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misaerabl · 2 months ago

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BURNING POINT

firefighter vi x medic reader

CW: sex in a firehouse, slightly injured vi i guess, semi-public?, fingering, you fuck twice, sex in a firetruck, grinding, strap on sex, referring to strap on as cock, not proofread, pure smut again (insert apologies here)

The fire had been out for hours, but the heat lingered. Not from the flames — those had been tamed by the time you showed up, hauling your trauma kit and directing EMTs — but from her.

Vi.

Scarred knuckles. Sleeves rolled up. Smirking like she had no right to.

You'd patched up her shoulder after she barreled into a collapsing stairwell to rescue two kids. Stubborn idiot. She hadn’t winced once when you stitched her up. Just watched you with this lazy grin that said she enjoyed the way your hands felt on her skin a little too much.

And now, hours later, you’re both alone in the firehouse, the others having either gone home or passed out in the bunkroom.

"You always get this bossy when someone’s bleeding out?" Vi asks, stepping into the breakroom where you're pretending to clean your gear.

You glance at her. “Only when the person bleeding out is a dumbass with a hero complex.”

She chuckles, low and rough. "Come on. Admit it. You liked having your hands on me.”

You raise a brow. “You're not special. I’ve patched up half the squad.”

Vi steps closer. "Yeah, but you only look at me like that."

You freeze. She’s right. You do look at her differently. Like you’re imagining things that don’t belong in a sterile triage tent. Things that involve teeth and hands and no clothes.

When she crowds you against the counter, you don’t move away. She plants her hands on either side of you, caging you in. Her breath is warm against your ear.

"Tell me to stop," she whispers, but you don’t. Your hand grabs her shirt, pulling her in.

And then her lips crash into yours.

It’s heat and want and something close to reckless. Her hands find your hips, grip rough and hungry, like she’s been holding this in for months. You push back, bite her lip, and she groans — low, needy.

She lifts you onto the counter in one smooth move, stepping between your legs.

"You're such a goddamn tease," she growls, tugging your medic jacket off, revealing the tank top underneath. Her hands slide under it, calloused fingers dragging across your skin.

You tug her closer. “Then lets stop teasing.”

Vi doesn’t hesitate. She pulls your top over your head, mouth moving to your neck, then your chest, leaving marks that’ll be hard to explain if anyone walks in. But you don’t care. Her hands are everywhere — fast, desperate — like she’s trying to memorize the shape of you all at once.

You tug her shirt up, revealing toned muscle and old scars. She grins against your skin when you whisper “fuck” at the sight.

Her fingers trail down your stomach and into your pants. You gasp, nails digging into her shoulders.

“You’re already wet,” she murmurs smugly. “You were thinking about me.”

You arch into her hand. “Less talking.”

Vi growls, mouth crashing into yours again as her fingers slide inside, curling just right. You grip her arms, thighs trembling, as her pace picks up — fast, skilled, deliberate.

“You’re so good like this,” she mutters. “Falling apart on me.”

You come undone with a soft cry against her mouth, shuddering as she keeps you grounded with strong arms and filthy praise.

When you finally catch your breath, she’s smirking again.

“Next time I get hurt,” she says, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “you’re riding me on the stretcher.”

You laugh, breathless. “You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

Vi grins, teeth sharp and eyes hungry. “Bet.”

The laughter fades, but the tension doesn’t.

She helps you down from the counter, but not without stealing another kiss — lazy and deep, the kind that makes your knees weak. She doesn’t let you go far, her grip still tight on your wrist as she pulls you through the dim firehouse.

The place is silent, the others long gone or dead asleep upstairs.

Vi’s got that look again — the one she gets right before doing something reckless. “You ever done it in a firetruck?” she asks, voice low, almost teasing.

You blink at her. “That a serious question?”

She grins. “I’ve had fantasies.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

But you're already following her to the truck bay.

The rig looms in the shadows, steel and red and chrome — still smelling faintly of smoke and sweat. Vi swings the door open and yanks you up like you weigh nothing, lips already back on yours before you can tease her about her enthusiasm.

You're straddling her lap before your mind even catches up.

“This seat,” she murmurs, hands sliding under your thighs, “has definitely never seen anything this good.”

You grab her jaw, tilting her face so she has to look at you. “Then make it worth the risk.”

That’s all it takes.

Vi groans like she’s been starving. Her hands are under your clothes again — rough palms trailing over your ass as she grinds up into you, hard. You feel her through her uniform pants, pressed perfectly where you want her.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come just from grinding,” you breathe, panting against her neck.

“Good,” she growls, biting your earlobe. “Do it. Make a mess on me.”

You rock your hips down, both of you gasping. Her hands guide you — firm, controlling — dragging your body against hers in perfect rhythm. The scent of smoke and leather fills your lungs, the heat unbearable in the best way.

You yank her tank up, your mouth tracing over the ridges of her abs. Her hands slide into your pants again, and this time, she’s impatient. Two fingers slide in deep, curling up until your back arches and you nearly scream.

“Shh,” she says with a dark grin, covering your mouth with her own. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the probie to walk in and catch you cumming on my fingers.”

You moan into her mouth, already shaking.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. You love this, don’t you? Getting ruined where anyone could walk in.”

You nod, breath catching as she speeds up, her other hand squeezing your ass, pushing you harder against her.

You fall apart again — harder this time — clinging to her like you’re drowning.

Vi doesn’t stop.

She lifts you slightly, sliding her pants down just enough to free the strap she wears underneath. Your eyes widen.

“Always ready?” you ask, breathless.

She smirks. “For you? Every goddamn time.”

You slide down onto her with a cry, the stretch intense and perfect. Her hands grip your hips, guiding your movements as you ride her slow, then faster, the firetruck rocking with every thrust.

Vi is relentless.

She pounds up into you with brutal precision, your nails digging into her shoulders as the obscene sound of skin on skin echoes in the small cab. Your head falls back as her lips find your chest, sucking bruises onto your skin.

“I wanna see you fall apart again,” she whispers, voice wrecked. “One more time. Right here. On my cock.”

You do. You can’t help it.

The world shatters around you as you cry her name, body trembling, and she follows right after — hands clutching you like a lifeline, face buried in your neck.

When it’s over, you slump against her, both of you sweaty and flushed, clothes half-off and breath ragged.

“We are so getting caught one day,” you murmur, dazed.

Vi grins, still inside you. “Worth it.”

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harryspet · 4 months ago

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rough hands, soft chains [2] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, loss of virginity, rafe is HUGE, breeding kink, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

In which you meet your new family, the Camerons, and learn Rafe's true intentions.

word count: 5.1k

rough hands, soft chains masterlist

The spare outfit you’d packed for your failed escape attempt was a delicate two-piece set in white. The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step. The lightweight fabric was a reflection of your usual preference for comfortable clothes. A handful of other items hung in the closet, clearly not yours, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept whatever offering the Camerons had left for you.

After giving your reflection a look, you turned your attention your room. You floated over to the vanity, a rustic wooden display decorated with gold trinkets. You’d only packed the essentials, meaning you’d limited yourself to mascara, concealer, blush and lipgloss. You slid onto the matching stool decking to touch up your makeup, wiping away the smudged mascara and applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. Lip gloss always had a way of brightening your mood, even now. You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine.

When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now. He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal.

Something caught your attention outside the large windows. Rolling pastures stretched out before you, dotted with fences and patches of wildflowers swaying gently. Your gaze drifted toward the yard below. Rain trickled down slowly but you realized the figures moving in the distance, behind a tall white fence, were Juliet and John B. Making his way to the fence’s edge, now adorned in a work jacket and dark hat to protect from the rain, was Rafe.

They were soon deep in conversation. Your eyes lingered on Rafe’s figure a little too long before shifting to Juliet, whose movements were graceful and unbothered. She had been alone for so long, your father had been forced to sell the other three horses your family owned years ago, and her care had undoubtedly suffered as your father’s health declined. Surely, the Camerons had at least a hundred horses and the resources to ensure Juliet was well cared for and had proper company. For a moment, you wondered if she might be happier here, happier than even you.

You were grateful for the distraction when a knock came at your door an hour later. You expected it to be Rafe, but a fleeting thought made you pause, would Rafe even bother knocking?

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find a dark-haired girl standing there, no older than fifteen. She was smiling, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Hey," she said, giving you a once-over with a playful look. "I’m Wheezie, Rafe’s little sister.”

So this was the other Cameron sibling? You smiled instinctively and offered your hand. "Oh, hi! I’m Y/N."

You blinked, studying her more carefully. She looked nothing like Rafe, and in that moment, she seemed almost... approachable. Less intimidating. Her warmth, however, felt almost out of place given the situation.

"I like your outfit," she said, her gaze scanning your clothes and makeup. "And your makeup. Ugh, I wish I could do mine like that. Sarah never has time to show me how."

“Sarah?” you asked, a little confused.

"My older sister," Wheezie explained, raising an eyebrow as if surprised. "Rafe’s never mentioned her?"

You shook your head, realizing she might think you'd known Rafe longer than just today. “Uh, no. He hasn’t.”

"Well, there’s three of us," Wheezie continued, her voice casual. "And Rose, our step-mom."

“Oh, okay,” You nodded, taking in all of the information. You weren’t at all used to meeting new people, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I ask you if Mr. Ward is home yet? I kinda need to speak with him.”

Wheezie’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. “Him and Rose have been gone all day. Cattle auction, I think. They probably won’t be back until dinner.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? Wheezie, sensing your hesitation, brightened up and added, “I could show you around the house in the meantime.”

You thought about it for a second, then smiled. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Joining Wheezie out in the hallway, your tour began. Wheezie led you to Rafe’s room first, just beside yours. “He likes to keep it locked,” she said with a grin, “Or else I’d totally snoop around with you.”

You liked her instantly. Moving down the hall, you passed Ward’s study, a room that felt both timeless and functional. It had a desk covered in papers and shelves filled with books. Next was the master bedroom, a room with dark wood furniture and soft linens.

Finally, Wheezie opened the door to the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the room, and large armchairs were scattered around a grand fireplace. It felt like the perfect spot for quiet moments.

You couldn’t help but feel small in this place. It held the warmth of a family home but it was massive, the ceilings too high, and had decor that screamed “we’re wealthy”.

Downstairs, the living room was the first stop, a grand space with towering ceilings. Soft leather sofas and enormous windows that offered a breathtaking view of the stretching land and mountains in the distance.

Moving through the open archway into the kitchen, you took note of counters made of polished stone, dark wood cabinets, and the appliances all state-of-the-art. The kitchen was bustling with a couple of workers, one chopping vegetables at the counter, the other pulling something out of the oven. You noticed a door that led out to a terrace.

“These are all Rose’s renovations. She’s really into interior design, and all that stuff.”

“And the people. They work here all the time?” you asked, intrigued.

“My Dad can grill, but Rose doesn’t cook at all. So they get help,” Wheezie explained with a shrug. “I think she likes having everything perfect, you know?”

“She does have really nice taste,” You spoke genuinely, fumbling with your fingers as you looked around.

Past the kitchen was the dining room, where a long, weathered table was set for what could easily be a dozen guests. The chandelier above was massive, its crystals catching the light and casting a glow over the room.

Wheezie led you into the garage next. The space was expansive, with polished concrete floors and a collection of vehicles parked neatly in their spots, sleek trucks, a few SUVs, and a couple of classic cars you assumed were more for show. Near the back of the garage, you spotted a few horseshoe-shaped saddles hanging on the wall, alongside an array of hunting gear. There were rifles and ammunition neatly organized on the shelves, a few pairs of boots stacked by the door, and weathered hunting jackets hanging from the walls. It was practical, but still had the polished look of the rest of the house, like nothing here was ever out of place.

“Do you ride?” Wheezie asked as you took in the details of the room.

“Yeah, I have a horse named Juliet,” you grinned. “Do you?”

“I can,” Wheezie replied with a shrug. “I’m not great at it. Sarah’s better, and Rafe—well, he’s good at things like that.”

“Does Sarah live here too?” you asked, curious.

“Yeah, but she’s been MIA for two days.” Wheezie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can’t tell anyone this,” she continued, glancing around before leaning in closer. “She and John B. are a thing. And she hangs out with his friends.”

“It’s a secret?” you asked, intrigued but still unsure of the family dynamics at play.

Wheezie nodded, her eyes flicking to the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. “My dad wants her to be with someone whose family is... more prestigious, if that makes sense?”

You processed that for a moment, nodding slowly. “But my family’s not... prestigious. But Ward wants me to marry your brother.”

A mischievous glint sparked in Wheezie’s eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “Is it true that Rafe got you pregnant and that’s why you have to live with us?”

You froze for a split second, then blurted out, “I am not!” You suddenly realized how loud you’d been and lowered your voice, grabbing Wheezie’s hand as you whispered urgently, “I am not.”

“Other people don’t think I’m pregnant, do they?” You continued, “Because I don’t think I’ve done anything that could lead to that…”

You questioned yourself for a moment, feeling a pang of uncertainty. You’d learned about the birds and the bees just once, when you were eleven, and it had been before your mother died. After that, your education had been limited, and anything beyond what she'd explained was a blur of confusion.

What you were certain of, though, was that the kiss with Rafe couldn’t have led to that. You had never heard of anything like that happening from a simple kiss. To your knowledge, you needed at least to sleep in the same bed for that to happen, and you and Rafe hadn’t crossed that line. Before your mind could wander to that possibility, Wheezie spoke.

“I’m not trying to be rude, just curious,” She said with a smirk, her tone light and teasing. “No one around here tells me anything.”

A few hours later you entered the dining room again with Wheezie. You’d spend a good amount of time in her room and she’d explained more about her family, including more details about Rafe. You learned that she was Rafe’s soft spot. That he was cold to almost everyone except her. Ward had a lot of expectations for him and Rafe did about everything he could to appease his father.

“I think Rafe just wants to do things his own way,” Wheezie had mused. “But, you know, my Dad has other ideas. He’s been trying to get Rafe to be more... ‘like him.’”

Kindly, you’d accepted her request for you to help her with her makeup. You’d done hers like yours, with bright blush and shiny lipgloss. She was so excited that she practically skipped down the stairs after, her happiness infectious as she bounced in front of you. A part of you couldn’t help but smile. Was this what it was like to have a sister? The feeling was new and strange, but warm, like something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Rafe looked you over, as if he was offended by your choice in clothing, “What did I do?” You asked, innocently.

Maybe he didn’t think your outfit was cute.

“Come sit next to me,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something possessive, as if he were commanding you rather than asking. He waved you over.

You hesitated, looking at Ward, who gave you a reassuring, welcoming smile, and then at Rose and Sarah. Sarah’s gaze was sharp, watching you with a kind of calculating curiosity, while Rose barely seemed to notice, her eyes distant and uninterested.

You exhaled slowly, making your way over to the seat next to Rafe. Your knees brushed against each other but he didn’t move his.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. I’ve known her family for years, and after that everything’s happened, she’s going to stay with us. She’s been through a lot.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose murmured, almost absentmindedly. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” Her tone wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm, either.

Ward’s words seemed genuine, but you didn’t understand fully why he spoke so kindly. The two of you were practically strangers. Wheezie smiled brightly in reaction. Sarah, on the other hand, was looking you over even more closely than Rafe. You could see the thoughts swirling in your mind.

“I have a question-” She blurted out.

Ward interrupted, “I’d watch yourself, young lady.”

“I just want to make sure everything’s clear,” Sarah said softly, her voice quieter now. “I’m just... trying to understand why, that’s all. A marriage seems a little bit rushed, don’t you think? They didn’t even know each other before today.”

“They didn’t?” Wheezie raised an eyebrow.

The pressure in the room increased, “Sarah,” Ward began to warn her but it was Rafe who spoke up next.

Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. “It’s not rushed, Sarah,” he said, turning to look at her. “It’s just what it is. No need to complicate it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the sharpness of Rafe’s gaze making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. He answering for you, as if you didn’t have a say in how things were perceived.

Sarah didn’t flinch. Her eyes held a quiet defiance. As if to change the subject, Rafe continued, “What is that on your face, Wheeze?”

“It’s called makeup,” She shot back, annoyed, “Y/N did it.”

Rafe turned his head towards you, “It’s a little much for someone her age, don’t you think?”

“I think she looks really pretty. I started wearing makeup way younger than her,” You responded quietly but honestly, “That’s how you, like, get good at it.”

“See,” Wheezie stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

Suddenly, you felt Rafe’s hand touch your knee underneath the table. The warmth of Rafe’s hand on your knee sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite focus on anything else. His touch was unexpected, as though he’d done it without thinking, and yet, there was something deliberate about the way he kept his hand resting there.

Dinner was officially served moments later. Rafe’s hand remained there on your knee as you all began to eat the carefully prepared steak, potatoes and asparagus. Your steak was already cut into a pieces, a luxury that you didn’t even know others experienced.

Sarah pushed around her asparagus, “How do you feel about moving in with us so suddenly, Y/N? I mean, do you really know what you’re getting yourself into?”

You paused, unsure of what to say, your gaze instinctively shifting toward Rafe. His hand was still on your knee, but the grip felt firmer now, like he was holding you in place, keeping you from saying something that might upset the balance of things.

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but when you opened your mouth, it all just came tumbling out. “It’s kinda overwhelming,” you started, your voice soft but a little unsure. “I miss… I miss my Dad. And you guys have all this land, and this house is so huge, it’s hard to wrap my head around it all.” You glanced at Sarah, then back to your plate. “And, like, I didn’t think I’d get married this young, but… if it’s really what my Dad wanted…”

You trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed. Sarah’s gaze softened slightly, “It’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Up until that point, you hadn’t realized you had a choice in all of this. You could see she wasn’t questioning you out of judgement. She almost looked concerned.

“Enough, Sarah,” Ward spoke sharply, “This is bigger than what one person thinks is right. I don’t expect you to understand but it’s about responsibility. Rafe is growing up and he’s decided to take on new responsibilities. I don’t see why you can’t be supportive.”

“I just think she deserves more time to decide,” Sarah said.

“There isn’t a rush. I’m not rushing them, that’s for certain. Rafe and Y/N will take the time to get to know each other.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. You could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You glanced at him and noticed the subtle shake of his head, as if dismissing the entire idea. “What’s the point in waiting? You can plan a wedding in a few weeks, right?”

“Rafe, son, don’t you think two should spend some time together?”

“No, Dad, we’ll get married as soon as possible. If Y/N wants to have a real ceremony, Rose can plan it, but I’d be down to just go to the courthouse.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Rafe,” Sarah leaned forward in her seat, “Are you actually crazy?”

How did we get here? You had no answers, just a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe you should’ve said something, but the lump in your throat made it hard to think.

“We’ll figure it out” Rafe said, cutting her off. He turned his attention to you, his gaze intense but unreadable. “Right, darling?”

The way he looked at you made your stomach twist. It was as though he was asking you to confirm something you didn’t fully understand yourself. You opened your mouth to respond, but Wheezie chimed in before you could.

“Dude, that’s like, so not romantic!” she exclaimed, scrunching her nose. “You haven’t even proposed yet!”

Sarah seized the moment, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Exactly. At least ask her properly, Rafe. Or are you afraid she’ll say no?”

The air at the table grew heavier. You glanced at Ward, who looked ready to intervene, but Rafe beat him to it. His lips curled into a tight smile, though his eyes flashed with something darker. “You think I’m afraid of that, Sarah?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

All you could think about was the way Rafe’s hand hadn’t left your knee, his grip steady, as if anchoring you to him despite the chaos swirling around the table.

“Can we drop it, please?” Rafe asked, his tone deep and final.

“I want Y/N to stay,” Wheezie decided.

“We all want Y/N to stay,” Ward clarified.

“Well, good,” Rose chimed in, her smile polished and hollow. “Then it’s settled.”

At the end of dinner, Ward leaned back in his chair, addressing you, “You’ll find we take care of our own here, sweetheart. Anything you need, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what else to say.

“We should get going,” Rafe announced abruptly, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. His hand left your knee, only to find the small of your back as he helped you up.

Wheezie pouted. “But we haven’t even had dessert!”

“Next time, Wheeze,” Rafe replied, his tone firm. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him out of the dining room, feeling the eyes of his entire family on your back.

“Where are we going?” You asked, trying to keep up with Rafe’s long strides. He’d given you his jacket and asked you to put on your boots, before guiding you out the front door. You clutched the jacket tightly, the night beginning to turn cool. The sky was still heavy with the remnants of rain but an orange and pink sun began to lower in the sky, peaking behind soft, gray clouds, “Rafe?”

High grass tickled the bare legs hidden beneath your skirt as you walked into the fields, “Just for a walk. That okay with you?”

“You know, sometimes I think you really don’t care what’s okay with me.” Rafe flashed you an amused look, “Oh yeah? Maybe I like making decisions for you.”

You snorted in disbelief but your heart fluttered nonetheless.

"What's the real reason you brought me out here?" You asked, pushing the conversation forward despite the tension.

Rafe stopped and turned to face you, his expression unreadable for a moment. He studied you, like he was considering his words carefully. "Maybe I just wanted to see you without all the noise around us. No distractions. Just you and me."

The ranch stretched out before you, vast and quiet. The ground beneath your feet was soft as you walked, fast enough to follow Rafe’s steps. A faint hum of crickets began to rise in the distance.

A modest building tucked near the tree line, far from the main house came into view, “That’s the ranch hand’s quarters,” Rafe explained, “You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman.”

The sun continued to hang lower as you walked, casting a golden hue over the land. Rafe led you further into the sprawling escape, pointing out different landmarks, “This land’s been my family’s for generations. But my Dad was the one who made it what it was today. It’s very important to me. This land and all the hard work that’s put into it.”

“My dad’s tough on me but it’s his legacy, you know? It’s more than just making money or raising cattle. I don’t know, I just want to protect what I have. Make sure my kids and my grandkids have it, ya' know?”

He didn’t look for your understanding, his words genuine, but the look on his face was guarded. He paused, his jaw tightening slightly, “You don’t to get to be part of something big and not feel like you’ve got to give everything you have to it.”

“What if…” Your voice trailed as you tried to collect your thoughts, “How do I know it’s something I want to be apart of?”

“As my wife, you’d stand beside me. You’d build with me. Raise our children. Make a home. You’d make everything that I’m working towards, worth it. That’s a life with purpose, yeah?”

As he spoke, his voice deep and steady, you found yourself drawn to the way his features seemed to soften, despite the intensity of his words. Those blue eyes were focused on you with an intensity that made your throat go dry.

He stood taller now, the weight of his words pressed in on you and you could see the full picture he was painting. It wasn’t just the land. It was you. It was him. It was a family.

“Yeah,” You agreed, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. Your gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to his lips. They were slightly parted, the edge of his mouth curling just a bit as he spoke, and for a moment, you forgot where you were.

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed, a knowing look on his face, and his hand found the small of your back, “I owe you something, don’t I?”

“Owe me?” Your voice faltered. What was he talking about?

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply pulled you forward, his hand firm against your back as he guided you through the tall grass. You didn’t have time to question him before the two of you reached a secluded barn, tall and clay-colored, tucked far away from the main house. The air smelled faintly of hay and wood, the earthy scent of the ranch settling around you. But you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Rafe was pulling you into him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, drawing you closer, until his lips were on yours.

The kiss Rafe Cameron had promised you.

All those thoughts you had about the land, the future, everything he’d said, it all slipped away.

Someone, something, had overtaken you. Something ached inside of you, a part of your very being that had never been satisfied. You felt like an animal, desperate, grabbing at Rafe’s shirt, wanting him closer. He was already pressed tightly against you but deep down you wanted more.

His lips weren’t as gentle as you remembered, they enveloped your mouth, his tongue tasting you, his arms keeping you where he wanted as he explored you.Without warning, he tugged you into an empty stall, the scent of hay and leather thick in the air. His hands were at the edges of your jacket now, pulling it open, his fingers brushing against your skin as the cool air of the barn nipped at your exposed flesh.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, the fabric sliding higher until it was gathered above your hips. Your eyes flew open, but Rafe was relentless, his mouth still claiming yours with fervent, unyielding kisses. You didn’t know exactly how babies were made but you had a feeling you were getting closer than you’d ever had before. Before you could process it, Rafe lifted you effortlessly, his hands sliding to cup your bottom as he held you tightly against him. Part of you began to panic.

Then, with deliberate care, he laid you down. not on the rough ground but on his jacket, which was spread beneath you. Darkened eyes met your panicked ones. This was much more than a kiss. Although you’d enjoyed that part of the exchange, you weren’t sure you wanted more, “Rafe,” You whispered, your voice uncertain, as he moved his mouth from your lips to the sides of your mouth. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of sensations. You pushed at his chest and felt you were pushing against a boulder. There would know way to get from underneath him, even if you tried, “Are… you gonna put a baby in me?”

He paused, lifting his head to look you in the eye and you had to remind yourself to breathe in that moment, “Jesus Christ. You’re something else, you know that?” Rafe grinned and some of your uncertainty went away. His reaction made the moment feel more lighthearted, like there wasn’t a boundary being crossed, like his intentions were innocent.

“I like the kissing,” You admitted, “It feels good b-but I’m scared–”

Rafe shushed you, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline, until he reached the side of your neck. Your thighs clenched tightly, your head tilted back, and you couldn’t control your moaning. Rafe spread your legs with his own, his jeans brushing against the smoothness of your thighs. He pressed his lower half into you and you felt something as hard as a rock, rubbing against your panties. It was then, your core started to feel like it was on fire.

“Don’t be scared, it’ll just hurt for a moment,” Rafe spoke against your skin, huskily, his voice almost sounding like he was in pain, “You’re just gonna lay still for me, I need you to help me to take care of something.”

“Hurt?” You questioned, your mind hanging on that word. Then you thought back to your question. He hadn’t really answered.

He seemed to ignore you again, his mouth moving lower on your body. He pulled your shirt down, and as your breasts spilled from their constraints, he left kisses on your nipples. Your head tilted back again when he took one of your nipples fully into his mouth, “Rafe,” You whispered but the sound of his name only seem to push him further. His fingers traced the edge of your panties before he slipped his fingers inside, brushing over your folds. You were wet down there, you realized, and mostly out of embarrassment, you started to pull away, “Please don’t touch me there.”

You watched his pupils dilate as he stared down at you intently. He kept one hand in your underwear and wrapped his other around your throat, quickly, as if his body was reacting instinctively to your defiance.

“Don’t tell me that,” Rafe said, almost growling, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to push away his hand as you struggled to breathe, “I have to touch ya' here, darlin’. I’m gonna be your husband. This belongs to me, understand?”

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles over your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked in reaction and you silenced your moans, knowing you only had so much air to breathe, “Say you understand. Say yes.”

You nodded your head quickly, “Yes,” You whispered.

You were grateful when he loosed his grip around your throat, “It’s a good thing you’re wet. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just means this is what your body wants, baby. You already want to make me happy.”

You weren’t quite sure at what moment your body decided to freeze. Your nerves were overwhelmed, of course, and it seemed like you’d come out less scathed from the situation if you did as Rafe said. You could stay still and take it. There was something happening with Rafe you didn’t understand but he was acting as though he needed something and you were only one who could provide it. You could stay still and take it if it would make him happy, right? It’s a good thing to make other people happy.

You focused on the kisses on your lips, the way his soft mouth moved methodically over yours. The faint jangle of metal pulled you back to the moment, a sound you barely registered until you felt the press of something impossibly hard, slowly pushing against a place you hadn’t realized could take him. His manhood, you assumed, what made him different from you. It hurt like he said it would but not for just a moment. Were all manhoods this size? This is what your body really wants?

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the edge of strain. His hand brushed over your trembling thigh, steadying you as your body tried to accommodate him. “You’re okay. I promise.”

He started to rock into you once you felt completely full to the brim. Initially, it felt even worse than him pushing all the way inside you. Tears fell and your breath grew rapid, “It hurts,” You whimpered, “It really hurts.”

“It’s okay,” He said, maintaining his pace, “You’re okay, darlin’. You’re doing great. It’s just your first time. Gotta get used to me, that's all.”

“Are-are you putting a baby in me, Rafe?” You asked, your voice an innocent whisper. His grip on you tightened as his rhythm grew more deliberate, his words spilling out in a low growl.

“Fuck yes, darlin’,” he said, his voice thick with unrestrained desire. “I’m gonna put a baby in you.”

His hands, his words, the pain between your legs that was slowly turning to pleasure, it made you dizzy, and you couldn’t keep track of your thoughts. You belonged to him? A baby? It didn’t make sense, but part of you felt comforted by the intensity of him. You trusted he knew more. Everything’s okay. You were okay. It felt like something you were supposed to be, so you let go and let him have you.

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

#rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #dark fic #rafe fic #rafe obx #obx rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #sarah cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader

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munsonsmixtapes · 7 months ago

Text

Is Somebody Gonna Match My Freak?

scarer!Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: you go to a fright night with your friends and can’t help be attracted to one of the scarers who passes by, and when your friends let you know just how weirded out they are by your acquired taste, he steps in and lets you know just how badly he wants to fuck you. If only there was a way to properly thank him for defending you.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you smack it) oral (m receiving) hair pulling, kinks (mask, breeding) sub!Eddie, dom!reader, reader's friends are bullies

Based on this request and this request!

part two

The place was bustling when you and your friends entered it. It had been a tradition for the four of you to go every year, but the difference was that this year you were going to fuck one of the workers. There was just something about the whole thing that sounded exciting to you, and bonus points if it happened in one of the haunted houses.

You surveyed the place, on the hunt for the person you were going to pick out, hoping that they would agree, but totally understood if they didn't since it was a pretty odd request. You were sure that they didn’t get asked that very often, but you were still feeling pretty confident in yourself.

Your friend Aria looped her arm through yours as the two of you walked. You were easily closer to her than you were to the others but like the others, she also didn’t understand your whole obsession with or your attraction to all of the employees in their scary costumes, and you didn’t understand why she thought it was so weird.

A worker slid through the walkway and Aria made sure to push you out of the way so neither of you had gotten in the way. And the man stopped right in the center, giving you a great view of the profile of his mask. And in that moment, you decided that he was the one.

Aria let out a shriek from beside you and the worker whipped around, turning to face you, and while you were resisting the urge to twirl your hair in a flirtatious manner, your friend was practically shaking like a leaf.

She stepped behind you and the man turned to you, his face dangerously close to yours. You stared him down, taking in the features of his mask. It looked like plastic and you hadn’t recognized it from anywhere so you figured it had been a random mask that was just supposed to be scary. And it was with the eyes that were a cloudy white and the bloody smile that had far too many teeth in its smile.

But that didn’t matter anyway. You were attracted to the way he moved, the confidence that exuded from him, the way he inched closer that your faces were so close that you could just lean in and-no-you couldn’t do that, especially when he was on the clock. Instead, you looked down at his outfit. It consisted of a pair of tight jeans, a baggy band t-shirt, and a jean jacket that had a bunch of pins and patches of some of your favorite bands. He really was the whole package.

You looked back up at him, his hair catching your eye. It was dark brown and curly, perfectly achieving the effortlessly messy look that you knew was hard to accomplish. It also looked so soft and you wanted to run your hands through it to see it felt as good as it looked. It would have nice to hold onto while he-

Your hand reached up and you pushed Aria further behind you as you stared the stranger down. So many thoughts, all of them impure. Why did you have to be the freak amongst your friends? Why couldn’t you have just found these characters scary like they did? Why were you so attracted to the man in front of you?

“Better be careful,” he told you and just the husky sound of his voice was making you feel things. “Wouldn’t want your friend to get hurt while I’m sliding through.” He was stepping closer and you only backed up so you wouldn’t do something you have regretted. If you had had it your way, you would have taken him right there, pulling him into the nearest space where you could have had some privacy.

Jesus, you really needed to chill out. It wasn’t like you would have actually had the guts to ask him. It was all just something that would live in your head. All just a fantasy that would never see the light of day.

“She won’t,” you replied, stepping closer to the man. “I’ll protect her.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Enjoy your evening.” And with that, he turned on his heel and slid across the way to scare another group. You were definitely going to enjoy your evening if you kept thinking about him.

Aria moved from behind you and for a second, you almost forgot that she was even there, your mind still on the stranger. She looped her arm through yours once again and tried to keep herself composed.

“Are you okay?” She asked. “That guy was a freak.” Yeah, he was. And now you were beginning to wonder if he was a freak in the sheets as well.

“I’m good. I think I need to go to the bathroom, though,” you told her, not exactly wanting to say why. You were sure that she’d figure it out anyway.

“Jesus, you were turned on by that?” She was looking at you with a grimace as her voice raised a bit too loudly for your liking. You didn’t need everyone to know about your kinks.

“Not so loud,” you moved to stand in front of her. “And yeah, I was. What’s so wrong with that?” You shrugged, watching her nose scrunch up in disgust.

“So much,” Aria shook her head. “He was wearing a mask, y/n,” she pointed out as if you didn’t already know that.

“Hence the bases of the appeal,” you rolled your eyes. What part was she not understanding?

“So you want to fuck the man wearing the mask that’s going to me my sleep paralysis demon for the next week? I’ll never understand you.” She was shaking her head in disgust and you didn’t like the way she always made comments on how weird or disturbing she thought your taste in men was. You would have never done that to her if the roles were reversed.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes again. “Why don’t you stop kink shaming me and we can go find the others.”

You pulled her along and found the others in your group by the first house you were going to go into. You hadn’t even been paying attention to what they were saying as the same man slid past the four of you, immediately catching your eye. You stared, your thoughts getting even more impure by the second.

“Jesus, she’s at it again,” Addison teased, but you ignored her. God, you really needed to get better friends.

“You really think one of these guys will fuck you?”

“Yeah, you’re not a teenager anymore, y/n,” Claire added, crossing her arms over her chest. “And we came out here to have fun, not to watch you lust over all these weird creatures. And I bet the workers are uncomfortable with it too.”

Your couldn’t believe it. They were all actually against you. How long had they felt that way and why were they being so mean? It wasn’t like you had vocalized it that many times and you weren’t actually going to fuck any of them anyway. And you supposed you couldn’t do it now that you were thoroughly embarrassed.

“I don’t mean to eavesdrop,” you heard a voice and whipped around to see the man from earlier. He was approaching the four of you and the three girls backed up, leaving you to stand in front of him. “But I just wanted to say that I’m not embarrassed in the slightest. In fact, I’d be honored. A woman as beautiful as you? Shit, I’d be so down.”

You blinked a few times, your brain taking a minute to register what was going on. Could it be true? Or was he just saying that to make you feel better? Probably the latter. That seemed more plausible.

“You-what?” You stuttered, entirely unsure how to go about the situation now. You turned your back and sure enough, your friends had left, leaving the two of you alone.

“I’m serious,” he nodded. “And fuck your friends. They’re just upset that they can’t match your freak. Which, I totally could, by the way. I’m into anything.”

Was this really happening? Was the man you had been thirsting over for the past twenty minutes actually offering to have sex with you? It all definitely had to be some sort of surreal dream…right?

“If you’re up for it, we can meet right here after closing and see where the night takes us.”

“They’re not here anymore so you can quit the act,” you turned on your heel to leave, but he slid right in front of you to stop you from leaving, taking your hands in his.

“Oh, but it’s not an act. I swear,” he brought your hands up to his mask, mimicking a kiss. ”I’ll be right here, but if you don’t come, I understand.” Oh, you were coming, and in more ways than one.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he nodded as he stood up, putting his fingerless glove out for you to shake. “I’m Eddie, by the way.” You were unsure whether or not that was his real name or a fake one, but you were going to go with it either way.

“Y/n,” you replied and Eddie nodded. Y/n. He thought it suited you, and because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for five seconds, he couldn’t help but think about how much he was looking forward to moaning it.

The rest of your night was spent alone as you went through all of the houses you could, not even thinking about what was occurring in each one, not even reacting to all of the scarers trying to get to you. The only thing that was going on in your head was the man in the mask and all of the things you were going to get up to after the event closed for the night.

And unbeknownst to you, Eddie was thinking the same thing. Sure, he could get laid on his own, but it was definitely not as easy when he was wearing the mask. So the fact that you were so attracted to him while he had it on was doing things to him. He was so turned on that he didn’t know what to do with himself, eventually having to wrap his jacket around his front to prevent anyone from seeing his massive hard-on.

And as the end of the night came to a close with everyone leaving, he was getting progressively more hard as he thought about what you would have looked like underneath you as he fucked you absolutely senseless until you couldn’t walk. And he couldn’t help but think about what you were going to sound like when you moaned or whined, god the whining was going to kill him.

He was so close to hunting you down and having his way with you right then and there, not giving a single fuck about who was watching. He could feel his mouth watering at the idea of burying his face into your cunt, eating you out so well, licking and sucking a letting his teeth scrape across it, the movements continuing and getting more rough until your thighs were pressed against the side of his head, practically crushing it as moan after moan poured from your mouth.

And just as he was about to go find you, there you were, right in front of him, looking like you were about to jump his bones right there. And he wanted you to, to push him up against the nearest object and-

“There you are,” you spoke up, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned around to face you and his face lit up at the sight of you despite you not being able to see it. And seeing you there, your bright smile playing on your lips just made him think about how badly he wanted to have them wrapped around his-

“Here I am,” you nodded at him as you stepped forward, standing right in front of him. The entire place was empty as the guests and other employees had left, leaving the two of you alone. And for once, Eddie was so happy that he had been the one in charge of locking up that night so he could have stayed there with you as long as you wanted.

“So, should we head out to my car?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the exit.

“Actually,” you stepped even closer, coming toe to toe with him as you grabbed onto his hand. “I was thinking maybe we could go into one of the houses.

“Well, shit, alright,” he let out a chuckle as he resisted the urge to look at your joined hands. Yours was soft and feeling his fingers against his made him wonder what they would have felt like in his mouth as he sucked on them. God, he was so horny that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He reached up to take off his mask, wanting to take it off after a long day of work and feeling the need to see you with his actual eyes, not through the eyes of the mask that always made things look just a little distorted. But you had stopped him, your hands resting on top of his.

“No, leave it on,” you instructed and Eddie wouldn’t dare argue. Shit, had he finally found someone who had matched his freak? He thought he might have.

“So, you’re really going to fuck me without knowing what I look like?” Of course you were. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had done so, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Sure, why not?” You shrugged. “The mask is hot.” He loved how you were so unapologetic about your interests, how you had even defended yourself to your friends about your acquired taste.

“Really?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows even though you couldn’t see him. Perhaps you were even more of a freak than he was, and he thought that was hard to do. He was the freakiest person he had known, both in personality and in the bedroom, but maybe, maybe you had him beat.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Really. And I bet you’re hot too.” People had told him so on occasion, and he thought so too, but sometimes the trauma of living in Hawkins crept up on him on occasion. But clearly he had won since the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was standing right in front of him, wanting to fuck his brains out. And there was absolutely no way in hell that he was going to decline.

“Well,” he shrugged. “So what house were you thinking?” He turned his head left and right, taking in all the options.

“This one,” you pointed to the one you were standing right next to. Eddie was a little surprised that you had chosen the one that had to have been the scariest one in the entire park, but he supposed that he shouldn’t have been considering that you had been attracted to his scary mask.

“And there’s that hay stack so we won’t be completely on the floor.” You held your hand out for Eddie and he took it gratefully, grinning from ear to ear and he was grateful that you couldn’t see the pink that was staining his cheeks as you led him inside. The whole thing was dark when you had opened the door and that made the experience all the more exciting.

You turned on your phone flashlight continued to lead him further into the house, not missing how his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close to him, whether it was to protect you or just an excuse to hold you close, you didn’t know, but either way, you leaned into him, feeling his rock hard cock brush against your ass as you did so. You whipped around and turned to face him with a devilish grin appearing on your pretty lips.

“Already hard for me, aren’t you, Eddie?” You asked, your hand moving to cup his cock, pressing your hand against it while giving it a little squeeze. He let out an involuntary moan fell from his lips making you grin even more. “Do you need me to take care of you?” You asked and he nodded furiously, needing it so badly that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

You backed him against the nearest wall so he had something to lean against before you pressed your lips to his mask, letting your tongue glide across it, making Eddie even more hard as he watched you. As your tongue was busy, you unzipped his pants, pushing them down so that they fell to his feet, his underwear following as his rock hard cock sprang free.

“Look at you, already ready for me,” you said as you got down on your knees, wrapping your hand around the base while your tongue swiped along the tip licking up the cum that had leaked from it which caused Eddie to gasp as he pressed his hands against the wall, desperate for something to hold onto.

“Relax baby,” you cooed. “Let me take care of you, hm?” You took him into his mouth and began to suck on him, looking up at him even though you couldn’t see his face because of his mask, but you could just tell the kind of face he was making with his eyes shut tight, his mouth falling up as the hottest moans came from it.

You continued to suck as your tongue swiped across the head, your other hand moving to his thigh where you squeezed like it was your own personal stress ball. His hands moved to your hair, threading through it and giving it a tug when you did something he particularly liked. He’d been sucked off before, but never like that, never so well that the whole thing made him weak in the knees.

“Fuck,” he whined. “So good.” You continued to suck and hearing his moans was all you needed to continue, but you decided that it was time to switch things up. You removed him from your mouth and looked up at him with a pleading look and Eddie decided that he was going to whatever you asked.

“Fuck my mouth,” you commanded and Eddie tilted his head to the side as confusion washed over him.

“Fuck your mouth?” He had only done it one time before and he hadn’t liked it, but maybe this time would be different.

“Yes, Eddie, fuck my mouth. Please,” you begged and he shrugged, hypnotized by the look in your eyes, the way your mouth formed the words. Without a word, he grabbed onto the back of your head and brought his dick to your lips, watching you open up as he slid inside, his cock pumping in and out of your mouth, feeling your lips wrap around him, sucking him off every time he got far enough inside. Moan after moan fell from his lips as he progressively fit more of himself into your mouth, addicted to the feeling.

This had been entirely different than the first time.

This time, he had known what he was doing and you seemed to enjoy the whole thing, your eyes closed in absolute bliss as you sucked him off, your own moans falling from your lips. And when he was able to fit all of himself inside you, your nose brushing the patch of hair above his cock, your eyes watering as the head hit the back of your throat, he was convinced he hadn’t seen anything so hot in his life.

His hands tugged on your hair as he came, the loudest moans leaving his mouth as his head was thrown back, leaning forward so it didn’t hit the wall. You opened your eyes just in time to see him do it, the stubble along the part of his jaw that you could see caught your eye and you immediately thought about you how wanted to feel it prickle against your lips as you sucked on the spot.

You felt cum leak out onto the back of your tongue and you pulled him from you before swallowing, watching him come down from his orgasm before he grabbed onto your arms to help you to your feet.

“Swear to god that was the best head of my life.” With any other guy you would have thought that was line, but with Eddie, you didn’t know why, but you believed him. It had to be true with the way he had reacted to the whole thing. “Now it’s only fair if I repay you for being so generous.”

“No, baby, tonight’s about you,” you shook your head. “I have to repay you for defending me somehow.”

“But-“

“No,” you cut him off, covering the mouth of his mask with your hand as you looked into the white eyes, wondering how the hell he could see through them. “You just stay and enjoy, okay? Let me thank you.”

Eddie just nodded as he stayed against the wall, watching you step away from him as you unzipped your jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you, revealing the black corset that you were wearing.

The panels of it were made of a thin lace, leaving practically nothing up to the imagination and Eddie couldn’t believe that, in a way, you had worn it for him. He had overheard you talking with your friends, telling them that you had intended on fucking one of the scarers and he was still kind of in shock that he had been the one you had chosen. Sure, he had offered, but that didn’t mean that you had to agree.

Your hands moved down your body slowly as they traveled down to your skirt, unzipping the side and letting it pool at your feet before kicking it to the side. You then removed your shoes, followed by your tights, leaving you in just your top and the pretty underwear that matched. And Eddie was convinced that he had died and gone to heaven as he stared at you.

You grabbed onto his hands and moved them to rest on your back, putting on the most flirty face you could muster.

“Thought I’d let you do the honors of doing the rest of the undressing,” you bat your lashes and Eddie stayed silent, nodding enthusiastically at the idea. He undid the clasps while maintaining eye contact with you. He had unclasped more bras than he could count so the mechanism was very familiar to him.

He did it slowly, one by one, watching the thing get more loose until he got to the last one, watching it fall to the floor between the two of you. He then brought his gaze back up to your bare chest, feeling his cock getting harder as he took in your naked top half. Fuck, you were beautiful, angelic.

“Jesus christ,” he groaned, feeling his cock twitch. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“No, that’s you, handsome,” you winked and he wondered how he had found someone more smooth, more flirty than he was. “Now the panties,” you nodded your head towards the pair you were wearing and Eddie’s hands traveled down your waist, tucking his fingers into your waistband, slowly pulling your panties down your legs, getting lower as they moved down south, getting a look at how wet you were as he did so, seeing it running down your legs.

If he hadn’t been so shy, he would have cleaned you up with his mouth before draping your legs over his shoulders and eaten you out for hours on end, showing you just how hot he thought you were with just his mouth.

Once the panties were removed, he stood to his feet with one of the leg holes looped over his pointer finger, holding them out to you.

“Keep them,” you told him. “Something to remember the night by.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I need your panties to help me remember what happened tonight,” he chuckled.

“Keep them anyway.” He let them drop from his finger onto the floor then looked back up at you for further instruction.

“Now it’s your turn,” you told him. “Shirt off.” Without hesitation, Eddie’s shirt was off and on the floor next to your panties. You stared at his upper body, eyes running over his tattoos, thinking about how much you wanted to run your tongue along them. And you were beginning to think that maybe you would. If he was a good boy, of course. Had to make him sing for his supper.

“Now the rest of it.” First were his boots and socks that were discarded quickly then tossed to the side, followed by his pants then boxers that ended up in the pile with the rest of his clothes.

Your eyes raked over his body and couldn’t help but stare, feeling wet as you took in his cock, thinking about how badly you wanted him inside of you, about how you didn’t want to use a condom, about how you wouldn’t have been upset if you had wound up pregnant.

“Lie down,” you told him and he was quick to obey, lying down on the floor, his long hair splayed out around his head. “I don’t want to use a condom. I-I’m kind of turned on by getting pregnant by you.” You were suddenly feeling shy, looking down to hide how much your cheeks were burning. But Eddie grabbed onto your face, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“You don’t even know what I look like and have decided that you want to have my baby?” He asked, wanting to make sure he was hearing correctly, feeling himself getting even more hard as he thought about it, imagining your stomach getting bigger, growing even more turned on as he thought about how it would have been because of him.

“What you look like doesn’t matter,” you shook your. “You’re sweet and stupidly hot. At least, body-wise, and I’d be honored to have your baby, Eddie. I know we just met and I sound psycho, but I’m beginning to think that you like that about me,” You bat your lashes again as you leaned over him, your face getting close to his. Jesus, he finally found someone who had matched his freak?

“If you’re psycho, then I’m psycho,” he chuckled. “So, are you actually wanting me to get you pregnant or just saying that you wouldn’t be upset if you happened to wind up pregnant? Just want to be clear.”

“The second one,” you told him as you brought your lips to his mask again and he returned your kiss even though the plastic was a barrier. He was so close to ripping the thing off so he could feel your lips against his, but he decided against it, wanting to help you live out a fantasy that you had clearly been dreaming about for a long time.

“Fuck it,” he patted his lap, inviting you to climb on top of him and you did so, Eddie helping you sink onto his cock, practically cumming as he heard the loud moan escape your mouth as he got inside you. “Bet you’re gonna look so fucking hot,” he rasped as you began to ride him, his hips bucking against yours as you moved together. “Already do. Fuck, I’m gonna love filling you.”

“Christ, you have a filthy mouth,” you told him as your hands grabbed onto his shoulders and in one swift motion, he flipped you over so that your back was against the floor, hovering over you, his hair creating a curtain around your face.

“Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart,” he chuckled again, pounding into you, watching you come undone underneath him. He loved being a bottom, but there was just something about being on top that made him feel so powerful and he wanted to be the one to be in control this time. Wanted to come inside you, watching your back arch as he filled you, fucking you even harder as he thought about your pregnant stomach again.

“What do you think I’ll look like?” You asked through heavy breaths and Eddie felt like he finally had permission to tell you all the thoughts he had been holding back the entire night because he had been afraid of freaking you out.

“Fucking hot,” he replied as his pace picked up, hypnotized by the way your tits were bouncing because of how hard he was fucking you, feeling his mouth collecting drool because of how badly he had wanted to suck on them. “Your tits are gonna get so big.”

“You’re right-oh,” you let out a loud moan. “Fuck, Eddie.” A whine fell from your lips. “What else?”

“Gonna make you wear tight clothes so I can always see your bump, a constant reminder of this night and what I’ve done to you.”

“I-” you cut yourself off. “I think I’ve finally found someone who matches my freak.”

“Guess it’s fate that we’ve found each other then,” he winked, even though you couldn’t see him. “And I suppose it makes sense since I’m gonna be the father of your child.” His pace picked up, moving the fastest and hardest that he could and you clenched around him as you watched him reach yet another climax, a howl escaping him as you felt his cum feel you, even more turned on that in just a few weeks, you could have been carrying a child.

You didn’t care that Eddie had been a stranger. You hadn’t had a connection like that with anyone and thought that he was right, that the whole thing really had been fate. And as you watched him orgasm, you couldn’t think about how you wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to father your child even though you hadn’t seen his face. He had shown you how beautiful he was just from his personality. He was sweet and kind and you felt so lucky to have found him.

Eddie continued to fuck you, wanting to see just how many times the both of you could come until you were each both fucked out, until you couldn’t walk. So you stayed like that for a while, moans tumbling from both of your mouths as you both had orgasm after orgasm right there on the floor of the haunted house.

The mask stayed on the entire time even after Eddie had pulled out and the two of you had gotten dressed. Even as you had fled the park, as he locked up, even as you both had headed to your car hand in hand. But as you stood in front of the driver’s side, staring up at the mask you had become so familiar with, your curiosity was getting the best of you as you suddenly had to know what he looked like.

You slowly brought your hands up to the bottom of it, slowly pulling it up, a gasp escaping your mouth as you took him in, the boyish smile, his adorable nose and those damn bambi eyes that were looking at you with so much affection.

“Eddie-” you said, finally able to put a face to the name you had become so familiar with and decided that he had suited him well. You brought your hand up to cup his cheek and brought his face to yours, slotting your lips between his as his hands moved to your waist, pulling your body to his gently.

The whole thing had juxtaposed what you had just done in the haunted house and you kind of liked that, loving the feeling of his lips against yours, already knowing that you could easily kiss him for hours and not get tired of it. And before you could get too carried away, you pulled away to look back at the man, your thumb rubbing against his cheek affectionately.

“You’re so hot that it’s unfair,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, but didn’t mind if he heard you. A wide smile broke out on his face and you couldn’t help but mimic it. “Yeah,” you nodded. “Our baby is going to be beautiful.”

“Well, that’d only be because of you,” he winked, happy that you could finally see it this time.

“You need to stop saying things like that or I’m going to have to take you right in my backseat.” And before you could grab your keys from your purse to unlock the car, Eddie had you pinned to the door, his arms on either side of your shoulders, caging you in.

“You say that like you wouldn’t enjoy it,” he whispered, his lips right by your ear. He then pressed a kiss to your cheek before pulling away. He removed his phone from his jacket pocket and pulled up his contact list before handing it to you. You quickly typed in your number and handed the device back to him before grabbing him by the shirt and pressing your lips to his one last time.

“Don’t be a stranger,” you told him before grabbing your keys and unlocking your car.

“Oh, I won’t,” he shook his head as he watched you get into the driver’s seat and turn on the engine. He was about to move so you could back out, but you rolled your window down and waved him forward. Eddie stepped closer and leaned down, watching you lean forward. “Need one for the road,” you told him as you puckered your lips and he was quick to oblige, pecking your lips then pulling away so you could roll up the window.

He then moved out of the way so you could pull out of your space, watching your car roll by, immediately deciding that he was going to text you as soon as he got home, knowing that he was going to think about that night every day for the rest of his life, hoping that you wanted to be apart of it as much as he wanted you to. Well, he supposed you did since there was a possibility that you could have been having his child. And he really hoped that you were.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff

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brotherblaze · 7 months ago

Text

the big freeze — jason todd

summary: Jason appears at your door in the middle of the night. Who are you to turn him away?

cw: implied claustrophobia

wc: 1,5k

note: you ever get stuck in an elevator and realize 'oh this is a closed metal box hanging in the air on the 13th floor' and then it takes the combined efforts of 3 people on different floors to get you out bc the wrong elevator keeps opening?

The TV switches to a commercial break featuring an ad for a late night hotline just as your phone buzzes. You reach for the remote to mute it and bring your phone to your ear. No sane person calls you at this hour. Which only leaves…

“Yes?”

“Can you…” there’s a pause on Jason’s end, and you use the moment to glance at the time. 1:38 AM. Yeah, not a sane time, arguably not a completely sane person, if judging by what his family gets up to back in Gotham. “I’m downstairs.”

“I gave you a keycard and the code for the security system.”

He sighs and the sound rattles in your ear. “I know, I—I’ve been waiting for someone to come by for like 20 minutes.”

“Well, in their defense, it’s way past 1AM.” You slide your feet into your slippers and stand, turning the TV off as you go. “Normal people are usually asleep at these times. On Tuesdays, no less.”

“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?”

“I’m an occasional insomniac.” You press the phone between your shoulder and cheek as you grab the black sweater draped over the back of your couch.

Still, the hallway is cold, all exposed brick and bright overhead lights. The chill bites at your cheeks and invades through the soft wool of your sweater. Jason’s sweater? It’s hard to tell anymore; so many of his things are at your place and so many of your things are at his place. The elevator arrives with a quiet ding. Goosebumps rise on your skin as you step inside, avoiding the large wet patch on the red carpet.

You don’t let the call drop, but neither of you are speaking anymore, either. The numbers on the small screen on the elevator wall count down.

Jason is standing by the large automatic doors at the entrance of the building. He has his leather jacket slung over his arm. You can faintly make out droplets from the rain still clinging to the surface of the leather. There—just as he spots you—a smile blooms on his face, almost boyish, as he cuts across the empty foyer in long, near-silent footsteps. He wraps his arms around your waist, presses his face into the crook of your neck. His hair is damp and you feel the water slide under your collar. The tip of his nose is cold, resting over your pulse. His wet jacket presses against your side, soaking your sweater.

Instead of the chill from the fall rain, there’s a steady warmth simmering beneath Jason’s skin. It spurs from his chest and spreads to his extremities, arms wound tightly around your body, to his fingertips pressing under your sweater and into your skin.

You nearly yelp at how cold his fingers are.

“Hey.”

“We gotta take two steps to the left — my left,” you clarify. Jason does not unwind himself from around you, but he does take a step to the side and then another until you can reach the elevator keypad. You tap your keycard against the sensor and hit the button for your floor. The elevator doors drag closed and it begins its ascent.

Jason’s pulse jumps and his grip around you tightens. You don’t say anything, don’t pry him off or tell him to get his shit together—instead, you place a hand on the back of his head, curl the rain-damp strands of hair around your fingers. Jason’s lips part involuntarily in a silent sigh.

“Need a haircut, eh, bub?”

He chuckles, barely audible over the jingle playing from the elevator speakers. “What if I buzz it all off? Military style.”

You make a disgusted sound in the back of your throat.

The elevator slides to a stop, the lock mechanism clicks into place, and the doors open.

“We’re here,” you say, voice soft and light.

Jason takes a long breath in, inhaling your strawberry-scented body lotion. He’s the one that got it for you as one of your many gifts last Christmas (thank you, Babs, for being his sniff-tester) and it makes him giddy to know you still use it. He untangles himself from you, not fully, though, and guides you towards your apartment, an arm around your waist.

He toes off his boots and hangs his jacket in its usual place as you re-arm the security system.

“You should really start arming that thing even if you go down for pizza or something,” he says and bends over to pick up the black ball of fur rubbing against his leg. “Hi, hi, hi, yes, hi to you, too,” he tells your cat, nuzzling his face into her fur. He looks up at you, raises a brow when you open your mouth to say ‘this is Metropolis, nothing bad happens here,’ because you’ve had this exchange twice now. “Just saying, if I was 9 again and I knew someone left their apartment full of stuff you could easily pawn unlocked…”

You sigh. “Okay. I’ll remember to do that.”

Because for Jason, it isn’t about the things in your apartment, not really.

“Thank you.”

You retreat into your bedroom and Jason carries your cat around like she’s a baby as he laps around your apartment. He stops at the tall windows in the living room and starts pointing out Metropolis landmarks as if said cat hasn’t been living in Metropolis longer than he has.

When you return, a pair of gray sweatpants and one of his shirts in hand, he’s telling your cat about how ‘Aunt Lois deserved that Pulitzer prize so much more than uncle Clark’.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something…”

“Oh, no, no, just reinstating how Clark got a Pulitzer before Lois even though she’s a much better writer than he is.”

“Right.” You hold out the change of clothes to him. “I got you a new toothbrush; the other one was getting old.”

“Thank you.” Jason accepts the change of clothes and beelines it towards the bathroom to change, your cat still in his arms.

Once he emerges (after quite loudly announcing to your cat how one should brush their teeth), his damp clothes left in the dryer to run first thing in the morning, you’re already nestled between the sheets. There’s an extra pillow and duvet spread out next to you. Jason releases your cat, who skitters to her bed on the windowsill to watch the rain droplets race down the glass, and climbs into bed, pats his pillow until it’s of satisfactory height.

You turn off the bedside lamp on your nightstand, turn on the cat-shaped nightlight and shimmy between the sheets. Then you pause, grab your phone and unlock it.

Jason’s eyes roam your face, the curve of your nose and lips, the heaviness in your tired eyes as you slowly blink at your phone screen. He’s made an effort to commit your features to his memory so he can see your face every time he closes his eyes. So he can keep you with him everywhere. Always. So, once again, he takes his time, going over every one of your features until you lock your phone and place it back on the nightstand.

“I love you,” he says, low and soft, though with all the clarity he can inject into his words.

You stare at him for a moment, then pull your duvet up to your chin, rest your head on your pillow and close your eyes. “I love you, too.”

“Forever.”

“Forever is such a vague concept,” you tell him with a scrunch in your brow. He can barely make it out in the dim red glow of the bedroom but he knows it's there. “Until the end of the universe. And even then you’ll be stuck with me. Like glitter.”

“Yeah? When’s that?”

“We’ll reincarnate an infinite amount of times between now and then,” you say with the certainty of someone who’s gazed far into the future, gazed at the very death of the universe itself. Maybe you have. Maybe you’re a meta—a true meta—unlike him, something that crawled out of his grave in Gotham.

Jason blinks, allows your statement to settle into the marrow of his bones, into his very being. His blood thrums in his veins. He balls his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “I don’t know; sounds a lot like forever.”

You make a sound at the back of your throat again. It is not a sound of displeasure, nor a sound of agreement, either. “Again; vague. The eventual death of the universe is all but guaranteed; it’ll expand too much and become too cold to inhabit. Probably. There’s like… six different big theories on how the universe will end. Take your pick.”

“But we’ll find each other every time.” It is not a question. Still, you nod.

“Yes. Every lifetime.”

“Promise?”

You open your eyes, take him in—you can barely make out his features in the dark but you can—the mass of dark hair splayed out across his (your) pillow, the curve of his nose and that of his cupid’s bow, the almost milky whiteness of his eyes. This is where your heart has settled. This is home.

“I promise.”

part 2

dividers by @/cafekitsune

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd fluff #dc fanfiction #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #dc x reader

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bronzealchemy · 1 month ago

Note

Could I please have some tooth rotting fluff with Sylus? Cuddles and cutesy domestic stuff and comforting words, just Sylus making MC feel better after a bad day or mission gone wrong. I’m in a rough patch rn and would love some fluff rn

Comforting Miss Hunter

In which Sylus cares for MC and wants her to relax

content: fluff

a/n: Sorry this is late, but I hope you feel better!

The door closed and you almost sank to your knees right then and there, every muscle in your body hurt. The last few weeks were too much. Draining you, taking all of your energy. You weren’t feeling like yourself, wanting to close off and not talk to anyone. Being a hunter came with it’s perks—but there were a lot of disadvantages, too. One of them being that you were on missions so often that you almost forgot what day it was, once you came home.

„There she is“, a deep voice came from your living room. You immediately pulled your weapon, to which the white haired man leaning against the wall just gave you a sly smile.

„Gosh, Sylus. You almost gave me a heartattack“, you grit out, putting the gun away when you saw your … what exactly you weren’t sure either.

Sylus was a mission once. Someone you needed to get answers out of. But you soon learned that there was more to him. After a while, he became more than a mission to you. And now you couldn’t imagine a life without him. Even though you kept that secret close to your chest. Having feelings this deeply made one vulnerable and that was one thing you couldn’t allow yourself. Not in your position.

Sylus sauntered over to you, every one of his steps full with his typical confidence. He owned every room he went into, and your apartment was no different.

„You look like you could use some relaxation“, he said, reaching out to you and slipped your jacket off your shoulders. You winced, your shoulders so tense it hurt.

„You can’t just come into my apartment and order me around.“

„Such a tense kitten.“ His voice was like whiskey, giving you goosebumps. He gently pushed you towards the bathroom, and when the door opened … you were stunned.

There were candles lit, a bath was drawn, and there were multiple dark red roses in vases set on the counter. A wine glass was set upon the edge of the bathtub, and there was so much foam that you almost couldn’t see the bathtub anymore.

„What is this?“ Your voice was so hoarse you almost couldn’t make it out yourself. Sylus lowered his head to your ear, his breath on your skin. „You’re overworking yourself, sweetie. You need time to yourself, and since you won’t give it to yourself, I’ll just have to push you to your luck.“

You looked at the lovingly prepared bath for a few seconds longer, before you turned around and jumped him. You hugged him so hard, his breath hitched before he hugged you back, nuzzling his head into your neck.

„I …“ You almost said something impossible. Something that would change everything between the two of you. „Thank you. Thank you so much, Sylus.“

„Anytime. Now get into the bath and relax. I’ll order some food.“ He grabbed your face softly, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

„Why are you doing this?“, you breathed, feeling a dangerous tingle in your eyes. If he kept going, you would start to cry. And that you couldn’t. Not in front of the leader of Onychinus.

„I care about you. And I don’t want someone I care about to suffer. So now stop stalling and go in before the water gets cold.“ He leaned down and kissed your nose, then both of your cheeks. And then, lastly, he hovered over your mouth, as if he wanted to give you time to withdraw. But you did the opposite. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. Until all the tenseness in your muscles disappeared and the only thing you could feel was him.

#love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus fluff #sylus x reader #sylus oneshot #love and deepspace

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luveline · 1 year ago

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would you ever write about hotch pining after r because he thinks she’s interested in someone else but then she confesses to him that she’s only ever had eyes for him 🥹

You’re shocked Hotch will let them look at him, honestly. When was the last time you saw Hotch receive medical attention? He doesn’t seem happy about it, suit jacket folded in his lap, his shirt cut in three places, most noticeably the left sleeve.

“His arm is definitely broken,” Spencer tells you.

“Do you think he’ll let me give him some comfort?” you ask, the two of you with your arms crossed against the side of the second ambulance, where Morgan undergoes a similarly reluctant checkup for his bloody temple.

“No. You can always try, though. He’ll appreciate the effort.”

You ready yourself with a deep breath and begin the short walk. It feels long then suddenly over at the same time. The only thing between you and Hotch now is a shoe’s width and the EMT securing his temporary sling.

“They’re making me an emergency appointment,” he tells you.

You fight the urge to rub the toe of your shoe into the ground. “Are you in pain?”

“No. They gave me tramadol.”

Hotch pushed you hard out of the way of a brawl and took blows meant for you in turn. He never lets you get hurt in the field. At first you’d assumed him to be the overprotective boss, and careful of women in the team, but you’ve caught on now that his motivation wells from somewhere deeper.

Hotch loves you. He won’t tell you. You have no idea why.

The EMT says she’ll return and takes her leave. You nod to the patch of metal flooring beside him, legs too tired to keep standing, and Hotch moves over to leave a gap between you suitable for turning into. You sit down with a sigh. Face to face, this close, you can see the different colours of his iris and the scar under his eyebrow clear as day.

“You okay?”

“Are you?” he asks with nothing more than a single short nod.

“I’m worried about you,” you confess. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t like you getting hurt in my place.”

“I’m your Unit Chief.”

“If it were Morgan, you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way. If it were Emily. And we both know I can hold my own.”

He doesn’t look away from your face. “I know.”

You’re finding it hard to want to scold him. You love him, too. You appreciate what it takes for him to take a fight that was meant for you, and the sentiment behind it. You’d quite like for him to protect you, just not at work. He could glare down potential suitors or argue with people who are rude to you at the grocery store. He doesn’t need to do your job for you.

You raise your hand tentatively to his face, ignoring his confusion as you rake the hair that falls against his forehead back up. “It’s getting a little long for you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Me too. I keep meaning to do so much stuff but we get home and I get to my apartment and I just sleep for days.”

“I wish I did something that sensible.”

You curl your fingers over his shoulder. Without his suit jacket, you can feel the solidness of his muscle and soft tissue clearly. You rub your thumb in a half circle.

“Why don’t you sleep much? I wish you would.”

His eyes flare momentarily. His only tell, a flicker of movement you can’t miss. He’s surprised by something, your question, maybe your tone. “I do sleep.”

“Not enough.”

“No, I guess not.”

You press your cheek to his arm. Can’t help yourself. He’s this strong, stern guy, so used to trying to save everyone that he barely looks after himself, and it makes you sad to think he’d love you and not want to tell you, because why wouldn’t he? Something in him must stop him from acting on it, but that something isn’t in you, not anymore. “Can’t believe you got your arm broken for me,” you murmur, lips to his shirt. You let out a breath, feel the warmth of it pass onto his skin and his following shudder.

“It wasn’t purposeful.”

“No? That’s good.”

“I would do it again,” he says. “I thought you’d be with Morgan.”

“Morgan’s a big boy.”

“As opposed to me.”

“I want to be here with you. I’m worried about you.” You press your face further into his arm, scared to say it even though you know it’s returned. “I care about you so much, ‘n’ you never let me show it.”

“That’s not true,” —his voice climbs higher— “I thought… You and Derek are close.”

“He’s my friend, Hotch. It’s not like that.”

Hesitant, tender all the same, Hotch’s uninjured arm slinks around your side to hold you, to bring you closer to his side where you’re hiding. You’re much too old for this, and still you have to confess.

“I don’t like him,” you say.

“As opposed to me.”

You laugh at his repetition. Too embarrassed to say anything more on the subject but wanting to cement it in his head, you raise your head and your hand at the same time, knuckle to his jawline, nudging him to one side. You lean up and kiss his cheek.

“Please don’t push me out of the way again,” you say.

Hotch smiles at you, a proper, soft-eyed smile. “I won’t.”

It’s an obvious lie.

“Maybe when we go home we can nap together,” you suggest, heart slamming considering the innocence of what you’ve suggested.

His fingers cradle your side. “You want to?” he asks carefully.

“You can finally get some rest.”

He closes his eyes, resting his face against yours.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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bloodstainedsapphic · 4 months ago

Text

becoming ellie williams' personal nurse was absolutely not part of your grand plan. in fact, being ellie williams’ anything hadn’t crossed your mind until an unexpected run-in left you the only one available to patch her up after a rough patrol. you’d spoken fewer than ten times before that, but after that night, ellie unilaterally decided you were the only person allowed to help her when she got injured. you didn’t fuss as much as maria, or dina, or anyone else—and that was enough for her. or at least, that’s what she claimed. it certainly didn’t hurt that you were cute.

that's how you found yourself falling into a routine—ellie 'just happening' to show up at your door, flashing those worn green eyes and grumbling about how "it's not that bad" to garner enough pity until you inevitably caved and fixed her up, sparing her yet another lecture from maria.

tonight was no different. she lingered outside, shifting her weight like she was debating whether to knock. but since this had become clockwork, you were already pulling the door open, and she shuffled inside uttering a, “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you sighed, already moving to nab your ever-growing stash of first-aid supplies as she dropped into your desk chair. ellie had tried to clean herself up beforehand, but it was fruitless—her green jacket, the one now being hastily shrugged off, had been covering the worst of it. a deep gash on her arm, the lingering traces of a nosebleed, fresh cuts along her cheek. she’d been through hell and back.

"ellie," your voice carried a warning as you approached, reaching out to cautiously inspect her wounded arm. "this isn't just some scrape." ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, taking the accosting while settling in the chair she'd visited many times already. "it's nothing. i don't want maria finding out and pulling me off patrols."

your lips pressed into a thin line, but you didn't protest further. you knew how much patrol meant to her—how she needed it. how ellie seemed to rely on it to feel like she provided something useful to jackson. so instead, you got to work, gently cleaning the cuts along her forearm. ellie winced as the antiseptic hit raw skin, her fingers twitching against her thigh. unfortunately, the cut had grazed her tatted arm. you made a valiant effort to be delicate enough to mend the cut without disturbing the tattoo—luckily, it had missed the chemical burn ellie said she'd gotten on that arm years ago.

"oh, stop whining," you chided over her complaints. "shouldn't you be used to the pain by now? little masochist. and what's with you aiming for this poor arm so much? you've got two to work with, you know.” ellie scoffed at your chastizing, biting the inside of her cheek as her expression shifted to annoyance but not full offense. "right, lemme plan my injuries better next time."

you dabbed at a shallow abrasion beneath her cheekbone. ellie's eyes flickered up, trying to capture yours, but you wouldn't budge from the injury. she bit her crimson-stained lip, like she was weighing her next words wisely. "you keep patching me up, though. makes me wonder... i mean, i dunno..." ellie stilted her delivery, partly out of nerves, partly to grab your attention. "maybe you like seein' me all banged up," her tone took on a pitchy lilt as she kept peeking up at you.

the way she said it—less of a tease, a tad second-guessing, trying to dare a reaction out of you—made your stomach do something stupid.

"a better patient would stop causing such a distraction," you shot back, deliberately avoiding her gaze while keeping with the 'strict nurse' facade. you couldn't suppress a hint of a smirk though, briefly wiping your mouth to try and shield the small break over her nervous attempt at flirting. you just hated how right she was—no one was forcing you to do this, to put up with her maddening stubbornness and save her hide time and time again. all ellie had to do was bat those ridiculously pretty greens, and your defenses crumbled.

ellie huffed, pleased with your accidental admission but now more determined to coax more from you. she shifted slightly—and that's when you felt it. the light press of her fingers against the dip of your waist, like she had just meant to steady herself but forgot to pull away. her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine. you said nothing, pretending not to notice. maybe she hadn't even meant to. you'd both insist, later, it was simply the sting of the antiseptic anyway, as if she hadn't weathered worse injuries before. neither of you moved.

ellie couldn't disguise her beaming when your strict charade allowed the gesture. she swallowed, like she was trying to decide whether to try her luck. her fingers tapped your side, hesitant.

“i think you're helping me all the time 'cause you've got a soft spot for me."

your breath hitched, warmth creeping up your neck, but you weren't about to let her win that easily. with a little head shake, you willfully regained your composure and lightly patted ellie's uninjured cheek before schooling your expression. "hush. you're being disorderly. i can't fix you up with all this blabbering."

ellie let out an exaggerated hiss, scrunching her eyes shut dramatically. your stomach clenched in brief panic, helper mode reigniting—until you realized she was full of shit, twisting her head like she'd been mortally wounded when, in reality, you had barely touched her.

"you're impossible," you muttered, smacking her good arm lightly in playful retaliation. "your life is in my hands. don't forget that." ellie leaned forward just enough to close the space between you, her voice dropping. "yeah, yeah, and every time i show up like this, i'm choosing to put my trust in you."

she wavered briefly, then added, softer still—only brave enough to say it now because she was already committed to the bit—"and that’s also why you won’t look at me."

you froze, and the second you met her gaze, it was over—long lashes framing those round green eyes, a smattering of freckles, some loose auburn strands that had escaped her barely-held-together bun sticking to her skin from the leftover sweat of patrol. with scraped skin and blood-streaked face, ellie was a proper mess—and yet, here you were, fighting every aching urge screaming at you to throw yourself on top of her.

you swallowed hard. the unassuming, bashful, loserish ellie was nowhere to be found. replaced by an ellie probably still riding the adrenaline of her close call with a horde of infected earlier, caring a little less about the consequences of her words and even further fueled by your easily cracked stoicism.

ellie seized your defeated, flustered silence to keep going. "also, as my nurse, i'm surprised you don't know the best cure for any injury."

you inhaled to brace for whatever nonsense was about to come out of her mouth. "oh, yeah? what's that?"

".....a kiss."

a drawn-out groan escaped you. "jesus," you muttered, cheeks burning. but fine—just this once. you weren't giving in completely, but you leaned in, pressing a fleeting peck to the tip of her nose.

the way ellie's face immediately split into a stupidly giddy grin was almost worth it. almost. her whole expression flushed a rosy pink, too.

"oh, on the nose? that barely counts," ellie teased, her voice dipping into something softer, more expectant. definitely hoping she hadn’t pushed her luck too much.

"deal with it, williams," you murmured, but your mind was already betraying you.

despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would be like if you really gave in. if you disregarded all medical safety and climbed into her lap and kissed her senseless, letting your hands explore each other in desperation and recklessly savoring the taste of metallic red left on her soft lips.

snapping yourself from that less-than-holy thought, you deflected under the guise of needing to retrieve more supplies for another small cut you had overlooked.

when you came back, ellie was still watching you, something unreadable in her expression. you hesitated for a moment, then finally gave her a little glimmer of hope to cling to.

"tell you what," you started. "don't be an idiot—which i know is hard for you—and let everything heal," you let the jab sit for a second to build suspense, "and i’ll grant you the other half of that kiss."

ellie's smile widened triumphantly, though her posture was beginning to laze as exhaustion from the day's chaos caught up with her.

"anything for the nurse."

"yeah, yeah. now hold still so i can finish fixing you up."

and, for once, ellie williams actually listened. pic creds @/elliesgalaxy

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams fluff #ellie tlou2 #lesbian #wlw post #the last of us 2

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madaqueue · 6 months ago

Text

WHILE WINTER HOLDS ITS QUIET BREATH

a visit to childe's home

pairing: childe x gn!reader

themes/content: fluff. mentions of his family, violence, blood, he gets called his birth name, basically just a character study i guess. 18+ MDNI (wk: 3.4k)

a/n: nobody look at me

"Winter collapsed on us that year. It knelt, exhausted, and stayed." - Emily Fridlund, History of Wolves

Ajax smells different in Snezhnaya.

Coming from the shower on your sixth morning in his home, steam fading from his skin, it takes a moment for your mind to register that it’s him standing in the doorway, to connect the neurons and cells that know him, the ones that would recognize his curves and muscles draped in a burgundy towel. In Liyue, you’re used to the heavy scent of metal hanging on him, mingling with spices and clove, musk and sweat. It’s still him, of course, but there’s something else here, something closer to the earth that bore him.

He doesn’t notice the way your thoughts stall, already rambling about what his mother is planning to cook for dinner, where Teucer wants to go in town today. His steps fall the same, though, as he moves through his childhood bedroom, the floorboards barely creaking under his familiar weight. This house seems to remember him, although it’s only ever known this version of him, the one who smells like pine and rosemary, who loves to ice fish and hike and laugh, the one whose shoulders rise easily, whose eyes crinkle and flutter when snowflakes land on them.

Truthfully, the thought of asking you to join him on his journey home made his stomach ache. When it finally came time to make the request, he had returned only a few hours ago from some far-off city you’d barely remembered the name of, one with too many vowels in it, you think, one that took him away from you for too long again, his freshest scars already beginning to heal.

“My mother wants to meet you,” he hummed, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Tonia, too.”

Your heart lurched in your chest, and you were just as glad his eyes had strayed from yours to hide the way warmth began creeping up your neck. “They know about me?”

“Of course they do, silly” he pulled away, grinning. With a pinch of your cheek, he rubbed his nose against yours. “Who do you think I write all those letters to?”

When you didn’t respond, he hid his face back in the den of your shoulder.

“Would you come with me when I go back to Snezhnaya? To meet them? Just for a week.” Tightly, he closed his eyes, afraid of what your eyebrows or the corners of your mouth might say, things he didn’t want to hear. The journey is too long or I’m needed at work or I don’t love you, Ajax. But the words never came.

“Of course I’ll go,” you whispered instead, sweet like the honeyed wine you served with dinner. The waves crashed softly outside the open window, carried by the other sounds of the harbor, ones of labor and ships and travel.

In the haven of your skin, his lips curled into a smile.

The first day you arrived, his family greeted you behind the thick wooden door. Teucer lugged your bags upstairs, each thud as they collided with the old wood came with a giggle. His mother hugged you, and she smelled like cinnamon.

“Is that the only coat you brought?” she asked, rubbing the worn leather that draped your shoulders.

Before you could respond, she was already turning away, rummaging through the closet. Inside, you caught glimpses of old brooms and half-patched stockings before she thrusted a piece of cloth into your arms.

“Here! It’s not perfect, and it’s certainly not new, but this should treat you much better.”

She smiled with her teeth, like the grin that slips from Ajax on nights when the two of you sat outside and counted the stars. Devoid of second meanings, of control or deceit.

Unfurling the item, warm wool rubbed against your fingertips in the shape of a soft grey outer-jacket. The buttons held on by single threads, and the pockets had holes, and you pulled it into your chest.

“Thank you,” you said, and you hugged her.

Later that evening, his father showed you where they stored wood for the fire as Ajax swung a rusted axe, each crack echoing against the silent trees.

“It gets cold here at night, so make yourselves comfortable,” was all he said before ducking back inside. You slept in Ajax’s childhood bed under three layers of blankets, his limbs intertwined with your own.

On your second day in Snezhnaya, Tonia insisted on going into town.

“You’ll love it,” she promised, dragging Ajax by the wrist out the door. “You have to see it.”

He huffed some retort, but his eyes glimmered when he looked to you, reflecting the sky that seemed almost too blue here, unsoiled by humidity and sweat.

The city itself was busy, or at least, busier than you expected for a place known for its unforgiving climate. The worn-down cobblestone lended itself to easy steps, the sound of chatter bouncing off the brick buildings. Everyone moved easily past one another, like salmon in the harbor, all traveling back to the depths of the sea.

Suddenly, Ajax turned to you. “I have to run some errands. Don't get into any trouble, you two,” he winked, glancing down at Tonia who only giggled in response.

“We won’t!” she reassured; as he faded into the crowd, she looked up at you. “Now, I can show you the really cool stuff.”

With her hand clasped firmly in yours, she led you through narrow alleyways until you emerged under the bright, cold sun. Tall glass panels greeted you, lining the storefronts. Behind each one, layers of gold and jewels were carefully displayed, reflecting spots of light onto the marble like small fish eyes watching your every move.

“That one’s my favorite,” she stated, pointing through the window that fogged under her breath. An icy sapphire sat in the center of the arrangement, nestled into rich black velvet.

Just as you opened your mouth, a firm hand landed on your shoulder. “Now, don’t tell me you’ve taken a liking to these, or do you want me to go broke?” Ajax chuckled from behind you, his sudden presence making Tonia squeal in delight.

As the three of you made your way home, Tonia clinging onto his back and resting her head in the fluff around his coat, a light snow began falling, and without wind, it hung in the air. Ajax stuck out his tongue, pink and warm, to catch them; Tonia followed, opening her jaw as wide as a child could to capture the melting crystals.

That night, around the fire, Ajax quietly pulled something from his pocket: a small, black velvet pouch. Without a word, he handed it to Tonia. Her eyes widened, and with careful fingers, she pulled a bright blue gem from inside. She screamed and leapt towards him, rosy cheeks pushed high.

“Now, don’t you go losing that, okay?” he said, pulling her into his chest.

“It’s perfect, it’s perfect, it’s perfect!” she exclaimed, encircling his neck in thin arms and knobby elbows.

In bed that night, wrapped in blankets, he held his hands to you. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. Gently, he placed something cool in your palm, metal. “And, open.”

A silver ring nestled itself into your skin, glowing under the flickering candlelight, a wire-wrapped opal held in the center that sparkled like the moon.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally got to say.

“It reminded me of you.” Like the sun and the clouds and the stars and anything that shares the pleasure of orbiting you, he thought.

His lips are warm and soft when you kiss him, like melted snowflakes, and the ring fits perfectly around your finger.

His hair falls differently in Snezhnaya, too, you realize. It dries lighter after being dampened by wind-carried flurries, less heavy than the unfiltered city water of your home, where the shower always ran red as it circled the drain. Even the sea would leave its own mark when he swam in the harbor, salt and brine adding crisp edges.

But here, he’s all fluff, and you wonder if he ever feels like he’ll get blown away with a strong enough gust. Maybe that’s why his parents said he seemed too mature for his age - when his hair lets him stand two inches taller, it’s easy to say he must be older, larger, wiser.

By your second day, you noticed he never lets Teucer go into the woods alone, in spite of his little brother’s incessant begging, in spite of how he stepped through the front door just moments ago and his fingertips ached from the walk back from town. He always redressed, pulling on his jacket and buckling his boots. He always put Teucer’s hat on for him, too.

On the third day, a blizzard tore through the woods and blinded everything in white. The children played upstairs with their father, and the wind howled through the window panes, a whistling and lonely sound. There was no sun, so instead, candles were lit in every corner, the warmth of the fireplace beckoning you to its hearth. Bottles of firewater made their way through you, poured with a heavy hand into ceramic cups, ones with paintings of trees and a child’s handprint.

“You know, when Ajax was four, he tried to fight a bear,” his mother began from the silence.

Ajax, in turn, groaned, rolling onto his side and resting his head in your lap. “Mama, not this story again.”

“Hush, hush,” she giggled, taking another drink from her mug. “He was out by the lake, and his father had gone back to the house with the fish. He heard something in the trees, and so he grabbed this tiny little fishing knife.” With her free hand, her fingers drew out a three-inch space in the air. “Just as his father returned, he saw his little boy facing the woods. ‘Papa, run!’ he called. ‘There’s a bear!’ But what kind of father would he be to let his son face that danger alone? So, just as he began to run towards him, this-” she laughed, liquid nearly spilling from over the top lip of her cup, “-this teeny bunny hops into the clearing! The terrifying bear Ajax was ready to fight was just a little rabbit!”

Burying his face in his hands, Ajax once again groaned. “It was scary for a kid!”

“I know, I know,” she hummed, wrinkled hands patting his shoulders. “And you were very brave for a kid, too.”

The fourth morning you awoke in Snezhnaya, the bed was cold. Your muscles shivered and you reached for him, but found only empty sheets and blankets bundled around your shoulders.

The stairs still creaked under your weight, not yet used to the way your feet landed on them, stepping on tired and aching bones. In the kitchen, his mother greeted you with a soft, “Good morning.”

Without another word, a warm mug was placed before you, its steam rising into the wooden rafters.

“I hope it wasn’t too cold in that old room last night,” she began - words seemed to flow easily from her, some motherly instinct to comfort, to keep out the silence. “Yesterday was one of the chillier days we’ve had. I’m glad you two didn’t have to go anywhere.” She sipped from her own cup - tea, you presume from the bergamot hanging in the air. “Have you been sleeping well? I can bring up some more quilts if you need.”

You took a drink, letting the liquid scald your tongue, and stifled a wince (the burn isn’t too bad after this long in the snow, you suppose). “Yes, we’re sleeping very well, thank you.” Your fingers tapped on the wooden countertop. “Have you seen Ajax?”

“Oh, yes! I think he’s out by the lake.”

Grateful, you hummed into your hands, letting them be warmed through the ceramic.

“May I ask you something?” she suddenly spoke. It was so unplanned, no hint of the trickery or underhandedness you were accustomed to - when someone in Liyue asks a question of this sort, one must think on it, must contemplate their intentions and how to use it against them - you couldn’t help but nod. She blurted, “Does Ajax seem happy?”

Her gaze fell to the table, tracing its familiar knots and veins. “It’s just…” her thumbs twirled around the handle, nails clinking, “you see him more than me. I mean, at this point, you certainly know him better than me.”

The only thing you could think to do was reach your hand to hers. It was warmer than your own, more wrinkled and crooked, a tree with a life well-lived. “I do. I do think he’s happy.”

That morning, you buttoned your coat yourself, careful not to rip the remaining buttons from their threads. It was a slow task, one that required more precision than you were used to, but it got done all the same.

The walk itself was pleasant, the wind having settled and only dusting the occasional batch of flurries from the trees that danced under the morning sun like birds. You wondered if there were many nests here, if the fledglings could survive these winters. Beneath your boots the fresh snow shifted, and at the edge of the whitened path, a small flock of red flowers poked through the frost.

The lake was still beneath the ice. Ajax sat with his back towards the trail, but didn’t flinch as you approached. He didn’t speak, either.

Instead, he let you sit beside him on the old tree stump, his fingers clutching the fishing rod as its invisible string delved into the icy abyss below.

“Have you caught anything?” you asked.

”Not yet.” He didn’t look at you, he didn’t move a centimeter, not even to breathe. “You know, after so long doing this, you’d think I’d be better at it by now.”

”Is fishing something you can really get better at?”

His lips parted in a grin. “I suppose not. It’s mostly waiting.”

“Are you good at that?”

“No,” he laughed.

“Do you like it?” You leaned onto his shoulder, letting your hair spill over the fur of his coat. It used to smell of salt - now, it was all smoke and wool.

“You aren’t wearing a hat,” he observed.

“I must have forgotten.”

He nodded, a leather-clad hand reaching up to cover your ears. In the wind, the branches shook, and his lure left the water’s surface as smooth as glass.

“Do you think my family is alright?” he finally asked, to no one in particular - perhaps the trees would have answered if they could. But in their stead, you’d have to do.

In the distance, a bird called out its tune, a lilting whistle, and the snow danced in time. “I think they are.”

Beneath your weight, his shoulders relaxed.

“Your mother loves you,” you continued. “Tonia and Teucer, too. They all do.”

Silently, he reeled in the line before placing the rod upright in the snow. When he looked to you, he was smiling. “Let’s go back home.”

The longer you stay, the softer his skin seems to get, in spite of the way the frigid air digs cracks into your own. With each move of your wrist a new crevice makes its way to the surface, rubbed raw and dry. And yet, his fingers still trail lightly over them, soft lips ghosting over bloodied ravines.

“The cold never really bothered me,” he told you years ago, and you thought it strange, but here’s proof: warm, smooth hands, unfrozen. Each joint moves freely, each blood vessel pumps easily, as though they were made for this. He fidgets less here - maybe he always ran hot in Liyue. The heat makes people jumpy, you know.

Yesterday, on your fifth day in Snezhnaya, the snow crunched below your feet as he led you through the woods. You had asked to see the trails that led around the house, and although silently, he nonetheless helped button the grey coat his mother loaned you, tugging a hat over your ears.

He spoke too much while you walked, the sounds bouncing off the frail and peeling bark. “And there are animals out here, if you know where to look,” he rambled. “Rabbits, and bears, you know, and deer, too. You can trace them by their footprints, and it’ll lead you to their dens. Sometimes you have to seek them out, but it’s easy once you know what to look for.” His eyes closed, and you realized his boots left no indentations in the hardening snow. “Some people think the animals are dangerous, but they won’t hurt you, not while you have me here.”

Off in the distance, a branch cracked. Ajax flinched.

Wide eyes scanned the horizon, frenzied. A gloved hand reached for yours, and he pulled you behind him.

The air in his lungs burned cold, and he held it there for three seconds.

“Oh, must just be an old tree,” he laughed, and he took a few steps to hide the way it shook in the wind. “The snow is heavy, especially this time of year. It gets wet and icy, like a hard shell. Sometimes the older trees can’t take it anymore, and they fall.”

You hummed, the breath in front of your lips foggy. The walk continued, and he spoke and spoke and spoke, and the trees listened. You tried to listen half as attentively.

The questions began to stick in the back of your throat, ones you wanted to spit out, ones that tasted thick and bitter and burned your esophagus, ones about the abyss: if it was dark, if the moon shone down there, if he could see the stars or feel the snow. If he remembers where he fell, where the earth opened beneath him and swallowed him whole. If he’d been back there (he hadn’t), if he’s still afraid (he’d tell you he’s not).

He knew the woods well, even though he was only a child in them.

When you returned home, his cheeks were pink, and he smiled as you unbuttoned the coat bunched up around your neck. In the kitchen, meats and vegetables stewed over the stove, their scents drifting as his mother stirred with her wooden spoon. The logs in the fireplace shifted, sending sparks into the air. His shoulders relaxed, and he hung his own scarf next to yours. It was harder to pick out his freckles through wind-reddened skin, but they’re always there, of course: you know where to look.

You wondered if this is how he carried himself, how he felt, how he smelled, when he was young. If the fourteen-year-old boy who went into the woods was chased because the wolves could smell the smoke and spices and fear lingering on him.

He sounds different here, too.

You’ve rarely heard him speak his native tongue: “It’s a rough language,” he always said; and yet, each consonant that falls from his lips is soft like wool; “You wouldn’t even understand anything I say,” and yet, when he turns to his mother and says “спасибо,” as she hands him his morning tea, the love it carries is enough.

She always smiles and pulls him into a hug, and he always laughs, bright like the crackling flames in the fireplace. She never calls him Tartaglia or Childe; here, he’s always ‘Ajax’ or ‘my son’ or ‘my precious boy’ (he says he hates that one, but he lets her preen his hair, and fidget with his coat, and tell him he looks too serious for his age, too angry).

Here, he has no titles, no violence or conflict or nobility to stare over his shoulder. Here, he’s not a Harbinger, he’s not a killer, he’s just Ajax: a kind boy who wears knit scarves and catches snowflakes and likes to ice fish.

Today, on your sixth day, the mattress shifts under his weight, and his warmth spreads across the bedding as he blankets you, still damp and smelling like the earth, like the trees and the herbs and his childhood. Fresh from the shower, one where the water ran clear instead of red, where there were no crimes or sin to wash away. Droplets land on your cheeks and he giggles as you try to shoo him away with a gentle shove to his shoulders; he lets you push him back onto the quilt his mother made for his tenth birthday, one with images of heroes and swords and the sun. There’s snow falling outside the frosted window and landing heavy on the trees, the ones that don’t mind holding it. Soft hands cradle your skin, and he whispers “I love you,” and his breath is warm, and he smells like pine and rosemary.

#q writes #oneshot #childe tartaglia ajax #ajax #ajax x reader #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #childe #childe x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #ajax genshin impact #tartaglia genshin impact #childe genshin impact #genshin fluff #childe fluff #tartaglia fluff

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fangirlfuel · 5 months ago

Text

Little Steps to Forever

---

It was supposed to be a simple evening walk with Leo through the quiet streets of Monaco. The little dog happily trotted along, sniffing every lamppost and bush, his tail wagging in the crisp night air. You held the leash loosely, chatting with Charles, who was animatedly recounting something about his last race.

And then you heard it, a faint whimper coming from the shadows of an alley.

“Did you hear that?” you asked, stopping mid-step.

Charles nodded, already scanning the dimly lit area. Leo tilted his head, ears perking up at the sound.

You both followed the soft cries, your heart clenching at the sight before you. A small, trembling dog huddled against a dumpster, his thin frame barely holding him up. His fur was matted, patches missing, and his eyes were wide with fear.

“Oh, mon cœur,” Charles whispered, crouching down slowly.

You gently tugged Leo’s leash, keeping him at a distance to avoid overwhelming the terrified animal. Charles extended a hand, but the dog flinched and let out a weak growl.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Charles cooed, his voice soft and soothing. “We won’t hurt you.”

You crouched beside him, your voice equally tender. “He’s so scared, Charles. What do we do?”

“We can’t leave him here,” he said, determination flashing in his green eyes.

---

It took nearly an hour of patient coaxing, a few pieces of Charles’ leftover croissant, and Leo’s calm presence for the dog to inch closer. When he finally let Charles touch him, your heart swelled with a mixture of relief and sadness.

“He’s coming home with us,” Charles said firmly, wrapping the trembling dog in his jacket.

You didn’t argue.

---

The first few days were tough. The dog, who you decided to name Buddy after Charles joked he needed a “buddy system” to feel safe, wouldn’t eat if either of you were in the room. He flinched at sudden movements and cowered in corners when voices got too loud.

But slowly, little by little, Buddy began to trust.

Charles was endlessly patient, spending hours sitting quietly on the floor, letting Buddy approach on his own terms. You cried the first time Buddy nudged Charles’ hand, seeking comfort.

Leo, ever the gentle one, became Buddy’s anchor. The two dogs were inseparable, with Leo often lying beside Buddy during naps or bringing him toys as if to say, “It’s okay here.”

---

One night, you found Charles in the living room, stretched out on the rug with both dogs. Buddy’s head rested on his chest while Leo snored softly at his side.

“You’re a natural,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, your heart full.

Charles grinned up at you, his hand running through Buddy’s now soft fur. “I just want him to feel safe, amour. He deserves that.”

You joined them, curling up next to Charles. Buddy’s tail wagged slightly, a small victory that brought tears to your eyes.

“You’re safe now, Buddy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. “We promise.”

Charles squeezed your hand. “And we never break our promises.”

---

Months later, Buddy was a completely different dog. His fur shone, his eyes sparkled, and his tail wagged freely. He and Leo were the best of friends, often seen chasing each other around the garden or curling up together on the couch.

And every time you looked at Buddy, now brimming with life and love, you knew you had made the best decision.

“Ready for our walk?” Charles asked one evening, clipping the leashes onto Leo and Buddy.

You smiled, watching as Buddy happily barked, his tail wagging excitedly. “Let’s go.”

As you strolled through the streets, Buddy trotted confidently beside Leo, no longer the scared, broken dog you had found that night. He was home.

And he always would be.

---

A/N

This story holds a special place in my heart because it was inspired by my own dog, Buddy. When I found Buddy, he was scared, broken, and unsure if he could trust anyone. I’ll never forget the first time he wagged his tail or rested his head on my lap, it was such a small gesture, but it meant the world to me.🥹

Buddy taught me that love, patience, and a safe home can heal even the deepest wounds. Writing this was my way of honoring his journey and sharing the hope that every animal, no matter their past, deserves a second chance.

If you feel moved by this story, I encourage you to consider adopting or supporting your local animal shelters. There’s nothing more rewarding than giving an animal a fresh start and a place to call home.

With love,

Buddy🕊 & Me 🐾❤

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cameronluvr · 1 year ago

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BABY TRAPPED PART 2 — dark!rafe x fem reader

summary: you finally gain the courage to tell rafe the news, but things turn aggressive once you find out he replaced your birth control pills.

warnings: teenage pregnancy, mentions of forced pregnancy, fighting, arguing, manipulating, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, blackmailing, choking, toxic!rafe, dark!rafe

: ̗̀➛ 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ PART 1

some days later, you gain the courage to tell rafe. you stayed up most nights thinking for hours about what to say, and how to say it. you rehearsed hundreds of different ways in your head, but all of them terrified you.

was he going to be happy? was he going to be angry? you had no idea.

you sit on your bed, staring at rafe’s contact number on your phone. you’d been staring at it for the past 5 minutes, being too anxious to call him. ‘i need to get it over and done with’ you thought to yourself.

and with that thought in your head, your thumb presses on the call button. your breathing sped up, and your fear sank in as you watch it ring. seconds later, he picks up.

“hey” he says.

“hey rafe.. uh.. do you think i could come over? i need to talk to you about something… it’s kinda serious” you hesitate to explain.

“yeah sure, everything ok?” he asks. “uh— i’ll just talk to you when i get there… bye” you quickly say before pressing the red button to end the call, not even giving him chance to say anything else.

you didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone. you needed to see him in person, so you hopped off your bed and jogged downstairs. you call out to your parents to let them know you’re going out and that you wouldn’t be too long, you wouldn’t dare tell them you were going to see rafe.

— you arrive at tannyhill around 20 minutes later, rushing to the front door only to be greeted by ward when you knocked. “y/n… are you here for sarah?..” he asks awkwardly, knowing you are going through a rough patch with rafe, and that you two were considered done for good. “no, uh.. i’m actually here to see rafe..” you reply, seeing him raise his eyebrows.

“rafe!” he calls out to his son, who is already making his way downstairs. “hey y/n, come in” he says, stepping in front of his dad and placing his hand on the door, motioning for you to come inside with his other.

ward rolls his eyes and walks away, knowing you two are on and off constantly. but he obviously didn’t know the real reason you were here.

“rafe…” you gulp, looking at him with teary eyes as he shuts the door. “baby— y/n.” rafe corrects himself, remembering you aren’t his girlfriend anymore. “come on, let’s go upstairs” he says, holding your hand and guiding you to the stairs.

in the back of his mind, he knew the reason you were here. he was the one who replaced your birth control pills, after all. he knew you’d come running to him crying in no time. he smirks as he walks behind you going up the stairs. you can’t see his face, but he is proud. proud that his plan definitely worked. why else would you be here?

once you reached his bedroom, rafe shut the door behind you. “what’s up? come, sit” he says, walking over to his bed to sit down, patting the space next to him.

you walk over and join him on his bed, feeling oddly comforted by his behavior. he isn’t usually this soft with you, especially not when you’re going through a breakup. “rafe.. i, uh-” you stutter, trying to explain.

“i don’t know how to tell you this but uh…” you say, shaking and trembling as you slowly pull 3 positive pregnancy tests from your jacket pocket. rafe looks down at your hands as you reveal them to him.

“i’m pregnant.” the dreaded words came out of your mouth, expecting him to be angry, confused, or upset. but he wasn’t. he reached his hands to yours, gently taking the tests from you to see them for himself. you watched as a smile appeared on his face, shocking you a bit.

“you’re pregnant?” he asks, happy and shocked, pretending he had no idea this was coming. he stood up now, pacing around the room and sifting his hand through his hair, taking in the news that he was going to be a dad.

“yeah…” you say, sniffling and rubbing your nose. “baby, don’t be upset” he calmly says, his tone as soft as ever as he sits down next to you again, this time closer, pulling you into a side hug to comfort you.

“how can i not be upset?” you ask, tears falling down your face now. his smile suddenly dropped. “why are you upset?” he frowns now, pulling away from the hug, confused as if you were supposed to be happy or something.

“we’re not together, rafe. i don’t even know how i got fucking pregnant in the first place, i’m on birth control! i knew those damn things were a stupid scam” you quietly yell, like a loud whisper, letting out your frustration but not wanting the whole house to know your business.

rafe waits a few seconds before answering, watching you as you sob next to him. “were you on birth control?” he asks with a suspicious tone, making you frown your eyebrows and look at him. “what?” you ask, sniffling.

“you sure you were on birth control?” he asks with a smirk on his face now. what the fuck is he talking about? “rafe, what?” you ask again, widening your eyes and waiting for an answer.

“maybe, just maybe,” he starts, standing up from the bed to stand in front of you. “maybe what?” you start to get frustrated. “maybe i swapped your pills for fakes. maybe i didn’t” he shrugs, acting like it were no big deal. your face dropped.

“you did what?!” you yelled, standing up now, coming face to face with him. “what the fuck is the matter with you? why would you do that?!” you yell, demanding answers.

“because i want you back.” he simply answers, no other explanation.

“you want me back? so you get me pregnant?!” you’re yelling now, not caring if his family hears or not. “okay. will you take me back?” he asks, knowing your answer.

“no!”

“and that’s why i did it.”

he is cruel. he had this planned out for god knows how long. “rafe, what the fuck?!” you scream at him.

“having a baby with you means you’re stuck with me forever. and that’s what you get for running away from me. running off with the pogues” he smirks, leaning closer to your face to torment you. you harshly shove him away from you, making him angry.

“don’t fuckin’ do that” he shoves you back, much harder than you did, making you stumble backwards. “ow, rafe” you frown, about to hit him before he grabs your throat, squeezing it hard.

“don’t you ever fuckin’ push me like that” he warns as his fingers tighten around your neck, cutting off your ability to breathe properly. “rafe…” you struggle.

“i got you pregnant on purpose, baby. and you’re not gonna do anything about it. let this be a lesson to you” he roughly pushes you away by your throat, letting go of it as you gasp and catch your breath.

you look at him with quivering lips, tears forming in your eyes as you try to find words to say. “i-,” you huff. “you’re a fucking psychopath” you say, shaking your head at him as tears fall from your eyes.

“don’t call me that.” he raises his hand to you, making you flinch. you don’t say or do anything back, you just stand and cry as he looks at you, sighing loudly and rolling his eyes.

you couldn’t bare to be in the room with him anymore. “i’m leaving.” you say, attempting to walk past him but he steps in front of you, stopping you. “no, you’re not.” he tells you. “yes i am, rafe, now move” you try to push past him again, but he grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him so that your bodies are against each other’s.

“why? so you can go get an abortion? get rid of my baby?” he asks, knowing that was likely your first thought. “you know what, yeah! i can’t have a fucking baby with you, rafe!” you start to yell again, making him grip you harder, his fingernails digging into your skin above your clothes.

“well, you are, so” he shrugs, making a face as if there was nothing else you could do, no other choice you had. “you seriously want a kid, with me? what do you even know about kids?” you ask, wanting to know his whole thought process behind this.

“i know i’d be a better father than mine ever was.” he says. “i doubt that” you scoff, finding his words amusing. “you doubt that? what, you think i’d do the same to my son what he did to me?” he asks, frowning, you both know his dad wasn’t the best. he had a favorite child, he cherished her, and didn’t acknowledge his other two — and look how that ended up.

“no, i don’t, rafe,” you sigh. “then why don’t you give me a chance?” he asks before you can finish speaking, making you sigh again. “because we’re supposed to love each other before we have a baby together, and that went away a long time ago for me…” you explain, knowing it would hurt his feelings but you wish he’d just sympathize with you for a second.

“i love you…”

“no you don’t, rafe.”

“yes i do”

you don’t say anything. you just accept the fact that he isn’t going to change his mind. you sigh, realizing you literally have no way out of this. you couldn’t tell anyone. your parents would be ashamed, they’d probably scream at you and kick you out of the house. then what? you’d be pregnant with nowhere to go.

the room fell silent for a second. you hear him huff through his nose. “y/n, i do love you. i promise you. i can show you that, i promise i’ll change and be better for you” he says, his grip still on your waist, but less aggressively now. he’s holding you now, just like how he used to.

but you’ve heard those words a thousand times. he never changes, and never keeps his promises. “rafe…” you gulp, not wanting this to happen. you don’t want his baby, you want to get rid of it. you can’t raise a baby, you’re not even 20 yet.

“baby, it’ll be alright. shh, come ‘ere” he says, pulling you into a hug when he notices you crying again. you quietly sob into his chest, feeling him reach his head down slightly.

his mouth was next to your ear. “you’re not gonna get rid of this baby, m’kay?” he whispers, sending shivers down your spine. his hug felt more like he was strangling you, you felt like you couldn’t breathe in his arms, or even in his presence.

“but—” you cry.

“shh…” he strokes your hair. “if you even try to get rid of it, i’ll do something i really don’t wanna do, okay?” he quietly threatens into your ear, gripping you tightly again to hurt you, with all intentions of hurting you worse if you go against his wishes, maybe even your friends, too. or your family. he’s going to teach you a lesson either way. sooner or later, you’ll be his.

PART 2 AHHHHH. part 1 got so many likes hellooooo???! thank you guys so much for supporting me!!! i’ve gained nearly 50 followers in just 2 days of posting! <3 i really hope you guys like this part, OFC rafe has to be as toxic as ever :)

@cameronluvr

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #toxic!rafe cameron #toxic!rafe #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe

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homunculus-argument · 4 months ago

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ALSO ALSO I figured out how to execute the reflective fabric patches on my jacket shoulders.

Almost always when I'm stuck on something, it's because I'm going to have an epiphany about it later, discovering something completely different that's way better than what I had planned originally. I don't know how my brain does that or why it can't just tell me the better plan first in the first place, but I've learned that if I ignore that instinct to procrastinate the first but worse plan, I'll come to regret doing that work once the better epiphany comes along.

And today on my walk back from the grocery store (in the dark) I finally figured out what the better idea was for the shoulder reflector patches. False eyes. I had been worried I'd been going too heavy on the moth theme, and wasn't sure how to do something subtly moth-y for the reflectors, since doing just one singular wing on both shoulders didn't seem like it would work.

Then it occurred to me just today - I could make them eyespots! One on each shoulder. I don't know how I'm going to bedazzle the rest of it, or how I'm going to construct two sufficiently large distinct circles out of the small strips of reflector fabric that I have for it, but making the patches resemble one huge eye on both sides would be a perfect way to make my protective gear fit my motif of choice.

Visual depiction of me walking at night, warding off my most prominent natural predator, the Skoda Octavia.

#mothgoth project

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littlechivalry · 5 months ago

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Wedding Bell Blues

(no Upside Down AU, meet-ugly, Baker!Steve/wedding singer!Eddie)

Eddie is a wedding musician and it's pretty great actually. It's not the rock star life he dreamed of but it's a damned sight better than most people including him expected of Al Munson's little boy.

Eddie gets to play music. For a living. And he does pretty well. He gets to dress up a little snazzy. He gets free fancy food and a couple of drinks. And he gets to shoot his shot with anybody that looks like fun.

He's good at it too. That's the best part. His younger years spent being a low level drug dealer and a high level weirdo mean he can read a room in an instant. He gets the playlist from the bride usually, presses for some other song ideas, and he can tell who to take requests from at six paces. And who to ignore from across the room.

It's a good time.

Unfortunately not all ceremonies can be winners and based on the tension Eddie has felt from almost everyone involved in today's wedding it was going to be a tough gig.

Everything starts in an hour but Eddie isn't on until the reception so he has plenty of time to grab a smoke before soundcheck. He knows the venue pretty well and there's an alcove next to the vendor loading area. Nice flowers, a decent bench, and it's nowhere near the dumpsters.

This venue butts up against a small patch of woodland and Eddie wonders if he might have time to check it out, see if there's anything inspiring. He doesn't hike but he does enjoy a walk in nature.

Before he gets the chance a baby blue van with 'Steve's Sweets' painted across the side pulls up, blocking his sight line.

He mourns the loss of his view right up until the driver pops the door open and climbs out.

Oh, the beauties nature provides.

Acid wash jeans which under any other circumstances Eddie would laugh at are lovingly hugging possibly the finest ass he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

The rest of the picture - when he can drag his attention away - is pretty choice too. A soft looking pink sweater, sleeves pushed up to expose sun bronzed skin making Eddie idly wonder if the man is that tan all over.

The crowning glory is a gorgeous head of hair framing a face that Eddie can only describe as pretty.

Eddie tries to turn his attention back to his cigarette. Admiring someone is one thing, leering like a creep is entirely different.

He takes a last drag and drops the filter on the gravel, grinding it out under his feet. Mentally he says farewell to the handsome stranger and turns to go back inside.

Eddie takes two steps before a suit clad man comes out of the building and pushes past him in a rush.

"Steven."

The man's not yelling, but his voice is the kind of loud that demands to be heard.

Eddie turns to watch as the man approaches the van and the other guy, Steve apparently, standing in front of it.

"What the hell are you doing here dressed like that."

Eddie should go inside. This isn't his business. But one of the perks of working weddings was the drama and this was very promising.

He stays where he is, standing just in front of the door. In case either man looks in his direction Eddie actually mimes patting at his jacket like he is looking for his smokes.

"I'm delivering a cake, Dick. And if it wasn't for Diana I wouldn't even be doing that much. She deserves to get something good out of this day."

Eddie bites back a smile, lowering his head a little so he can still watch what was happening ideally without being noticed.

"You will refer to me as father. I believe I have earned at least that much respect."

Eddie feels his eyebrows rise. This kind of drama was another part of why he likes weddings. Better than the soap operas he watches with Uncle Wayne.

"Sure," Steve snorts. "Tell you what, I'll compromise," and he continues, "Riiichaaaard."

"Grow up, Steven. You were invited here as a guest. You had better have a tuxedo in that stupid truck of yours, the ceremony starts in an hour."

"I was hired to bake a cake. Part of my fee includes delivery. That is literally the only reason I'm here. You and the future ex-Mrs Harrington will have to celebrate without me. Try not to cry yourself to sleep about it."

"You little asshole," Richard snarls. "You think you're better than me. You think I wanted you here? You owe me your presence. I have important people coming to this wedding and I need them to see my dutiful son at my side."

The baker laughs, a low nasty chuckle that sends a perverse shiver down Eddie's back.

"Tell you what, Dick, I'm booked up today but I'll come to your next wedding." Eddie looks up to see Steve is grinning, bright and as sharp as a knife. "I'll even get you a toaster."

Eddie lurches in place as he sees Richard lunge towards Steve. He is too far away to stop the man but he has to do something.

Before he takes a step the door swings open again and a petite woman comes rushing out.

"Richard?"

Eddie watches as she runs forward tugging at the satin bathrobe she is wrapped in. She freezes a few feet away from what had been brewing into a nasty fight.

"Steve? You're here-- oh, but your suit! Richard? What's going on?"

The older man doesn't turn around, doesn't seem to notice her at all but Eddie watches Steve gingerly move until he is standing between his father and the woman.

"Hey Diana," he says softly. "Sorry you had to see this, dad and me just have a difference of opinion. Everything's fine."

Eddie feels something in him clench. He is very familiar with the tone in Steve's voice. He had heard it from his uncle Wayne to his dad when he was a little kid. It is soft but firm, implacable. Eddie isn't sure exactly what is coming but he can tell Steve knew and that it would be bad.

The venue usually had at least two security patrolling the grounds, more if the reception was expected to be contentious. Eddie doesn't know where they are right now but hopefully not far.

"See what you've done Steven? God, you're useless."

"Richard, don't say that," Diana says, her voice rising.

The older man is turning from pink to red and Eddie can see Steve moving slowly, shifting his father's attention to him.

"That's me, Richard. Useless Steve. Flunked out of college and he bakes cookies like some kind of fairy. You sure you want to parade your failure of a son in front of the hoi polloi?"

Eddie hears Diana's gasp from where he's standing. "Steve, what are you talking about? Richard what's going on?"

Richard turns his glare on her and Eddie feels himself moving forward almost against his own will. He's not sure what he'll do when he gets there but he's never been the bystander type.

Steve just laughs. Bright and angry. "I'm not sure what my father told you about our relationship but we don't have one."

"No," she says. "Your father-- he told me-- "

When Eddie met her a few weeks ago he had seen a confident, charming woman that knew exactly what she wanted and was excited to be married. Now she looks confused, maybe even scared.

Eddie has gotten closer to this whole altercation than he wanted to be but since he is there and it looks like Steve and Richard are busy trying to glare holes in each other Eddie steps up to Diana and lightly grasps her elbow.

She startles and turns to face him. Her eyes are wide, wet and staring.

"Mr. Munson," she asks, softly.

Eddie tries to smile. "Mr. Munson is my uncle, ma'am. It's Eddie. Let's get you out of here, okay? Back inside."

Eddie is able to gently guide her a few steps away. He hates turning his back on the other two men but he needs to get Diana out of reach for whatever is about to happen.

"I dont understand," the bride mutters. "Steve used to be such a sweet boy. Mr. Harrin-- Richard. Oh, I'm so silly. Richard. He said-- this is so embarassing."

Her voice is pitched and tight and if she isn't crying yet she would be soon. Eddie resolves to get her inside and into the arms of literally any friendly face.

"Hey," Eddie says. "Let's just--" he scrambles for a name. Anna? Annie? "Amy, right? Your maid of honor? Let's get you to her, okay. You can sit down."

Diana nods.

Behind him he can hear Richard and Steve hissing noxious words back and forth. There is no shouting but the air is heavy and hot with anger. Even though he was outside Eddie feels like he can't breathe.

Eddie gets Diana to the door, hadn't realized how close they really were, maybe 30 feet if that. It's open, anxious faces framed in weathered oak. He hands Diana off to her Maid of Honor who quickly sweeps the woman deeper into the hall and then he nods to Patricia Abernathy, the event space manager.

"Think we're gonna have a cancellation," he says, nodding towards the departing woman.

She rolls her eyes. "Can't say I'm surprised. I had a bad feeling about this one."

Eddie scoffs. "You have a bad feeling about all of them."

He turns to face where the two men are still in a stand off in front of the van. "You're not wrong though, I think. At least I hope they cancel."

Patricia snorts. "We got the deposits locked down and the contract is airtight so if they cancel we still get fifty percent of the remaining fee. I'll take that for the rest of the day off."

"You got a date, Patty? And it's not me? You're breaking my heart."

"Ha," she says flatly. "That pretty boy is more your type and from the way he's talking you're in with a chance. Now you keep an eye on those two. Security is on their way, we'll see if they can get here before these guys start really butting heads."

Eddie nods. It isn't the first time he had been called on to help manage fractious families.

He turns back in time to see Richard take a swing at Steve. The younger guy steps back out of the way and Eddie can hear his mocking laugh as far away as the door.

He moves closer to the two of them. Eddie isn't going to get in the middle of the fight but maybe if he reminds them there are other people around that might be enough to calm them down.

He watches Richard lunge forward and swing again. This time Steve can't move away fast enough and the blow glances off of his cheek.

"Hey," Eddie calls, now jogging towards them. "Hey, knock it off! You wanna fight take it somewhere else!"

Steve turns to face Eddie, opening his mouth as if he was going to say something but all that comes out is a low grunt as Richard hits him in the shoulder and shoves him to the ground.

Eddie throws himself forward, pushing Richard away. "What do you think you're doing," he shouts in the man's face but Richard doesn't seem to hear, pressing back against Eddie.

"You little bastard," Richard shouts at his son. "You're worthless! I don't know why I bothered."

"Go to hell," Steve replies.

That seems to make Richard even angrier which Eddie hadn't thought was possible. He isn't sure he will be able to hold him off much longer.

"Hey, what's going on here," a low even voice calls. It is the venue security guard, his partner just behind him with a hand on his radio.

Eddie feels himself relax and then stumbles back as Richard pushes him aside to fall on his son again.

Eddie turns to see both guards trying to pull the older man away as he continues to hit his son, screaming obscenities.

Not sure how to help, Eddie stands by. When he sees an opening he lunges forward and takes hold of Steve's shoulders, pulling him back and away.

The younger man fights against him at first, eyes closed and arms up in front of his face. Eddie figures he probably didn't know whose hands are on him.

"Hey. Hey. It's me, Eddie. Shit. I work here. You're safe, security has your dad. You're safe."

Eddie steps back, loosening his grip on Steve but still keeping one hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth him.

A few feet away Richard is still twisting, trying to get free and attack his son again, but Eddie can see the guards have a good hold on him and it doesn't look like they will be letting go any time soon.

As Steve calms down Eddie lets go of his shoulder, instead crouching next to him. "You doing okay? I saw you had you hands up but he got a few hits in."

Steve lowers his arms and sits upright. He twists his neck back and forth and shifts his shoulders before opening his eyes and looking up at Eddie. "I'm okay. I'm fine. God, it's a soap opera isn't it? Fuck."

Eddie lets himself drop into a seat next to the other man. They both watch in silence as the guards march Steve's father around the corner to the front of the event hall.

"You know the bride? Diana," the guy asks. "She was my babysitter. When I was eleven."

"Oof," Eddie says. "So she was--"

"Seventeen then, and now it's been twenty years for her and about three wives for him."

"Scandalous," Eddie murmurs. He sees Steve smile and feels relieved. "What will people say. The 'hoi polloi' I believe you called them?"

Steve snorts. "A crowd of empty suits that exist solely to tell my dad how respected he is. Will he get arrested?"

"Maybe," Eddie says. "I think that might be up to you. It's assault at least."

"Ugh," Steve says, rubbing his face. "That's all I need. I'm trying to get him out of my life."

"Well," Eddie says. "I can attest that jail is very good at keeping deadbeat dads out of your life."

Steve starts laughing and then winces, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"Shit, you are hurt," Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "Do you need an ambulance? Patty probably called 911 by now."

Steve waves him off. "I'm fine. This is not my first fight and my old man hits-- well, I was gonna say 'like a girl' but then my best friend would kick my ass and I'm way more scared of her," Steve says, laughing softly.

He looks up at Eddie and holds out his free hand. "You gonna help me up? Or is chivalry dead?"

"Chivalry," Eddie repeats. "You a damsel in distress?"

"I might as well be," Steve says. "Now come on."

Eddie laughs and reaches down, gently guiding Steve back to his feet. He feels the man's weight leaning on him for a few seconds and despite the circumstances Eddie has to admit Steve feels good in his arms.

Once he is steady Steve steps back and Eddie lets him go.

Steve moves to the van and leans up against the metal surface. Eddie walks over to join him.

"So," Steve says. "What next?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I honestly don't know. The wedding is canceled, for sure. For today at least."

"Just for today? You think she'll marry him still?"

Eddie shrugs. "I have no idea. I wouldn't but then I wouldn't have said yes in the first place."

Steve leans back, tapping his head against the van a few times before he turns back to Eddie. "You know the worst part? This was my last delivery. Now, I have to deal with this stupid cake. Three tiers of lemon and raspberry." He laughs. "Do you think a homeless shelter will take a wedding cake?"

Eddie grins. "I don't see why not. At least something good will come out of today."

Steve looks up towards the hall. "I feel like I should say something-- to Diana, I mean. She was always really nice to me, she deserved better than this."

"I have found that good or bad people rarely get what they deserve. You don't really owe her anything but I can't fault the impulse." Turning towards the hall, Eddie gestures for Steve to follow him. "Just-- just don't apologize for him? Okay?"

Steve walks in silence for a few steps before he coughs roughly. His voice is thick and choked and he coughs again. "I, uh, I stopped apologizing for him a long time ago. His faults are his own. I just wish I didn't get dragged into it."

Eddie laughs. "I know that song."

"Yeah," Steve asks.

Eddie nods. They are at the door and he pulls it open for the other man, gesturing him in with a bow.

Steve stops in the doorway as Eddie stands up again. He is framed by the light inside and the scent of hothouse roses comes drifting out into the open air. Eddie can picture him suddenly in that moment standing at a balcony limned by moonlight.

"Hey Sunshine," Eddie says softly. "Buy me a drink and we can trade stories?"

Steve smiles. "Yeah," he says, with a small laugh. "Sure, why not." He holds up his hands, still dirty and scraped from the asphalt. "Help me get cleaned up and let me say something to Diana. Then we can talk."

Eddie nods, reaches out, and places his hands gently over Steve's. "Sounds good to me."

#fanfiction #fanfic #littlechivalry #my writing #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #meet ugly #baker steve #wedding singer eddie

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