bouncing up and down, each thrust pushing me toward a finish line I so desperately wanted.

He leaned his head back against the cabinet, his breathing so heavy I thought his chest might burst.

"Jesus Christ, baby. Don't fucking stop." He was too loud, he would have the entire bus knowing what we were doing.

I reached my hand up to cover his mouth too, but he snatched my wrist in his hand, reaching up and grabbing the other from over my mouth. He held both wrists in one hand, and pinned them between us, not letting me free while his hips bucked, pressing him deeper and deeper each time I landed on top of him.

He leaned his head in to whisper in my ear. "Stay quiet baby, wouldn't want anyone to know."

Small squeaks escaped with nearly every thrust, my eyes beginning to roll back. I grit my teeth to keep the sound from escaping.

"That's it. Good job, baby." His eyes were half-masked when he spoke, one hand gripping my wrists in a deadly tight grasp, the other lifting my hips for leverage. "You're trying so hard to keep quiet. So good, princess."

His words were giving me a familiar tingling sensation in my belly, my climax coming closer the more he spoke.

"Look so fucking pretty when you ride my cock. Missed that tight pussy so much."

I let a small whine out and his body stilled instantly. My eyes snapped open, and he narrowed his eyes at me. The irises were black, his expression was serious.

"What did I say? You need to keep quiet."

My eyes widened, but my head nodded frantically. The lack of friction was becoming painful.

"I'm sorry."

He released my wrists, my hands falling lifelessly to my side. Both of his hands snaked up my chest, reaching my shoulders. His right hand reached up, wrapping his fingers gently around my throat and slowly adding pressure until I felt my windpipe compressing ever so slightly.

The sensation was sickeningly delicious and my legs naturally jerked in an attempt to gain sensation.

"You will do as I say, is that understood?" I nodded. He reached a hand around me and grabbed a fist full of skin from my ass, pulling me forward. His hand tightened on my throat.

"Now, ask nicely for me to fuck you."

I gasped, his hand loosening to let air through.

"Please, Noah. Please...fuck me."

His hand released my neck, coming down to grab my ass and began bucking up into me violently. I fell forward against him. His arms then wrapped around my chest as I felt the coil in my body pull tighter and tighter. I pulled back to look him in the eyes, his expression wild.

I leaned down and bit into his neck hard, causing a strangled sound to come from his throat as I felt him slow his thrusts. I used the opportunity to grind myself harder against him, the contact pushing me over the edge, my orgasm tearing out of me.

I rode down onto him hard, slowing with each thrust, until we were both panting against each other.

"Are you okay?" He breathed out after a moment, having calmed to nearly normal.

I only nodded in response.

"I've never done...that before." His voice was entirely different now, sounding nearly nervous.

"What?" I expected him to be referring to the choking. It wasn't my first time, but any other time had been pretty dissatisfying, to say the least.

"Having sex...without a condom."

I pulled back to look at him, my brows raised in disbelief.

"Really?"

He was chewing on his lip. "I trust you. I just..." He trailed off, his mind clearly racing. "I'm clean, I swear I am."

I only chuckled at this, rolling off of him and snatching my pants off of the floor. He pulled his up as well.

"I am, too. However," I slipped my shirt over my head. "I'm not on the pill, so we'll need to grab a Plan B when we get back to civilization."

His eyes widened. "I didn't even fucking think of that."

I stood up, stretching. "Luckily for you, I did."

We turned the movie off, as we had missed most of it already anyway. We sat facing each other, cross-legged on the couch, eating snacks out of our respective bags; I had Cheez-Its and he had Reese's Pieces.

"Are you from LA, originally?"

I shook my head. "No, I was born in Washington, but only lived there until I was about five. When my mom died, my Dad moved us to LA. Him and Mom lives there before I was born, and she was buried in East Los Angeles. He said it only made sense.”

"What does he do?" He popped a candy into his mouth.

"He's has a wood-working business. Builds furniture and does art pieces. He doesn't do much of the actual labor stuff anymore, at his age, but he still loves to carve. He has six stores in LA County, two in San Bernardino, and one up in Alameda."

Noah looked thoroughly impressed. "Fucking nice!"

"Yeah, he's my best friend. Best Dad ever." I smiled thinking about my Dad. I would be calling him the moment I got home to update him on my trip.

I looked up at Noah, my turn to ask questions.

"Why go to an AA group in Orange County when you live all the way in Calabasas?"

He twirled a candy in his fingers, shrugging. "Well, when I google searched AA meetings, I didn't want to risk anyone seeing me, so I didn't want to be too close by. I also didn't want to travel too far so I wouldn't have an excuse not to go. Then I narrowed it down to meeting not associated with any churches or religious groups. That's how I found yours."

"What made you decide it was time for AA?"

He was looking down into his bag, and I saw the expression on his face change. I had hit a nerve somewhere, but I wasn't sure where.

"It's like I said before, I had some downtime and figured it was time."

"I don't believe that."

His head snapped up to look at me. "What?"

"Well, maybe in general that's true, but there's usually something. One thing that leads you to AA. It's rare when you just wake up one day, realize you have a problem, and then walk into a meeting."

His eyes narrowed. "Well, that's what happened to me."

He didn't want to keep talking about this, I could tell, but something was there that he wasn't saying. I elected to let it go. I'm no longer his sponsor, maybe I'm not entitled to that information anymore.

Maybe.

[ofallthingsnasty]

Urrrgg im such a wuss about physical pain but something about punctured wounds specifically makes me scared more than cuts or bruises. I think it’s something about the “intrusion” that a sharp object does when it stabs you that it doesn’t do when merely cutting you

Suffice to say Crocodile even threatening to give me a “piercing” will scare me into submission. Suddenly I’m throwing out my escape plans because I do not want to be hurt like that 😓 Sir you can spank me however you want but PLS don’t put that hook anywhere near my face

oh goodness anon, you're way too cute 😭💕 he would never ever hurt you because i say so.... but this also made me think...

tw. yandere, violence, a little over-the-top gore (facial), references this post

Now that you mention it - there are two ways he could harm you with his hook in that specific scenario, one more planned and one more impulsive. (To pierce your tongue, he’d need a forceps or at the very least a very steady hand or else he’s going not only cut into your tongue but the floor of your mouth as well - which could lead to severe bleeding and neurological damage, oh my. Your cheeks are a different story - he might still injure a tiny branch of the facial nerve but you’re not going to lose some motor functions.) 

But to be honest - if he does this to you, it’s going to be entirely impulsive because he’d have to be exceptionally mad. Angry beyond belief or reason, so precision and thought aren’t going to be present. (Even if I really want him to get my tongue, ugh 😔) He isn’t even going to threaten it, he’ll just launch forward like a man possessed and puncture your cheek, force his hook through the fat of your face until he hits your teeth, just lashing out, just senselessly hurting you to shut you and your horrid mouth up.  And god help you if you react on instinct and pull away, because that is going to net you an open cheek and a nasty scar.

Will he feel guilty just moments later, as rare as that emotion is for him? Yes. Will it stop your incessant  babbling and shock you into submission? Also yes. Like you said, I can only see this happening once, maybe twice? You’d have to do something so outrageous and disrespectful and keep at it to get this rather calm man to that point - but it’s achievable and a serious escape attempt could do it.  But you being feisty plays a big part in this - because if you aren’t (if you grovel and cry and beg for forgiveness, kiss his feet to soothe that anger, worship him like you’re supposed to), he won’t end up that mad. You’re still going to regret it, no doubt, but he has this pesky little soft spot for you that, if pressed, can mellow him out rather quickly. It really depends on you and your actions.

But if it happens? If the meat of your right cheek suddenly loses tension and flaps around because his hook is too big to control and you instinctively pulled back, away from the pain, the hurt? All that anger is going to evaporate in an instant. He just needs to see your stunned face, pain barely registering because of the adrenaline that is running through you, just needs to see all that exposed fat and muscle to immediately regret it. It’s a grotesque sight; yellow, pink, stark red mixing as your teeth gnash in horror and your thoughts are going a mile a minute trying to register what just happened. Of course, he wastes no time and takes you in for the best care he can find in that moment, intent on keeping both the functional and aesthetic damage to a minimum - but his hook is big and brutish and the wound leaves you with a gnarly scar, no matter how skilled the hands of your surgeon are.

When it’s all said and done, he’ll still feel that little pang of guilt from time to time when he traces the scar with his thumb - but it’s more that feeling of regret a little boy gets when he scratches up a brand new toy, that disappointment that it isn’t shiny and new anymore and not genuine remorse because he inflicted so much pain on you. He can’t feel bad about it for too long when he remembers that you see what disobedience gets you every time you look into the mirror. It might have marred your looks - but it has made you so wonderfully pliant as well, has earned him your respect.