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Wolf Bite

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: During a fight between your friends and Klaus and his hybrids, you get bit. A certain someone appears later to help heal your wounds and complicate your feelings. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Violence, fluff

Word Count: 4850

Part 2

A/N: I have been obsessing over Klaus lately and thought I would share this passion with you guys. I haven’t seen TVD or TO in a while so I apologize if I get anything wrong about the lore. It doesn’t follow any canon plot, just inspired by Klaus healing Caroline’s bite.

You’re leaning against a wall in the Salvatore brothers’ house as the rest of your friends talk about their newest plan to threaten Klaus and his family. The idea seems foolish to you, but you know better than to voice your opinion. Ever since the Mikaelson clan moved to town, being a vampire has gotten a lot more complicated. You’re suddenly not so immortal when there’s a whole group of people out to get you and your friends.

You’ve also started to notice a shift in the group as Elena now has feelings for both Salvatores. You’re well aware that your presence has slowly started to go unnoticed and yet here you are again. You watch as the group argues about how to lure Klaus and co. to the woods where you’ll meet him.

“What if we send someone to his house to deliver the message?” Elena suggests. But Stefan shakes his head.

“No, it’s too risky,” he says.

“Not if we send someone with a white oak stake for protection,” Caroline says.

“That would ruin the plan,” Bonnie says. There’s a silence as the group thinks of a new idea. Until Damon speaks.

Keep reading

Bleeding into Nightfall | Klaus Mikaelson

masterlist

summary: life is gloomy and you’re tired of repetitive days that don’t get better. you say goodbye to the world forgetting about once person in paticular—niklaus mikaelson

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 3k

a/n: story of my life with the love of my life

tw: heavy descriptions of depression, suicide!!!

Waking up every day was like waking up from the calm and facing the storm. Days bleeding into nightfall. Day after day starting to warp into each other, each day as listless as the day before. Mystic falls’ grey gloomy clouds constantly above your head as you managed to get out of bed. You kind of found common ground with autumn mornings. You enjoyed them more than any other morning but enjoy is a strong word for someone like you. Autumn mornings are dark that make it look like it was three in the morning. A time where nobody in this world expects a single thing from you. Just you alone existing in this world.

You brush your teeth.

Comb your hair.

Put on an outfit.

Make yourself look presentable so that nobody would be able to tell just how empty you felt. How draining it was getting ready when you could easily wear the same pair of clothes day and night. Forget about your appearance as you just try to pass the day.

Leaving the house you took one last look in the mirror with the same face you wish you could rip off, but instead you put on your best genuine smile that didn’t make you look like a manic sociopath and closed the door to make your way to school.

13 hours and 30 minutes to go.

Out of 24 hours you only feel okay for a couple. And it’s not even that you feel good, you just feel okay. You just try to get through the day. It’s been like this for a while. Time wailing past you, time wailing before you that has you trapped. You wake up. Go to school. Eat and sleep. Sometimes you don’t even eat or sleep. The easiest tasks seem impossible to complete. Why do you have to waste such a long amount of time? You’d be perfectly fine with only living eighteen years instead of eighty. You don’t do anything all day but you’re exhausted each time you lay down in bed, ready to shut your eyes. Still, you drag yourself through the day like cattle; unable to break free from what's holding you back.

The walk to school isn’t too long. Rustling leaves on trees, crunching of dead leaves that were kicked up into the air with each step you took, the thought of simply being a leaf on your mind as you barely noticed the person ahead.

‘I’m so sorry— Caroline…hi. I’m sorry,’ you lifted your head from the ground to see Caroline’s smile. ‘I wasn’t really paying attention to my surroundings,’

‘Yeah, I could tell.’ She gleamed, hooking her arm into yours as you continued walking the last blocks.

It was an okay walk. Your ears picking up different sounds of your surroundings as the mixture of sounds seemed to be blocking out your thoughts. It's too hard to concentrate on them.

‘Do you have anything planned for your outfit on Saturday?’ Caroline broke you from the chattering of your mind, hearing her voice bringing you back to the present.

You stared at her. Your eyes on her, your face hanging from your head as you stayed quiet, pressing your lips against each other as her smile turned to a frown.

‘Y/n, come on,’ she moaned, the sparkles in her eyes duplicating as she stared back at you. Her personality reminding you of the warmth of a fireplace on a cold evening. ‘It’s the school dance! It’s so important that we make these memories to look back on them when we’re old and wrinkly,’

‘I think I have enough memories.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean I just don’t really feel like going, that's all…’

‘Why not?’ She came to a halt, taking her arm from you so she could stand perfectly square of you, her arms folded in front of her chest as the wind blew her hair from the back.

‘I don’t know,’ you shrugged, ‘I just don’t want to go.’

‘Not even to please Klaus? I mean no offence—‘ (Caroline’s favourite way to start being offensive) ‘But no one knows what he sees in you. I mean he’s this grumpy old maniac that terrifies the vampire species and you’re just…you. A human with a normal life. A nice girl that just, in comparison to him, lives a boring life.’

‘I don’t know, Caroline,’ you huffed, picking up pace again, readjusting your school bag. Feet sluggishly bringing you forth. ‘He’s nice to me and he makes me forget certain aspects of my life but even for him I wouldn’t go.’

‘What’s wrong with you, Y/n?’ Caroline held you back again, stopping once more. ‘Are you okay? I’ve noticed that you seem off for a while now and I didn’t want to pry but I cannot hold myself back any longer. What happened? What is it that’s making you so glum all the time?’

‘I’m okay, Caroline,’ you half smiled, ‘I think I’d just rather go home and watch a movie or something.’

Caroline opened her mouth but before she could say another word you cut her off, ‘And before you offer yourself as my sleepover company, I think I’d rather be alone.’ You started walking again, the school doors only a few minutes away. ‘Besides, I know you want to be a good friend by wanting to come over but you and I both know that deep down you hoped I would say no because you want to go to the dance, and that is fine. Make those memories, Caroline! Your life has so many blank pages left to fill and I don’t want to hold you back! Go and have fun.’

Caroline immediately pulled you into a hug. Her perfume hitting your nostrils as you placed your arms around her, a quick smile forming on your lips.

‘Come on now,’ you took hold of her arm, ‘We need to get there on time otherwise Rick will have us doing detention the rest of the week.’

‘Do you think he dislikes us?’

‘No, I actually think it’s his way of showing that he cares,’ you let out a giggle that infected Caroline as you walked onto the school premises just as the bell rang for first period.

School was the same every day. Go to class. Pay attention. Write down notes. Stare outside of the window, the teacher’s voice fading into silence as your mind powered through to absent you from life.

Everyone seems so content with life? Why can’t I? What is there to be happy about?

‘Miss Jacobs, the action is here. Not outside.’ Mrs. Clark said, snapping your head to the front of the class. ‘If my class is boring you’re welcome to go outside.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you cleared your throat, sitting up straight. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Now, where was I?’

10 hours to go.

When the school bell rang for the last time, you started to clear your table and cram all your stuff into your bag, people pushing past you as everyone tried to leave. Out in the hall you quickly waved Caroline, Elena and Bonnie goodbye, ready to go home and sit in silence.

Plugging in your headphones you slowly started to walk home, music blasting through your ears and you tried to block out any sound from the world.

Trees and cars passed you, barely anyone on the pavement. You kept walking when you noticed a person in the distance; dressed in dark colours, stance confident and a face you could recognise from a mile away.

‘Hi.’ You gave him your best smile, not too much, not too little.

‘I hear there’s a school dance this saturday,’ he accompanied you towards your home. ‘I was hoping that I could ask you to the dance.’

‘I’m actually not going.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t feel like going, that’s all.’ You shared a quick glance.

His pupils dilated, eyebrows drawn together, the skin between them wrinkled. ‘Are you okay, Y/n.’ He gently grabbed a hold of your upper arm, the frequent blinking of his eyes telling you that you made him worry.

‘I’m fine,’ you chuckled, your crooked smile paired with dull, sparkless eyes not in your favour.

‘Don’t give me that bullshit.’

‘Klaus, please. I’m not in a mood to argue right now.’

‘Arguing?’ His eyebrows drew his eyebrows even closer. ‘We’re just talking.’

‘Look, Klaus.’ You stopped in your tracks, allowing yourself to stare up at his face. Lips plush, eyes squinted as his focus was on you. ‘I see that you want to go to the dance with me and if I were up to it I would, but I would just rather go home. Watch a movie. Be alone. Get away from all this,’ you sighed.

‘Okay,’

‘Okay.’ You breathed, ‘See you around, okay?’ You got on your tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his cheek before walking home.

‘Yeah, see you around.’ Klaus mumbled as you were already out of earshot, leaving him confused as to what was happening to you.

6 hours to go.

When you arrived home you went straight upstairs. Throwing your bag into a corner of your room as you wasted no time to change into more comfortable clothes like your lounging outfit (a pyjama). Down the stairs you walked into the kitchen, taking a bag of doritos and a bar of chocolate from the cupboard, a glass of water to wash down the junk and placed them onto the coffee table. Snatching a blanket from the living room trunk, you made yourself comfortable and put on the TV, ready to watch the Big Bang Theory and waste your time.

‘Y/h honey,’ your mother’s heels sounded through the living room. ‘It’s date night so we’ll be home quite late.’

‘Mhm.’

‘Make sure to get some healthy carbs and protein in you too, okay darling?’

‘Yeah, mom. Have fun.’ You said, your eyes haven’t left the screen.

‘See you later.’

The door closed. Silence swept the house. Your TV the only thing that sounded within the walls. Sighing, you took a row of chocolate and let out a half-sounded giggle as you continued watching TV.

1 hour left to go.

8:50pm; it was time to go upstairs. You put away the stuff you used, made sure the windows and doors were locked and the lights turned off. The floorboard creaked with every step you took. Going into your bedroom you halted in front of your dresser, picking up the framed family portrait that you took on a trip to the family cabin on christmas day.

Your lips started pressing together, your fingers on the back of the frame scraping against the wood as a blink of your eyes let the first two tears roll down your cheek. Your heart twisted, aching with every shaky breath you took, a sting of melancholy growing inside your throat.

4 minutes to go.

You placed it back on the dresser, taking another glance at your room before taking off to the bathroom where you closed the door and took a long look in the mirror: messed up hair, red puffy eyes that blinked uncontrollably, the face of a person you never got to know.

Wiping away your tears you opened the cabinet and grabbed the packet of razors you purchased just last week in preparation for tonight.

Taking a deep breath you climbed into the bathtub, letting your back fall against the wall, a new surge of emptiness growing as you realised that you were going to be utterly alone when you went.

The cold metal pierced into your soft skin like fresh butter. The warmth of your blood no longer flowing like it normally did but instead poured onto your skin. Quiet drips spilling into the bathtub, staining your clothes on the way. Once your blood started spilling you didn’t feel any great pain, it hurt, but it was manageable. You hoped it wouldn’t, however seeing all the blood that was streaming from your cut, made your heart start to beat at immense speed.

Then the sweating started to begin. Your body was damp, head to toe and toe to head. You thought back on the days you went running. Every time you finished you’d have the same, wet, and uncomfortable sweat sitting on your skin, soaking into your clothes. A deeply unpleasant feeling started to make itself noticeable, heart pounding in your chest, throbbing with pain, but there was nothing you could do. Neither did you want to. You wanted nothing more than to disappear from the earth’s surface. You didn’t need to be here. Trapped with nowhere to go. No one would miss you. You barely had anyone but yourself and that was all you needed. Even in death you felt comforted by your own thoughts. A very strong headache, accompanied by a loud, white noise ringing almost made you regret your decision. The room spun like crazy before your vision started fading out; the ringing got louder as darkness came for you…

Klaus made his way to your house. He didn’t like the way you were acting before you left. Your behaviour hasn’t left his mind since you last spoke. He turned into your driveway and jogged up the stairs, ringing the bell to hope that you would open up to him. To let him make you feel better. To let you know that he would do anything to see you happy.

But you never answered.

‘Y/n, open the door.’ Klaus raised his voice, his fist hitting against the door.

No answer.

‘Y/n!’ He slammed the door again.

Still, nothing.

Klaus focused his hearing to see if you were home when he suddenly heard shallow breaths; breaths he knew belonged to you. Without wasting another second Klaus kicked down the door, his vampire speed taking him to the location of decreased breaths. Almost taking the bathroom door off its hinges, Klaus found you sitting in the tub; red staining your body, head hanging sideways.

‘Y/N!’ He bellowed, falling to his knees, his arms hooking under your lump torso, pulling you out of the tub. The lack of tension in your body making his heart fall into an empty pit.

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ Klaus’ hands grabbed the sides of your face, twisting and turning. Hoping that your eyes would flatter open and greet him with a smile. A smile he held dear to his heart. But they stayed closed, his eyes getting blurrier the longer he fought.

‘Don’t you die on me!’ Klaus bit into his wrists, placing it on your lips, letting the blood flow into your system, his shaking arm staining your lower half of your face red. ‘You do not get to die! Wake up! Wake up…’

You stayed still. Just as lifeless as before you weighed Klaus’ body to the ground, his tears falling to your chest, pulling you close as his heart ached greater than it ever had. His reason to be good went without saying goodbye, leaving him to be alone like he had been for hundreds of centuries.

Klaus has heard thousands of heartbeats stop. Seen thousands of bodies covered in blood. Thousands of dead people. He didn’t know why it was so hard to see you there when he had been through this a million times. He felt empty. Everything about you came crashing down, his hope for hearing you say his name draining into nothingness. Klaus’ breathing grew louder, his chest feeling like it was being filled with water, the same water that spilled from his lashes, staring down at someone he always put first; forever wishing he hadn’t let you go home by yourself that afternoon.

Suddenly your body jolted forwards, gasping for air. Eyes wide as you took a large gulp of air, your chest rising and falling.

‘Y/n?’ Klaus whispered, his hands back on your face. ‘Y/n, y/n, talk to me.’

You coughed in response, droopy eyes making it hard to see your surroundings, blurry vision fading into one big blob of colour.

‘Y/n, say something please…’

‘Klaus,’ you whispered so quietly, lips barely parting as you spoke.

‘Can you hear me?’

‘Yes, what— what happened?’

‘What happened, Y/n?’ Klaus’ voice increased in volume.’You almost died on me!’ His tone shook.

‘Am— Am I a vampire?’ You started to come back to your old self. Your vision clearing up, your ears no longer feeling like a tunnel.

‘No, my blood just healed you.’ He caressed your head, softly stroking your hair.

‘Why did you save me?’

‘Why?’ A frown painted his lip, ‘I care about you, Y/n! So much. You don’t deserve to die. How could you leave me without saying goodbye?’

‘I didn’t want to say goodbye to you Klaus because if I would’ve looked at your face and said those words, I wouldn’t have been able to do it. It would’ve made leaving so much harder.’

‘Look at me,’ his thumb swiped across your cheek, ‘this is the face of someone who will never let you die or get hurt,’

Your heart clenched as you looked at him, tears pooling at your lower lash line. ‘Klaus—‘

‘Please promise me to not leave without saying goodbye first,’

‘You have to promise, Y/n…’

‘What makes you think I don’t want to die anymore, Klaus?’

Klaus stared back at you; empty eyes, no thoughts to be said out loud.

‘Promise me to not kill yourself, seriously? What makes you think I won’t try to do this again? I love you Klaus, I do, but my love is not bigger than my will to live.’

‘Y/n, stop talking…’

‘Why? Because you thought I’d thank you for saving me? I didn’t want to be saved, Nik! I never wanted to. All I wanted was for all of this shit to go away and you brought me back to this shit.’

‘Y/n, please,’

‘Leave.’

‘What?’

‘I said leave!’

‘No!’

‘LEAVE!’

‘NO!’

Tears started streaming down your face, ‘Fuck you, Nik.’ And you stood up to go to your room.

Klaus stayed over the next several days. Sleeping against your closed door as he tried to patch things back up. But it was your decision to make a change, and your decision to forgive him.

୨ৎ . . . 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ࿐

© calummss - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or repost my work on any sns platform

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miscellaneous

Hiii I was wondering if you could write a klaus oneshot where the reader is enemies with klaus but klaus finds out she has cancer and is all alone and begins to fall in love with her or something like that.

I totally understand if you don’t want to do or you’re uncomfortable with it.

I’ve Got You

(This is on a very sensitive subject, please don’t read if it will upset you too much and know that if you are suffering or know someone who is, nobody is alone)

Cancer was something that had torn up Y/n’s life. It caused her to push people away all of the time. She didn’t want to be too close to anyone, not when the doctors couldn’t tell her how long she had left.

For a while they thought that the cancer had gone but she didn’t want to risk anything only for it to come back.

So she continued to be closed off, even from her own family.

Being Elena and Jeremy’s sister was hard enough, let alone growing up having cancer. Having two parents who were involved in medical care was both a dream and a nightmare. They made her live according to their timetable and their rules as to what would ‘help’. She knew, even as a child, that her family struggled much like any family would struggle to afford treatment and research and she hated herself for costing them so much.

She was kept separate from her siblings, built little to no bond with them. When her parents died, there was nobody to care for her or at least give her hope. She couldn’t afford hospital bills on her own, she had to seek out other family, like Uncle John and he did help however when he lost his life, she lost the chance of hers.

The people at the hospital knew Y/n well, they wanted to help best they could. She was supplied with medication in the form of pills to at least somewhat control the cancer and they had hope that she would be able to take part in a chemotherapy treatment program that would take place within the next year. That was as much hope as she could have to go on.

And she tried to hold onto that, she would imagine the day that they told her she would be able to live her life full without so much risk.

But at the same time, she didn’t really believe it would happen for her. Not anymore.

Sometimes she wished that a vampire would just kill her, out her out of her misery. Other times she wanted to survive everything her dreadful life threw at her and live a long healthy life to its fullest.

It was why she was so up and down with how she behaved. It was why the way she was around certain people changed so drastically, like Klaus.

Sometimes she wanted to see how many buttons she could push, she wanted to make him kill her so at least it wasn’t cancer that took her out. Other times, she just wish he’d disappear and leave both her and her family alone.

She would wonder if, had no vampires ever turned up to Mystic falls, if she would have been able to connect with her siblings some more, if Jenna would have given her some hope.

Those thoughts made her mad, but also sad. That’s when she would get snappy. Sometimes she didn’t mean to annoy him but she couldn’t help herself.

But unfortunately it made people dislike her which in some cases was a good thing because it meant people wouldn’t miss her if she did die but it also meant that she was even more alone.

Y/n was too young to deal with something so big, it was no surprise she didn’t know how to manage it. The problem was that nobody else knew how to either and so she was forced to try do it herself.

The medication she had been on since young caused an imbalance of hormones and had stunted her growth in areas. It made her hair thin and caused her to become feeble and delicate to an extent. Of course she tried her hardest to build up her strength but she wasn’t stupid, she knew it was much easier for her to become out of breath, to become exhausted or hurt. It was because of this that people like Damon would dismiss her and why she would be cast aside without any explanation. Not that she needed a reason, she already knew.

In some ways, she liked that Klaus didn’t know that she had cancer. He would be boisterous around her, tease and taunt her like he would anyone else. Because to him, she was like everyone else. She wasn’t a delicate little thing that needed to be avoided and fixed.

Sometimes he could go a little far, once he had her by the throat, cutting off her airways as he threatened her. He didn’t know that after he left she was spluttering blood all over the floor as she coughed and wheezed for air. She struggled for it anyway, she didn’t like someone taking it from her. But she never said anything to him, of course she was a little more cautious but she enjoyed pissing him off when she could.

When she was little, kids were cruel. If she wanted to play, they would give her funny looks and say they didn’t want to play with her. They acted like she was contagious, or an alien. She hated it.

So even if Klaus’s attention was ill intended, at least it was directed at her.

————————————————————————

Klaus originally saw her as another inconvenience. He met her when he was in Alarics body, when he went over to the Gilbert’s house to harass Jenna and frightened the others. Turns out their sister Y/n also hadn’t been clued in on who he really was. She had wondered down the stairs still in her pyjamas, smiling subtly at him and going to the cupboard to grab some biscuits. Once she had sat down and began munching, Stefan was storming in and telling her and Jenna to run. At that point Y/n just looked tired and begrudgingly got dragged out the house by a hysterical Jenna.

The next time was at a hospital after he had taken Elena from senior prank night. She was sat in the waiting room, lead across the seats as though she had been there hours. He came and sat beside her, spoke to her and told her to tell Damon to never threaten him again. She agreed without compulsion and kept her trap shut about anything else.

The following few times he saw her, she was less tired and more firey. That’s when he began to take a strange liking to her. She always had something to snap back at him no matter how dark the last thing he said was.

Somehow she seemed to know exactly how to make him tick. Knew how to tease him enough to make him want her to shut up but not enough to physically make her. Though occasionally she went too far and he would break.

Sometimes he felt a weird sensation of guilt swirling inside him, he never knew what to do about that. He didn’t enjoy that.

When she became tired, she was moody and would say things to purposely make him angry. And klaus’s anger management had never been great. He didn’t always mean to react to quick and harshly but he couldn’t help it. Especially when he didn’t understand why she was so angry sometimes.

He knew that she was very much seen as irrelevant when it came to her siblings and the Salvatore’s etc. He couldn’t understand why exactly, she was not less useful than Elena was as far as he could see. Still he didn’t ask or dig on it, it didn’t matter to him if she was apart of the little gang or not. She seemed to hang around him anyway.

He took an amount of joy in their playful banter and teasing nature when around each other. He also liked to push at her buttons the same way she did his. But he wasn’t as good at knowing how far he could go, often she would end up storming off and he’d be left feeling guilty and there’d frustrate which lead to annoyance and anger.

————————————————————————

Klaus hadn’t once guessed that the reason for her mood swings or her pushed to the side nature was due to cancer.

He hadn’t been expecting to see her name on labels of samples of blood.

He was in the hospital for blood obviously, even though he drank mostly straight from the vein, with all his hybrids and his busy schedule sometimes blood bag was easier.

He happened to come across the samples and spotted a familiar name. His curiosity peeked. Of course he originally guessed that it was just normal things like she had given blood or that she had low iron. But something within him told him to look further.

So he began to compel people to get him her files and information. But turns out he didn’t need to, as soon as he said her name the receptionist was yapping on.

“Oh the poor girl, in and out of here since she was just a toddler” she began, sighing and clicking for Y/n’s name on the computer.

“Really?” He questioned, his brows furrowed.

“Uhuh, next appointment is…oh! Tomorrow” she smiled and Klaus nodded pretending to know

“Right for..”

“Collection and a check up” she smiled and turned around to find something, a bag. She placed the paper back infront of him with contained the prescription pills that would control the cancer to some level. He smiled back at her though it didn’t reach his eyes and picked up the packet, reading what they were and what they did.

His heart dropped a little and he hesitantly handed them back to the receptionist. “Thank you, I’d take them to her but if she has a check up tomorrow anyway then I expect it’s easier if she get them herself” he muttered, his voice quiet as he felt a strange sadness forming somewhere inside him.

“Of course” the woman answered “Will you be with her tomorrow?” She asks with the tilt of her head.

“I might be” he replied, unsure and she nodded slightly back

“I’m sure she’d like it if you did, nobodies been with her for a scan for over a year now” she sighed and his heart ached.

He left shortly after and tried to find her. Eventually he found her, much to his surprise, at his house. She was sat on his sofa with a glass of wine and one of his hybrids, chatting about whatever. Without caring he made his way over and grabbed her by the arm.

“Klaus!” She yelped as he began to pull her away from the hybrid.

“He just wants to drain you love, come on upstairs” he murmured, pushing her up the stairs and grabbing the bottle of wine from the table.

“Well he might just be nice” she muttered

“Perhaps but I don’t like the odds” he replied as he pulled her into his room

“Right, because you care if he kills me” she grumbled and his stomach turned uncomfortably. No longer did the joking of her death amuse him like it once did.

When she noticed his silence and the look he had in his eyes, she knew that he knew. It was stupid look of pity that everyone had and that slightly uncomfortable stance because they don’t know how to act around her anymore.

She sighed and glanced to the floor and then him. “Can you not?” She whispered and he frowned confused

“Not what-“

“Oh don’t do that. I know you know. Its fine. I’ve had it forever you don’t have to be weird” she mumbled as she sat on his bed, laying back and staring up at the ceiling tiredly.

“I don’t know what-“

“Cancer Klaus. It’s not a scary word, it’s not Voldemort” she grumbled

“What-?” He questioned confused

“Doesn’t matter it’s not the point” she whispered and he frowned

“You never said anything about it” he muttered as he sat beside her.

“It’s not really the best conversation topic. Plus we’re not that close” she mumbled

“Well…you’re in my bed so I’ve done something right” he joked lightly and she smiled

“I guess so” she whispered.

Klaus laid down beside Y/n quietly. It was a little odd to be so close to her without either of them having ill intentions. He did feel bad though that he made her uncomfortable but he couldn’t help but act a little off. His mind had been replaying every time he had hurt her, he wondered how much it had endangered her life.

It confused him as to why he had this care for her. He couldn’t have cared less about week ago if she had been killed but knowing that she actually, most likely, would die much sooner than expected made him feel something. To know that she was living in pain and fear of when it would catch up to her.

Klaus was a man who liked control, he couldn’t imagine having something like cancer hanging over his life everyday acting as a threat ever time she breathed.

“So you-“

“I don’t wanna talk about it” she mumbled, cutting him off. He fell into silence and sighed softly.

Y/n stared at the ceiling, wishing it would fall on her in this moment. She hated that he knew. Of course she didn’t exactly hide it from him but she also didn’t want him to know. Not because it was something she was embarrassed of, or because she feared he would used it against her. Simply because it meant there was one more person who would look at her like she was incapable and weak. She didn’t want to be stared at like an animal at a zoo by anyone else.

She’d rather he be cruel to her and tell her how pathetic she was just for being a human. She’d rather he scare her and hurt her like he did everyone else in town than look at her like he was now.

She felt her eyes drain of the life that they usually held when around Klaus. With a lump forming in her throat and a heavy weight of disappointment on top of her, she pushed herself up and got off his bed.

“I’m gonna go home” she muttered, ignoring the way he sat up and looked after her with worry.

“Love-“ he called, standing up to follow her as she made her way down his stairs.

“I don’t want to talk, I want to go home” she huffed.

“Sweetheart-“

“Shut up Klaus” she snapped “stop calling me cute little names and looking at me like I’m a three-legged puppy! You don’t like me, I’m annoying and useless to you” she sighed, her voice becoming desperate and she hated how pathetic she sounded.

“You’re dying” he whispered

“Everyone’s dying” she mumbled “I’m just doing it faster” before leaving his house, closing the door behind her.

Klaus left her alone for a little while, and she avoided him also.

He did however go back to the hospital after she had her most recent scan. He compelled the surgeon to show he what was happening, where it was and what that meant. He wanted to know why she wasn’t getting more help, they told him there was very little chance of her surviving even with chemotherapy. Klaus argued they should still try and they informed him of the treatment trial coming up in two months time. Demands were made, he would pay for everything and they would tell her that she qualified to have it free. He didn’t really care what lie they told her just so long as she accepted it.

And she did, Klaus received a phone call telling him so.

Klaus still had no explanation for his sudden change of heart, why he wanted her to get better so badly. He didn’t know why, he just did.

He felt a little sad that she wouldn’t hang around him anymore. Not many people willingly spoke to him, even if it was just some teasing and playful banter. He missed it.

When she had her first dosage of chemo, he found himself in her hospital room. It upset him that nobody had come with her or shown any care at all.

Klaus quietly wondered through the hospital, it was halfway into the night and quiet as he searched for her room. His expression softened when he saw her curled up in a bed, the machine beside her beeping quietly. A singular rose was placed beside her bed as he pulled a chair over to her and leaned down to kiss her cheek softly. It was an odd gesture coming from the hybrid but he tried not to dwell on it as he sat beside her for a while.

Klaus came back during the night as her treatment continued, he would leave her a rose and often a note. He would never know how much it meant to her.

One night he ran his fingers through her hair, only for a handful of strands to come out with his hand. His eyes had enlarged as he quickly put it in the bin and gently lifted to her head to find a clump of hair on her pillow. He didn’t want her to find it in the morning and be upset and so removed it himself.

He didn’t mean to wake her up. She knew it was him without a doubt when she felt her face against someone’s chest. She could hear his soft muttering and the sound of his hand behind her head. It took her a minute to figure out what he was doing and when the realisation hit her she just stared at his chest exhausted. Y/n could remember when all her hair fell out the first time, when she was little and the other kids would poke fun while the parents would tell her how brave she was while staring at her with that helpless, pitiful face. She didn’t want to see it on Klaus’s face as well so she pretended to stay asleep.

After a moment he laid her back down and pulled the blanket back up. “There we go” he murmured softly as he smoothed it over “it’s all going to be just fine” he whispered, stroking her arm gently. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady until he left, she couldn’t stop the tears rolling after he was gone. She hated feeling sorry for herself all of the time but it seemed she could never catch a break.

It wasn’t long before she was back home, still on chemo but home. Jeremy was living in Denver and Elena basically lived at the Salvatores so Y/n had the house to herself. She didn’t go out much, she never really had. She only did recently to annoy Klaus but she didn’t want to be around him anymore either so she found that staying inside was better.

However Klaus had different ideas and so wound up on her doorstep, nocking incessantly until she answered.

“Finally love, you and me worried” he sighed and she narrowed her eyes

“What do you want?” She snapped, she was wrapped up in a blanket and wore a hat on her head. Klaud wasn’t sure if it was because she was cold or because she had given in and shaved her head.

“It’s lovely to see you too” he smiled sarcasticly and she glared. “I wanted to see how you were doing” he answered.

“I’m doing fine. How are you doing?” She replied stiffly

“Ah you know…family troubles” he mumbled and she hummed

“Elijah?” She question

“All of them” Klaus muttered “three brothers, a sister and a mother. I can only be glad I’ve already killed my father…though that didn’t stop mother”

Y/n let out a breathy laugh and glance down “I’ll grab my shoes and we’ll talk and walk.” She told him before closing the door. Klaus smiled to himself as he waited a second before she came out ready. She was completely wrapped up, hat gloves coat. Still he didn’t ask, just remained happy to be with her.

They spoke about the sudden arrival of his family and the ball. He said he hoped she would come but her silence wasn’t convincing.

“You don’t have to” he told her “I know you don’t like people and you barely like me enough” he smiled and she returned it weakly.

“I don’t really think it’s a good idea” she mumbled and he nodded, of course he was a little disappointed but he wasn’t exactly surprised either.

“Then perhaps you’ll have to give me a dance another time?” He offered and she shrugged playfully with a smile

“I might be able to come for just one dance, but I go home straight after?” She compromised and he grinned

“Perfect” he whispered and cupped her face. The smile soon vanished from his lips as he felt how hot her skin was to touch “you’re burning” he mumbled before unzipping her coat and pulling her hat off. Immediately she made a sound of upset and grabbed for the hat. His eyes softened as she stared at him with a mixture of emotions.

She wanted to die. That was it. She wanted the cancer to take her in that moment. Stupid Klaus. She wasn’t sure why having no hair made her feel so bad, she had a nice shaped head but her past experience with peoples reactions caused her to hate it.

“Put it back” she whimpered but he shook his head. His hands gently pulled her coat off and then her gloves.

“You have a fever, you’re boiling, I’m taking you home” he told her as he leant down and lifted her up. She looked at him like he was crazy, she didn’t understand what kind of bond they had or what feelings they held for eachother. She didn’t why he would like her of all people. Was it pity? She hoped not, she’d be so pissed off it was.

“Fevers are normal” she mumbled “you don’t gotta worry”

“Normal or not, it’s best we get rid of it so that it doesn’t hurt you” he answered as he carried her towards her house. She couldn’t help but smile a little when he said ‘we’. In a way it reminded her of how her parents would care her and tell her that it was something they would all get through.

He felt her relax a little in his hold and glanced down to see her looking up at him with a lost look in her eye as he approached her door.

“I can’t come in but I trust that you’ll know how to cool off? I can take you to my house otherwise” he told her as he placed her down and passed her things back to her as she got inside.

“I’ll be fine, thank you” she told him with a small smile before closing the door.

Later that day she received a package containing a dress, shoes that matched and a silver necklace with her birthstone hanging from it. She smiled a little and put it somewhere safe ready for the next evening.

Then she continued to settle her fever and take a nap. She woke back up, watched a few films, messaged Klaus to let him know she was okay now, and finally took her meds when she ate her dinner before going to sleep.

In the morning she continued her everyday routine and lounging around until it was only a couple hours before the ball that the mikaelsons were throwing. She had argued with herself all day whether she should go. She knew people would talk, seeing the cancer kid with Klaus Mikaelson. Not that it was date. No no. That would be weird…

Eventually she decided she would go, dance the first dance and then go home. She just hoped that the exhaustion wouldn’t hit her too hard while she was out or that she wouldn’t fall sick until she got back home.

Y/n never got to go to events like Elena and Jeremy did when she was little, but her mother would dress her up when she was in the house sometimes to make her feel happy and pretty for a day. That was the only way she knew what she was doing when it came to her face. She had stolen some from Elena’s room as she only had the basics for herself.

She put on everything he had given her and looked in the mirror. Her hands touched her head with a small sigh before she called a cab that took her to the mansion.

She stood outside it for a few minutes, unsure whether she should just turn around and walk in. Klaud didn’t give her that option when he came wondering outside, his eyes looking around for her hopefully. She smiled a little to herself and began to walk towards him, his gaze met hers halfway and he quickly flashed beside her.

“You came” he whispered, pulling her in for an unexpected hug. He pulled back and cleared his throat “sorry” he muttered awkwardly before grabbing her hand and leading her inside. “You look gorgeous by the way, you always look gorgeous but…not that- “

“Thank you” she cut him off with a smile and squeezed his hand in appreciation. “Am I late? I didn’t mean to stand there for so long” she asked quietly, glancing around and seeing the entire town moving around his home.

“It’s okay, the first dance only just started” he told her, leading her further inside.

“I never really learned to dance” she whispered nervously

“That’s alright” he murmured “I’ve got you” he told her and she believed him.

She let him guide her throughout the dance, she kept her eyes on him and tried to ignore any stares. Klaus kept her close and offered a death glare to anyone who even glanced their way. Time flew, they danced for nearly six full songs before he felt her body go momentarily limp to his. Thankfully his arm was around her waist already so he kept her up. She regained her balance in seconds but it was clear that something was wrong.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, alright love?” He murmured to her but she shook her head

“I can’t do the stairs…I’m dizzy” she whispered and he nodded

“I know, I didn’t expect you to walk up them” he told her before gently tugging her away from the people. They walked straight past Elijah and Elena talking, both turned to face them with looked of confusion and surprise as Klaus told her to let him help her. He kept upright so that nobody would know she was being carried as he supported her weight up each step. Once at the top they walked past Finn and Esther, his mother eyed the girl with that same pity as most and shook her head at Finn in a way that told him to leave them alone as Klaus lead her into his room carefully.

He laid her down on his bed, propping her up with pillows and cupping her face gently. Her eyes focused on his as his cool hands soothed her skin.

“You feel okay love?” He asked softly

“Yeah I’m ok” she nodded as her head began to settle. She felt a little nauseous but less faint. “I should go home” she mumbled, pushing herself up but he shook his head and laid her back down.

“Stay here tonight love, I’ll look after you” he told her

“Can’t, gotta have my meds” she muttered and he nodded

“I’ll go get them okay? You stay in here, find a shirt of mine to wear to bed and I’ll go get your pills.” He decided, standing up

“Klaus…you’re not invited in” she whispered and he sighed

“Then I’ll go to the hospital and get some, I know what you need”

“It’s easier if I go home” she argued

“I want you here” he told her seriously and with a sigh she nodded.He nodded in return and stroked her face, and her smooth head gently. “You can wear whatever you like okay?” He smiled and she nodded, watching as he left.

Klaus quickly made his way out the room, rushing down the stairs and out the house. Stopping for only a second to tell Elijah to keep people downstairs.

Once he was back from the hospital with her medication she was wrapped in his duvet, dressed in his shirt and her panties with no makeup left on her face while scrolling through Netflix on his TV. He smiled at the sight and close the door behind him with a click. Her head lifted to see him and he made his way over with the bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Thank you Klaus” she whispered gratefully as she swallowed a pill before handing back the glass which he placed on a coaster on his bedside table.

He grabbed a shirt and some plaid pants before disappearing into his conjoined bathroom. He remerged from the room in a couple minutes ready for sleep. He had a sofa in his room, a mini fridge and everything. Y/n wandered if he ever actually had to leave his room.

Klaus opened a cabinet filled with blankets and pillows and pulled a couple out and setting up a bed on the couch making Y/n frown a little, guilt and confusion swirling.

“You done have to sleep there” she told him “You could sleep here if you want…or I could go on the sofa, I don’t mind” she offered, slipping out of the bed and making her way to the couch but he spun her straight back around and lead her back to bed.

“Under no circumstances will you not be in that bed” he told her, a level of authority in his tone as he put her to bed. “I don’t want to disturb your sleep by stealing half the bed” he teased.

“No it’s okay, I like sharing” she smiled and he raised a brow as he sat down infront of her.

“Oh? Do you share beds often?” He teased with narrowed eyes. Klaus didn’t like the thought of Y/n sleeping with anyone but himself. Even if it was just a nap.

“No” she whispered, her cheeks bushing pink “sometimes when I was sick my mom would sleep with me” she shrugged and he smiled.

“I doubt I’ll be anything like your mother sweetheart” he chuckled and she rolled her eyes

“Oh just come lay down, you know that’s not-“

“I know, I know” he murmured playfully as he laid beside her. She huffed out a breath dramatically and he grinned, pulling her against him. It was strange to be so close to him, teasing and laughing again. She liked it though, and so did he.

Klaus shifted himself under the duvet and pulled it around them. He hadn’t had a girl in his bed for a while, especially the past few months. All he could think of was her so why would he want some other woman? It had been even longer since he had a girl in his bed with no expectations of sex. That hadn’t happened in decades.

Something about it was nice, innocent.

Y/n on the other hand had never shared a bed with a man, never been touched or ever really thought that a guy would want to touch her. She didn’t think Klaus would either, especially not when she looked like she did. She’d lost a lot of weight from the chemo, her stamina was low, she bruised easy and she had no hair which threw most boys off. Boys her own age at least. Not Klaus.

He couldn’t have cared less about something so simplistic. Sure, she had pretty hair at one point but it didn’t define her. He liked her as she was, of course he wanted her to be cancer free and happy but he’d still love her while she wasn’t.

Love. Was it too strong of a word? He wasn’t sure.

Especially not when he was looking at her like he was now. Seeing her so openly vulnerable and curled up against him, sleepy eyes set on the tv and her body hidden under the quilt though he could feel her legs touching his.

It wasn’t long before they were snuggled up and half asleep. She was barely conscious when Elijah’s head popped into the room to check on Niklaus. The brothers had a brief conversation on how the night went, Elijah expressed his caution around their mother Klaus said he couldn’t be bothered with it anymore. Elijah left when Y/n began to stir and Klaus’s focus became her.

He slept with her throughout the night, he woke to find her missing and his heart sank. Thankfully she wondered back in from the bathroom a few minutes later and crawled back to bed with a yawn. Klaus’s lips upturned and he pulled her close again. She looked up at him with a small smile which grew when their eyes met.

“Hi” she whispered and he smiled

“Hi” he uttered back, pulling her as close to his side as he could before she was under him. She glanced to the time, seeing it was still really early. She groaned softly and closed her eyes. Klaus hummed softly and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek bones softly. “You look so pretty” he whispered.

Her cheeks tinted red and she rolled onto her side to hide her face from him but it only resulted in him spooning her. He kissed the back of her head making her go redder and her fingers to hold onto the sheets beneath. Klaus pressed close to her, too close. The second she felt something hard against her backside her body went tense and she panicked. Klaus felt her fear and quickly pulled himself away from her but she was already getting out of bed.

“I have to go, I’m sorry” she whispered, heading for the door but he sped infront of her.

“Love-“

“I gotta go”

“Let me drive you, and at least give you something to wear” he mumbled, disappointed with himself for scaring her. She nodded when she realised she was still in just her underwear and his shirt. He sped into Rebekah’s room which was unsurprisingly empty as she had ended up staying the night in Damon Salvatores bed.

He came back and she pulled the jeans on before he drove her home. It was quiet and he hated that he’d ruined the night. He should have thought about it and known she wouldn’t want that, he hadn’t intended to do anything other than sleep but she was so close and he couldn’t help but want. His desire always won though in this case it made him lose big time.

He apologised quietly when she got out the car and she told him it was okay and that she overreacted. Neither of them were particularly pleased with how they responded.

Y/n thought about how the moment could have played out a hundred times over and kicked herself for not just letting him have her. But she knew she would have regretted it.

They both decided to pretend the incident didn’t happen when they saw eachother next. Klaus had turned up on her doorstep that same night, it was clear he had been crying but she mention it. She wrapped her arms around him as he told her that his family had left again and that his mother wanted him dead. She ended up back in his bed, using his chest as a pillow once more.

In fact she ended up in his house, his bed a lot. Especially as her chemo treatment continued, when she wasn’t in hospital he managed to coax her to his house.

“I enjoy our sleepovers” he teased making her bite back a smile and glare playfully.

“Technically you don’t even need sleep” she reminded and he rolled his eyes.

“Well I like sleeping with you” he murmured with a wink and she laughed.

For a little while, things seemed to be getting better. She felt happier and somewhat healthier. She was more confident in herself when Klaus was around, he helped her see her beauty and her worth. For a moment she truly believed that everything would be better.

But things could never just be so simple.

At the end of her chemotherapeutic treatment, she went into the hospital as expected. Klaus didn’t go with her this time, Y/n had told him that the appointment wasn’t for another week because she wanted good news as a surprise.

How she wished it was good news.

She knew as soon as she saw the nurses face. When she told her that the treatment hadn’t worked the way they hoped, she just nodded and asked how much she owed. They shook their heads and reminded her that it was ‘free’ and she went home.

All this had done was just confirm that she wouldn’t live even half of what everyone else would. A quarter if she was lucky.

Vampire blood couldn’t save her, magic couldn’t save her. She just had to accept it and live with it for however long.

That wasn’t even the hard part for her, the hard part was telling Klaus.

After her appointment she went back to his home. He wasn’t in but she went up to his room anyway, besides it was basically her soon now too.

She stared at the bed, god she loved that bed. It was like a cloud and when she had Klaus holding her tight aswell? She only hoped heaven would be similar.

She tapped her fingers against her arm as she thought. With a sigh she went and had a shower, got back out and stared at herself in the full length mirror that Klaus had in his bathroom for whatever reason. She smiled and laughed through her nose at the thought.

Y/n had a lot of clothes at Klaus’s now, she pulled on one of the only actual sets of underwear she owned and sat down on the bed. She adjusted the straps on her bra for a few minutes and fiddled with her panties so they sat how she wanted them to.

Klaus was home shortly after and made his way upstairs to his room. His breath got caught in his throat the second he saw her.

They teased eachother and made little jokes about sex, they both entertained the idea in their heads but he never actually thought she would be the one to make the move.

He didn’t know what the final push was that made her give in but he wouldn’t push it away.

Within seconds he was on that bed, gently pushing her down onto her back and hovering over her. His lips met hers in a deep passion that heated them both. Her legs were nudged apart so he could lay between them. She kissed him back with as much love as should had in an effort to make him understand how much he meant to her.

His hands stroked up her sides gently, holding her waist perfectly. His mouth pressed to hers repeatedly before moving down to her neck. Y/n’s eyes kept shut as she felt the soft tingle of every touch, her hands slid down and unbuckled his belt. She pulled it through the loops with a tug and pushed it aside.

Klaus pulled back and looked down at her hands, he gently took them in his hands and lifted them to his lips, kissing the backs of them. “We don’t need to rush, we have all the time in the world” he whispered, the words made her eyes prick with tears but she held them back.

“I know…I just need you now” she told him quietly making him smile. He leant back down and kissed from her collarbone down. Y/n watched as goosebumps lined her skin and his hands slid her panties down her legs slowly so that she had the option to stop him.

He pressed soft kisses to her knees and then up along her thighs. His hands caressed her legs gently as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to her pussy. Y/n’s body jerked away from his mouth at the unfamiliar feeling and he smiled.

“It’s alright love, I’ve got you” he told her before running his tongue through her folds and up to her clit. Her legs went over his shoulder as her hands went to his hair, feeling the soft curls as her body filled with heat. Klaus rest his head against one of her thighs so he could look up at her as his tongue flicked gently at her little button. Her brows pulled together and a soft sound escaped her as she felt his teasing.

“Klaus” she whispered softly, a slightly tremble in her voice as his fingers made their way up and gently traced her pussy lips. He hummed quietly in response, letting the gentle vibrations tickle her nerves pleasantly. The words ‘I love you’ were on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t utter them, not yet. She worried that he would want to know why she chose now to tell him, why now to give herself to him. And if he did find out why, everything would be ruined.

A shaky breath left her and she put her focus back on him. She pulled at his soft hair gently, telling him to give her more and he eagerly obliged. He slipped a finger into her halfway, moving it slowly to help ease the foreign feeling upon her. His tongue still licked at her clit, though now with a little more pressure.

Her back arched a little and a breathy moan left her lips making him push his finger in so it was knuckle deep before pulling it out with a slight curve. He watched her tighten around nothing as her hips rolled a little to try get his touch back inside her.

“Do you like how it feels love?” He murmured with a kiss to her clit. She nodded and pulled at his curls gently.

“I do” she whispered “I love it” she confirmed and he smirked a little.

“I love it too” he smiled and sucked her clit into his mouth making her squirm and moan his name. She inhaled deeply and leant her head back against the pillows and two fingers began to stretch her open as they pushed in as far as they could’ve.

She took soft but long breaths as her body filled with heat and her hips ground her pussy against his fingers as they curled into her and found her spot. Her back curved off the bed and he smiled to himself, happy to bring her pleasure.

His fingers met the thrusts of her hips and his tongue lay flat against her clit, letting her rub against it as quick as she needed. A soft cry left her and her pussy squeezed his fingers tightly, her thighs squished his head making him chuckle and suck on her softly. He pulled away before she could come undone and pulled her down the bed so her legs were at his hips instead.

He leant down to kiss her lips making her wrinkle her nose and dodge him.

“Sweetheart, you can’t deny my kisses now” he murmured as she wriggled.

“You can’t kiss me after that” she whined and he laughed

“You taste lovely” he teased

“I’m good not knowing” she laughed and he narrowed his eyes before attacking her with kisses all over her face making her squeal and push at his chest playfully. Eventually he caught her lips and had her succumb to the kiss. A soft moan escaped her and he smiled.

“Can I keep going love?” He asked softly as he used one of his hands to undo his jeans. She nodded kissed his jaw softly, her eyes fluttering as she felt his bare legs against hers. Her body tensed for a moment as his cock rest against her thigh and her hand gripped his shoulder. “I’ll be slow” he whispered, “don’t worry Y/n”.

She nodded again and tightened her legs round his waist. Klaus cupped the back of her head with one hand while the other guided his tip into her weeping hole. She whimpered at the stretch and he kissed her cheek, holding her close.

She nuzzled close and clung to him as he pushed another two inches into her and gently rocked in and out of her, getting another inch into her with each thrust until eventually she took all of him. He stayed they for a while, stroking away the little tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes and kissing her lips softly.

“It’s okay love” he told her gently, “you know I’ve got you”

She nodded weakly and kept her face in the crook of his neck as he began to move again. Soft little moans slipped past her lips and vibrated against his throat as he thrust into her slowly. His hips moved perfectly to stroke all the right places inside her.

Y/n’s hands held onto him tightly, so did her pussy.

Klaus kissed her skin gently as he rocked into her, his hand slid down between their bodies and he began to stroke her swollen clit. She let out a little cry and he grunted as his cock was squeezed.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart” he murmured as he began to speed up. His eyes closed as he focused on pleasing her body, he could hear the repeated sound of his skin meeting hers along with the whimpers that tumbled past her mouth. He could feel her body growing tired and knew she wouldn’t be able to go on much more. He stroked her skin soothingly while his other hand rubbed quick circles on her pretty clit.

Her body tensed and she cried his name as her body let go around his. Klaus hugged her close as he thrust into her slowly, his hips came to a stop and she panted softly for air. He kissed her lips softly and pulled out. His hand stroked his cock quickly and he squeezed it tightly until he came onto her stomach. She moaned softly and tugged at him for a kiss.

His lips pressed to hers lovingly and rolled onto his back, pulling her ontop of him. Y/n smiled down at him and caressed his chest gently.

“I love you” she whispered and his heart warmed even more

“I love you too” he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist and sitting up. He stood up with her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and brought them both under the warm water.

“I can stand” she mumbled and he hummed but didn’t put her down. Instead he kept ahold of her as he helped clean them both off. She leant against him, her head in his neck as he wrapped a towel big enough to be a double duvet. He kissed her head and dried them off before setting her back on his bed. He pulled one of his shirts over her head and pulled some panties up her legs. “Thank you” Y/n whispered with a smile.

“Of course” he smiled back and laid beside her in his sleep pants. Klaus held her to him, his lips pulled up in contentment and he closed his eyes. He held her close they slept and woke up early to prepare breakfast.

Klaus wanted this relationship to be right. He wanted to treat her like he knew he could and show that he meant his love for her. So he went downstairs and cooked up some pancakes and bacon for his girl. He plated it up and poured them both drinks, he set the table for them and made his way back upstairs.

His movements faltered for a moment as he heard the sound of gagging. Hurriedly he made his way to the bathroom to see her heaving over the toilet. Quickly he kneeled beside her and caressed her back, her hand reached for tissue as she wiped her mouth, dumping the tissue ontop of her sock and flushing the toilet. He helped her up and wrapped his arms around her waits from behind as she brushed her teeth. She apologised quietly but he shook his head and kissed her cheek.

“I got you something love” he told Y/n softly before leading her downstairs. She looked up at him with a soft look in her eyes as he pulled out her seat at the table. She sat down and smiled as he pushed her in and sat opposite her with his food also.

“You know you didn’t have to?” She whispered softly and Klaus hummed

“Of course I did” he answered “I’ll always look after you”

Y/n’s smile wavered a little but she pulled back together. They ate their food and she helped him clean up. After they got dressed and he started to talk. When Klaus starts talking he doesn’t tend to stop until he absolutely has to.

Usually Y/n didn’t mind his rants and rambles but this time it was about them. He started going on about all the things they could do together and how once her cancer was gone then they would go wherever she wanted and he went on and on. After a while however, Y/n just couldn’t help it.

Her eyes had been watering for a full twenty minutes and as soon as the first tear fell, well it was like a waterfall. Klaus’s face dropped within seconds and his heart sunk. Panic flooded him and he quickly pulled her into his lap. He tried to calm her but had no idea what was wrong to begin with. Well not at first.

She tried to leave, push him away like she knew she should have at the start. He wouldn’t let her though. Not now. He had to block the exit, ended up yelling for her to tell him what was wrong. Instead of an actual answer she told him that she didn’t want to be with him, she began to say hurtful things. She needed him to not love her. Not if there was no hope of living. She didn’t want to leave him missing her, she would rather he hated her and was glad she was gone. Or at least that’s how she thought in that moment.

Klaus was never good when it came to emotions. He didn’t understand the sudden change of heart, the hatred that suddenly blossomed. But he knew something was wrong, she didn’t look angry or disgusted by him like she tried to claim she was. She just looked scared and borderline devastated.

He stared at her for a while and she didn’t dare say anything else. Klaud didn’t want to believe it to begin with. But it was the only thing that made sense. With slight hesitation he stepped to her, he overpowered her shoving hands and forced her into a hug. It only took a moment for her to collapse into it, cries shaking through her without a break.

“I’m gonna take you everywhere” he mumbled softly, kissing her smooth head continuously. She made a sound of distress and she shushed her gently “anywhere you want sweetheart. It doesn’t matter how long we have, I will not have you live it alone and in self-pity” he argued and she shook.

He picked her up and sat down with her on the sofa, he grabbed a world map and brought it over to her. “Come on love, you choose somewhere and I’ll get us in a plane, have you ever flown?” He asked, swallowing any tears or sadness down. Right now he just needed to keep her with him. He would go anywhere, do anything to ensure that she was happy for however long she had to live.

“We can’t just-“

“Yes we can. We will. We don’t even have to pack, I’ll buy you everything new from wherever we go. Just pick a continent, we’ll do a country from each and see how you’re feeling before we go again” he whispered, desperation seeping into his tone.

“You’re making it worse for yourself” she uttered, wiping her tears.

“It’ll be a hundred times worse if I’m not with you” he argued, a tear dropping from his lashes.

They both went quiet and let the situation fully dawn on them for a little while. Finally Y/n glanced to the map. “I’ve always heard Europe was pretty” she mused quietly and Klaus wiped his eyes, pulling a smile onto his face as he pulled her close and kissed the side of her head.

“It’s beautiful. I’ll call for a private jet and we shall leave in a few hours. Would you like to tell your family that you’ll be away?” He asked but she shook her head no. “Then please, just trust me my love?”

“I do…and I’m sorry for-“

“Don’t be. Just know that I love you and that I will always have you no matter what” he told her, a kiss to her lips to seal the promise.

“I love you” she uttered, they repeated it back to one another as she made her way into his lap and rest her face in his neck.

Everything else was forgotten.

The doppelgänger, hybrids, Salvatore’s, Mikaelsons. They would all have to wait.

Hi could you write some angst about a deeply insecure reader who hates her appearance and is sort of friends with Elena and everyone(pushed to the side kind of relationship)but when klaus comes around it’s clear that she has a crush but believes he’s out of her league then klaus uses it to his advantage by showing an interest in her for information and helps her with her self worth.klaus then starts to develop feelings for her but then it’s revealed that he was just manipulating her and reader is devastated and utterly humiliated and it sets her back to how she was before him.(sorry if that was a really long explanation,you can decide the ending)thanks I love your writing btw

Real

Growing up in Mystic Falls is a bizarre experience.

There were town events almost every month where you had to dress up and act better than everyone, parents basically had a competition over who had the prettiest daughters or the most handsome sons.

Not my parents.

They didn't think I was good enough to even pretend that I could compete. I was told my worth from a young age and became more aware of it with time. When your own parents don't think you're good enough it's sort of an eye-opener if you will.

It didn't help that everyone in this town seemed to be born into modelling.

Somehow I was lucky enough to wind up 'friends' with people like Elena, Caroline and Bonnie but I knew I didn't belong with them. Somehow they were gorgeous enough to get whatever they wanted.

Sometimes I wondered if everyone else at the age of 17 looked like them and I was behind or if somewhere, I was above average. I doubted it. A lot.

Occasionally I would look at a mirror and think that I wasn't even that bad to look at. There was nothing particularly ugly about me, there just wasn't anything special. I looked plain in a way, bland and forgettable.

I was very forgettable actually. My 'friends' made that abundantly clear throughout the years when they would go out without me or forget to ask if I also wanted something or liked something.

Somehow I was of no value to them. Perhaps I was simply there to amplify their beauty. Like a DUFF. I was definitely the DUFF.

Damon actually told me that I was once, after Tyler had made the joke and Damon asked what it meant. Even though I already knew it to be true, to be told it was much worse.

You could sort of tell everyone else was thinking it, especially when I was stood beside Caroline.

Stefan was the only one who was nice but I wasn't sure if it was out of pity or just because that was who he was. Then again, I'd rather just not know.

So I tried my best to keep in the background, avoid attention and stay out the way.

Even with all the vampire and werewolf drama that took course, I kept myself quiet and to the side. Strangely it was Katherine who was kind to me, whether she had an ulterior motif I'm not so sure anymore but she never hurt me in the time she was there. Neither did Elijah when he came to town, he was polite to everyone but it was obvious that my presence was irrelevant to him.

And then of course, Klaus arrived.

I didn't officially meet him until the senior prank night, he sort of just threw to the side and told me to keep my mouth closed and not to bother running because he'd just kill me. Part of me thought about running anyway so he would just end it but I didn't.

Klaus dragged me by my wrist into his car, told me to keep quiet while he drove Elena to the hospital. For whatever reason he brought me along and left me in the car as he went to drain her of blood for his hybrids. I did as told: sat silently and waited.

He came back out and spoke to Damon for a moment, I saw them glance over in my direction only for Damon to laugh and smirk. I sighed to myself and got out the car. It was clear that Klaus thought I could be a good pawn but was surly mistaken and Damon told him to do whatever he wanted to me. In response I walked home, neither noticed so it was fine.

A week or so later he came back, crashed homecoming or something? I dunno, I wasn't there but I was told about it the next day via a stroppy Caroline.

It was that same day that he came and sat beside me at the grill. I ignored him for the most part, confused by his attempt at what I could only guess was flirting? I wasn't really sure. I think he could tell.

"Not easily impressed are you love?" he questioned as he leant forward, uncomfortably close. I sort of just looked at him, still unsure to what he wanted. A smirk pulled at the end of his lips and his hand lifted, his fingers wrapping around a piece of my hair making frown and pull away abruptly. Without hesitation I stood up and spun on my heel, going to leave. His laugh followed me and a hand grabbed my waits, it was stange.

"Calm down love, It's not like I was going to rip it out, I just wondered what it felt like" he chuckled, pulling my back flush against his front making me tense and squirm.

"It feels like hair" I stated simply "Now get off" I grunted, shoving my elbow into his side to make him let go. I kept walking, keeping my eyes on the ground.

The next time I saw him he apologised for the previous encounter which again, i didn't understand but there was no point in questioning and arguing so I just accepted it and tried to leave but he asked if I'd stay for one drink, he asked so nicely and he smiled. I was stupid enough to think it was genuine and accepted.

Looking back it was pretty obvious that this was a game for him or a trap, whatever you want to label it but in the moment I ignored what was right in my face. Deep down I knew it was all a joke of sorts really.

But no boy, let alone a man had shown me this sort of attention and the soft fluttering it made me feel had me staying for far too long. I listened to his little stories and asked a range of questions as the drinks kept coming. He asked a couple about me but i gave relatively vague answers. There wasn't much I had to give him on me, I wasn't up for a pity party about friends and I didn't really fancy talking about my shitty parents either. I think Klaus picked up on the fact that I didn't really want to talk about me and eventually gave up with it.

It was late when I realised I needed to get home and he offered to take me which I admit made me wary. I didn't want him to kidnap me and think I'd be any good as leverage again, though I guess Damon made that pretty clear already. I decided to just walk home which he eventually accepted and got into his car.

Walking by myself probably wasn't my best option after drinking so much in one go but I made it home with minimal stumbling. My mother shook her head when she saw me and asked what was wrong with me. When she realised I had been drinking her mind jumped to two very different conclusions. The first being that I was being a slut which was ironic as in the past she'd made it clear that no guy would want to sleep with me, and the second being that I had taken pills to kill myself.

Listening to her drastic thinking made me wonder what kind of pills she was on but I didn't question it and waited for my father to come and take her to bed, telling her to just ignore me. Then I proceeded to make my way to the bathroom, getting changed and washing my face before going to my bed.

My phone dinged making me sigh, thinking it was Elena asking me to help her with something dumb and life threatening however much to my surprise it was Klaus. A smile involuntarily spread across my face and we messaged back and forth before he told me to rest.

The following few days he would just check in. Not too much but he also made it clear that he hadn't forgotten me which was all I had ever truly wanted from someone. To be acknowledged at the very least.

Of course I didn't tell the others that he had been talking to me, besides they didn't ask so I didn't see why I should. I guess I just wanted something for myself.

I wasn't completely stupid. I always had the feeling that he was using me, especially towards the start...but he was just so wonderful with his words and his ways.

When he began to make and buy sweet gifts and claim they were tokens of his affection, I couldn't help the blush on my face. When he would find a way to have his skin against mine, or how he would pick up my hand and gently tug my along. Somehow we always seemed to end up somewhere for food, and he would always refuse to let me pay.

Something about him was so enticing, addictive if you will.

He began to make me feel a certain way. He made me warm and happy. His touch was so soft, it made me feel like I was buzzing. i was stupid for thinking he could feel the same way about me.

I had been so scared to admit my feelings.

He had assured me that he would never push me to.

He told me that he liked me, that he didn't want me to be frightened of him or nervous around him. "Not unless it's the sort of nervous that puts butterflies in your stomach sweetheart" he had teased and my cheeks had glowed red.

Over the space of months his presence never lessoned. He always made time to see me, and speak with me. I found myself longing for his voice, his touch.

On days where he was too busy at home, he would urge me to come over. I would spend as long as I possibly could with him, a few times I even stayed over but he had slept on top of the duvet so that I would feel comfortable.

This had gone on for a small while until he actually said the words 'I love you'.

Perhaps I was just so happy to actually hear those words. Maybe I believed them to be true, real. Or I just saw what I wanted to see, heard what I wanted to hear and ignored the rest.

The time I gave myself to him used to make my smile and blush. Now it just makes me feel dirty, humiliated and embarrassed.

Knowing that he could and has had his hands all over my body, his lips and eyes. In the moment I felt like a goddess, probably because that’s what he told me I was. The memory of him inside me haunts me. I had thought it to be such a beautiful experience, romantic and personal.

I wish I could say that I had slept with him only once but as the months went by we would share intimacy often.

I had even told him that I loved him, so many times and I meant it for all of them.

So you should understand why it was so hard to accidentally hear him tell his sister that he had been compelling me for any information on the others.

It had felt as though my heart had stopped when the words hit my ears and tears already made my eyes burn. I heard a weak laugh and turned my head to see Damon, strung up by chains whilst bleeding all over, looking straight back at me.

“Y/n…” I heard Klaus’s voice, his tone one of panic or maybe it was just surprise. He probably didn’t want me to know of his routine. Damon only rolled his eyes and gave me look,

“You didn’t…think it was real, right?” He coughed, a cruel smile on his face.

His words just made me quieter. They made me think. Why did I think it was real?

My eyes slowly lifted to meet Klaus’s. I could see and feel Rebekah looking at me, everyone was silent. Even Damon shut up for a second. I think maybe he was expecting me to say something but I didn’t really have anything to tell him.

As awful as it all made me feel, and even with the amount of emotions swallowing me, I felt more disappointed in myself than I did him.

My right hand went to my left arm, pinching my skin through my jumper in some sort of hope that I’d wake up from some stupid nightmare but it didn’t work.

The first tear fell from my eye and I sniffed to keep the other ones from coming.

Klaus just looked at me, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, I didn’t want to know either. I could just guess anyway.

So without a word I just turned around and left, walking quickly back out the door before breaking into a sprint in the direction of my house. I could feel the mascara running down my face, ruining the foundation I had only recently started wearing, for Klaus’s benefit.

My hands wiped at the tears as I pushed my from door shut behind me and went upstairs, blocking out the annoyed voices of my parents and locking myself in my room.

It was only once I was in the shower that I was flooded with memories. That I remembered all the things I had done with him. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom my skin was scrubbed raw in an attempt to wash his touch away. Even the slightest touch made me feel as though my body was burning, stinging with pain but I would have rather felt that every day than have to realise Klaus had been using me for over a year now.

I was curled in my bed, hidden under the blankets and surrounded by the dark as I let every comment not matter how small or petty play back through my mind.

I wasn’t even sure who to be upset with. I chose myself.

Klaus must’ve known I was an easy target. Desperate. I wonder how much he’s had me tell him. To be fair I knew more than you’d expect about what was going on. I had gotten good at observing and overhearing so I still knew what was going on, even when spending so much time with Klaus himself.

I also wondered what else he had compelled me to do. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything other than ask questions but I couldn’t help that fear creep inside me. It made me sick to my stomach, and then I wondered if he would just wait to compel me again so that I could continue to be his information feeder.

The idea made my fingers dig into my arm, bruising the skin purple but I wouldn’t stop. I only did so that I could go get some vervain that I kept downstairs in one of the cupboards at the back. I was reaching for the little glass bottle when I heard a door close. I spun around quickly to see Klaus in the doorway of my kitchen. My hand clutched onto the vervain tightly and I noticed his eyes glance at it briefly. His hands went up as if to show no harm but there was no way I would believe that meant a thing.

“Sweetheart- listen to me..” he began and I let out a breathless laugh

“Get out” I whispered making him sigh and frown as though he had the audacity to be upset or annoyed.

“Y/n..”

“No Klaus. I’m fucking serious, get out.” I told him, my eyes watering again. I let out an involuntary whimper when he stepped forward making him stop and stand still.

“I never meant for you to know that” he whispered and I frowned, swiping a tear away.

“Sorry I ruined your plan” I mumble, exhausted.

“No- no I didn’t mean it like that- I meant that-“

“Klaus it’s fine” I murmur, avoiding his eye, “It’s fine, I get it. You needed to know what was happening, you got to be two steps ahead. I’d appreciate if you just found someone else now please”

I could feel his stare on me, it make my skin itch and I just needed him to go. I could feel my hand getting clammy as I held onto the bottle.

“I haven’t compelled you in such a long time” he muttered, as though maybe that made it better. “I used to, but I truly have fallen for you Y/n. I love-“

“Please get out” I cut him off, my spare hand resting on my forehead to cover my eyes.

“I love you”

“No you don’t” I cry, “you wouldn’t do this to someone you love. I know you don’t love me. You never have and you never could. You’re just pretending again so I’ll let you control me, I don’t like it” I whimper, tears streaming again. I could hear him getting closer but I was already against the counter and I couldn’t out run him. There was no point in trying.

“Sweetheart, I’ll never use you again-“ he tried to argue but I couldn’t listen to it.

“I really, really need you to leave. Please Klaus just get out, I can’t stand you” I tell him honestly and for a second as I look up at him, he looks almost sad but I have to assume it’s still apart of his act.

“You- you’re not going to do anything…anything harmful are you? To yourself, I mean.” He asked and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. I should never have told him that I’d had those thoughts or feelings once. I shouldn’t have ever said a word to him.

“No…now go away” I whisper, my hands trembling as I stared at the ground, listening to his footsteps eventually get further away.

I knew there was no way I could sleep, he was probably still outside my house. Waiting.

I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for but I could him there.

I had no idea what I was going to do.

Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou

Steven : “I can’t believe that Spiderman is a kid ! A kid ! He shouldn’t fight ! I mean, yes he’s clever, and brave, and strong, with super powers, but still !" 

Marc : "You really love him." 

Steven : "He’s a baby ! Like a little br… Like a…" 

Marc : "You can say little brother." 

Jake : "Great, otro hermano que proteger.”

Marc : “Daredevil is protecting him. I’m more surprised by the fact that the Devil is blind. Fucking blind !" 

Jake : "Don’t be ableist." 

Marc : "I’m not ! It’s just very surprising, Murdock is impressive." 

Steven : "Do you think Deadpool is like us ? He’s talking alone sometimes." 

Jake : "Nah. He’s schizophrenic. No es lo mismo." 

Marc : "How do you know ?”

Jake : “He told me. He’s telling me everything, because according to him we’re almas gemelas. Love at first sight." 

Steven : "Don’t hurt the poor man." 

Jake : "I won’t. He’s nice. Con un buen trasero.”

Marc : “Oh please no.”

When We Were Young

Part 6

Ex bf Eddie Munson x reader

Other parts 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Intro: 5 years have past since you packed up and left behind Hawkins. Well not all of it, as the people you met there are still a huge part of your life. But it's been 5 years since you had set foot in the small town, 5 years since you left him. And now after all that time you were back.

Warning: angst, language, mentions of suicide, miscarriages, self harm, mental health. Arguments. Mentions of break ups. Female identity reader. Use of y/n.

Bold parts are flashbacks

Word count: 3k

A/N: sorry this took so long this was a bad month for me. It can be hard to write something so raw when you aren't in the best place. It may have taken me a while but I hope you enjoy it. Not gonna lie I cried writing this.

Not prove read

Friday rolled around quicker than you expected, part of you hated that it was already here. Part of you was excited about it. Of course, you could have chosen not to go out with your colleagues who cared for nothing you had to say and ignored your existence, but it felt like your heart had already decided to go back to that bar before your brain had time to think. You sat there watching bartender after bartender come and go. The same spot you were in last week, just as cramped, just as loud, with the same smell of alcohol, sweat, cologne, and perfume in the air. Everything was the same, well it would be when he finally showed up.

To be fair the last time you were here he didn't appear straight away, it's like he was only truly there when you needed it when you felt lost and alone. Not that you needed him of course. You hadn't in a while, but something in you craved time with him. It was a weird feeling, and it felt strange to say aloud which is why it was best the thought was kept in your head. Seeing him was almost like a relief but also it was a pain you had avoided but needed.

The feeling of wanting to see him felt like when you want to ride the biggest rollercoaster at the fair, you look up and your body shudders at the height. It makes no sense to want to go on something so crazy, but we do, we sit in that seat, let the bar come down over our laps, and sometimes we chicken out, for years you have been too afraid to see Hawkins, to see him. But you didn't want to run anymore, you wanted to ride that rollercoaster, even if it was only downhill. At least it would finally be an end to things. Unfortunately, that rollercoaster had broken down before you even had a chance to ride it tonight, as Eddie was a no-show. You wished part of you wasn't disappointed at that.

The next week, unfortunately, rolled around a lot slower this time, it was filled with lunchtimes with Steve, detentions and trying to make your lower sets understand that you wanted to help them succeed, you wouldn’t give up on them so many of Hawkins had. One particular student Louis, reminded you a lot of Eddie, with hair slightly different, blonder, and less into nerdy stuff. But they both carried themselves the same, loved the same music, hated authority, but cared deeply, no matter how much they tried to put on a front that they didn’t. Very stubborn like Eddie, which is why it felt good when on Friday he didn’t grumble at your lesson plan, he actually smiled. For most, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to you, it showed that maybe there would be hope to be able to help him. You hoped this would be a sign that good things were to come.

So you went to the bar the same as the week before, despite him not being there again. You didn’t feel as sad as you did last time, but it would have been nice to share the news with him. News? What news? That a student like him was warming up to you? That it reminded you of when you used to help Eddie study? It made no sense to want to talk to him about anything. What is it about this town that was making you lose all your senses?

The next couple of weeks were the same. Every Friday is the same. Maybe two passing ships were all you were meant to be. It made more sense to not want to be around someone who hurt you so much, but something always drew you to him. You think of him in your quietest moments or when you hear a song that reminds you of him, or when you pass somewhere in town you went together. You may have not seen him in person for a few weeks, but mentally you had seen him every day. It’s like your brain was torturing you, it felt like it was manipulating you to believe he was still the person who cared for you.

You had been tossing and turning all night, trying to think of scenarios other than Eddie to dream about. Trying to force yourself to think of anything else, but that’s the thing whenever you try to do that, it always has the opposite effect. You stare upwards, counting the bubbles on your popcorn ceiling, after doing this for a while you started to think of the moles on Eddie’s body.

Eddie had his shirt off, face smooshed into the pillow snoring. You were always fascinated with his moles, especially on his back. You loved that people called them beauty marks, and looking at Eddie you could understand why. You always wondered if you connected them would they make a shape or a picture? Curiosity getting the better of you you got a pen from your boyfriend’s desk and started to play dot-to-dot with his moles.

When you got to one closer to his ribcage he flinched, you should have known better than to avoid his ticklish spot. “I’m not paper” he grumbled into the pillow, pretending to be mad. “Sorry I got confused with all doodles on you” you tease. He suddenly gets up flipping you so you are lying and he is pinning you down. You hold the pen up to him, pretending it was a weapon, “as you said angel I’m not afraid of doodles”. He lowers down to ki-

No! Absolutely not! Enough of that! You got out of your bed, got changed and headed out. You looked at the dashboard on your car, five am, where could you go that would be open? The bar? No, it would probably be closed and even if it was open he would be there. The Harrington’s? No, you were supposed to be there later, turning up at this time would only worry everyone and wake the whole house up. Lovers lake? No chance, do you want to go somewhere romantic the thought makes you sick. Benny’s? Despite Benny being dead the name stayed the same, it’s open 24hrs and at this time no one you knew would be in. Plus you would love some pancakes and coffee right about now. Caffeine might help your brain from drifting.

So here’s where you found yourself at the third booth, by the window, coffee in hand wanting for your pancakes. Your mind wanders while you stir the coffee.

“Eddie I’m not in the mood for Benny’s” you sigh, this week had been kicking your butt. All you wanted to do was lie in bed and sleep until it was all better. Eddie wouldn’t let you do that, he let you wallow for the day until he dragged you out of your house to your booth in Benny’s. You couldn’t understand how Eddie thought this would make you feel better, but that’s the thing. Eddie sometimes knew you better than you knew yourself. Maybe you didn’t want to leave your bed, but you needed to. You needed something good, even if it was simple like your favourite pancakes with strawberries and syrup to start to pull you out of your rut. As the food enters your mouth it feels like the first time you have smiled in days. His hand is resting on the table so you reach out to hold it and squeeze it. Maybe you weren’t completely okay at that moment, but you needed him to know you appreciated him.

It was stupid to think going to Benny’s would help anything. Nothing helped, it didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. Thoughts of Eddie were clouding your judgement. God, now you are even seeing things. You see a man at the booth next to yours, with his back to you, he has the same hair as Eddie. You were sure it was your mind playing another cruel trick on you. That was until he spoke to the waitress as she placed down his pancake and bacon with syrup. “Thanks, Dawn”. What were you doing? Before you had time to think your body had taken you over to his booth. You sat down. Your body was so quick with this decision that you hadn’t had time to think about what you would say. “You’re here early” god not that. You hated how being around him you had lost all your senses. He had already taken enough from you, now he had your sense.

He looked unsure as he looked at you. You couldn’t help but notice the large dark bags under his eyes, had he been struggling to sleep too? Why did you care? You always needed to have the upper hand with him, you couldn’t let him hurt you again. You couldn’t show weakness like him knowing you cared about him. He would only laugh in your face or even worse if he cared too. “Have you been out of town?” He shook his head. Still saying nothing. You had left him speechless, he had tried so hard to avoid you. He had thought going to Benny’s at five o’clock in the morning would be safe but he was wrong. He should have known you two was like magnets bound to be forced together eventually. “Are you ill?” He shook his head again. “So you’re just avoiding me then?”

He wanted to deny this, he hated the thought of upsetting you. He still doesn’t know the full story but he knows enough to know that he had some part in- god he didn’t even want to think about it. He thought it was mercy, him staying away. How could explain this to you without revealing what he knew? “I thought that was what you wanted”. You let out a small chuckle even though it’s not funny. “You haven’t cared about what I wanted in a long time,” You say it like it’s a joke but bitterness lies in your tone. You expect him to say something back, or do something but he just looks at you.

There’s a glint of something in his eye, if you didn’t know him so well you wouldn’t have caught it. It wasn’t love, or hate, it was sympathy. You felt bile in your throat. It all made sense why he was avoiding you, why he wasn’t a dick the last time you met. All this time you thought you had the power but as always he had all the cards and he was choosing which ones to reveal to you.

“Who told you?” Nothing. “Is that why you were nice to me last time?” He gives you nothing again. For so many years you had thought of Eddie as a monster who didn’t care about you and made you lose your baby. Then you felt like you were the monster and maybe it was better if he was away from you. You would go back and forth in the cycle for years. You healed and tried to forgive but had not forgotten he took away your chance of being a mother, young or not. Now you felt like you could never even think that thought again as you felt too guilty for the child you lost. That was the thing, Eddie never knew about your baby and you wanted to keep it that way. Maybe it was selfishness that you wanted to go through the loss alone. Or maybe it was the fact you didn’t want him to suffer the way you did after the loss.

How long has he known? Has he been hurting over it or didn’t he care? Was he only pretending to care so people would think he was nice? The thoughts in your head were getting too much and your heart was beating too fast. “Fuck this!” You slam $20 on the table and storm out. What did I do wrong now? Eddie thinks, he fumbles around in his pockets and finds $15 in change and places it on the table. He looks out the window to make sure you are still there. He sees you by your car blindly searching in your bag, you were always terrible at losing things. Some things never change. He picks up his coffee and downing it, it brings a slight burn to his throat but maybe he deserves that he thinks. He's about to leave when he sees your keys on your table, he picks them up. The universe was forcing him to talk to you and maybe that was for the best. He's not sure what to say but him not saying anything made you more annoyed so perhaps talking to you would be best, so he runs to face you.

“It doesn't matter who told me, I'm sorry okay” you don't look up from your bag. You don't want to cry or even worst look at him and forgive him. You needed your keys so you could get out of here as soon as possible. You were tempted to walk but you didn't fancy the 40-minute trek from the diner. “I don't want your apologies or pity”. Eddie sighs “what do you want then?” you shrug. He wanted to shake your shoulder, Lift your chin make you talk to him but what right did he have any more? “Please y/n I'm trying here, I get I'm the bad guy in this...I fucked up”. You dump the content of your bag onto your car hoping to find the keys and escape this situation. The longer the minutes passed the more you wanted to look at him, it felt like there was a force pushing your head to look. “No shit”.

“Y/n, please. I've said I'm sorry, what can I do to show you I am? I tried to stay away but clearly, that didn't work. I'm stuck okay... Should we talk about it?” You look up at him, tears burning your face “so now you wanna talk about your feeling that's new”. You were never the mean one but maybe taking a leaf out of Eddie’s book would help stop the hurt. Push the people and the love out for so long until you don't care anymore. Of course, this wasn't true but you couldn't help but convince yourself otherwise.

He reached up to you wiping your tears with his sleeves, cupping your face. “How long have you been suffering on your own?” you try to push his hand away but it stays there stuck. “I don't want your pity” you spit at him. He doesn't react he just keeps wiping your tears that won't stop falling and are giving away how you truly feel.

“I wish you would have told me, I know I messed up but maybe I could have fixed it. I know I wasn't there for you but I could have been if you would have given me a chance”. You look at him seeing the tears now staining his face as well. You had only ever seen him cry twice, once on the anniversary of his mother's death and the second time when he told you about Chrissy.

This was a sight you hated to see but at least for once he wasn't pushing you away he was letting you see it all, not forcing you behind his facade. You owed it to the Eddie you loved that was still in there to talk about it. “As you said you were stuck with me, you were ready to run and a baby and wouldn't have helped that. The fact that you took that away from me hurt, it was like a pain I have never felt before. I know you thought I left you, but you pushed me away before then. You didn't give me a choice and then you didn't let me take a part of you with me. At that point my whole present and future resolved around you, without you what was I supposed to do? Ending it felt like the only option.”

He freezes and then his knees give and he falls, he puts his hands out to break it. Baby? He was gonna be a father. He would have a family if he wouldn't have ruined it. Then he nearly lost you. Fuck he was a screw-up? He was worse than his dad. He blamed you for so many years and it turns out he was the monster all along. He grabs your legs blubbering through apology after apology.

You looked down at the sight below you, you wondered all these years if seeing Eddie as broken as you felt would help. It didn't it only made you feel worse like another piece of your heart had been chipped off. You pull him up and hugged him he falls in your embrace. After a while when his tears flow slower you break away. “ you need to stop searching for an answer for it all, there isn't one. Even if you did have one what would it help? You would still be hurting, we are still hurting. Maybe being out of each other's lives is better. It might hurt less” You go walk away leaving your items on your car, deciding going on foot would be better than staying here.

He grabbed your arm pulling you back into his embrace. “You don't have to suffer alone anymore. Let me in. I know I don't deserve it but I am finally going to be there for you the way you deserve” he whispers in your ear. You push him away. You didn't want to fall into the trap of loving him again to only get hurt. “You might not understand why I'm shutting you out, but I learned that from you. I was an open book before you walked in” you say in hopes to hurt him, so he would leave it doesn't work. He places your keys in your hand “see you soon” It was a question of when not if. He would let you take your time to take everything in, but now he had you back he would try and make up for all the hurt he had caused.

Taglist

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@mmalemanipulator

THOSE SUMMER NIGHTS ⋆.ೃ࿔*

word count: 0.1k || masterlist

summary: campfire w your girlfriend!! apollo!fem!reader

author's note: really short clarisse blurb for u gays guys

you shiver when a cold gust of wind blows against your back. you and clarisse are sitting on a log together, around the campfire. she has one arm around you and one holding two sticks with marshmallows over the fire.

"you cold, sunshine?" she asks. she adjusts her arm over you slightly, pulling you closer to her body.

"mhm," you hum.

"hold these," she say, handing you the sticks. you grab them, watching as she pulls her jacket off, revealing her tank top. her arms flex slightly as she drapes her jacket around your shoulders. she takes the sticks from you and puts her arm around you once again.

"won't you get cold?" you ask, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. despite your girlfriend's jacket keeping you warm, you could still feel the chill in the summer air.

"nah," she replied, kissing your head. "i'll be fine, babe."

you smile up at her, and she smiles back. "i love you," you say, reaching up to cup her face.

she rolled her eyes. "yeah, yeah, i love you too, sunshine," she mumbled, capturing your lips with hers.

witching hour | e. munson

this blog contains content that is 18+ only. minors, blank blogs and ageless blogs, do not interact. please read more about protecting minors and read my blog rules and guidelines before you interact/follow.

PAIRING ─── eddie munson x afro-indigenous!alt!witch!reader

SUMMARY ─── eddie forgets his key and ends up locking himself out. bad news for him, it’s about to rain. the good news is that you’re there to invite him inside your home.

WARNINGS ─── 18+, MINORS DNI. fem!reader. fluff. jason being an asshole of course. reader is a little bitchy but eddie likes it. a little nerdy near the end.

WORD COUNT ─── 2.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE ─── part of my a match made in hell au. all mistakes are my own. dividers and moodboard was made by me.

main masterlist  |  eddie munson masterlist

You usually spend your days off from work reading in your room while listening to your tapes to tune out the outside world. Or sitting on a rock at Lovers Lake writing in your journal and letting the sound of the water clear your mind. Or trekking through the woods to collect things like flowers and other plants because you think they’re pretty and would be a lovely addition to your bedroom or anywhere else in your home. But this time, you’re spending your day off going to the grocery store because you need stuff to cook dinner so you and your aunt don’t have to settle for box macaroni and cheese for dinner. You’re not there for a lot of stuff so you grab one of the small shopping baskets and look for the first thing on your list. You manage to get a few things in your basket when you feel a pair of eyes watching you. You hear the footsteps getting closer as you grab something from the middle shelf and turn around to see Jason Carver.

He looks exactly the same from high school, only he isn’t wearing that obnoxiously green letterman jacket and it looks like he has about two little scars on his face.

“I thought garlic was supposed to ward off witches,” he says and you glance at the three bulbs of garlic in your basket and scoff as you look at him.

“You’re thinking about vampires. But it is nice to see you haven’t changed much since high school. All braun, no brains,” you reply with fake pout as his jaw twitches and you shrug your shoulders. “Although, garlic can be used for protection, banishing and cleansing so you’re kinda half-right. It also has plenty of healing properties.”

“Something only a witch would know,” Jason sneers and you shake your head.

“No, something anybody would know if they had any knowledge or brains whatsoever. Tell me something, Jason. If you use garlic in a natural home remedy because you’re feeling sick, you’re just someone innocently using garlic for its healing properties since garlic is so commonly used to help with sickness. But if I decide to mix garlic with thyme, rosemary, salt and maybe some cedar leaves in a jar and seal it with black candle wax with the intention to cleanse, purify and protect my home from anything that means me harm, I’m an evil witch who hexes people for fun. Explain to me how that works,” you say as you narrow your eyes at him.

“I got a better idea. You and your aunt can go hang so we don’t have any of the Devil’s workers running around Hawkins and ruining everything,” Jason says as he gets dangerously close to you.

You hum as you slightly tilt your head. “You know, I heard that a person only gets chicken pox once in their life. I will happily put that theory to the test unless you get out of my face in the next three seconds,” you say. You see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows, making you grin. He steps back and turns around as you count to three and when he’s gone, you sigh as you continue shopping.

He was always an asshole and an idiot and you don’t take anything he says seriously since he’s all bark and no bite. You know that if it ever comes down to it, he would run away tail tucked between his legs and the image makes you laugh as you find the last thing on your list and head to the checkout. The cashier quickly scans everything from your basket and puts them in a bag before ringing up your total. After you pay, you grab the bag and start heading back home so you can get started.

As soon as you get home, you put away the groceries and get to work. You and your aunt already agreed on what you were going to make for dinner which made your quick trip to the grocery store much easier because you knew what you needed. You have the TV on and sometimes glance at the screen while you prepare the meat as the pot heats up. The sizzling sound of the chicken in the hot oil momentarily drowns out the TV noise until it quiets down. You can already smell it as you let it sit for a while as you feel your cat rub her head against your leg. You’re pouring water into the pot when you hear noises outside and you look out the window to see what’s going on. You see Eddie getting out of his van and walking up to his door while feeling around his pockets and cursing out loud. You open the door with Luna by your feet and cross your arms as you watch in amusement as he mutters to himself in frustration.

“What’s eatin’ ya?” you ask with a crooked smile and Eddie laughs sarcastically as he looks at you.

“Very funny. I forgot my key and now I’m locked out,” he replies.

“At least you didn’t lose it like you did in high school,” you say. “Uncle Wayne’s not home?”

“Nah, he left for work half an hour ago,” he answers.

“Well, it looks like it’s gonna rain soon so get your gangly ass in here before you end up looking like a drowned sewer rat,” you say as you open the door wider to let him in and he runs inside. “Take your shoes off at the door.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes,” he points out as he looks at your feet.

“I live here and I pay half the bills so I will wear my shoes in my own home if I damn well please,” you reply as you check the pot with the boiling meat.

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie replies as he takes his shoes off and looks over your shoulder. “Is that chicken?”

“Yeah.”

“Why is it yellow?”

“It’s curry. Have you never had curry chicken before?” you ask as you put the lid back on the pot and turn around to look at him.

“My cooking skills are limited to pasta, canned soup and microwave dinners,” Eddie replies as he sits on the arm of the couch.

“You know, I always forget that not everyone knows about the kind of food I’ve been eating my whole life. It’s one of our go-to’s when we don’t know what else to eat. Well, it’s between that and corned beef with rice. Everyone in my family calls it the struggle meal and everyone outside of my family who has seen me eat it said it looked like cat food while pretending to gag in my face but it tastes good so I eat it with no fucks given,” you say as you shrug your shoulders while Luna jumps onto the couch and stares at Eddie and he smiles as he strokes her fur.

While he’s petting her, you go to your room to take your shoes off and leave them by the closet before going back to the stove to make sure the chicken wasn’t burning. Eddie’s still sitting on the arm of the couch and you glance at him as you start making some rice to go on the side.

“You know, you can actually sit on the couch instead of just sitting on the arm. If you want, you can change the channel too. Might as well make yourself comfortable since I don’t know how long until it stops raining,” you say as you turn on the back burner for the rice.

“If I get too comfortable, I might never leave,” Eddie replies with a smirk and you turn around to look at him.

“I will throw you into the rain,” you say and Eddie laughs.

“Still the same bitch you were in high school.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

You leave the food to cook some more as you sit down on the couch next to Eddie with your legs crossed and Luna curling up in your lap. You look up from your cat and realize what show Eddie settled on while you were at the stove working on dinner and you turn around to look at him.

“Seriously? You chose Ducktales?” you ask and he shrugs his shoulders.

“Well, it was either that or The Smurfs,” he replies and you roll your eyes as you look at the TV. Luna makes a small noise as she looks at the TV and stares at the screen. “See? Luna likes it!”

“Luna watches anything she lays her eyes on,” you say as you get up to check on the food. Everything is done cooking by now so you turn everything down to low heat. “Are you gonna eat?”

“Sure,” he answers.

You take out two plates and start putting food on them as you hear the door unlock and your aunt walks in wet from the rain. “I didn’t know we were having a guest over,” she says as she takes off her wet shoes and jacket.

“He forgot his key at home and when he got back, his uncle was already gone so he was locked out. I told him to get inside so he doesn’t get wet,” you answer as you grab a third plate from the cupboard.

“You told me to get my gangly ass inside before I end up looking like a drowned sewer rat,” Eddie says from the couch.

“You are gangly and I’ve seen you soaked from the rain before. You actually do look like a drowned sewer rat,” you reply. “Come get a plate.”

“I’m gonna go change into some dry clothes so just leave mine on the counter,” your aunt says before heading to her room to change as Eddie takes a plate from the counter.

The both of you sit down on the couch as the end credits of the episode rolls on the screen and you pick up the remote and flip through the other channels. The show Bewitched happens to be on and nothing else interests you so that’s what you settle for but that doesn’t go over Eddie’s head.

“A witch watching a show about a witch? Huh,” he comments and you chuckle as you look at him. “Gonna keep it real with you, I’ve never had a friend who’s a witch before but I must say it’s kinda cool.”

“Maybe one day I can show you my magic altar,” you reply with a little crooked smirk and he laughs with a mouthful of food before looking at the screen.

Your aunt comes back out with different clothes and grabs her plate from the counter and sits at the table. Usually, it’s just you and her eating dinner but this time, Eddie’s there and you don’t mind having him around.

It was still raining by the time you all finished eating and cleaning up the kitchen so you and your aunt agreed to let Eddie spend the night until the rain stopped. You gave him a pillow and a blanket before going back to your room to take off your makeup and change. You fell asleep with Luna by your feet but then you woke up at three in the morning with a dry mouth that would not let you go back to sleep.

You throw the blanket off of you and quietly go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. All the lights are off, leaving you in total darkness except for the moonlight through the curtains but you spent your life living in the trailer so you’re able to get around even if you were blindfolded. You grab a glass from the cupboard and turn on the tap for cold water when you hear a voice behind you.

“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” Eddie asks from the couch and you look at him.

“No, I actually did fall asleep but woke up to get some water. Want some?” you ask him as he sits up and shrugs his shoulders.

“Sure,” he answers.

You take a second glass and fill it with water and join Eddie on the couch. His jeans, leather jacket and denim vest are folded in a small pile on the coffee table, leaving him in a worn out band tee and boxer shorts with his lower half covered by the blanket you gave him. His hair is pulled into a low bun hanging by his neck and he accepts the glass of water from you and drinks half of it in one go.

“Looks like it stopped raining,” you comment before taking a sip of your water as Eddie nods.

“Looks like it,” he replies. “It’s past three in the morning, by the way.”

You tilt your head as you look at him confused. “Yeah. What about it?” you ask.

“The hour between three and four in the morning, they call it the witching hour but I never knew why,” Eddie says and your chuckle as the corner of your lips twitch into a small smile.

“I know why. It goes back as far as sixteenth century Europe. People’s fear of witchcraft was growing so the Catholic Church prohibited any activities between that hour but they didn’t start calling it the witching hour until the eighteenth century. There are different definitions but that’s the one I’m familiar with,” you explain and Eddie watches you as you speak.

“What else is in that beautiful brain of yours?” he asks as he taps your forehead and you laugh quietly so you don’t wake up your aunt.

“You know, I ran into Jackass Carver at the grocery store while I was getting stuff to cook for dinner. He saw I had garlic and thought it was supposed to ward off witches,” you say and his eyebrows furrow.

“That’s vampires,” he replies.

“That’s what I told him. Even after we graduated, he’s still a dumbass,” you say and Eddie laughs. “You know, garlic is also associated with protection. I mean, it’s used for protection against vampires in folklore but there are so many ways people have used it for thousands of years. Greeks, Egyptians, Babylonians and Romans used it for healing purposes and people still do that today. In Egypt, they used it to ward off illness and increase strength and endurance. Ancient Greeks used it to ward off demons and Greek athletes would take some before a competition and soldiers would eat some before going into battle. Roman soldiers ate garlic to inspire them and give them courage. Of course, some of these are just superstitions and folklore.”

“See, this is the kind of shit you would randomly talk about to people. Who starts a conversation about the healing properties and superstitions and folklore about garlic?” Eddie laughs and you scoff as you smack his arm.

“Shut up! You once started a random conversation with a random person talking about Black Sabbath,” you retaliate and he smiles as he shrugs his shoulders.

“We’re nerds, you and I.”

“The Devil and the Witch of Hawkins.”

Eddie chuckles as you finish your glass of water and take his empty glass as you stand up. You quickly rinse them and put them in the dish rack before heading back to your room to go back to sleep. Luna is still asleep on your bed and you get under the blanket carefully to not move her around and wake her up. You and Eddie. Complete nerds and weirdos who don’t give a damn.

ENDNOTES ─── to get notified as soon as possible, follow @faeslibrary and turn on post notifications.

buy me a coffee ☕

© 2023 faerieemetal. do not copy, repost or translate.

Boxer König for sure has a thing for public displays of affection. Between his boxing rounds infront of large crowds and just loving being seen with you… he would love you standing next to him post match when he’s all sweaty and bleeding! <3

can confirm he does this bc reader is literally me 💁🏻‍♀️

protective!könig, size difference, fluff 🤧🌷

you’re in the crowd, he doesn’t know why. he slams his fist against the face of his opponent, cheekbone shattering with the force of könig’s hook. the man flies across the ring, ricocheting off the ropes before dropping like a sack of spuds. he gets up at the eighth count, delirious and unsteady. the ref guides him to his corner, but könig’s eyes are on you, calling your name.

the people around you are going wild, chanting his name, but all you can hear is yours as he wails for you — deep and desperate. you jump from your seat, rushing to him. the security stop you, holding you back. “ma’am, please stay in your seat.”

“i’m his wife!” you tell them, flaunting the diamond rock on your finger. the ring’s platform tremors when könig hops the ropes, stepping down onto the stadium floor. he grabs one guard by his jacket, launching him into the crowd — making them cheer louder — before taking the second guy by his collar. his hands shoot up, the skin of his neck spilling over the material of his collar thanks to könig’s grip. “she is my wife.” your austrian champion warns through clenched teeth, crimson pouring through the gaps in them. “you do not touch her.”

you stand behind him, hands caressing the sweaty surface of his back. the guard nods rapidly, stumbling when könig releases him. the crowd applaud, sharply whistling when he turns and lifts you by the underarms of your blouse into a messy and clumsy kiss.

cameras flash behind you and you grin against his mouth, hands drifting to hold either side of his beaten face. you’re flung onto the outer edge of the ring then, pinned to his side before you’re carried over the ropes and placed in plain sight of every watchful eye. you clasp your mouth, shy and giddy. könig sits on his stool, pulling you by your hips so he can perch you on his knee.

his coach hands you some water and cotton, and you sit proudly in your husband’s lap whilst you tip water into his mouth and clean up his cuts. “stay.” he tells you, ignoring the advice and words of wisdom of his trainers — eyes latched to you.

you smile, kissing him again. you’re not sure anymore if the red on his lips is blood or your lipstick; but neither of you care. when the ref signals the commence of round two, you’re the victim of another bruising kiss before he helps you onto the ringside, holding the ropes apart for you.

the fight only lasts a few rounds before könig has knocked his opponent clean out, obtaining another title win. but he’s made sure that you’re the center of attention — the center of the entire universe, not just his. he lugged you in and out of the ring after each of those rounds, holding and kissing you whilst you fussed over him. the whole world knows who you are now, and you’ll never be a member of the crowd again :3

Co-Parenting with Suguru

AU where Geto didn't kill the entire village but adopted Nanako and Mimiko (I love mommy geto)

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Geto is able to adopt Mimiko and Nanako with your help, and how the girls with Gojo set you two up. Acquaintances to lovers, idiots who care for each other. (pure fluff, and i've tried to avoid using y/n)

You wouldn't say you and Geto were good friends, but when you were asked to testify on his behalf in front of the higher ups, you readily agreed. You were tasked to look after the twin girls he had brought back from the village and they were the sweetest little girls you had ever met. Even if Geto had killed those villagers, you couldn't blame him - they were torturing two innocent souls on problems caused by their own vices. 

Shoko and Gojo couldn't testify to Geto's character - everyone knew they were practically joint at the hip - the three of them are always together. You were closer to Utahime  your senpai, known to not like Gojo and Geto very much. With whatever casual conversations you had had with Geto, you hadn't really found a reason to dislike him. And hearing Nanako and Mimiko call him “Geto-Sama” in their sweet little voices only helped in solidifying your high opinion of him.

You heard their narration of the night and how Geto with his incredible bangs and magic powers stopped the evil people hurting them and took him away and dropped them into your arms.

“Do you really think any of those could be trusted with kids?” Geto asked. You snorted in response and gladly accepted to take care of the two lovely little girls.

“Your Geto-Sama will be right back with you,” you promised the girls while closing the buttons of your uniform. “I will be back in a bit. I've got dolls for the both of you,”

“Thank you,” they tell you, adding “sama” to your name. You blush but don't say anything, having already told them to not address you as such multiple times over the couple of days.

“I don't believe that Geto-San could have gone out of his way to hurt those people. In fights with curses, collateral damage is always there, and Geto had two little sorcerers to take care of. I think we can excuse him this time.” You said when you were asked to speak.

“I don't see anything wrong with letting Geto-San take care of the two girls. They clearly trust him much more than anyone else, after how horribly they were treated by the village. I pitch on his behalf, that he would take utmost care of the two sorcerers under his care.” You said when the question for their custody arose.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Geto said bowing in front of you once the elders were done with the hearing. They had dismissed everyone else to discuss the matter.

“You've got some lovely girls to parent now, Geto-san,” you say, returning his charming smile. “Are you sure you are ready to be a parent?”

“Not really, no,” He admits. “I will try my best though,” 

“Oh they are such lovely girls, I have half a heart to keep them for myself,” You fawn, feeling suspiciously giddy. “If you ever need a babysitter-”

“I will definitely call you,” Geto nods with a smile on his beautiful face. He has always been beautiful, but today with his hair half-up, half-down, he looks especially charming. He rushes away on hearing footsteps and you walk the short distance to the dormitories. 

“Hello girls!” You excitedly enter your room, holding out a bunch of cookies in your hands, thanks to Utahime. “The final decision of the higher ups will come later today, but Geto should be free to see you,” You give them the stack of cookies and then seeing the styled dolls add, “Do you girls like dressing up?”

You smile with the way their eyes widen with excitement and open your humble wardrobe in the dormitory, giving them access to everything they'd need to get dressed up. They decide to dress you up instead, and the three of you are full of giggles as they take your makeup and freely draw on your face - and be surprisingly good at it. You play some of your favourite music, which the girls seem to enjoy and then they paint your nails. They dress you in your best clothes and you love the way they've styled you.

There's still a long time left before the higher ups will announce the decision, so you take the girls out shopping to distract them. Fortunately, your income as a sorcerer allows you to have the freedom to spoil your girls - and you love it to an alarming extent. Mimiko and Nanako have got excellent taste, you'll credit them that - they pick out the cutest dresses for each other and coloured lip balms that compliments each other's hair well. You encourage them to change into their new clothes in the mall itself  and take so many pictures of them and with them - and you are almost sad at the thought of letting Geto have them, but that's something you will be sad for later.

You've lost track of time at the mall, and when you get back it's already twilight. The girls had a lovely day, and they are still buzzing with excitement when you enter. 

Geto is sitting on your bed, in a semi-clear spot with almost all of your stuff on it - from the whirlwind that dressed you earlier. 

“Geto-Sama!” The girls scream with delight and kneel down in front of him with bows, showing how grateful they were to him - he motions them to get up and hugs them both simultaneously, but his foxy eyes hold your gaze as he says, “Mimiko and Nanako can live with me, from now.”

Your body reacts to the news faster than your mind, and you've already planted a kiss on his cheek and have your arms wrapped around him before you realise what you have done. A crimson blush colours his face along with your lipstick as he thanks you, his voice softer and breather than usual.

Your whole body heats up when you see the colour of your lipstick on his cheek  and the way he makes no attempt to wipe it off his flushed cheeks as Mimiko and Nanako look up at him with glittering eyes. 

You hear your name from Nanako’s mouth, noting the “sama” she had added yet again. Geto's eyes are affectionate as he hears them gush to him about you, about the fun they had with you. 

While Mimiko is in Geto's arms, Nanako makes her way into yours and you feel silly for tearing up. You hug her close to your chest, feeling her little arms around your shoulders. “Thank you for bringing back Geto-Sama,” Nanako whispers to you. You pat her head and plant a gentle kiss on her cheek, now mindful of the transferring lipstick.

The sound of a camera clicking snaps the four of you out of the trance, and you find the Gojo Satoru standing at the threshold of your room, clicking pictures of the four of you. “Suguru, you get a girlfriend and daughters and you forget all about your best friend,” He tuts, dramatically putting a hand over his chest, his icy blue eyes peeking from behind his sunglasses.

Gojo gasps on seeing the lipstick mark on Suguru’s cheek and takes out his phone to snap even more pictures of a blushing Suguru. “You forgot to mention things were this serious!” He says, mock offended.

“Gojo/Satoru, shut up!” You and Geto speak simultaneously.

“You're even saying the same things now,” Gojo sighs like an old man. Mimiko and Nanako burst out into a fit of giggles. “You agree with your godfather, Satoru, right girls?”

“Godfather? Where did that come from?” You ask, scrunching up your nose.

“Well it was gonna be Suguru as mother and myself as the father but now you've taken in as their mother and Suguru as their father so I've got to take the next best thing-!”

You hit him upside his white-haired head, veins on your forehead popping out with irritation at his words. Gojo rubs the top of his head muttering something under his breath. “This is why I always stay with Utahime Senpai,” you say, making Suguru and the twins laugh.

“Get him, girl!” Geto cheers you on.

“I won't give you Nanako and Mimiko if you continue to be roommates with him,” you declare, narrowing your eyes at Geto.

“I'm renting a place outside Jujutsu Tech,” Geto confesses with a sigh.

“WHAT-?” You and Gojo both yell in shock.

“It's for the best,” He says.

“You’re taking my girls away from me!” You complain, hand on your chest. “This is so unfair, Geto-kun. How will I see them now?”

.

It's been a couple of weeks, and the twins have adjusted well to Tokyo. You've adjusted too, opting to spend your time with them rather than with anyone else. Gojo keeps teasing you relentlessly, not even bothering to stop when the teachers are around. You've grown closer to Suguru as well, spending most of your off-time with him. Shoko has become your refuge now, with Utahime leaving for Kyoto.

It's one of your lazy Sundays, and you wake from your and the twins afternoon nap. They are snuggled to either side of you, and it’s unbearably hot but you don't dare move; admiring their serene, sleeping faces. Your left eye twitched at the thought of the torture your girls were subjected to by those foolish villagers, blood boiling once again.

You reach for your phone instead, going through some old photos. You've scrolled down to when the girls were living with you, a picture of the three of you with matching white bows in your hair when the door quietly opens, and Suguru quietly enters with a pitcher of water and some glasses. He chuckles at your grateful face, pouring out some water for you. You gulp down the water, your overheated body giving out a sigh of relief when the cold water hits your stomach. 

“It's time to wake them up,” He whispers, leaning down to your laying form.

“I don't really want to,” you whisper to him, pleading, not looking away from his pretty dark eyes. “Five more minutes?”

“Okay,” He relented with a sigh, sitting beside Nanako. You think of how different he is now, different from when he is exorcising curses and when he is with Gojo. You also find yourself liking this side of him, that only his girls got to see. And you, one of his girls. 

“Have you thought about their schooling?” You ask, voice quieter than a mouse. Geto lays down, facing you.

“I’ll have them homeschooled,” He replies just as quietly, frowning.

“That’s boring,” You say. “How will they adjust to the outside world? We can’t always be with them.”

“I’m terrified of the curses getting -”

“Teach them to defend themselves, just a little.” You suggest. “You know they can’t rely on others, they will need to learn to keep each other safe.”

Nanako stirs between the two of you, mumbling a hushed “papa,” under her breath as she snuggles into Geto. You fawn all over this, his pretty eyes wide and looking at you, seeking assurance. A gentle smile graces his beautiful face as he caresses the girl’s caramel hair and you have to resist the urge to pull his silky hair out of the bun and run your fingers through them. You opt to lightly pat Mimiko’s dark head instead, and she snuggles into you mumbling, “mama,”

Admittedly, you’ve teared up a little and you excitedly turn to Geto, who is giving you his prettiest smile that you’ve ever seen. In this little moment, you can pretend to be a happy family, living in a rose-coloured dream.

.

Suguru loves spending time with his girls, and it’s even more delightful when you join in. He especially loves it now that you’ve practically moved in - the guest room slowly filling up with your scent and trinkets. He enjoys taking all of you out to different spots in the city - the parks, the malls, cute cafes and even back to Jujutsu Tech, occasionally. 

Suguru wonders if the two of you could even be friends if not for Mimiko and Nanako - just adding to a long list of things that he was grateful for from that night. Your easy smile and sparkling eyes and the way you shower his girls with your love and care just keeps on adding to all the things he admires about you. He half wishes Satoru’s mindless teasing to become a reality, but he lacks the courage.

Currently, he’s sitting on the floor with Nanako behind him, brushing his hair out and Mimiko sitting beside her twin, acting as her inventory. He’s in pure bliss, and the only thing that can make this better is your presence.

Soon enough there is a knock on the door, and Suguru feels bad for hoping it’s you. Of course, he enjoys your company, but you deserve a chance to live freely and not spend every waking hour with him. Satoru and Shoko are there instead, with amazing takeout for Friday evening.

Satoru spoils his self-proclaimed goddaughters (Suguru wouldn’t trust anyone else, either) with the best of everything. Shoko loves teaching them new things, reading, maths, curses, the human body - everything watered down to suit their tender young age.

The four of them play board games while Suguru does the laundry, putting the clothes on the drying line. Usually, you would be here helping him with the clothes, words flowing easily between the two of you. 

He's distracted from laundry when he hears Satoru call your name followed by a whistle, then yelling, “I can't really blame Suguru, you look so hot!” He hears your grumble something, and then Mimiko and Nanako’s excited cheers on your appearance. “You had a date?!” Satoru says again, his voice loud and surprised.

Suguru’s heart feels heavy, and he makes his way to the rest leaving half of the clothes in the dryer. 

“It wasn't really a date honestly.” You complain. “That guy had no manners! Chewing with his mouth open and not even using the napkins properly! And he barely asked me anything, kept on boasting about himself - it was boring.”

Suguru feels half guilty for the way his chest relaxes, but his breath is taken away as soon as he sees you - you are always beautiful, but you look especially pretty with your brown leather skirt and black jumper. Your jewellery compliments your complexion, and your hair looks perfect. And he has to agree with Satoru- you look hot.

“Where's Suguru?” You ask, looking around.

“Right here,” He says, coming to stand beside you.

He loves the way your eyes sparkle - the lids decorated to match the outfit and a delighted glimmer in your eyes.

“So, I was at the mall and this reminded me of you,” you say, picking up the paper bag on the floor beside you. “The only good thing that came from today, to be honest.”

“You were thinking of me while out with another guy?” He teases.

You get flustered, but respond “Do you want this present or not?” You try to sound stern, but you hand him the bag regardless.

The bag feels heavier than he had expected, and glances in to see the professional camera he had been eyeing for a long time but didn't buy in favour of getting Mimiko and Nanako some limited edition dolls. His pretty eyes widened with delight. “How did you know?” He asks, unable to hold back his excited smirk.

“I am not blind, you know.” You retort, happy that he loved the gift.

“What is it?” Shoko asks. Satoru snaps the bag towards himself, taking out the box of camera and different lenses. “That is one expensive investment,” she remarks.

You chose to ignore her comment, distracting everyone with the little cake you had bought. “And I've got cake!”

“Is today someone's birthday?” Mimiko asks.

“No, baby.” You say, “It's okay to have cake without any reason,”

The little girls are delighted to see the half sky and half forest cake. Neither Suguru, you or his girls have any idea as to when the exact birthday is, so you have them cut the cake together, pretending it to be their birthday. When Suguru takes the cake to the kitchen to cut it up, you follow him, leaving the twins with Shoko and Satoru.

“Suguru, you should get dressed up fancy too,” You say. “Let’s take some good pictures with our girls. I’ll cut the cake up.”

“Okay,” He agrees.

Suguru decides to match you, consciously picking pieces that compliment your outfit well. He is inappropriately fancy dressed up for this photo session. He is thrilled to use the camera you’ve gifted him, and there is no better scene to be his first than his girls(you included) and his friends. He’s brushing his hair out, putting it up in a half updo before giving himself a once-over then leaving.

He’s surprised to see Mimiko and Nanako dressed up too, sitting on either side of Satoru as Shoko and you clicked pictures on the phones. His camera is sitting on the table, still in its box. He has a child-like excitement as he opens the box and checks the lenses with it - the excitement of setting up the camera is unmatched. Even though he enjoys spoiling his girls, he cannot deny that being spoiled is a nice feeling.

Once his camera is ready, he snaps a picture of the scene - you sit between your girls now as Satoru and Shoko click pictures. The flash from the camera distracts everyone, and his eyes find yours sparkling, looking at him with the sweetest smile on your face. He cannot help but wonder how your lips would taste. Suguru smiles at you instead as you wave him over, Mimiko and Nanako between the two of you. Satoru and Shoko give him a knowing once over, the deliberate matching not missing his best friend’s six eyes.

Your hand touches his - neither of you attempting to move as Satoru clicks a picture of the four of you in Suguru’s new camera. Satoru is grinning like an idiot seeing Suguru’s blushing face, motioning Shoko to click some pictures of their idiot friend in love with his daughters’ mother. It is stupid, Gojo thinks, the way that the two of you act like an old married couple but are too terrified to confess your feelings for one another.

“Mimiko, Nanako, come here for a moment, dears,” Gojo calls them. “Suguru, Y/N, please stand closer. You aren’t rivals.”

Suguru narrows his eyes at Satoru, but doesn’t comment on it, too happy when you’ve pressed yourself at his side, your arm wrapped around his waist. He swings his arm over your shoulder and leans his head towards yours. His face burns with the soft warmth of your body pressed against him - but he holds his smile steadily, looking at the camera. He looks at your beautiful face for a moment, the serene smile on your face and he forgets all about the jerk who had taken you out.

He just prays that he gets the courage to ask you for a dinner date - perhaps before someone else snatches you out of this perfect life of his.

.

Satoru is at Suguru’s flat, spending time with the sweet little girls. Both you and Suguru had some unavoidable business to attend to - you with some curses and him with his parents - and he finally got the chance to babysit them. Satoru is currently sitting on the floor of the twin’s bedroom, with pink bows in his white hair and getting his nails painted in a pale blue colour by Mimiko and Nanako.

It's not his favourite thing for amusement, but he lets it pass. He does get why Suguru lets his girls do these things to him - they look just so precious with the little forehead creased in concentration. His mind is cooking up a scheme - a scheme which can only be fulfilled with the little one's help. It’s only with him that they address you and Suguru as mama and papa- feeling too shy to address the two of you as such face-to-face.

“Dears, do you think your papa and mama love each other?” He asks the little angels painting his nails.

The girls share a secret look with a smirk that tells Gojo everything that he needs to know. “I’ve seen papa look at mama the way Nanako looks at crepes, Gojo-sama!” Mimiko snickers. “He always has a big smile when mama is home.”

“Mama is also the same, Gojo-sama!” Nanako says. “She looks at papa the way Mimiko looks at ice-cream!”

Gojo laughs at their childish description of the two, wondering how blind you guys must be to not see that the feelings are shared.

“Gojo-sama!” Nanako jumps, excited, as she remembers something else, her caramel bob shaking. “One evening, when mama fell asleep on the sofa, papa carried her to her room. We brought her blankets and he tucked her in, but she held his hands in her sleep.”

“Yes!” Mimiko jumps up too, brown eyes gleaming with giggles. “Papa had turned so pink when Mama did that. He could barely speak.”

“That sounds familiar,” Gojo giggles with them. “Do you want to help me set-”

“Yes!” the twins shriek before he even finishes the question.

Once the three of them are done with the set up, Gojo calls Geto to let him know that he has some urgent clan business to attend to, while Mimiko calls you to tell you that Nanako had a bad dream and she misses you terribly. Both of you rush to return while Gojo and his goddaughters leave for the evening. Gojo leaves a little post-it-note on the fridge, with a brief message.

Geto has been running for 10 minutes straight, red faced and out of breath as he reaches the door of the flat. The elevator dings open and you step out, looking just as out of breath. “Did Mimiko call you too?” you ask, panting.

“No, Gojo told me he has some clan business - ” He says, taking a moment to completely process your question. “Why did Mimiko call you?”

“Nanako had a nightmare, she was asking for me only, apparently.” You say, standing beside him now. The enticing smell of your perfume fills his senses and he is grateful that his girls have you to comfort them. He too finds comfort in your presence - albeit it’s for different reasons than his girls.

When no one opens the door for a couple of minutes, you put your ear to the door and try to hear something. The house is quiet, devoid of any movements.

“I think they’ve fallen asleep.” you comment.

Geto then opens then closes the door as quietly as he can, trying not to disturb the girl’s sleep. He bumps into you standing in the hallway after taking off his shoes - only to gasp as he sees the immaculate set up in the living room. A sheer white canopy covered in fairy lights and seemingly all of the pillows and some mattresses of the house thrown in the tent - and some of his and your favourite snacks. There’s a movie paused at the beginning and red roses and candles and mild incense decorating the room. Geto blushes when he realises that it’s a set up for a date, heart pounding against his ribs in part-annoyance and part-excitement as he sees your shy face. He’s half mad at Gojo, but he can see the traces of Mimiko and Nanako as well - with the way the pillows are laid out and the flowers are placed.

Geto’s phone rings, breaking the tense silence. It’s Gojo. “Suguru! Put me on speaker!” Gojo’s excited voice says from the other end. He can hear his girls giggling in the background. 

“Fine,” Geto sighs.

“Oh hey!” you turn around on hearing Gojo call your name, face hot and worrying your lip between your teeth. “Your little girls, they thought we should let you guys have an evening to yourself - relax and watch a movie. How did you like that set up?”

“You didn’t really have to-” You start to speak as Geto rolls his eyes, fully knowing it was Gojo’s plan. He knew Gojo well.

“Nonsense, you won’t let your daughters down by saying that,” Gojo says, and Mimiko and Nanako giggle louder. “Alright, bye! Enjoy yourselves. There’s wine in the fridge, Suguru.” He says before handing up.

“I’ll get the wine,” Suguru offers. You smile at him before sitting down in the fairy-light canopy, looking much like the woman of his dreams, like a princess waiting for her prince. His heart aches, for he can’t call you his, not outside of his mind. He smiles too, pretending that it’s date-night for you.

There’s a note on the fridge in Satoru’s messy scrawl which gets his attention first. Suguru, take one for the team and ask her !!! Your daughters and friends are rooting for you. She likes you, you blind idiot. A blush colours his face as he crumples the note and throws it in the bin.

His favourite wine is in the fridge, and Suguru is half surprised at Satoru’s thoughtfulness. He pours out two glasses and brings them to you, the bottle left back in the fridge. “Wine for you, ma’am,” he says, and you get the cutest blush on your face as you accept the glass, humming in delight at the taste. He follows your stead and lazily relaxes against the mountain of pillows under the canopy.

“What’s this movie?” You ask, fidgeting with the remote.

“I have no idea,” He says, praying that Satoru doesn’t embarrass him.

The movie begins with the main character, the girl getting ready to go work. It seemed like a cheesy hollywood christmas movie at the beginning, where the girl would be frustrated with her job and go to her small town and never return. That would have been better, in hindsight. Because as the movie progresses, and the love interest comes in - a single father, who had to send his daughter into foster care because he was wrongfully accused of embezzlement - the foster parent being the main character. The girl testifies for him in court while she lives with a new normal - caring for the love interest’s daughter as her own.

Suguru's face burns with how similar the movie is to you and him - he can barely even look at the screen. While the movie played, he subconsciously reached towards you, your warm cheek now resting against his shoulder. It’s hard for him to ignore it now that he realises that this movie was a deliberate selection, and the comment in the note about him being blind. 

Suguru steals a quick glance at you, finding you looking at the screen with a little smile, cuddling one of the bigger pillows. You seem totally unaffected by the movie. “It’s so cute,” you murmur. 

“Hm?” he prompts.

“The story,” you say, glancing up at him then back at the screen. 

“Would it be cute if it were real?” he asks, heart pounding against his ribcage.

“Even cuter,” you nod, cheek moving against his shoulder.

His heart threatens to crawl out of his throat at the admission. He eyes the two hands, one his and the other yours - so close but not touching, afraid to cross that invisible boundary which has built over time. He dares now, for once to cross that boundary, to test the waters and puts his pinky finger over yours, interlocking them. He can feel your smile get wider as his heart nearly makes a hole in his ribs.

You take it a step further and intertwine your hands with his.

“I love the way your hand fits in mine,” he says after a long tense silence, sounding breathier than usual.

“You have nice hands,” you shyly say.

It brings him confidence, the way you say it. Emboldened, he turns to face you and wraps his free arm over your waist, pulling you closer. His nose touches your forehead and he inhales the smell of your shampoo, never tired of smelling it in the pillowcases of your room. He lowers himself to your eye level, stroking your cheekbone. “Would let me kiss you?” he whispers to your lips.

“Always,” you whisper, parting your lips to welcome him.

The kiss is everything he could have imagined and more. It’s pure bliss, the way your mouth slots against his and the way to taste better than he could have possibly imagined. Of course, you have always been pretty, but he found you the most beautiful in this moment, in his arms, with your soft tongue fighting against his. His brain has short circuited and he fears that he might get addicted to your taste. He chases your mouth when you pull away to catch your breath, letting go of the intertwined hands that had sweat in the heat of the moment.

Suguru misses your lips instantly, scanning your face for any signs of regret or discomfort. You place one of your hands on his neck, reach the back of it and caress the delicate spot where his hair ends, and a gasp leaves his mouth at the sensation. You put your other hand on his collar and pull him close, his face dragging against the soft pillows and you kiss him. This kiss is much more desperate than the first one, with your teeth occasionally crashing and tongues exploring, the movie long forgotten still playing on the screen.

When you’re both out of breath, you pull back, still breathing the same air and noses touching.

“It was the best fucking kiss of my life,” Suguru confesses, sounding out of breath.

“Mine too,” you say.

He doesn’t want you to think that it was a spur of the moment thing, so he puts on his serious face and says, “Would you like to go out for dinner with me? As more than co-parents?” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” you reply with a giggle.

“Dress fancy,” He says. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” you ask.

“Why wait ?” he shrugs.

“I don’t have - ”

“You do,” he says, shy. “I had got something for you a while back, but never mustered up the courage to give it to you.”

You sit up, looking down at him with an excited gleam in your eyes. “You’ve gotten me an outfit for our first gate, it seems like you were prepared.”

“I swear to you that I wasn’t.” He says. “Just try it once.”

The dress Suguru brought compliments your figure and complexion well, and you’re surprised to see that it fits perfectly. You uber to a fancy place, and with the man on your side, this is the most perfect first date ever. The maroon dress hugs your figure in the right places, and you feel giddy knowing that Suguru had bought this lovely dress with you in mind. 

He looks even prettier today, sitting in front of you as your date, dressed in an equally fancy maroon suit. You take plenty of pictures with him, distracted by his long silky hair in a half-up, half-down look. You can barely process the food, distracted by the beautiful man in front of you taking in the way he talks. The way he says your name, almost purring, has you wanting to throw your feet and giggle like a little girl.

Suguru isn’t better off himself. Of course, he loves the way his name rolls off your tongue, but right now dressed in the dress he bought for you, sitting in front of him with flushed cheeks, the delicate smile never leaving your face as you speak has his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. He finally has you with him the way he had been wanting for years, finding you pretty even when you were both mere acquaintances. 

He cannot wait to call you his, but he supposes he’ll save that question for the next date - for you to give this relationship a name. In his head, he is already yours - heart, mind and soul - the only question bugging him is whether you want to be his. That’s a worry for later, he thinks, as he plants a delicate kiss on your lips as the long evening comes to an end.

Shopping Carts and Conversations (Geto x Reader)

Summary: You're out shopping with the twins and Geto, when an eldery couple mistakes you for a young couple and the twins as your kids, a comment you're too happy to ignore.

Word Count: 1.2k

Content Warnings: Fluff, for context it's related to Co-Parenting with Suguru, but there's no need to read that for this.

masterlist

At the supermarket, Mimiko clings to your leg as you walk down the cleaning supplies aisle. You grab a bottle of the fabric conditioner and give it to the four year old to smell. Her little nose scrunched up, and you hand her another fragrance of the fabric conditioner. She approves that one and you throw it in your cart.

“Are you tired Mimiko?” You ask the little girl, she shakes her head in dissent but you can tell she is tired. You have been in the store for too long. “Come here,” you tell her before picking her up in your arms, and she quickly wraps her little arms and legs around you. She is very thin and light for a four year old, all thanks to those cruel villagers. 

With Mimiko at your hip, you push the cart forward and grab your favourite brand of laundry detergent and stain remover. You can't remember if Geto has extra dishwash, you quickly text him asking about it.

Geto Suguru: No Geto Suguru: Are you by the cleaning supplies? You: Yes You: Where are you? Geto Suguru: I'll be there in a moment

You're startled with a fake cough near your ear, but you smile on realising it's Geto and Nanako. The sight in front of you makes you and Mimiko giggle - Nanako is sitting on Geto's shoulder, using his bun as her makeshift support. You quickly snap pictures and show it to Mimiko, who nods in approval.

“What's so funny to you?” Geto asks. “Nanako here was helping me search. You rushed away so quickly.”

“We did not rush away, I told you I'm gonna get some detergent. You're out of it back home.” You counter. “Right, Mimiko?”

Mimiko nods in support and adds, “And you said ‘hmm’, Geto Sama,”

Geto blushes for a moment, embarrassed. “Well, all that matters is that we've found you now.”

“Sure,” you tease, giggling. “What did you get?”

“We have to get rice, lentils and vegetables.” Geto says, holding Nanako’s knees on either side of his head. He brings her to his arms and sits her down on the baby carrier in your cart and pushes it out the cleaning supplies aisle after you throw the dishwash in it.

“We’re out of carrots and cucumbers,” you note. “We have enough tomatoes to last the week. Oh, potatoes - stock up on them. That seems about right.” You turn to the child on your hip and then to the one in the cart. “What do you guys think of apples and bananas?”

“Nooo…” they both whine in unison.

“But you have to eat it, or you won’t get big or strong like Geto-kun,” You tease. The girls think hard at that, always admiring Geto as their father figure. “All of us can have fruits together, then ice cream after?”

The twins look like they want to say no, but they’re big fans of ice cream like most children, so they don’t protest much. You and Geto sneaked in some more fruits to the cart and different vegetables that most kids were known to not like. You wait for your cart to be unloaded into bags by the entrance with Mimiko, while Nanako continues to cling to Geto. You reach out for her when Geto is at the exit to get the bill scanned, holding the two of them on either side. Once free of the guard, he quickly snaps a picture and holds the bags in one hand and Mimiko with the other.

“What lovely kids you have got,” An elderly woman entering the store comments. She is with her husband and presumably their grandchild. Your face heats up, but you don’t bother correcting her, and neither does Geto. “Such a lovely young couple with a family,”

“Thank you,” Geto says, smiling at the old couple. “Is that your grandchild? He looks adorable.”

“He is spending the weekend with us,” The old man says with a nod. “May the gods be kind to you,”

“Thank you,” You say this time. “We hope the same for you,”

Your face burns as you sit Nanako and Mimiko down in the back of the car as Geto loads the bags into the trunk. Your girls have little smiles on their face, and you ask them what they’re smiling about.

“You didn’t say anything when they called us a family,” Nanako says.

“And you thanked them for the prayers,” Mimiko adds.

“Well, that’s because we are a family, aren’t we?” You say, caressing both their baby cheeks with either hand. “It’s nice to be polite to polite people.”

On the way back, you’re both quiet, enjoying listening to the twins talk among themselves. Their delight at your silent acceptance has your heart soaring, and you cannot keep that stupid smile off your face. You are barely holding back your giggles, not wanting Geto to think that you have gone crazy. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” Geto quietly asks you, his hand settling on your knee after changing gears.

“They’re so happy to be considered our family,” you admit, unable to keep the giddiness out of your voice. “I love them so much,”

Geto glances at you from the mirror, admiring the way you glow with joy. He half hopes you’ll remark on that comment of the old lady of you being a lovely couple, but you don’t - too happy to be considered the girls’ mother. He supposes it’s fine, wondering if he will ever gather the courage to ask you out.

“You know, you’ve been helping me out so much, why don’t you start calling me Suguru?” He says instead. “It’s a little strange to hear our girls see you as a mother figure but you still calling me Geto,”

You giggle once again, admiring his pretty face from the side. His eyes flicker to the mirror, but he is mostly focused on the road. It’s nice to hear him ask this so casually, and somehow you hope he’ll say something else, something more - but you’ll happily take what he offers. “Okay, Suguru,” you test, loving the way his name rolls off your tongue. He looks positively delighted too. “You should start addressing me by my first name too, then.”

“Of course,” he says, the sound of your name sounding angelic in his soft voice. You get why he has always been popular among the girls, his pretty face and voice and gentle manners are easy to impress almost anyone. Your face only brightens when he hums out your name, a chuckle escaping you.

Geto cannot stop thinking about the elderly couple addressing you and his girls as a lovely young couple with a family - he hasn’t felt that delighted in a long while, praying to the gods who listen to give him courage, courage to finally ask you out for a date. You’re so kind, helping him with the girls and reassuring him that he is doing a great job with the girls, spending your time with him and your girls, acting like the unassigned-assigned head of the household. 

In his rose coloured dream, he can freely hold you and kiss your pretty face as he pleases, the girls call him papa and call you mama - it’s a fantasy so close to reality that he can almost taste it, but like Tantalus’ fruit, it’s just a bit too far away.

A/N: Can you tell that i'm in love with this dynamic?

Price, price and more price🌸🩵

Imagine being John’s pen pal. It’s starts off so innocent, strangers, with you intent on staying that way after a recent nasty break up with a rather nasty man.

You just wanted something to take your mind off of everything while you wallowed away in self pity. Your work had sent you home for a month, said you needed time to heal and get your mind right.

So here you were with nothing to do when one of your friends suggested being a pen pal. And who of all people were to take up your request but John Price.

A simple, name, favourite colour and asking how his day was going was all you wrote. He replied with exactly what you’d asked word for word. Very straightforward and almost strategic and of course asked you the same things.

Then it was age, favourite food and how tall he was. A little description of his face. And again he replied with exactly that. You knew then that you’d have to work hard to get more out of him.

The weeks went by and slowly but surely, John began to become looser. Open up more. Genuinely talk to you. It helped not only you start to heal but also help John heal. He didn’t even know he needed to heal in any way. Maybe the loneliness, the fighting, the pain, the emotionlessness had finally caught up to him.

Work decided you still weren’t ready which was quite honestly bullshit, that’s what you told John anyway. He completely agreed and asked for your manager’s name and social security number. You thought it was a joke, he wholeheartedly wanted to teach the man a lesson.

This week you decide to paint the spare bedroom in your apartment and you told John all about it. You felt almost giddy as you sent letters back and forth deciding paint colours. He loved the domesticity of it all, felt like his little woman was asking what colour to paint a shared home while she waited for him to return. What he wouldn’t give….

He loved the little things like that. Loved when you’d tell him about what you were getting from the grocery store and he’d suggest something he thinks is good. Loved when you’d tell him about a new outfit you bought. He’d tell you how much he’d love to see it and how he bets you look beautiful.

You feel ecstatically nervous when he asked for your phone number. You obviously gave it to him. Impatiently you waited, staring at your phone for it to ring. When it did you jump up, palms sweaty, lump in your throat, heart beating so loud you could heard it in your head…then you pressed answer.

“Hi love.”

“Hi John.”

snowbound | dbf!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | updates blog | ao3 mirror pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] joel is the only guy you know with four wheel drive in the rarely-snowy state of texas, so it seems like a no-brainer to have him pick you up from work — until his truck breaks down, leaving you two to the classic 'huddle for warmth' solution. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!joel, age gap (assumed 20s/40s), reader borrows joel's coat, but does not wear it and uses it as a blanket, self-indulgent humor & banter, joel has sarah and she's a 15y/o menace which means liberties are taken with the timeline, blink & miss it drug mention, close proximity, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, (mocking) dirty talk & dirty talk alluding to anal but no actual anal, daddy kink, degradation, dom!joel, brat!reader, brat tamer!joel, mild bondage (with a scarf), rearview mirror sex, clit stim, riding, doggy, a few pussy spanks, 2 spanks, truck sex, sort of edging, getting caught after the act [no use of y/n] word count: 12.3k a/n: this fic was a labor of love from a request i received earlier this month. i didn't expect it to be this long but i really enjoyed these two! massive massive massive shoutout to talia, @lovesickonmybed, for putting up with me + advising. this fic was way too much to handle on my own. they're the reason i pulled it off. joel is latino here, but i think game!joel can be interpreted as latino too, so read who you'd like.

“Looking ahead for our chances at wintry precipitation tonight – measurable snow, freezing rain, or sleet. It’s hard to get snow here in central Texas – if only, huh? We’re seeing some strong flurries tonight, turning into snow showers in the early morning. Low chances of any significant build up, but you can expect hazardous driving conditions. Black ice and low visibility will make extensive travel dangerous–”

The radio in Keith’s Hardware is old fashioned, curving around the volume and tuning knobs. It’s one of the ones that still has a dial pointer, which is almost always aimed at 92.7 if Keith’s in the back (country); 96.7 (pop) if it’s just you and the only other girl that works in the carpenter’s wet dream of a store. Right now, though, it’s neither of those stations. The pointer is at 162.4, the weather station.

You’d known you were in for it on the drive into work. Watch the weather and it’s real nasty out there airing from your parents lips on your way out of the house for your eight hour shift. The drive had been a gunmetal sort of gray, clouds streaked through the sky and spitting bullets of sleet at your windshield.

For a little bit, the weather had almost cleared up. You’d sworn you’d seen a splotch of sun when you’d tried to step out for break, just to be driven back in by your too-thin jacket and the cold as balls temperature.

Now, though? It’s fucking freezing, and the flurries that the weatherman mentioned are starting to fall. And as much as you’d told Keith that your shitty two-wheel-drive couldn’t handle it, he’d insisted on scheduling you and Liz for close.

Which is where Mr. Miller comes in.

Joel Miller, your dad’s buddy. Joel Miller, the grumpiest secret-softie you’ve ever met. Joel Miller, a knight in shining armor with his 4x4 Ford F150 instead of a horse. Although, if your fantasies are correct – and you like to think they are – what’s between his thighs certainly makes up for the lack of a horse. But he isn’t bringing you for a ride on his cock. He just so happens to be the only man your dad knows with a four wheel drive vehicle, or at least the only one willing to spare you from spinning out by giving you a ride home. Just thinking about it has a knot pinching in the back of your throat. His hands, big and wide and stretching over the gear shift. One muscled arm dangling over the wheel. Looking over his goddamn shoulder to back out —

Liz hops up on the check-out counter where you’re counting up the last of the cash, a spread of Hamiltons, Grants, and Jacksons. You wouldn’t expect a girl like her to work at a hardware store, especially one in the backstreets of the seedy part of town. Some sort of family emergency had driven her back to Austin from NYU design school, which you’re thankful for. Mainly because you get out of cutting wood panels since she has the better eye for measurements, but also because after years of sulking in Keith’s, you finally have someone to talk shit with.

“Those heart eyes aren’t for fuckin’ Alexander Hamilton,” Liz says, tapping her acrylics on your ledger to get your attention. You cough, flipping her off with your pen still in-hand. Liz hums, pretending to think about it as you put down the last numbers. “Although I wouldn’t be too surprised. You do love a geriatric man.”

“Joel isn’t that old,” you scoff, arranging the bills into slim white envelopes and then licking them shut. “He’s just an… acquired taste.”

“Sure, his jizz probably tastes like prohibition-era booze–”

“What the fuck,” you wheeze, hands going out to brace yourself on the closest display case. Your head dips as your chest shakes with laughter.

Liz stays completely straight-faced as she continues, “You’ll have to have 911 on speed dial because if you clench, his heart’s giving out.”

“It is not,” you say, voice still strained with the laughs that won’t stop punching out of you.

She puts her hands up in defense and crosses her legs at the ankles. “Hey, it’s not my fault you like playing whac-a-mole with Great Depression dick.”

“Liz!” You playfully shove her off of the counter, thrusting the envelopes into her hands. “You’re nasty. Fucking nasty.”

She splays a wounded hand over her heart, fanning herself with the envelopes. “You know you love me.” She slips into the office behind the register. You hear the click of the safe before she calls over her shoulder, “Any particular reason you’re fantasizing on the clock?”

“Not fantasizing,” you refute. Liz pops out of the back with a uncertain look scrawled on her face. “My dad talked him into picking me up today so I don’t drive into a snowbank.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a shitty porno.”

“Don’t give me hope.”

“I’m just saying,” she grins. “You can still come to mine. Only a five minute walk with zero chance of rejection.”

“You have such little faith in me.”

She purses her lips. “Mkay…. Pro-tip: Keith probably has some Viagra sitting around in his desk drawers.”

“Liiiiiiiz,” you say. You’re about to tune her out completely when familiar headlights light up the wet asphalt, beaming through the windows. The engine idles, a soft rumble through the linoleum floors. The truck lights dim, leaving Joel in the buttery shine of the streetlamp. His thick arms stretch across the wheel, and he rakes one large hand through his hair. “Shit, speak of the Devil.” You clip off your nametag, tossing it into your half-open bag. “Can you finish closing tonight? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“No problem, no favors necessary.” She closes the register. You fumble to get your bag over your shoulder, not wanting to keep Joel waiting. “Use protection!” she calls after you, and you make sure to flip her off one more time as the door clangs shut behind you.

A wall of cold hits you like a blade of lightning. Wind unfurls, mauling telephone lines and frosted treetops, rippling your jacket. Not even the worn scarf around your neck seems to be doing its job. Suddenly, every one of your limbs feels like an icicle. Joints almost freezing up, you half-jog, half-penguin strut your way to Joel’s passenger side. You wipe the ice off of the door handle with your sleeve. A few stray flurries dust you as you tug the door open, exhaling in relief as you haul yourself onto the side steps and into the toasty warmth of the Ford F150.

You cozy up in the seat, too preoccupied by thawing your hands with long, winded breaths to notice the affronted look Joel is throwing your way. “Are you tryin’ to catch your fuckin’ death, girl?”

“No death to catch. It’s not that cold.” The way you’re shivering says otherwise. Joel pins you with the raise of his brow.

Before you know what he’s doing, he’s groaning as he reaches over the center console into the backseat. You see a flash of his trucker jacket before it lands in your lap, flannel-lined and heavy. You use it like a blanket, draping it across your torso and wrestling your hands into the inside pockets. The canvas smells like car exhaust and off-brand Dollar General deodorant, two things that are so inextricably Joel. As much as you hate to admit it, the warmth is already inking its way across your skin – or maybe it’s just being next to Joel that’s heating you up. “Thanks,” you grumble.

When you adjust in your seat, the inside of your foot catches an empty Dr. Pepper can on the floor. It rattles when you accidentally kick it forward. You lean down and pick it up, going to place it down in the cupholder, only to find it overpopulated with random Home Depot and Whataburger receipts.

“Tax deductions,” he shrugs. “Gotta eat on the job.”

“And a…” You pick up the receipt and squint at the faded typography. “$3.29 strawberry milkshake is part of that, I figure?”

Joel grunts, “Tommy’s order.”

You smirk. “Sure it is.”

“Quit shit stirrin’ and put on your fuckin’ seatbelt.”

You reach back, fingers snagging it and tugging it down. Groping for the belt between the seats and the center console, it goes on for at least five seconds too long before Joel grabs the buckle and shoves it into the slot. His fingers brush your thigh as he pulls away from you and settles his foot over the gas pedal. The singular touch shouldn’t make butterflies beat at the walls of your stomach, but it does. Everything about him does.

Now that you’re all settled in, everything about him is also settling in. The fact that he’s only wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt now that his coat is off. His sleeves are constricting enough that his muscles bulge below the strip of fabric. Ample scruff dapples his jawline, and his hair is disheveled in the way that you’ve learned you like it. You trail your eyes down his body, his tummy, across the undone drawstrings of his dark gray sweatpants, and no, you move on quickly from there, because you refuse to get riled up in the passenger seat.

He’s slowly peeling out of Keith’s parking lot, arm thrown over the back of your seat. You’re starting to fail at your mission of not getting riled up when you see the flex of his bicep, the way his eyes meet yours as he turns to look through the back window. He turns out of the parking lot and onto the relatively barren, icy streets–

“What the hell are those?”

Joel side-eyes you, brows furrowed. He follows the line of your gaze to his feet, which you’re used to seeing in New Balances or steel-toed work boots, but are instead wearing… fur-lined crocs.

“These here? Yeah, got ‘em recently, good for my days off with all this nippy weather. Sarah told me they’re ‘all the rage’ with the youth–”

You can’t help it. You damn near double over with laughter, clutching at your stomach. Joel’s coat nearly slides off of you, but you hang onto it with your pinkie finger, quickly going dizzy from lack of air. “‘All the rage’? Oh my fucking God– Joel, she was pulling your leg. Those are fucking hideous.”

“Hey, now–” He sighs, pinching his nose bridge with the hand that isn’t dangling over the wheel. “Zip it, I don’t needa justify my shoe choices to ya.”

“Does she do anything other than give you shit these days?”

“You’re one to talk about givin’ shit, y’know,” Joel says. Unfailingly, he smiles. The smile that pulls at the edges of his lips. The smile that he only ever gets when talking about Sarah. It doesn’t matter where – loading up his plate with barbecue, your dad asking him while he’s picking up junk mail in the morning, or on the job. If someone asks him about his daughter, Joel fucking beams.

He sucks on his teeth for a second, and then, “She’s picked up soccer. Goalkeeper. Damn good at it, too, all them other kids on her team can’t match her collapse dive.”

“Of course they can’t,” you say. “She’s got better reflexes than a house fly.”

Joel hunches over the wheel, effectively ending the conversation as he concentrates on the road. The only noise is the rumbling engine and the wagging of the windshield wipers as he attempts to navigate the black ice polka-dotted roads. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, seeing him in such a state of focus, his thighs tensed as he manipulates the gas and brakes to stop early, start slow. His arms thickening when he makes a right turn. Thumbs drumming drumming drumming on the wheel and maybe they’d do the same between your legs—

“So how’s work?” you blurt out.

Joel mumbles something that you can’t quite make out.

“Huh?”

“Fuckin’ ‘big shot’ gringos up my ass all day. Goddamn shitshow.” He shakes his head, his lips thinned. “I tell ‘em terraforming is gonna make it look like a Flinstone-owned-and-operated putt-putt course. They say do it anyway. I tell ‘em that orderin’ custom windows is gonna put us months behind. They say do it anyway, then come up jibber-jabberin’ all ‘bout how long it’s takin’. And it’s fuckin’... window madness, not one window in that hellhole matches another. Ain’t had so much trouble buildin’ a house since Sarah had me build her one from Hobby Lobby when she was little. Their architect musta been doin’ lines.”

You think you’ve seen Sarah’s dollhouse before when visiting, just in passing when the guest bedroom door was left open a smidge. You remember stalling in the hallway to look at it, with a fleece of dust growing on the tediously placed shingles and the oakwood front door left open like it’d been waiting for someone to come home. But Sarah outgrew it, and although Joel would never admit it, you know he’s too sentimental to leave it on the curb.

“How bad can building a dollhouse from a kit be?”

“With a five year old yellin’ like a drill sergeant in your ear? Worse than you think. She even made me rig the damn thing with electric so she could have her pink chandelier.”

You pout at him, “Wah wah, I’ll bet you loved it.”

“Was a nuisance at the time. But, uh, she was fiddlin’ with some ‘a the dolls I’d gotten her. Don’t think she knew I was watchin’, had gone to put ‘er to bed ‘cause it was a school night. She was readin’ this book I always read to her. Something about… a stuffed bear with a missin’ button and a girl that was tryna to buy him. I don’t fuckin’ know–” “Corduroy?”

“Yeah, that. Anyway, she was reading, usin’ the same tone I always used with her, tucked her dolls in for the night, and switched off the lights. I don’t think I loved it until then.” There’s a glistening in his eyes at the memory.

You smirk, “Sentimental bastard–”

The truck slides. Or maybe it coasts, skimming across the thin film of black ice. Joel eases down on the brakes, hauling to a stop next to a Minivan with its warning lights on. It’s a long stretch, and you can’t even see all the way down the highway with how thick the snow is. No two snowflakes are the same, but you find it difficult to believe when you’re looking at what must be millions of them. They pirouette, landing on window panes, rooftops, and wind-agonized tree branches. Everything is blotted with white. Red warning lights glare on the ice back at you.

“Shiiit,” Joel says as he squints at the road ahead of him. He scratches at his scruff.

“Tell me you’re not going to drive through that shit.”

“I’m not,” he says.

“Then how the fuck are we getting home?”

“Chill it–” “That’s the last thing I need to do,” you huff.

“I’m takin’ the detour.”

With that, he jerks the wheel — a bit too recklessly considering the weather, in your opinion – and pulls off onto a slippery backroad. The snow seems to have clung to the trees more back here, a sort of incandescent saran wrap over the oaks. At a bend in the road, icicles hang from a yellow sign that says CURVE 30 MPH. Joel takes it at ten.

You’re not checking out his hands while he drives, no, of course not. You’re looking at the gazillion lights on his dashboard display. “You usually have that many lights on?”

“Ain’t your truck, ain’t your business.”

“I’m ridin’ in it, ain’t I?” you mock his accent. 

Joel sighs heavily. “Drivin’ me up the fuckin’ wall.” His hands clench briefly around the wheel. “Auto repair shop’s been price gouging, I’m tryin’ to get Tommy to hook me up with his buddy in San Anton–”

“Won’t be able to drive to San Antonio if your bumper falls off halfway there.”

Joel’s voice is dry as bone. “Ha ha. You get off on bein’ a smartass?”

It’s three words – that’s all it is. Just a throwaway phrase that he probably doesn’t even realize he said. If it were anything more, you’d know. But Joel, saying those words in that order? Damn him, because it turns your blood effervescent. You stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together underneath his coat. You’re about to make another quip that’ll not only distract you, but also surely drive Joel up the wall, one of your favorite activities.

His truck putters from ten miles per hour to eight.

Eight to six.

Six to four.

“Motherfuckin’.... shit,” Joel says again, this time much more urgent as he wrests the wheel to the side. The truck skims over the frosted roads and onto the shoulder, rolls for two seconds, and then falls to a complete, utter stop. The windshield wipers pause while they’re still up. Heat no longer spits out of the dusty air vents.

It’s the loudest silence you’ve ever been in.

“...So do you get off on letting your truck break down or–”

Joel sighs in the way that dogs do. “Thin ice, missy.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and pulls out his phone. “I’ll give Tommy a call.” He stares at the screen for ten seconds. Taps it. Shakes it.

“No service?” you ask.

“No service.”

“Let me try mine,” you mumble, shifting in the car seat. Sure enough, zero bars. Even though you know it won’t work, you press your dad’s contact. It goes straight to voicemail. “Well, shit.”

“Shit,” Joel echoes.

It’s unspoken, but you both know the harsh reality of this harsh wintry night: no phone service, no operational truck, and… no heater.

“Hang tight,” Joel says, reaching over the center console and hijacking his coat from your lap. He wrestles his arms through the sleeves and zips it up. He shoves the door open against the hoarse wind that keeps the trees at a slant, hops out, then slams it shut hard enough for the vehicle to rock. From how hard the wind was blowing, stray flurries dust the truck’s interior.

You can’t really see what he’s doing – the snow’s too heavy, the hood popped wide open for him to investigate the truck’s viscera. You run your hands up and down your thighs, already feeling cold. Without the heater, it won’t be much longer before you turn to an icicle in the passenger seat. The hood bangs back down.

Joel climbs in from the backseat, slams the door as hard as humanly possible, and then scoots to the middle seat. 

You crane your neck to see him as he shakes out his cold-reddened hands before puffing air into his cupped palms. “What’s wrong with it?” You ask. 

He lets out a frigid breath. “Don’t fuckin’ know, snowin’ too damn hard to tell.”

“Ten bucks it was one of the lights on your dash,” you say.

Joel glares at you, still huffing into his hands. His fingertips are bright red to match his ruddy cheeks. Snow is sprinkled through his hair like soot, quickly melting to beads of water on his windblown curls.

“Got some… hand warmers up in that glovebox. Grab the whole pack.”

You lean forward, kneeing it open and rifling through all of his shit. Insurance papers, more receipts, Miller Contracting business cards, a folded pocket knife, lens wipes, and –

“When’s the last time these saw daylight?” you huff out a laugh as you hold up a battered box of condoms. 

Turns out, snow isn’t the thing that makes Joel Miller redder than a tomato. It’s the fifteen year old, very expired condoms hiding in his glovebox.

He clears his throat and averts his eyes. “Jesus. Forgot those were in there.”

You shake the box around and pluck a condom out of it. Looking for the expiration date, you turn it over and over in your hand. “August 31st, 2004. Really that long since you got some, Miller?”

“Put ‘em back,” he grumbles. “Pain in my ass.”

You snicker, replacing the condom box with the box of hand warmers. They’re unopened, still sealed. You snatch Joel’s keys out of the ignition and swipe them across the tape. “Happy?” you toss them over your shoulder.

“No.” He tears open the pack and rubs his hands together around the warmer, sighing when it begins to heat.

“Dick,” you grumble.

More tearing. “Brat.” Another warmer lands in your lap.

“Oughta get comfortable. We’re gonna be here a while,” Joel says.

“And whose fault is that?” You ask as you weigh the warmer in your palms. The front seat already feels cramped, and you’re quick to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your legs and arms fold like pretzels as you climb into the backseat. The curse that leaves you when you hit your head on the roof has Joel rolling his eyes.

“Pipe down. First thing in the mornin’ I’ll make the walk out to that country club a mile out and use their phone. Just gotta ride out the night. You ain’t ever roughed it before?”

You fall on all fours on the backseat, finally pulling yourself upright next to him. “Never had a reason to. Like, what if I have to piss? What if I get hungry?”

Joel shrugs. “Tough.”

The cold is starting to settle into your bones. Even your tongue feels popsicle numb, and your fingers are stiff where they wrap around the warmer. It’s like you’ve been trapped in a snowglobe and shaken up by a handsy toddler with how the wind rattles the truck and the snow swishes outside. You suppress a shiver, leaning against the door. Condensation is already building on the windows. Absent-mindedly, you begin to trace a portrait of Joel in the moisture. Your fingertip squeaks against the glass. Your masterpiece wouldn’t be complete without his signature scowl, so you’re sure to paint a frown on his face and his forehead wrinkles on thick.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” Joel comments from the opposite side of the back. “Looks nothin’ like me, by the way.”

You smirk, “But you knew it was you.”

Because there’s nothing better to do than burn time, you spend the next ten minutes filling up the window with whatever nonsense doodles come to mind — hearts, stars, trees, and of course, the only one that Joel seems to be fond of: Sarah, smiling and curly-haired.

Reality only settles in when you’re done with the ephemeral illustrations, their outlines starting to dissolve back to regular droplets that streak down the windows. You’re stuck, for God knows how long, on this shady backroad that the Zodiac Killer would’ve loved during his heyday. With your dad’s best friend that you’ve been harboring a dangerous crush on.

And it’d be impossible to forget that it’s freezing fucking balls.

“Joel?” you say into the dark truck.

“Hm?”

Always one to speak your mind, you say, “It’s freezing fucking balls.”

A sound that might be a laugh leaves him. “Here,” Joel says, unzipping his jacket. He tosses it over to you, and you snuggle back up with it, nose burrowing into one of the creases in the fabric. His coat smells like him – like cheap body wash, chewing gum, and gasoline. 

You try putting your hands in the pockets, even going as far as to open up a new hand warmer for each one, but they’re full of loose change and, expectedly, more receipts. When you curl up against the corner between the door and the seat, the hard plastic bites into your oversensitive back. Sitting upright or cross-legged doesn’t work, and when you test drive sitting diagonally with your feet propped up on the console, Joel makes a disproving noise and swats gently at your shin. You prop your forehead up against the window, but it’s cold enough to give you a brain freeze. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joel snorts. “Get over ‘ere, you wuss.” He hauls you over, big hand splayed over your waist, and drags you across the bench to his side. You yelp in surprise, but only for a second before you’re crushed against Joel’s side. “Can’t have ya gettin’ hypothermia,” he jests.

You don’t know where to put your hands, but eventually, you settle on cupping his neck. Touching Joel, hell, even just being near him, is like being by an open furnace. Or maybe the heat is just your stomach doing somersaults at being this close to Joel after years of frivolous pining. His nape emanates warmth, the kind that flows down your arms and wraps comfortingly around your chest.

Joel exhales, the tendrils of his breath curling from the frigidity. He grabs his coat from the side and flattens it over the both of you, a piss poor replacement for a blanket, but all you’ve got.

Still, cold seeps in through the cracks in the doors, spoiling whatever lukewarm air remains. It doesn’t help that Joel had hopped in and out of the truck to play eye spy under the hood. The truck struggles to hold onto heat properly, especially when it isn’t producing more of it.

Joel sort of… flickers against your back. You think nothing of it until it happens again, this time in short bursts, and then turns into full on shivering.

“Who’s the wuss now, old man?”

Joel tenses up behind you. “Funny,” he says. With your hands cushioned against his neck, you feel the grate of his voice in his throat. “This is the best you’re gonna get unless you wanna be butt ass naked to share heat.”

It should be a joke. But the way he says it… doesn’t sound like a joke.

You go still, lifeless, not even sure if you’re shaking anymore. Because now, the only thought in your head is being pressed against Joel, his soft cock hardening against you, his palms splayed and rubbing over your stomach to keep you warm. And if his cock needed to get somewhere warmer, too…. Your clit twitches at the thought.

You smother the initial shock in your voice with your usual solution: sass. “So what, we’re gonna fuckin’ huddle for warmth?”

As much as you enjoy the idea, you're already dripping — and that’s just from your body being pressed against his, breathing the same air as him, closer now than you’ve ever been before. With no panties in the way, it’s not a stretch to say you’d be dripping down his thighs. You’d hate to have that conversation.

“Would you rather freeze to death?” Joel asks. You look up at him from where you’re curled into his side and find no gleam in his eyes. This isn’t just some knee-slapper for him. Joel Miller is being completely, irreversibly serious.

“I’d rather something less like Naked and Afraid, Joel!”

“It works,” he says, nose flaring. “They do it in those fuckin’... action movies all ‘a the time.”

“I didn’t know Hollywood was writing survival manuals for pervs–”

“God, you’re a piece ‘a work, ya know that?” His eyes flick down to you, and maybe it’s just the fact that this road is damn near pitch black, but his pupils seem larger than before. “Listen, I ain’t tryna perv on ya. I also ain’t tryna send you back to your old man with four fingers missin’ from frostbite.”

There’s no way you’re actually seriously considering this. You’ve heard of cold temperatures impairing thinking, but not like this. Your dad’ll go chasing after Joel with a pitchfork and a shovel if he finds out the man who was supposed to get you home safe and sound was cuddling naked with you. Cuddling naked with you in the backseat, no less. You’re certain Joel won’t try anything – he’s not like that. No matter how flustered you get in his lap, he’d never take advantage of you. What you aren’t certain of is your ability to stop yourself from asking him t0 take advantage of you.

This is practical. It’s only supposed to be practical. He wouldn’t be suggesting something this drastic if you both weren’t shaking like a rattlesnake’s rattler.

“Fine,” you say, already unwinding your scarf from around your neck. Determined to keep some semblance of boundaries up, you add, “No peeping, Miller.”

Joel makes an exasperated sound as you once again scoot out from his coat and across the bench, working yourself out of your shoes, your cotton zip-up, and then the stiff Keith’s uniform – a blue polo and jeans. Joel’s eyes are respectfully trained on the truck’s floor mats, which you’re only just now noticing has a sun-bleached Lisa Frank sticker tacked onto it. 

Down to your bra and panties, your heart rate picks up. Your fingers are so fucking cold that it’s hard to get your bra straps out of the way so you can unclasp the damned thing, and then it falls to the floor. Your nipples harden in the face of the cold. The only thing you keep is your scarf, which do you do your best to cover your tits with. Scooping up your discarded clothes and tossing them to the front seat, you let out a shaky breath.

Fuck it.

You shimmy out of your panties and get rid of them just as quickly. When you try telling Joel you’re decent, or rather indecent, nothing comes out. Instead, you have to clear your throat with a strained,  “All good.”

“Alright,” Joel says, rustling around. You hear his crocs scrape against the mat, and then his shirt swishing over his head.

He doesn’t tell you to look away, but since it’s implied, you look out of the window. The snowy trees tremble in the wind, and you almost wince when you see a small sliver of his tanned skin reflected in the glass. His crocs clunk on the ground when he kicks them off, and you watch his criminally tight t-shirt go flying over the passenger seat. You casually grip the Jesus handle, hoping that Joel doesn’t notice your fist tightening around it when you hear him untying the drawstrings of his sweatpants. When his sweats and boxers follow the path of his shirt, breathing gets a lot harder than you remember it being.

Just an hour ago, you’d been certain that this would be nothing more than a ten minute drive. Maybe, if you were lucky, he’d call you a casual pet name that would fuel the wriggling of your hand between your thighs that night. 

The tension in the air is thicker than molasses. Each breath you take is fragile.

“I’m ready when you are,” Joel says.

Since you’re already half-naked, and since chickening out is out of the question, you inch over to Joel’s side. The air tumbles out of your lungs in one fell swoop when your bicep meets his. With some fidgeting, you bring your legs up at an angle beneath you, wrapping around his side in a way that has you feeling a little bit like a koala. You talk yourself into keeping your eyes forward and then scrub your palms across your freezing arms.

Joel, more indifferent than you think anyone else in this situation could be, abruptly casts his coat back over the both of you.

And, fuck him, he’d been right. The engulfing canvas of his coat keeps warmth trapped where it can be passed easily between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just being confined and skin-to-skin with Joel that has you heating up.

The silence is cruel – it’s much harder to make conversation about work or dollhouses or whatever the hell else when you’re naked. Only the wind’s sibilance keeps you company.

You can get used to this, you think. Drift off into a somewhat sound sleep with your head on Joel’s shoulder and hope that you don’t drool all over him or moan his name in your sleep. More embarrassing things have happened to you.

But then, as if you’re the unluckiest person alive, the temperature drops even more, and suddenly, you’re shaking like a leaf all over again. Your teeth almost clack together as you try to stammer out to Joel, “C–cold, Jesus fucking… Christ that’s cold.”

Joel pouts down at you, but you don’t miss the way his lip quivers. “Should I call the wambulance?”

“Should I call the r–r–r–retirement home to pi…pick up a ru–runaway resident?” It sounded a lot better in your head than bouncing off of your frozen tongue, you have to admit.

“Drama queen,” Joel mutters into your ear. “Can’t do anythin’ more about it. Sorry–”

“Can I sit on your lap?” you blurt out so quickly that you don’t even have time to think about it. You grimace, partially covering your face with your hands. Shit.

Joel’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

You’re already half doomed. Why not go all the way? “Listen, it’s just fucking… fucking freezing, Joel. Holy shit.”

“That bad?” he chokes out.

“You’d be warmer than the seats,” you defend. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Best behavior.”

Joel seems to ponder it for a moment, brows stitched together while he looks down at you from where you’re furled up against his side. He gnaws on the inside of his cheek before giving you a slight nod. “Alright.” You nod in return, heart in your throat. “–But you better mean it when you say best behavior. Can’t have any ‘a this shit gettin’ back to your dad.”

Another nod. You hold your breath as you shinny your way onto Joel’s lap, mounting him from the front so his chest hits your back. In your attempt to get comfortable, you bracket your legs around his. His soft cock fits at the small of your back, and even though he’s as flaccid as can be, he’s big. Apparently your imagination isn’t too far off. Joel’s sharp intake of breath forms a pit in your stomach, and you know when you’re warming up for an entirely different reason than close proximity, you also know that you need to calm yourself down. Fast.

Think of something awful. Like that time that you had to dissect cow eyes in sophomore year biology. Think about mold. How many murderers you’ll walk by in your lifetime. Expired leftovers. Anything–

You adjust yourself in an attempt to get away from Joel’s cock. Instead, your hips move just so his cock slips between your thighs and bobs against your slit.

You whine.

Your body immediately locks up once you realize what you’ve done. Crawling out of the truck to die a hypothermia-induced death seems like a much kinder fate than facing Joel, but no matter how much you scream at yourself to reach out and unlock the door, your hands refuse to move. You hadn’t noticed how wet you’d gotten, and you have no idea how. It’s smeared across your thighs, and now pressed up against your back after Joel’s dick had dragged through it all.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit–

Chancing a look over your shoulder, you’re surprised to find the tips of Joel’s ears flushed, cheeks cherry ripe. His Adam’s apple bobs when you meet his eyes. Holy fuck.

You’ve flustered him.

For some reason, the thought makes your chest a lot lighter. You look away nonetheless, but this time, with a newfound gleam in your eye. There’s no such thing as a bad accident, right?

Maybe Liz was right about having to call 911, because when you ‘accidentally’ repeat the movement, Joel stops breathing all together. His cock, almost hard now, you’ve noticed, bumps against your clit. You almost swallow your tongue trying to keep your moan down.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he asks, his gruff voice scratching at your ears.

“I didn’t mean to,” you lie straight through your teeth, a smug little grin spreading on your face. Something about his semi-hard cock between your bodies tells you he’s going to say no to your next suggestion. “Maybe you should put the coat between us, instea–”

“Are you outta your fuckin’ mind, girl?” Joel’s voice comes out raspy. He shakes his head, clears his throat. The vibrations rumble up your spine. “And take away the whole point of stayin’ warm? Now quit it. Ain’t that hard to sit still.”

You try your hand at listening – for all of two seconds.

You hike your hips up, fumbling with his coat as you slot his cock against your slit once more, pushing yourself forward. The coat slides right off of you, falling in a dark lump on the floor. Neither of you care — you’re both too heated for the lack of cover to make a damn difference. Joel hisses, a sound like water hitting an open flame. His hands fly down to your waist, anchoring you to his lap. A surprised noise squeaks out of you.

“What, you got rocks rattlin’ around in your brain?” Joel scowls. “You’re real impolite for a cocktease, sweetheart.”

Butterflies flap around in your stomach from his words. It’s enough to make your head tip against his chest so you can look up at him, lips shaped in a perfect pout. “I’m not,” you say.

“Not a cocktease, huh? Not even when you’re rubbin’ all over my lap?”

You gasp as your hands fly down to cover Joel’s, nails etching into where his fingers meet your bare skin. You tug at his wrist, trying desperately to guide him where you so desperately need him.

“Not happenin’,” Joel grunts, yanking your hands behind you and pinning them to your waist like you’re nothing more than a poseable doll. His large, work-worn hands make yours look damn near miniature as he holds you down. The sudden roughness douses your inner thighs with a new wave of wetness. “Jesus, girl. Poor thing, gettin’ all hot and bothered. Don’t blame ya for tryna get me to help out. Can feel ya dripping down my legs, gushin’ like a sprinkler.”

“S–sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry,” you whisper, words sticky with your arousal. Your clit twitches from his words, embarrassment and need doing all the work to keep you warm.

“Nahhh,” he says. “I don’t think you are, baby.” Maybe it’s the condescension he’s purring in your ear, maybe it’s the pet name; most likely, it’s a combination of both that has you convulsing in his lap. It’s like he’s found all of the right buttons to press to get you riled up, getting you back for all of your snide comments earlier. 

His fingers find the fabric of your scarf, luring it off of your neck so he can cord it around your wrists. You squirm when you realize what he’s doing, and a breathless huff of his laughter brushes your cheek. “I’ll be damned if you ain’t gonna be, though.” He draws it tight, tight enough for you to feel your pulses bumping into each other. Joel leaves a fair amount of your unreasonably long scarf loose.

“Joel, what the fuck are you up to?”

“Teachin’ you some sweet southern belle etiquette, darlin’. Such a goddamn troublemaker, grindin’ on me like I’m some kinda… frat boy.” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “Pullin’ that shit with your pops’ friend. Real fuckin’ classy.”

“Like you’re so different. Who’s the one that’s tying me up? Huh, Mil–”

You hear the hit well before you feel it, a firm whack to your cunt that makes your vision blacken and electricity scurrying up your spine. It takes you a second to come back to yourself before a ragged cry pulls its way out of your lips. You jolt in his lap, bound arms bobbing in front of you as your body instinctively lurches for control. You damn near kick your feet, accidentally ricocheting yourself into Joel’s chest. His forearms hold you there. 

“Guess I’ll make it crystal clear for ya, baby, since that dumb lil’ head ‘a yours is havin’ some trouble. My truck, my rules. You’re ridin’ in it, ain’t you?” You nod reluctantly as he turns your words from earlier in his favor. “That was a warnin’, you showoff. Think you can bat your slutty ‘fuck me’ eyes an’ get away with murder.” He fucking tsks at you.

He pulls his hand away from your pussy, and you’re both surprised and not surprised at all to see it covered in your arousal, webbed between his calloused fingers. 

“Got a whole goddamn slip ‘n slide down here…” murmurs Joel. You whine, bucking your hips against him. “Oughta just…” he starts, nudging his cock towards your hole. The noise you make is pathetic. “Stop ya from ruinin’ my seats. Cork you right up.” You tense up, fully expecting the intrusion, but his dick passes your cunt right up, instead sliding up to meet your clit. It taps against your swollen nub, and if his goal was to stop you from ruining his seats, you’re certain he’s already failed with how quickly you gush all over the upholstery.

“But that’d be real nice, wouldn’t it? Givin’ ya what ya want so early on…” Instead of pulling away like you expect, Joel griiiinds the head of his cock against your clit. You moan helplessly, head falling back across his shoulder.

And then he does it again.

And again.

And agai–

“Joooooel,” you whine, knees jerking each time his tip meets your most sensitive spot. Heat spins in your stomach.

He backs his hips up “What? Thought you loved this with how much you were gettin’ at it earlier.”

You shake your head rapidly in the negative, chest rising and falling at a breakneck pace while he teases you.

“So you can deal, but you can’t play?”

“I think you’re just taking your sweet old time getting it up, old man,” you grit out, knowing damn well he’s stiffer than titanium behind you.

Joel hums. “Ah, she’s got jokes.” His cock slips back, quickly replaced by his hand engulfing your mound. Your clit twitches ever so slightly against his palm lines, and you’re almost convinced you could get off from that alone. His palm cracks against your cunt again, somehow even harder than the first time. You cry out, eyes burning from arousal and the slightest edge of pain.

With his thumbpad, he taps your clit like he’s just scrolling through the cable guide with a remote. Fleeting movements that have you wanting more more more. It heals the sting of his slap even if the echo of the hit still simmers in your stomach. Your cunt throbs so hard that it hurts, jumping up to meet Joel’s scarce ministrations.

When he retracts his hand, your hips chase the movement. “See this?” he taunts, fluttering his wet fingers in front of your face. You make a choked noise when his drenched middle finger breaches your lips. He doesn’t even need to tell you; you latch on and suck yourself off of his calloused skin. You’re mostly salty, but a little sweet, and tasting yourself on your own tongue by his insistence manages to make you even wetter.

Joel takes his spare fingers, just as soaked, and smears them all around your chin and lower cheeks. He presses down on your tongue as he does. You gag from the pressure, and you can’t hear his laugh over the roaring of your blood in your ears, but you feel it rattle his chest where it meets your spine. Your slick cools quickly against your burning skin, syrupy as it clings to your face. “Need a bib, baby?”

He pulls his finger from your mouth with a pop and your scarf-wrapped hands spring to wipe yourself from your lips, hoping to save yourself from the humiliation of having your own pussy juice anointing your face. You only scoop up a little before Joel lowers his forearm over yours, but for once, you’re faster than him. You swipe your wet hand over his mouth, smudging as much as you can along the scruff surrounding his mouth.

He wraps a burly hand in the scarf and yanks your hands back into place. All you can do in response is giggle, but the breath is swiftly knocked out of you when he drives his cock right into your clit. “Think you’re funny, don’t ya?” He asks, and finally grunts as he rolls his hip into you. A break in his resolve, a sign that he wants this, or at least the discipline of this, as badly as you do.

You almost weep from the pressure, that rope of pleasure in your stomach that he keeps knotting tighter and tighter and tighter with each stroke of his cock, his fingers. “Joel!” you cry out as he follows it up with another firm swat to your clit. His cock spreads your folds as he softens the bashing, nuzzling his tip against your spasming cunt.

“Really, oughta give standup a go one ‘a these days. Be a real hotshot.”

“Oh yeah?” you pant, light headed and woozy.

“Mhm. If the whole crowd’s drunk.” His cock nudges your nub with a new vigor.

“Assh–”

Right as you’re about to press down and follow the sensation, Joel senses it. His cock gives way through your cheeks, just in time for him to land a ruthless slap across your pussy. It’s harder than the others – makes your ears ring for a second, gives you a sort of visual snow that has you doubling over and gripping at the closest object for purchase, which just so happens to be the metal rods coming out of the headrest. 

“Ain’t what you should be sayin’ if you’re plannin’ on gettin’ what you want, sugar,” Joel tuts. He shakes his head at you. “Don’t wanna hear no lip from ya, girl.”

You open your mouth, argument on the tip of your drool-loaded tongue, but your halfhearted attempt at defiance doesn’t last long. Joel’s hand clamps around your chin, denting your skin into your teeth. He jerks your head to face him, knocking you down a peg with scathing eye contact. “You’re pushin’ it.” He loosens his grip.

“As if, Miller. If those pre-Cold War condoms are anything to go by, you’ve been dying for a chance to get your dick wet. Doesn’t matter how much lip I give you, you aren’t gonna blue ball yourself for much longer.” Satisfied, you raise your brows at him.

Turns out, he is going to blue ball himself for much longer, because he lands six slaps in rapid succession across your sopping cunt. The skin smarts, and you cry out. Your grip tightens around the headrest rod to the point of strangling it. Your eyes water, and you can’t tell if you’re crying. Too consumed by Joel, everything has melted into him – the smell of sawdust perpetually sewn into his skin, his cock sealed against your body.

“How many times are ya gonna poke the bear before you learn your lesson, you cheeky little shit?” Joel’s palm cups the inside of your right thigh, just above the knee. He traces circles with his thumb, and heat trails after him with everywhere he touches. “See, the thing about havin’ ‘pre-Cold War condoms’ is that I’ve had a helluva lot more time to learn self control than you. Can wait as loooooong as it takes for you to get your head on right. Don’t matter if you’re waterfallin’ down my seats or not, pretty girl. I’m giving you exactly what ya deserve.”

You whimper, trying (and failing) to get your magma hot core closer to Joel’s unfairly large hand, still splayed out on your inner thigh. You can’t stop how you squirm in his lap, smearing your arousal everywhere with each movement you make.

At a snail’s pace, his hand begins to inch up your leg. Joel pauses to grope at you as his hand travels upward. Handfuls of your skin, rubbing at your scalding hot thighs. Your patience is wearing thin by the time he gets midway there. You need him to touch you. And that’s just the tip of this impossibly destructive iceberg.

You shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have let him go down this shitty backroad, shouldn’t have agreed to your dad’s ridiculous idea of Joel picking you up, shouldn’t have asked to be naked on his lap, shouldn’t have gotten naked on his lap, shouldn’t be leaking like a twenty-year-old pipe in a building he’d been hired to renovate. If your dad ever finds out–

“Joel, please, please – plea…” you trail off, dissolving into incoherent whimpers as his hand hovers over your cunt. You’re running hotter than a radiator now, and if you both wanted to be warm, then you’ve got your wish. Although mostly gibberish, Joel has to understand what you want from him. It’s just that the bastard is unwilling to provide.

Joel reaches down to pinch your clit, and your body can’t even discern from pleasure and pain anymore. You react the same to it all, back arching as you try desperately to plant yourself on his cock. “Shhh, shhh, quit runnin’ your filthy mouth. Only gonna get yourself into more trouble.”

You swear you hear angels singing, swear you see the pearly gates when he gives your clit a merciful rub. Melting into him, you exhale shakily.

“See? All nice ‘n quiet when she’s gettin’ what she wants.” You wouldn’t even dream of mouthing off to him now.

“I want – I need…” you gasp out, putty in his hands. Moldable to his liking. Everything you’d pretended not to want.

“Go on,” he coos. “Tell daddy what you need.”

You don’t even hear him say that word. You’re too hooked on begging, begging, begging. “Please – Joel, oh god, please – I need… I need… please please please, fuck, it hurts–”

Joel clicks his tongue. “Nuh uh. Start over. Always such a chatterbox ‘cept for when I need ya to be.”

“Wha…?” you ask, admittedly dazed from the harsh treatment that you’ve come to crave more of.

“Tell daddy what you need,” he repeats, words molasses slow.

You clench, gushing even more all over him. Shit, your next paycheck might have to go to replacing the goddamn seats if you keep up like this.

“D–D… D-” you start stammering out, but you’ve lost autonomy over your body long ago, and apparently that goes for your tongue, too. “Da– Da… pl–”

“Any day now,” he scoffs.

“Daddy!” you spit out all at once. “Please, please, daddy, fuck – fuck me, daddy, please, I want your cock, daddy. Feels so fucking big. Need it daddy, it hurts… please, ngh– daddy!” Tears are burning the corners of your eyes, fueled almost entirely by arousal and partially by frustration. You squirm, cunt crying all over the place. 

“M’kay, baby,” he says. Running a hand down your chest and squeezing your nipple on the way down. He slides his hand down your stomach to cup your mound, giving your clit slow, gentle circles. Your hips jump forward, and this time, he doesn’t stop you. “Daddy’s got ya.”

At the first intrusion of his middle finger in your cunt, you jump. It’s a lot compared to what he’s been giving you, but nowhere near enough. A second finger slips inside. He doesn’t have to do much work to stretch you out — you’ve been seeping out of you since you first got on his lap. He’s all too quick thrusting them in and out of you – the messy squelch of your pussy filling the backseat has you burying your chin against your chest, averting your eyes. The heel of his palm bumps persistently at your clit with each shift of his fingers inside of you.

“I know you ain’t a virgin, but you’re soakin’ like one. Too damn cocksure to ain’t have had a cock in ya before. Prancin’ around like a glorified dick trap.” You inhale sharply when his fingers scrape that spongy spot inside of you that you can never reach yourself. A moan rips out of you. The combination of him talking down to you and rubbing your g-spot has you dangerously close to cumming. Your moan is quickly swallowed up by more of Joel’s condescension. 

He starts mumbling to himself then, obscenities that make you clench even tighter around his fingers. “Gonna get you all sore baby, make you regret beggin’ for this dick like a horny ‘lil bitch that ain’t ever been laid in her life. Fuck you so hard you’ll be cryin’ for daddy’s cock up your ass instead, turn you into an anal slut, too.” He’s too busy listening to himself talk, too absorbed in his own world to feel you balancing on that razor-thin edge.

The noise you make is inhuman. You pulse around him, doing your best to stave off your impending release. “Daddy–” you warn, but he cuts you off then, too. Joel grinds his cock between your ass cheeks, his precum dripping down your slit to meet your trembling cunt. 

“Ever been fucked here before baby?” He swipes his tip along your asshole, and the way you shudder is answer enough for him. “Don’t get all jumpy, sweetheart. Ain’t gonna fuck ya there right now. Be cruisin’ for a bruisin’.” Still, he replaces his tip with his free hand’s thumb, simply rubbing at the ring of muscle. You fidget in his lap without an end-goal. You just want to be close to him, want to take everything he’s willing to give you. His fingers hook just right inside of you. “Would love to be the first to unlock this pretty backdoor. If this tight ‘lil pussy’s anything to go by… Christ. You’d look so pretty squirmin with my cock in your ass, baby–”

“Daddy!” You scream as your orgasm guts you. His fingers and his voice rip your climax right out of you and your cum streams down your inner thighs and Joel’s hand, still smacking against your clit with each thrust. Your cunt spasms around his flexing fingers. He has to fold an arm over your chest to keep you from sliding off his slippery lap entirely.

All the way through the aftershocks that make your limbs quake, Joel holds you upright against his body, still bumping his palm and fingertips against your clit and g-spot. You swear you can feel him smiling against your shoulder.

“Didn’t tell ya you could cum, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, flicking his cum covered finger across your clit. You wince in overstimulation, a whine catching in your throat.

“‘M sorry, daddy,” you pant. His hands go up to 

“‘S okay, babygirl. Pretty pussy couldn’t help it when I was talkin’ ‘bout fuckin’ your ass, huh?” His hands rove up your stomach to play with your tits, palming and stroking, getting his hands all over every carnal part of you.

You hum into his bicep, “Mmmm.”

“That’s alright. Don’t mean you’re gettin’ away with a slap on the wrist though. C’mon, up,” he guides with a small slap to your thigh. You adjust, bringing yourself onto your knees so he can enter you from behind. You look down at his sturdy thighs, flexing as he adjusts himself between your legs. He gives you one more teasing thrust through your thighs, poking your oversensitive clit one more time before reaching down to spread your folds.

You moan as he presses against your entrance, and it’s not the best time to have a come to Jesus moment, but – Joel’s size was in no way over exaggerated between your legs. You stiffen in realization, and Joel, attentive as always, notices. He guides your chin to face him and nuzzles his nose up against yours, mouth tracing down to your lips. Your breath mingles, stagnant in the long-forgotten chill. A cushion of softness against all of his spiky edges that showed up tonight. “You’re on top, baby. Take it as slow or as fast as ya want.”

Nodding at the reminder, you find yourself that you don’t want to take it slow. You want to be as sore as he’d promised, want to feel him for days and be reminded of this every time you look at the winter morning’s frost on the shingles outside.

Sinking down over his throbbing length yanks the air out of your lungs as you seat yourself with him bottoming out and going balls deep in your cunt simultaneously. He grunts against you in surprise, softening the blow of your heady moan. “Attagirl,” he huffs into the crease between your neck and shoulder. It’s a stretch, searing up your thighs and to your lower back. You’re brought back to yourself when Joel rolls his hips into you, making the pain liquefy into mind-numbing pleasure. You spend thirty seconds waiting for him to fuck up into you in a way that changes your philosophy around the world, but instead, he’s still and solid inside of you.

“Go on,” Joel coaxes, placing a steady hand just shy of your mound. “Gotta prove you deserve to cum again.” He taps your thigh as if he’s telling you to giddy up, and the shame warms the back of your neck better than any heater ever could.

You whimper. His hands coast up your thighs, squeezing your hips tight before falling to grip the seats below. You’re still weak from your last orgasm, shaky legs struggling to hold yourself up as it is. “Daddy… I can’t…” 

“Ain’t no different than fuckin’ y’self on that vibrator or dildo or whatever the fuck’s in your nightstand. Girl like you, gotta have a wimpy ‘lil fucktoy somewhere.” His words make you clench around him, and he groans into your neck. Joel looks up at the front window, now covered in snowflakes. He smirks when he spots the rearview mirror. “Oughta make you watch yourself. Show a pathetic, cockstarved slut what happens when she bites off more than she can chew.” At that, you mewl, grinding yourself down. The chuckle he lets out is lined with cruelty.

Joel pins you to his chest with one burly arm and leans forward with a hash of grunts from effort. He reaches out towards the rearview mirror, lowering it to face the middle seat that you’re both braced on. He sinks back quickly, and it almost gives you whiplash before you make eye contact with yourself. You can see everything. Tremors travel up your legs and into your arms. Your body is getting freezer burn from how cold and hot you are at the same time. Pleasured tears threaten to spill over your waterline. Joel’s smug fucking face as he murmurs endlessly at you. 

Your mouth is parted as you take yourself in, truly a pathetic, pretty little picture as you pant. “C’mon,” Joel coaxes, squeezing your ass. “You can do it. Make daddy proud. I’ll even give you a boost.” Joel reaches to your tied hands and quickly undoes the scarf, letting it drop to the floor. You flex your fingers and then reach out for the chairs ahead to get a good grip.

You prop yourself up on your knees, anchoring yourself to the two chairs in front of you. Using a combination of your upper and lower body strength, you rise halfway off of Joel’s cock before your body gives out. His balls slap wetly against your clit. He laughs, still not touching you at all. Your head flops forward as you look down to where the two of you meet, and then at the mirror where his cock is buried deep inside of you. You whine in dismay.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to get you sore. You can only moan. It’s pleasure like you’ve never had it before – too much, not enough, painful, so good. “Please, Joel – I can’t… can’t handle it.”

“I’ll decide what you can handle,” he says.

“You’re– you’re so fucking mean,” you rasp.

“Gets you this soaked, baby. Don’t see your pussy complainin’. You love bein’ treated like a piece ‘a meat. Like a little fleshlight for men to fuck.”

You clench, tight. “Ah!” Joel fucking sniggers behind you, but a rush of confidence spills through you at the underlying moan in his throat.

Determined to get what you want, you tighten your grip on the front seats. Haul yourself up, almost so that the tip slips right out, and then collapse back onto Joel’s cock. And, shit, it’s a lot. You doubt you could handle his cock in missionary, but being made to ride him in such a compromising position, sprawled out across his shitty backseat? That’s an entirely different animal, one that you hadn’t expected to have to handle.

You focus on doing just enough to please him and just enough to keep yourself intact. You repeat your movements two or three times, rising and falling. Little moans and whimpers, some pained, some good when he nudges your g-spot just right, slip in and out of you.

“Mmmm, yeah, that’s it. Daddy’s ‘lil wannabe pocket pussy. Doin’ a ‘lil better baby. Keep doin’ that. Jus’ keep doin’ that.”

You’re shaking like a leaf on his cock as you somehow manage to lift yourself another time before fucking back on him. “Daaaddy.” Your lips quiver as you form the word. A single tear runs down your face from overexertion, and he’s quick to wipe it up with his thumb as if it was never there. You look truly whorish and pathetic, just like he’d wanted, bouncing on his cock with the last of the energy you have left in you.

His tip jabs against that goddamn spot again, and you double over on the center console. You take heaving breaths, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror, desperate to please as you attempt to keep humping him with the change in angle. You’re letting out strings of disoriented words, but barely can tell that you’re talking.

“I fuck you dumb already? Slutty little girl. Told ya you were in for it. Ain’t ever had much of a knack for listenin’. Gonna dick you down now, sweet girl.” He drags your legs into the crook of his elbows, holding you upright for him as he shifts to his knees between your legs. Braced on the center console with your pussy settled on his cock, the new angle makes you cry out. You hold yourself up on your elbows, giving shallow rolls of your hips in return as Joel gets settled inside of you.

The first thrust makes your eyes roll back so far that you see black. “Feel good?”

“So… so fu–fucking goo… good daddy,” you whimper into the console, gripping the sides of it just so you have something to hold onto.

“Swallowin’ daddy’s dick whole in this greedy cunt. Goddamn, drippin’ down my fuckin’ balls. Such a masochistic slut, all after a poundin’ from an old man. All up in a tizzy for this cock.”

You moan your agreement, completely submissive to Joel’s wills. You move like a ragdoll for him, letting him yank you back on his cock while he meets you there, thrust for thrust. He pulls out, a small mercy, but when he sheathes himself back inside of you in full, it’s the beginning of a punishing pace.

You don’t even notice yourself drooling all over the console until Joel says something about it. “Droolin’ from two places. Yeah, baby, you needed this. Daddy’s pretty cockslut.” You whine especially loudly when Joel drags you back across the console, damn near fast enough to give your stomach rugburn. 

Hands framing your spread legs, Joel hooks them both around his torso, using the leverage to plow into you. You’re boneless beneath him, mouth frozen in silent moans. His hips meet your ass with each shove of his cock in your sloppy cunt, the obscene sound of slap after slap pealing out within the truck. “Damn lucky we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Joel growls on another thrust. “Someone woulda been knockin’ on the window long time ago with how loud you’re bein’.”

“Mmph,” you gasp when Joel tosses one of your legs up and over the passenger seat. You hold yourself there as he digs his fingers into your other thigh, shifting his spare hand to your mound.

“Daddy please please please plea–” you start panting like a broken record, desperate to feel his hand on your clit, which throbs with inattention on the console. You grind frantically on the edge just in case he denies you again. 

Joel laughs above you, fully smudging two fingers across your clit in a blur of indescribable pleasure. “Ain’t gonna make ya beg this time. Can’t wait to feel ya creamin’ ‘round me… maybe I’ll make ya lick that up too. Nasty bitch.”

“Joooel, oh fuck, please…” you whine as he continues railing you, this time fiercely tweaking your clit in-time with his movements.

The new position has his thrusts meeting your cervix, and you scream, pleasure corkscrewing through your body. There’s nowhere for all of it to go with how viciously it burns in your stomach – all you can do is take it and whine for him. “Takin’ it real good. See what happens when ya behave? You get this fat cock splittin’ your whore cunt in two, jus’ like you were askin’ for.”

He grips your hip tight, clearly expecting an answer. You slur, “Mhm, daddy!”

Joel rubs faster circles around your clit, spouting filth while he drills your pussy. You can tell he’s chasing his own release, too, hips frantically fucking in and out of you, his cock twitching every single time you clench. You’re burning up as he jackhammers your pussy. Your second orgasm of the night brims low in your stomach, “Come on, baby, know you’re close. Feel this slutty pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna ask permission like a good girl this time, or are ya gonna go back to your defiant little slut self?”

“No, daddy,” you whimper, suspended in thin air over orgasmic bliss. He’s rubbing your clit erratically, doing everything he can to hold you in place. “P-please daddy, can I come?” You practically scream it out.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Come for daddy’s, come allll over daddy’s cock.”

The band snaps. Your back arches, and you feel time stop in the second before you fall slack on the console, spasming from the best orgasm of your fucking life. Your clit feels like there’s fucking pop rocks on it, something that not even your vibrator has ever achieved. “Thank you daddy!” you cry out, repeating it as you lose all feeling in your bones. You hardly have any control over your body anymore – it’s just Joel Joel Joel Joel. Sated and weary, you just lay there, letting Joel fuck into you.

And fuck into you he does – roughly, helping you ride out your orgasm as he pursues his. “That’s my girl,” he says, and you swear that alone could make you cum all over again. “Lettin’ your daddy use this juicy, well-fucked cunt to get his own.” He can’t hold back his moans, that’s how you know he’s close, grunting and gasping as he rocks his hips into yours. His hand lands on your ass in a sharp smack, and your pussy clenches in exactly the way that he expected. He lets out a particularly ragged noise, folding himself over you to nip at your neck and rest his forehead against your shoulder blade. “Daddy’s close, where do ya want me, baby?”

“Tits,” you whine. It’s a miracle you can even get that one word out, but somehow, you manage a few more. “Come on my tits, daddy.”

“Fuck!” Joel shouts, yanking himself over you. You help him roll yourself over and sit up on your elbows, and he jerks himself once, twice, before spraying his load all over your tits with the loudest groan yet. His brows fold together as he cums, eyes drooping and his mouth parted as he takes deep breaths.

You sit there for a handful of heavy minutes, listening to each other’s jagged breathing and the sawtoothed wind outside. You’re both so fucked. Literally, and figuratively. Stuck in the buttfuck middle of nowhere, you with your dad’s proclaimed bestie’s cum drying on your tits, and said bestie staring at you with post-coital puppy dog eyes and your cum all over his balls.

You’re the first to speak up, still winded. “That was… that was good.”

Joel nods mindlessly, tongue swiping out to lick his lips. He beckons you closer, and on trembling legs, you bring yourself to the backseat. You return to your previous position, huddled up and curled next to the door. Joel fumbles around under the back bench for a little until he comes up with a small, sunbleached pack of princess-themed pocket tissues that have to be as old as Sarah is. He dabs at your chest before stuffing them into the closest empty cupholder, and then brings you closer to his chest.

You don’t notice yourself falling asleep when all you can feel is Joel.

There’s better ways to wake up than a furious rapping on the window, but that isn’t the first thing you notice. You blink your eyes open groggily, only to face an egg yolk sun cracking wide open over the treeline and snowmelt bleeding out from every given surface. Joel’s behind you, nose in your neck, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around your middle. You take a moment to admire him – his sun kissed skin and his peaceful expression. It takes you a moment to remember you slept with him. You slept with Joel, and it was the best fuck of your life.

You’re stretching, on the verge of a yawn, when you see the familiar head of black hair over the window. “Shit!” you shout. Joel jerks to life behind you, mumbling something that sounds a lot like ‘what?’. 

You scramble to pull the coat over the both of you from where it fell off of you in the middle of the night, covering your naked bodies. “Get dressed!” you hiss to Joel, searching for wherever the fuck your panties ended up last night.

“What the hell’s gotten into ya–” he starts, and you feel the exact moment that he realizes Tommy Miller is outside of the truck. “Motherfucker,” he curses, swaying towards the front seat to snag his clothes. You see him almost put his head through his T-shirt armhole three times before he gets it right. His sweatpants are next, which he tugs up his bare legs without even searching for his boxers.

“Joel?” Tommy shouts outside. “Wake up, sleepin’ beauty!” He knocks on the door again, the windows blurry from melting snow. You have that to thank, at least. It buys you enough time to tug your polo over your head, but not enough time to button it all the way up.

“Fuckin’... dumbass,” Joel huffs as he clips the lock on the door and kicks it open, looking at least somewhat composed. You take deep breaths, looking between the two of them. “How’d you find us?”

Tommy looks Joel up and down, scrutinizing him. “What happened to southern gentleman manners? I came out here to save ya from Mt. Everest, brother! Least you could say is ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you,” you fill in for Joel, even if the last thing you’re feeling is grateful.

“Her daddy threw a hissy fit, y’know? Told him you were fine and we’d go lookin’ for ya in the mornin’. We saw all that backup on the highway, I went this way, he went that way, turns out my gut was right. ‘Course my dumbass brother would take this route… hey, you’re truck’s a fuckin’ mess.” Tommy sinks his hand into the closest cupholder, pulling out a wad of tissues that have been soaked in his cum. You hiss as if you’ve been scalded with boiling hot water.

Joel starts, “Tommy–”

“What the fuck is this shit?” The realization seems to dawn on poor Tommy when he’s peeling apart the tissues, and he drops them like they’re a thousand pounds. You can’t even bring yourself to scold him for littering as the wind carries them away. “Joel. You dirty dog!” He says, eyes flitting between the two of you like it’s the most impossible thing in the world.

Your heart picks up to a speed that can rival most NASCAR drivers and your face burns like hot asphalt. You look pointedly down at the ground.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Joel seethes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Get outta here, you little shit.”

Tommy’s hands go up. “Hey now, I ain’t doin’ anything. That is not a conversation I wanna have with her daddy.” He clears his throat, effectively clearing the air along with it. “So, uh, truck break down?” Joel grunts in affirmation.

“Been tellin’ ya you need to make a stop at the auto shop… C’mon, I’ll get y'all home,” Tommy says, jingling the keys to his own truck. “Call a tow on the way.”

Joel drags his feet all the way to Tommy’s passenger side. You get your wallet and jacket together, winding the latter around your waist. The sun almost blinds you on your way out, and Tommy stops you.

“I hope you didn’t let ‘im stick it to ya with them prehistoric condoms. You’re smarter ‘n that.”

“God, no,” you huff out.

“I dunno what’s stupider, lettin’ my asshole brother hit it raw or gettin’ a UTI–”

“Okay!” you announce, hands going up as you round the back of Tommy’s truck. “Conversation over.” You’re still smiling playfully at Tommy as you clamber into the back of the truck, sighing when the air conditioner hits.

Just like that, back to the same old same old sunny, shithole state of Texas. Joel looks at you in the rearview mirror and winks at you. You guess not everything has to stay the same these days.

I understand some of you are 19 but that is not an old man, he's 32.

Boxing Badass

Poe Dameron x fem!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Poe Dameron, an Air Force Reserves fighter pilot, owns and operates a boxing ring on the side. You’re Y/N “Starfire”, his very best fighter in the ring. Although, there seems to be something between you two that neither of you will admit– until you make a bad decision against his wishes that will cost him money and some of his ego. Now he’s gonna show you your place– and he’s gonna do it right on the floor of the ring.

A/N: Ok, so, I came across the picture in the far left moodboard, and I just. Dude. I fucking lost any worries I had about writing smut because hot damn that is my favorite picture now. Good lord. And I admit to shamelessly stealing lines from his Beirut reading because good fucking lords and ladies the living fanfiction– you won’t believe it till you hear the words come outta his mouth. (I’d also like to mention that I know nothing about boxing…) This is my very first smutty fic, so…

Anyone who was tagged doesn’t have to read this, and I’m sorry if you didn’t want to be! :P

Notes: I’d like to thank both @foxilayde for some much-needed advice on writing smut, and my bro, @poeticsorcery, for helping me when I got stuck, giving me scenarios and phrases– thanks, Gadget! And also? Because this is Modern!Poe? He’s bilingual (he speaks Spanish duh), for plot purposes.

Warnings: Oh boy. *heaves dictionary of smut onto table* This story is 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS DO NOT READ, DO NOT INTERACT. Violence, language, light angst, fluff. Shameless smut, reader has a praise kink, breeding kink, use of the word “sir,” fingering, oral (f receiving), light bondage, glove-play, thigh riding, bratty sub!reader, unprotected PiV, edging, orgasm denial, foul language, spanking, overstimulation, plot what plot, porn without plot, okay maybe a little bit of a plot

______________________________________________________________

Keep reading

Wounds of the Earth

— by xis.lanyx

Highland Cow x Inky Cap Mushroom

Funguary Day 18

The Other Side (Stranger Things x MayfieldSibling!Reader)

Your adopted sister has been targeted by Vecna, and you will do anything to protect her.

The van was filled with a sombre silence. No one looked at each other, too focused on the task at hand. Dread was building in the pit of your stomach, your fingers nervously lacing and interlacing together.

All of you were going to take down Vecna.

A seed of doubt settled into your mind. Vecna was more powerful than anything you had previously faced, his vines polluting your darkest fears and possessing the power to make you break, all without being seen. That, and El was nowhere to be found. Why did you think you could do this?

You looked over your shoulder at your sister Max, her and Lucas chatting quietly amongst themselves. She was smiling. You felt yourself smiling too, thankful that she was at least able to feel something other than pain. 

She was the reason. She was the reason you had to be hopeful. If you didn't succeed today, there was a high chance the monsters of this world would sever the only surviving sibling you had. She wasn't blood but she was your sister. She helped you feel like you belonged in this ever changing world, made you feel sane when you questioned your sanity, she helped you by being Max.

No, you couldn't afford to lose. You would win. You had to.

"Hey." The person besides you whispered. You looked at them from the corner of your eye, taking in Eddie's anxious appearance. His knee was constantly knocking against yours. "Are you okay?" 

Were you okay? It felt like a strange question to ask. Ever since you moved to this foresaken town with your adoptive family, you had been anything but okay. After being roped into the dangers of Hawkins Lab, watching your adopted brother be brutally killed at Star Court and being trapped in the Upside Down, you were far from okay. But even after all of that, fear gnawed at your bones. You were scared, terrified, not for yourself, but for Max, who had been so riddled with grief it nearly killed her. 

And now she could die again. 

You felt a hand grab yours. The callouses on the hand - which you quickly realised was Eddie's - scratched delicately at your skin as he squeezed your hand. 

"Thank you." You meekly whispered, relishing the warm rings almost imprinting into your hand. They kept you grounded, pulling you out of the spiral of worry clouding your thoughts. In any other situation your mind would be reeling at the sudden, intimate contact with him. Today wasn't the day for childhood crushes.

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts you didn't see the pink blush spreading across Eddie's cheeks, or the knowing look Dustin sent his way. You turned your attention to the window, watching the place you began to call home rush past in a blur. 

The Creel House stared back at you. You sighed, dread taking root in your stomach. Nancy started repeating the plan. You barely listened to a word, it was already inscribed in your brain. Instead, you looked at Max. Her bright orange hair that trailed behind her when she rode away on her bike, giggling. The freckles dusted along her fair skin, disappearing into the creases of her skin whenever she grinned madly, normally because she was muffling a laugh at one of your terrible puns. The headphones draped around her neck, her lifeline before Vecna cursed her. You'd never heard a Kate Bush song but could recite the words to Running up that Hill in your sleep. 

"Good luck."

You were pulled out of your trance as Max stood up, moving swiftly out of the motor home, Lucas and Erica at her heels. You got to your feet, feeling yourself being dragged down an inch. You frowned, and saw your hand was still connected to Eddie's. He stared at you in a way you couldn't decipher, his features soft, yet fearful. "See you on the other side." 

You swallowed, licking your lips nervously. You nodded vaguely, removing your hand out of Eddie's hold disobeying your heart's orders to keep hold of him forever. Words started to form on your tongue, that knot in your stomach growing tighter. You had an overwhelming sense of wrong, and every instinct told you to run, to whisk everyone away and live every day surrounded by the safety of a lullaby.

Max.

The urge to save her was overwhelming. It overpowered the doubts, the fear, the anxiety. That small glimmer of hope gave you the strength to summon a smile at Eddie. "See you there."

You waved farewell to everyone, feet hitting the pavement outside the Creel House. The door closed behind you, the motor home giving a slight roar before zooming down the road. 

It was too late to back out now.

You sucked in a deep breath, gazing upon the house standing over you. From the outside, it looked unsuspecting, the perfect home for a typical nuclear family. You knew the secrets hidden behind the stained glass. You knew of the blood, the death, the torture seeping into the woodwork. You knew of the creature who was nourished there, of the evil that took root and made it his hub for nefarious activities. 

It was in that house, in a parallel world to the one you knew, that he pushed your sister to the brink. It was there he pushed her to the edge and caused her even more suffering. 

God, you hated that fucking house.

"Y/N, come on, we don't have all day!" Max beckoned you from the front door, waving at you madly. You huffed, picking up your pace and walking across the threshold. 

Lucas passed you a torch as soon as you entered, offering you an encouraging smile. "We've got this." 

You nodded absentmindedly, not wanting to tell him how you knew you four had definitely not got this. You were deeply regretting this plan already; you knew there was no other option to save her. You had to at least try.

Lucas and Erica split off, walking around the house trying to find where Vecna was. You heard their footsteps disappear, watching Max from the corner of your vision. She didn't move, staring at the floor. 

"Hey," you moved to stand in front of her, squatting so you were in her eye line. "Everything is going to be okay." 

"Then why are you looking at me like I'm going to die?" 

Her words left you speechless. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to form any words. Max rolled her eyes, shoving her headphones over her ears. "That's what I thought." 

She moved to go into the adjacent room, your hand shooting out to grab her arm before you could comprehend what was happening. Max looked at you over her shoulder, then at the hand on her arm. Sighing, she begrudgingly tugged her headphones off of her ears. "What?" 

"I don't mean to look at you like that... I'm just worried. I would do anything to protect you, but with this Vecna, I can't do anything except make sure Kate Bush is on repeat." You gave her a shaky smile. "You know I would jump in front of a bullet for you." 

"I know." Max returned your smile, gaze soft. "You're the best sibling I could have asked for." 

"The feelings mutual." You opened up your arms. She didn't hesitate falling into them, your arms wrapping around her like armour. "I'll never let anything happen to you." 

Max's arms squeezed around your neck. You wished you could freeze this moment forever, your sister holding you like you were the only thing anchoring her down. You wanted to keep your arms wrapped around her while she was baiting Vecna. You wanted her to be safe. 

Lucas' footfalls thudded on the wood harshly. He thundered down the stairs, freezing when he saw the moment you and Max were sharing. He cleared his throat awkwardly, forcing you and Max to pull apart. 

"Sorry to interrupt." As much as it wasn't the poor boys fault, you wanted him to disappear. You knew what him being here meant before he said it. "I think I've found Vecna."

A tense atmosphere enveloped you both. You nodded solemnly, bringing yourself to your feet. You gestured for Lucas to follow the way, blocking out his and Max's conversation, the pounding in your ears too loud to hear anything else. You had lost Billy to the Upside Down, and whilst you weren't awfully close and he tormented you for years for not being blood, it still ripped you apart seeing him perish that way. You didn't want to lose Max too. 

Lucas held the door open as you all filtered into the attic. There was what appeared to be a shrine assembled by the window, black widow spiders contained in jars. You shivered at the sight. 

Almost as if by command, you saw the torch in your hand flicker. You gulped, eyes flitting to Max. She kept her back straight, attention fixated on the shrine. She looked fearless. 

"I guess we best get started then." Max shrugged off her backpack, sitting in front of the shrine. She held the walkman in her hands, the soft hum of Running up the Hill cutting short when Max clicked the tape to a stop. 

Your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest. You and Lucas waited for something to happen. You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants, unable to tear your attention from Max. 

"Now what?" Lucas cut into the silence. 

You shrugged, leaning against one of the wooden beams. "We wait?" 

Max sighed deeply, breaking the quiet. She began to talk about Billy, about how she felt so guilty about him dying, about how she was relieved he was dead. You wanted to comfort her, the words dying on your lips as you noticed her eyes had become milky and her speech had come to a halt. 

You and Lucas exchanged a look. He disappeared to give Erica the signal, returning swiftly. Neither of you tore your gaze from Max. It felt like your breath was caught in your throat, waiting to see if she would start levitating. 

For the first time since Billy perished, you prayed. You prayed that a higher power would protect your sister from the thing you couldn't. You prayed you all survived this, that you all would end this evil once and for all. 

A creak from downstairs interrupted your thoughts. Both you and Lucas stood rod straight, twisting to the attic entrance. Lucas moved towards the sound; you put your hand on his arm, holding him back. 

"You stay here, keep an eye on her. I'll check it out."

Lucas didn't protest, his attentive eyes quickly falling back to Max. You resisted the urge to look back, creeping down the stairs and holding your torch like a weapon. The stairs creaked under your feet. You froze, holding your breath, waiting for something to jump out of the shadows. 

Nothing. 

Your breath left you in a gasp, your hand grasping your chest. It felt as if it couldn't get any tighter. Tightening your grip on the torch to fight the shaking of your hands, you moved throughout the house, peering around corners and jumping at your own shadow. After scouring the house for five minutes and not seeing anything, you felt the anxiety ebb away. 

The torch fell loosely by your side. You kicked yourself for being so easily spooked, for being so easily pulled away from Max's side. As you turned around to retreat back upstairs, a flash of green caught your attention. You wanted to tell yourself it was a trick of the light - you couldn't lie to yourself when you heard a slight thud and curse words muttered. 

Your muscles tensed. Your eyes darted between where the figure had now appeared, their back to you, and the way to the attic. 

They had blocked your path. 

You swore the blood circulation had been cut off in your fingers from how tightly you held the torch. You crept forward as slowly as you could, praying the old house would be fair to you and not reveal your presence. A higher power mocked you; as soon as your foot fell, a loud creak echoed throughout the silence. 

The man spun around. Jason Carver stood in front of you, eyes erratic. He looked almost gleeful when he saw you, smile twisting manically. 

"Hey, Y/N, right?" You swallowed nervously, nodding your head. Subconsciously you felt your eyes move towards the attic, hoping he wouldn't go anywhere near Max. You needed to distract him. 

"Do you know where Lucas is? I'm worried, he's my friend, and I think that monster," Jason all but spat the word, making you shrink back against your will, "has corrupted him." 

"Sorry, can't help." You shrugged, drawing up a facade of nonchalance. "I think Max mentioned them both going to the arcade?" 

"Oh really?" Jason took a step closer to you. You resisted the urge to retreat backwards, standing your ground firmly. "Because me and the boys passed it on the way here. It was closed." 

You really hoped he couldn't sense the sweat beginning to bead on your skin. "Look, my sister is an angsty teenager, do you really think she tells me the truth twenty four seven? Just because I'm her sister doesn't mean I'm privy to all the details of her life." 

Jason didn't look convinced. He took another step closer. This time you instinctively stepped backwards, spine smacking into the wall behind you. He leaned closer to you, his face impossibly close to yours, eyes flickering across your features. 

"I think you're lying." 

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, to buy the kids more time, when the floorboards above your head creaked. Both of your heads snapped upwards. Your gaze connected with Jason's, his eyes wild. He turned on his heel. 

You needed to buy them time. 

Before you could think, you kicked his shin. It was a fairly weak shot, the kick not knocking him to the floor, but hard enough to know you were there. It was a warning. Jason froze, turning slowly around. Your breath caught in your throat. 

He looked manic. 

"Jason, think about what you're about to do." 

He smirked. There was no trace of the arrogant, peppy basketball player who's charm could disable anyone in a ten metre radius. No, he reminded you more of a cheshire cat. 

"Oh, I've thought about this long and hard." Before you could process what was happening, he was pushing you backwards, your back slamming harshly into the wall. You ignored the flare of pain, stumbling to remain upright. He grabbed your neck, pinning you to the wall. His grip on your neck was tight, your breath leaving you in a raspy gasps. 

He leaned closer to you, whispering on your skin. "If anything gets in my way, I'm willing to do anything to avenge Chrissy." 

You pawed at his hand, eyes catching the torch still in your grasp. Without a second thought, you smacked the torch into the side of his face with a resounding crack. His grip from your neck instantly released. You sucked in big gulps of oxygen as he stumbled to the side, hand cradling his bleeding cheek. 

You forced yourself to speak, the words scratching at your tender throat. "This is bigger than you, Jason. Go home." 

He fixed you with that deadly stare again. 

He was on your like a shot, his fist pummelling your face before you could comprehend it. Your nose erupted in pain, blood gushing down your cheek. You fell backwards, Jason catching you before you fell to deliver another hit to the face. His fist kept flying towards you. You endured a symphony of pain. 

You felt yourself get weaker with each hit. One of your eyes had swollen shut and the darkness was beckoning you. Jason dropped you carelessly to the ground, not sparing a glance at your limp form. You tried to shout, to scream, to give Lucas and Max any form of warning - each time you opened your mouth, his fist was there. The words were throttled into silence. You drifted out of consciousness, sending one final prayer of protection for your sister before blacking out. 

~

You woke up in a haze. Your head was foggy, and your sight was blurry. Your face felt like it was on fire and you couldn't suppress the groan slipping past your swollen lips, pushing yourself to sit upright. Your head swam with the movement. 

Shouting from upstairs caught your attention. Max. 

You bolted to your feet, teetering in place. You didn't let this deter you, stumbling towards the attic. You clung to the banister, all but dragging yourself upstairs, closer to the sound of the ruckus. 

It took you a moment to take in everything that was happening. Lucas was backed into a corner, his hand raised defensively in front of himself. Jason's back was to you. Max was hovering in the air, her legs and arms limp. 

It wasn't working. The plan wasn't working. Max's walkman was nowhere to be found and Jason was going to be one of the reasons your sister would die. The pain was non-existent now, replaced by a pure unfiltered rage. 

Lucas' eyes fixed on you. You raised a shaky finger to your lips, demanding him to stay silent. He slightly shook his head, his way of discreetly warning you but you weren't thinking clearly, thoughts occupied with Max's levitating body. 

Jason was rambling some nonsense. You paid no mind to it, creeping as quietly as you could behind him. He was within touching distance. The rage fuelled you to hook your arm around his neck, dragging him towards you. He stumbled, his words halting as he flailed. 

"Y/N!" Lucas cried out in warning. You were deaf to it, tightening the grip on Jason. 

"Go help her, now!" You commanded, arm trembling with the sheer pressure you were applying to Jason's neck. You were still weak; Jason sensed that. One moment he was fighting underneath you, and the next he'd pushed you away. You collapsed to the floor with a thud. Jason didn't even pay you any mind, moving towards Lucas with deadly intent. 

Under his feet, a distinct crack fractured the silence. 

He'd broken the walkman. 

It felt as if the world stopped. You heard that crack on a loop in your mind, the sound of Max's death warrant having been signed.

Jason.

Jason.

Jason.

Adrenaline brought you to your knees, ignoring the flares of agony consuming your body. Hatred supported you to a stand. Grief sent you forwards, spinning Jason's body towards your own so you could stare at him as you -

A bang echoed throughout the house. 

Fire. Burning agony you had never experienced before exploded in your abdomen. 

Lucas gaped at you, staring at your stomach. Frowning, your eyes followed his gaze, breath stuttering when you saw the blooming red starting to spread there. 

Jason's eyes were wide in panic, frantically looking between you and Lucas. His strong demeanour quickly crumbled, him sputtering out his words. "I didn't mean - the gun was just for show!" 

You didn't have any time to react, hearing a crack. Your hand weakly pressed on your stomach. Above you, Max's bones had begun to break. 

You were all transfixed, tears streaming with each crack. With each deafening sound you realised you had lost. Max was going to die, you had been shot and Vecna would have won. 

It would all be for nothing. 

You felt yourself growing fainter by the minute; you refused to sit down. You were waiting for Max, waiting for her to pull through. 

Another crack. 

Please don't die. 

Another crack. 

Please don't die. 

Her eyes began to bleed, the blood streaming down her pale cheeks. You heaved out a cry, giving into your body as you collapsed weakly to the floor, slumped forwards. You were sobbing into the floor. She was gone, she was really gone. 

Max's body fell to the ground. Lucas caught her, pulling her into his arms. You forced yourself to crawl towards her, leaving a trail of red, grabbing her hand with your own bloody one. 

"Max." You whispered, feeling her body tremble under your touch. 

"I can't see." She gasped out breathlessly. "I don't want to die." 

"You're not." Lucas reassured her, his voice thick. 

When you felt Max still, you died with her. You sobbed, holding her hand so tight. 

This was a nightmare. This was a nightmare.

Wake up.

Wake up.

You need to WAKE UP.

Max's still body became a blur. You tried to force yourself to focus, to allow yourself more time to commit her features to memory. With each passing second, more of her features were lost, until she was nothing but a senseless blob.

You tried to stay awake, tried to stay conscious. You tried to keep holding her hand, your last connection to her.

Your worst nightmare had come true.

All of this was for nothing.

Your heart turned to stone as the cold reality around you faded away.

stranger things masterlist

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 13

Warnings: angst! mentions of sexual assault and talks of rape, alcohol and drug consumption, bad parenting, mentions of domestic abuse.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler , slight Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Steve promised to always be there for you when you were little kids and you find out that he had kept this promise.

Word count: 7k

A/N: The beginning of this chapter is heavily inspired by Seven by Taylor Swift, if you haven’t listened to it, go listen to it now! @mysticmunson thank you for the help as always, ilysm 🤍

series masterlist

-

You have never been one to ask for help, whenever you struggled with something, you simply kept it to yourself and dealt with it alone, not wanting to be a burden to anyone. 

Even when you were scared, you didn’t tell anyone, you didn’t ask for comfort, you didn’t call for help, you simply learned how to deal with the fear alone. 

When your parents started fighting and you heard your dad yell at your mom, you hid in the closet, you put your hands over your ears and cried silently, hoping that they would just stop yelling at each other, hoping that he would stop being so mad all the time. 

You suffered, hearing your parents fight. You were scared – scared that something worse would happen, scared that their fights would turn into something more serious, scared that one of them would leave. 

You didn’t want them to fight, you didn’t want them to hate each other, you didn’t want one of them to leave. 

You just wanted your mom and your dad, you wanted your family. 

One night, when you were twelve years old, Steve had climbed up to your window, he sneaked into your room, excitedly. It was the night before your birthday and he got you an early present. The smile faded from his lips when for the first time, he had heard your dad’s angry voice and your mom’s nervous one, when he heard the quiet sniffles coming from your closet where he had found you rocking back and forth with your hands over your ears and tears rolling down your cheeks. His heart broke at the sight of you. 

He startled you when he reached his hand out to touch your shoulder, you flinched and looked up at him, your face scrunched up in confusion and your eyes widened, you stared at him with a quivering lip and glassy eyes that flashed with relief when you realized that it was really him in front of you. 

“Steve?” You whispered, shakily as you removed your hands from your ears, slowly. 

He stepped inside the closet and closed the door again, he sat down beside you and wrapped an arm around you. 

“I’m here, Dolly,” he had whispered, using the nickname that he jokingly gave you when you were both five years old and you went through an obsession with dolls. 

Steve didn’t know that your parents were fighting, no one knew. 

You cried into his shoulder and he held your hand. Even he flinched at the sound of your dad’s angry shouts. He felt so awful that night, he was so worried about you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked when you started to calm down. 

You only shrugged in response. 

“You should come live with me, you won’t have to be scared. I’ll protect you.”

When you smiled at his words and looked at him through your glassy eyes, Steve had promised himself that he would always be there for you, that he would protect you and keep you safe. 

He thinks about that night a lot. 

He thinks about how much he failed you. 

He thinks about how he broke his own promise. 

He thinks about how he abandoned you. 

And he hates himself for it, especially when he hears your broken voice and your quiet sniffles on the phone. 

“Steve?”

He straightens his back, furrowing his brows. Chills run through him and an instant rush of worry floods through him when he hears you crying. 

“Y/n?” 

“I-I’m sorry, Steve. I d-didn’t know who else to call.” 

You could have called Eddie or Heather or Chrissy or even Robin, Steve thinks to himself. You are outside, he can hear the passing cars. He wonders if your voice is shaky because of the cold or because you are crying. 

“Where are you, y/n?” Steve asks as he already gets up to put on the sweater he had thrown over his chair earlier.

You sniffle again, it reminds him of the night he found you crying in the closet. 

“G-Gas station,” you mumble, “c-can you please pick me up?”

There is only one gas station in Hawkins, he knows exactly where you are.

“Yeah, of course,” he speaks into the receiver. Steve can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a glance into the mirror shows him that his face is etched with worry. 

“H-Hurry up.”

The sound of your scared and small voice almost sends him into a state of panic. 

What happened? 

How scared do you have to be to call him out of all people? 

“I’ll be right there, y/n. Just stay where you are, okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

Begrudgingly, he hangs up the phone, he then hurries out of his room, rushing down the stairs. He turns on the lights in the hallway, he quickly puts his Nike's on, he grabs his jacket and his bundle of keys before he leaves the house. 

Steve doesn’t know what to expect but the awful feeling in his chest tells him that you are in a bad state. 

You have never asked for help, not even when you were still together and he already knew about your fears and struggles, he had done his best to be there for you but you have never asked him to be there for you, you didn’t want to be a burden, you never could be. 

Steve keeps running his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he can’t seem to get rid of. 

He goes over the speed limit, not caring about the risk of getting another ticket. The streets are empty anyways, no cops seem to be in sight. He feels anxious and on edge but he feels relieved, when he pulls up to the empty gas station and he sees you.

You are sitting on the concrete floor, your elbows are on your knees, your hands are over your ears, just like back then. He parks the car and turns it off, he opens the door and gets out, not wasting a single second to get to you. 

You keep your head down, rocking back and forth, you haven’t noticed him yet. Your body is shaking, you aren’t even wearing a jacket. Steve’s heart is still pounding, despite the relief he had felt in his body when he saw you, he still feels very anxious. He takes his jacket off and walks towards you, he crouches down in front of you.

“Y/n,” he whispers as he carefully lifts his hand, placing it on your shoulder as he whispers your name again. 

Your first instinct is to flinch at his touch and push his hand off as you scoot back quickly. 

Steve raises his hands in surrender, “hey! It’s me, it’s just me, y/n!” He rushes, staring at you with a startled look on his face, “it’s just Steve,” he whispers. 

Your eyes are wide and you instantly calm at the sound of his voice. For the first time that night, he sees your face. Your eyes are red rimmed and glassy but you aren’t crying. You got glitter on your cheeks and your forehead, your hair is a mess like you’ve spent tugging at it, all night. 

The look in your eyes can only be described as terrified. 

“Steve?” You whisper in relief. 

He nods with a confused and scared look on his face. 

What happened to you? 

The street light is shining down on you but he has yet to see the rest of your body. 

“You came,” you whisper with a quivering lip, staring at him as though you can’t believe that he is in front of you. 

His gaze softens and his heart hurts to see you like this. 

What happened?

You were doing so good, you looked so happy. 

“Of course I came,” he whispers and slowly inches closer to you, you don’t flinch this time, only staring at him with your wide eyes as though you can’t believe that he is actually here. He wraps his jacket around you, leaning closer to you. He smells your sweet perfume, your shampoo, your vanilla body wash but above the pleasant scents is a heavy smell of  whiskey, cigarettes, weed and the strong scent of cologne, it’s not the same one he smelled on you before, it’s not Eddie’s cologne. 

He swallows nervously. 

You weren’t with Eddie tonight, you wouldn’t be here if you were. Steve might not know him well but if there is something he learned about Eddie is the protectiveness he feels over you. You wouldn’t be alone at a gas station at 1 am if you had been with him tonight. 

He just knows it. 

When Steve lifts your hair up to pull them out from beneath the jacket, a cold shiver runs down his spine when he sees the bruises on the side of your neck, bite marks and hickeys litter your skin. He pulls away slowly, his breathing quickens, he blinks, staring at your face for a long second. You seem to be on the verge of tears but something inside of you keeps you from crying, you look frozen, your body is tense.

Steve pulls back, he looks down at you and his heart drops completely. His lips part, his eyes widen and all color drains from his face when he sees the bruises around your wrists and on your thighs. 

No, no, no, no…. God no… Please no.. 

He keeps staring at the bruises, frozen in place, heart racing and breaking each passing second. 

He whispers your name in shock. 

You raise your head to look at him and when you notice the look on his face, you start shaking your head and pulling at your dress to hide your thighs as though it will get rid of the marks he had left on you, you didn’t even realize how hard he grabbed you, how rough his hands were when he forced your legs apart or when he pinned your wrists against his car, you were too consumed with fear to feel anything. You are surprised that you even managed to fight back, that you got out of the situation before something much worse could happen. 

“D-Do you need a doctor? Should I drive you to the hospital?” Steve asks, shakily. 

You shake your head as the panic begins to settle back in, your throat feels tight and tears well up in your eyes, “n-no, I wanna go home,” you whisper as you look at him with pleading eyes, “please just drive me home, Steve. Please.” 

Steve doesn’t know how to handle the situation, he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to help you. 

Who did this to you? 

His stomach churns, he feels sick, so sick. 

You flinch a little when he touches your shoulder again and Steve pulls his hand away immediately. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

Your eyes shift away from him, you look down and pull the jacket tighter around your body. 

Steve eyes you, watching the way you push yourself up to stand, he follows suit, standing up as well. 

Your knees buckle and you almost fall back to the ground but Steve catches you, carefully holding you by your waist. This time, you don’t flinch away from his touch, he keeps holding you, pulling you closer to him. 

“It’s okay, I got you,” he whispers softly, “I got you.”

His heart won’t stop hammering in his chest and he doesn’t know which emotion inside of him is stronger right now. 

The worry he feels for you or the anger he feels for the person who did this to you? 

A gust of wind makes you shiver, it blows through your hair and you shudder at the feeling of the coldness touching your exposed skin. The smell of gasoline is beginning to make you feel nauseous. 

“I wanna go home.”

Steve nods with a broken look in his eyes. 

He leads you back to his car and opens the door for you. You let go of him when you sit down in the passenger seat. Despite the whirlwind that is going on in your mind and the amount of alcohol and drugs you have in you, you still remember to put on the seatbelt. Your dress rides up in the process, you don’t notice it.

Steve sucks in a sharp breath and he clenches his jaw when he sees more bruises on your thighs, the ones that were hidden beneath your dress. He looks away and clenches his hand into a fist after he closes the door. 

He tries to take deep breaths to calm himself down as he walks around the car, he opens the door and gets inside. 

You are quiet, so very quiet, he can’t even hear you breathing. He glances at you, you pulled the sleeves of his jacket over your hands and you are looking at the window, facing away from him. 

“Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” 

You shake your head, “I’m fine,” you mumble, without looking at him. 

He nods to himself, sighing deeply as he starts the car. 

When the music starts playing and David Bowie’s voice sounds through the car, Steve winces a little. On the drive here, he was so on edge and distracted by his thoughts, he wasn’t really paying attention to the music that was playing. He turns the volume down and he narrows his eyes, glancing at you. You don’t seem to pay attention to anything right now. 

You keep blinking rapidly, staring out the window. 

On the drive to your house, he keeps checking on you to make sure that you are okay. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, he is feeling too much right now. 

You are silent, so silent. 

It’s been a long time since you have sat in the passenger seat next to him. The last time you did, you were still together. He was yours, you were his, you were both okay and you were safe and happy. 

Now you sit here with tears in your eyes and bruises on your skin – you are not okay, you were not safe tonight and he doesn’t know if you will be happy again after whatever happened. 

Lost in his thoughts, Steve stares at the road ahead, swallowing the bitterness on his tongue and fighting the anger and the guilt he feels for himself. This shouldn’t have happened, this wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t been so stupid all these months ago. 

He was supposed to protect you, he was supposed to keep you safe. 

Steve doesn’t notice the way you look away from the window, the way you look down at yourself, the way your breathing quickens and your eyes widen. 

You stare at the bruises on your thighs, the ones beneath your dress. How rough had he been when he tried to force your legs apart? How strong did he grip your thighs when he tried to touch you where you didn’t want to be touched? 

You push the sleeves of Steve’s jacket up, frowning at the bruises on your wrists. Your heart begins to hammer in your chest, hot tears threaten to spill down your cheeks and you feel the panic rushing through you. The realization of what would have happened if you didn’t find the strength to fight back begins to sink in and the sudden nausea makes you want to throw up but the tightness in your throat makes you feel like you cannot breathe, yet, somehow, the sob that’s been rising up, falls from your lips and you break down in the passenger seat of your ex boyfriend’s car. 

Too many emotions run through you; shock, fear, sadness, pain, disgust and anger. 

Not only did he try to strip you of your powers, he also tore down walls that you have been slowly building up since Steve left you. You hear his voice, all the things he said to you repeat themselves over and over again, you feel his touch, his rough hands on your body. 

A man who has no meaning in your life took away so much from you tonight. 

Steve pulls the car off the road, he hits the brakes and unbuckles his seatbelt. He doesn’t know what to do when he sees you crying that way. The pain in your eyes, the tears streaming down your face and your broken sobs make him want to cry too. 

He whispers your name and he leans closer to you but he doesn’t touch you, knowing that this will only make things worse. 

“I-I didn’t want it,” you whimper as you stare at the bruises on your wrists, “I-I said no, I told him no, I told him t-that I didn’t want it, I said no, Steve.” You ramble as you turn to face him with big, glassy eyes. 

Steve’s eyes are filled with shock, a horrified expression takes over his face. 

“H-He said that I wanted it but I didn’t, I never wanted it, I didn’t– I just wanted someone to like me.” You cry as you pull at your dress and Steve finally notices your bruised knuckles, he hasn’t seen them before.

How often can a heart break in one night? 

Steve feels like his insides are being twisted, the gut wrenching sound of your cries make him feel so helpless and your words make him feel sick. His eyes are burning and his hands itch to hurt the man who hurt you. 

He says your name softly and he places his hand on top of yours, this time, you don’t flinch away from him and his touch. You turn to face him and he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to wipe your tears and take your pain, but he can’t. 

He doesn’t know how to ask you this question, especially when you are looking at him like that. 

“Did… Did he –” Did he rape you? Is what he needs to know but he cannot utter these words, the thought of someone doing such a disgusting and vile thing to you makes him feel sick to his stomach.

Steve doesn’t have to finish the question, you know what he wants to know and you start shaking your head with wide eyes as your tears continue to roll down your cheeks. 

“I fought back a-and he let me go but he was so awful.”

“Who?” He finally asks.

“Ray.”

Steve is not surprised to hear his name, not after he watched you write your number on his hand at the bonfire, last week. He clenches his jaw and nods. 

Raymond Parker. 

Steve knows where he lives.

The haunted look in your eyes tells him that there is more. Things you don’t want to say out loud.

He watches the way your brows furrow, the way your eyes continue to well up with tears. You seem to think about something, something that hurts you, it’s so clear on your face. 

“Why does everyone hurt me?”

Steve’s face falls, his eyes flash with guilt. 

“Why does everyone leave me?” You whisper to yourself. 

Steve knows that you’d never say these things if you were sober and free from the hurt. 

Your dad left, Steve left, your friends are slipping through your fingers and now you are afraid that Eddie will leave too. You saw the anger in his eyes when he found you at Reefer Rick’s house, you didn’t listen to him, you broke a promise and now he is disappointed in you – will your best friend leave you just like they did? 

“And Eddie hates me now, h-he was so angry at me, I-I don’t, I didn’t want to disappoint him,” you mumble, causing him to frown. 

“I ran away from him.”

What could you have done to disappoint Eddie?

Suddenly, you turn around, reaching for the door handle. You want to leave, you need to get out of here but before you can even open the door, Steve locks the car, mumbling something under his breath. 

“You think I’ll let you leave right now?” Steve asks, confused. 

His action seems to wake the anger in you and you turn back around, glaring at him. You stare into his eyes for a long second before you open your mouth to speak.

“Oh so now you don’t want me to leave!?” 

He knows that your question is one out of anger but the sadness is rooted so deep inside of you. The pain in your eyes is so contagious, it makes him sad too. 

“Dolly,” he whispers, using the nickname that he gave you when you were children, that seems to worsen your pain. He sees your quivering lip, the tears that pool in your eyes and roll down your cheeks in an instant. 

Regret and guilt is something that he cannot deal with, to this day. It haunts him and this will haunt him even more. This shouldn’t have happened, none of this should’ve happened. He was supposed to keep you safe from all the horrors in this world but he failed you so strongly and he put you through horror himself. 

You slump back in the seat, sniffling quietly as you turn your face away from him. 

Steve stares at the back of your head for a long moment. 

This is so wrong. All of this is. 

You belong here, with him, but not like this, never like this. 

He takes a deep breath and he closes his eyes for a second before he turns back, gripping the steering wheel again as he restarts the car. 

The rest of the drive home is spent in silence, you continue to cry and it makes his heart ache. He focuses on you, rather than the anger that he feels for the man who hurt you – he will keep that for later.

When he pulls up to your house and he parks his car in your driveway, he notices that the lights are off and your mom’s car isn’t here. The thought of leaving you by yourself tonight, makes him feel uneasy. 

You both get out of the car and he rushes over to you to make sure that you won’t fall again but you hold your hand up, not wanting to be touched. He keeps his distance but watches you closely when you walk up the stairs. 

“Shit,” you mumble, bringing your hand up to your face, you pinch your nose, “I-I forgot my jacket and I don’t have my keys.”

“Oh,” Steve says as he looks at you, he then looks down at the bundle of keys in his hand. He swallows nervously, “I-I uh, I still got your keys.”

With furrowed brows and a confused look on your face, you look up at him. Steve eyes the puffiness in your eyes, the redness in them, the pouty lips that you never notice yourself doing. 

He scratches the back of his neck and his eyes shift away from you, “I forgot to take them off,” he mumbles, unable to look into your eyes. He turns away and walks towards the door to unlock it. 

You don’t say anything about it, you keep quiet and stare at his back before your eyes move down to the keys. 

Is the key to her house on his keychain as well? 

The sound of an approaching car causes the both of you to turn around, the bright headlights and the screeching sound of the tires against the ground makes you both wince. 

You straighten your back when you see him. 

He jumps out of his van. The door on the passenger side opens as well and you see Robin. You watch the way their eyes find you, the way they sigh in relief at the sight of you under your porch light. 

Eddie places his hands on his head and he exhales loudly, happy to see you here. Both he and Robin rush over to you. 

Eddie’s eyes are wide and filled with guilt and worry, his brown eyes take in the sight of you and he almost lets out a gasp when he finally notices what he hasn’t noticed before, the bruises on your thighs, the redness in your eyes, the state you are in. 

What happened?

You are wearing Steve’s jacket and he wonders how or why you are with him. 

Did you call him? Did he find you? Did you walk to his place? 

He whispers your name in shock, frozen in place, he can’t even move towards you. Your eyes lock for a moment and he can tell that you are about to burst into tears, again. He wants to pull you into his arms but he is scared to touch you. 

“Y/n?” Robin whispers as her eyes flash with a knowing look. She doesn’t have to ask to know what happened, if it wasn’t for the state you are in then she’d be able to tell by the haunted look in your eyes. 

You tear your eyes away from Eddie, startling all three of them when you suddenly throw yourself into Robin’s arms and start crying again. Without wasting a second, Robin wraps her arms around you and hugs you tightly, rubbing your back. 

Eddie and Steve watch you with broken looks in their eyes. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Robin whispers as she lifts her head, glancing at Steve who stares at you, looking helpless. She then looks at Eddie, who looks just as helpless as Steve does but there is also guilt and regret in his eyes, she knows why, he kept beating himself up over appearing so angry to you when he found you at Rick’s house. 

When he called her, he sounded scared and panicked, he asked for you, hoping that you came over to her, you didn’t. He picked her up and they both drove around town, looking for you. Eddie kept chewing on his lip and bouncing his knee, tugging at his hair and mumbling curse words under his breath – Robin had never seen him so nervous and scared before.

Now he stands there like a kicked puppy, he stares at you, not knowing what to do. 

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” Robin says to you. 

You nod and pull away from her, looking down at the ground as you wipe your tears. Robin wraps her arm around your shoulder, glancing at Steve and Eddie as you both walk past them. 

Eddie and Steve share a look before they follow you both inside, watching you walk up the stairs. Robin turns her head, looking down at them, she shakes her head, ‘don’t’ she mouths. 

They listen to your sniffles and watch you until they can no longer see you. They hear your footsteps in the hallway upstairs and when the door to your room closes. Eddie slumps against the door, he presses his palm to his forehead, “shit,” he mumbles, “what the fuck happened, man?” 

Steve narrows his eyes, eyeing Eddie up and down. The worry and the panic on his face and in his eyes, isn’t very hard to miss. 

Looking down at the keys in his hands, Steve sighs before he throws them on the little table in the hallway. He turns on the light and sits down on the stairs.

“She called me from the payphone at the gas station.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, “what?” 

“She asked me to come pick her up,” he says, looking down, “and then uh, then she told me that you were angry at her and that she ran away from you, that's probably why she called me, anyway.” Steve knows that you wouldn't have called him if it wasn't for what happened with Eddie. He is the one you think of first, whenever you need someone, now.

Eddie shakes his head, his eyes flash with even more guilt. He feels ashamed, knowing that Steve knows that he was the reason why you ran. He keeps looking at the ground, continuing to beat himself up for the next several minutes before he hears the door to your room shutting again. He looks up, seeing Robin again. 

“I think you guys should leave,” she says as she walks down the stairs. 

“What?” Eddie asks, “I’m not leaving.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Steve says to the girl he never spoke to before. 

She sighs, rolling her eyes.

She doesn’t know Steve very well but she knows Eddie and she knows how stubborn he can be, he won’t leave. 

“Well, can you at least get her some painkillers and water?” Robin asks Steve with annoyance written all over her face, “you must know where it is, right?” 

She doesn’t like him – obviously. Steve nods, he turns away from her and walks down the hallway. He turns on the lights when he steps into the kitchen, the first thing he sees are the pink flowers on the counter, it’s your favorite ones. 

“C-Can I see her?” Eddie asks, “please?”

Robin’s eyes soften at the pleading look in his eyes. 

“She’s taking a shower right now, but Eddie,” she mumbles, pausing as she looks down with a horrified look on her face, “she has bruises on her thighs, wrists and neck.”

He saw the ones on your thighs, but not the ones on your wrists or your neck. 

“She said that nothing happened, that she got away before he could – you know..” She says, uncomfortably. She can't even finish the sentence but she doesn't have to. Eddie knows.

“Ray did this?” 

She nods and Eddie’s stomach drops.

He shouldn’t have been mad at you, he shouldn’t have scared you that way, he should’ve taken a closer look at you, at least he could’ve taken care of you, instead of scaring you away with his worry and his anger, making your night even worse.

He blinks when he feels hot tears in his eyes. He feels guilty, so guilty.

He encouraged you to go on that date.

“Eddie,” Robin whispers, stepping towards her friends, she knows exactly what he feels like, she feels the same. “It’s not your fault.”

“I-I told her to go on that date,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he looks down at the ground.

"So did I!" Robin says but Eddie ignores her words.

“And then, I got mad at her when I saw her at Rick’s but, I-I was just worried! I specifically told her never to go to his parties alone, Robin!” 

Eddie wanted to protect you but it wasn’t even that place or the people at Rick’s place that put you into danger.

“I know,” she sighs, “she said that Rick found her and the girls she was with were nice, nothing happened, Eddie.”

“Nothing happened,” he scoffs as the anger – an even worse kind of anger, takes over him when he thinks about the guy who did that to you, who would have done worse to you if you didn’t fight back. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Yeah, you and me both, buddy.”

The sound of Steve’s voice is irritating to Robin, every time she hears his voice, every time she looks at him, she gets reminded of how much she dislikes this guy but even through that, she has to admit that he cares about you – even if you don’t see it. 

She looks between Eddie and Steve, eyeing the looks on their faces as they seem to settle on a silent agreement. 

She quirks a brow, sighing in annoyance, she steps towards Steve and grabs the water bottle and the painkillers from his hands. 

“Okay cowboys, why don’t you let the cops handle it?” She asks as she turns around and begins to walk up the stairs, groaning in annoyance when they follow her. 

“Cops?” He scoffs, “they’re not gonna do shit, Robin.” 

Robin is surprised that he even knows her name. 

“Uncle Wayne is friends with Hopper, he won’t let him get away,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, Hopper won’t but Hopper can’t keep him in a cell in Hawkins for the rest of his life.” 

Eddie huffs. He knows he is right. 

Ray has wealthy parents, they will do anything to keep their son out of jail. 

“And what he did was bad enough but he won’t go to jail for that, you know how it is, guys,” Robin sighs, “men get away with worse, what makes you think that he will pay for this? A young college student, an athlete may I add? He has a bright future ahead of him, no judge will ruin that for him!” Robin mutters, angrily. 

“Yeah well, I can ruin his bright athlete future,” Eddie mumbles as he already thinks of the way he could hurt him. 

“Eddie,” Robin sighs, “she doesn’t want you getting into trouble–”

“No, he’s right,” Steve mumbles, “we can easily ruin his future.”

She looks between them, they are serious about this, she can tell that they are. 

“You aren’t doing anything, I don’t want you to.” 

Your voice startles the three of them and they all glance at you. They didn’t notice that you have opened your bedroom door or that you have been watching and listening to them talk. 

Eddie’s eyes widen again, when he finally sees the other bruises, he feels his heart clench in his chest. The bruises on your wrists will stay for a while. How roughly did he grab you? How much pain did he put you through? 

He feels the hot rage inside of him and the urge to hurt the man who did this to you is so very strong. 

But the urge to comfort you and pull you into his arms is so much stronger. 

Your hair is wet and your face looks clean again, the glitter and the mascara streaks are gone. You are wearing a big shirt, his shirt. 

“He didn’t r- assault me in that way. I-I'm not hurt, I was just upset about some shit he said to me, not what he did,” you mumble quietly, looking back down at the ground as you grip the doorknob tightly.

Never in a million years, would they believe your words. You are standing there with bruises on your body, lying about not hurting. This changes everything.

“A-And I’m okay, you guys don’t have to stay here and watch over me.”

All three of them know that you are lying, they can hear the shakiness in your voice and you are not exactly good at hiding the tears in your eyes.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie whispers. 

You lift your head slightly, looking into his eyes, “I’m okay, Eddie,” you whisper, trying to give him a smile. 

He feels helpless, just like Steve does, just like Robin does. 

“I’m not leaving,” he mumbles. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Steve says, “w-we can go downstairs if you’re more comfortable with that.” 

You look away from Eddie and meet his eyes, you eye the softness in them, the worry and you wonder, has it always been there since he left you? 

“Okay,” you whisper. 

But neither Steve or Eddie go downstairs when you walk back into your room. Robin follows and closes the door after giving them both a sad look. 

They settle on the ground, both leaning their backs against the wall on each side of your door and for the first ten minutes or so, it’s awkwardly silent between them. Only the sound of the ticking clock on the opposite wall sounds through the hallway. 

Eddie stares into blank space, twisting the rings on his fingers as he blinks rapidly, not noticing that Steve is watching him. 

“Stop beating yourself up, none of this is your fault.” He says, feeling just as guilty as Eddie does. 

“I should’ve protected her, I-I fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t,” Steve mumbles, “you didn’t fuck up. Her running away from you isn’t you fucking up, dude. She got scared that you were mad at her, she thought you were disappointed in her for whatever reason, that’s why she ran – she was too much in her head, on drugs and drunk.”

“I was mad and I wasn’t thinking straight, I just saw red when I saw her at Rick’s place, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad, I should’ve asked why she was there.” 

Steve had heard about Reefer Rick and the ‘wild’ parties he’s throwing. He heard about the drugs and other illegal shit that goes down at the boathouse. 

“You wanted to protect her, there’s a good reason why you didn’t want her there.” 

“Yeah but–”

“Stop it, Eddie.” Steve mumbles, rolling his eyes, “you aren’t the one who fucked up, you were there for her all this time and you were there to pull her out of the house before something else could happen.” 

He is right, Eddie knows he is but the guilt is still rooted deep inside of him. He should’ve told you to cancel the date, he shouldn’t have encouraged you to go. 

“I’m the one who fucked up,” Steve scoffs as he looks down at his hands, a look of hatred crosses his features, hatred for himself. 

Eddie frowns. 

“This isn’t your fault either, Steve.”

“Everything is my fault. This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t break her heart, she would’ve never gone on that date.” 

Steve wasn’t even sure if it was a date, he figured it was. When he saw the flowers on your counter, he knew for certain. 

“This could have been prevented, I shouldn’t have encouraged her to go on that date,” Eddie admits in shame.

“It still isn’t your fault, Eddie.” 

“Well, it’s not yours either,” Eddie mumbles, “shit like that happens to girls all the time, even if you were still together, it could’ve happened.” 

Steve nods at his words, he is right, he knows he is but that still doesn’t take away the guilt. 

Both of them are trying to convince the other to stop taking the blame but it does little to make them feel any less guilty.

The silence takes over, once again and Steve is the first to break it, again. 

“I thought you were together.”

Eddie’s brows pull together, he looks confused when he turns to face Steve, who is already looking at him.

“Yeah, I uh, I thought you two were dating,” Steve adds as he looks away, nervously. “You seem pretty close, the way her and I were before we uh – before we started dating.” 

Eddie nods, “oh.” 

He looks at him, trying to figure out the look on his face. 

“We’re not, we’re friends.” 

“Are you?” Steve asks, “just friends?” 

Eddie nods, “yeah.”

He looks skeptic, unsure of whether he should believe him or not. He eyes the frown on his face, the sadness and the anger in Eddie’s brown eyes. 

“Do you love her?” Steve asks as his heart starts beating faster.

Eddie chuckles at the question, his eyes flash with something that Steve struggles to read. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, he just stares into nothing.

“Yeah, I do.”

Steve can’t describe the feelings inside of him, right now. Is he surprised to hear him say it? No. How could he not love you? 

Eddie would treat you better than he ever did.

As Eddie looks at him, he notices the sadness in his eyes – Steve wishes that things were different and he knows that you do too.

“But it’s not like that. I love her and I would do just about anything for her, she is my best friend,” he says to him as he continues to fidget with his rings, “she makes me happy and things are amazing the way they are. I never had someone like her in my life.”

Steve feels confused about his words, isn’t that how he felt about you once?

“You love her but you are just friends?” Steve mumbles. 

Eddie snorts, he leans his head against the wall and glances at him, “friends can love each other too, you know that right? It’s a different kind of love than how you would love a partner but it’s still love.” 

“I’m confused.”

“Platonic love, dude.” Eddie sighs, “do you know anything?”

Steve purses his lips, he shrugs, “well our platonic love turned into something else.”

“Then it was never platonic in the first place.”

Yeah, he might be right. Steve loved you, he always did, even when he was a kid and even when he said he didn’t. 

“You love her but you are not in love with her?” Steve asks, whispering the question this time when he remembers that you might be awake and listening in on their conversation. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, he bumps his head against the wall, his bangs fall in front of his eyes but he doesn’t bother to push them away. 

“We can be friends without being in love with each other, right?” 

Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that, he only shrugs. 

Just being friends, never worked out for you and him. 

“I fucking adore that girl, that’s all.” Eddie explains. 

The look on his face is genuine. 

“Things are good the way they are, between us, I mean.”

“Has it always been that way?” Steve asks, curiously. “I mean, from the start?” 

Steve notices the way he hesitates, the way his eyes don’t meet his anymore. Eddie knows exactly why he is asking, he is trying to find something out. He knows that you two have been friends for longer than he initially thought. 

The night at the dance, back in december, Steve remembered seeing you with Eddie at a party he threw back in august and it brought up questions, ones that he never dared to ask you after what he had done. 

He never remembered much from that night, just how drunk he was and how awful your fight had been, so awful that you didn't even spent the night at his place the way you usually did. No matter how bad a fight had been, you had never not stayed with him, except for that night.

“Uh, no..” Eddie mumbles, “we’ve only gotten this close after you two broke up.” 

Steve nods and decides to stop asking questions, it’s better that way. 

But now, Eddie takes his turn, he watches him with a questioning look in his eyes. 

“You love her, don’t you?” He asks, “you always did, right? All this, ‘I’m not in love with you anymore’ bullshit, was just bullshit, right?” He asks, chuckling.

Steve winces at that word, it takes him back to the night in your room, after he had tried to kiss you. 

‘That’s bullshit, Steve! Everything you do, everything you say is bullshit! Y-You’re bullshit!’

You were right about what you said, about what you called him and Eddie is right too. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “it was just… bullshit. But, I’m with Nance now and things are great.”

Great. Just great.

Eddie raises his brows but he doesn’t say anything. There is more he’d like to say and know but, this isn’t the right time. 

A beat of silence brings back the awkwardness. They glance at each other, not knowing what else to say or do.

But both, get lost in their thoughts so easily. They both think about you, about what happened.

Wondering what Ray had said and done to you. It weren't just his actions that had hurt and upset you, it was something he said to you. Both, Eddie and Steve saw the look in your eyes, the haunted and deeply hurt one.

What words had he thrown at you?

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You know where Parker lives, right?” 

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @screammunson @hellfire--cult @taintedcigs @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfiregirlxx @take-everything-you-can @nemesis729 @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked

games you play | eddie munson

the prelude; the consequences of being late to class... a class that you share with eddie munson and that he, as a matter of fact, has failed.

a/n : i am using this little thing as an introduction to my fic, i will be posting the first chapter as soon as i can. <3

“Billy- Billy, I’m gonna be late” you try to reason with him, but he keeps peppering you with kisses, making you squirm under his body. “Come on, you- fuck- You know how O’Donnell gets.”

You hear Billy sigh, and you do too when he releases you. You miss his kisses already, but you simply cannot be late to miss O’Donnell’s class.

His blue eyes look into your own adoringly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Fine, but you owe me. Tonight?”

You can’t say no when he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. And truth is, you don’t want to.

“Bet” you giggle, causing a chuckle to escape your boyfriend’s mouth too as he curls a finger under your chin, pecking your lips once, twice and three times before finally letting you go.

You get out of his arms before he can catch you again, and rush up the stairs towards your class. When you finally reach the door, you open it and a more than familiar face greets you.

“Look who has decided to join us. Meredith, I didn’t expect it from you” she shakes her head at you, and your eyes widen.

8:03 am. Shit.

“I am so sorry─” “No need. Just- Don’t let it happen again” she gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the only empty seat left.

You nod and rush towards your seat, placing your books on the desk.

“As I was saying prior to being interrupted” she emphasises and you sink in your seat, “You will be working in pairs for this assignment. It is rather complex, otherwise I would have never let you.”

Tammy raises her hand, and the teacher gives her a pointed look, raising her eyebrows. “Can I work with Steve?” she asks excitedly, and you snort when the aforementioned boy gives you a horrified look.

“Not exactly, miss Thompson. I would rather you work with your desk mates. It should be a fifty-fifty type of project” she eyes her suspiciously, but decides to let it go as she starts explaining about said project.

You don’t even realise who is sitting beside you, until you notice Steve is giving you a shit eating grin, looking over your shoulder.

“So, you and Harrington think you are too good for us, remains of society, right?” you turn to your right, only to find Eddie Munson, the freak, toying with his pen.

You look at him, confused. He remains unimpressed as he glances at you for merely a second. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It is his turn to snort, rolling his eyes, but still avoiding eye contact as he looks forward. “Oh, please. Tammy, and now me, all in under ten seconds. I’m impressed.”

You remain silent for a second, before shaking out of your thoughts. “We don’t normally─”

“Oh, trust me, I know” he hums. “You should have come sooner, though, if you wanted to work with one of them... Oh! But wait, Hargrove had his tongue down your throat and now you are stuck with me” Eddie’s face spreads into a wide grin when he sees the shocked expression on your face.

You lean back against your chair and stay quiet for the rest of the class. And when it’s finally over, Eddie gathers his books, not leaving before he looks over at you. “Five pm, my place.”

─

“Are you saying the freak made fun of you and you didn’t say anything back?” Steve laughs at you, as you both gather your things to leave for the day.

You give him an unamused smile, and he holds his hands up in the air. “I’m just saying, Mer. That was unnecessarily rude. Tell Hargrove that and he will─”

“Shut it!” you shush him, cupping Steve’s mouth and he licks it. “Idiot!” you slap him on the back of his head and he laughs out loud, opening the door to his car so you can get in.

─

Five pm rolls around and you are already at the trailer park. You don’t really know which one is Eddie’s, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you hear a door being slammed open, and see a head of curls popping out. “Come in, then, princess” he steps aside, and you step inside the trailer.

It’s cute, actually. It is a bit small, indeed. But it looks nice and as clean as Eddie Munson can keep it, knowing his chaotic personality.

“Yeah, it’s not your palace, but it does the job” he snorts ironically when he sees you look around.

“Your place is nice” your eyes meet for a second, before he looks away. “Let’s go to my room” he instructs, hand at the small of your back, but barely touching you as he guides you inside his room, closing the door behind him.

His bed is a bit messy, papers are thrown around the room, but, somehow, it looks cosy. “So- the project. What do you want to start with?”

His eyes snap to yours in a moment. “Yeah so, I don’t know if you figured, but I failed this class last year.”

You hum, unzipping your backpack. You do know. “Of course. I can help you, if you want.”

Eddie huffs, throwing his hands in the air and you look at him surprised. “Okay, what the fuck is this game you’re trying to play?”

“Sorry?”

“You trying to help me, complimenting my house” he squints at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You look at him utterly confused. His words make you take a step back, Eddie has always intimidated you and his snarky comment made the things even worse for you.

Seeing the annoyed expression on his face, you decide to speak up. “I just- I am good at Chemistry so I just figured, you know...”

He thinks for a second, and you can see his face soften for a minute. You exhale.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter four ⭐︎ Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, mentions of loss, allusions to depression, fear of loss, hurt/comfort. reader calls her sister 'twinkie', mentions of abuse, mentions of sex

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: As Steve shows up on your doorsteps with an apology, you let him see more of just the you he already knows

Word count: 7.6k+

Author's note: shoutout to my co-writer (shut up, you wrote the dialogues and ideas with me, don't say anything) @hellfire--cult

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Breathe in. Breathe out.

His heart was pounding, his body was shaking, his eyes wide, blinking rapidly as he stared at the same exact spot. The dried blood on his hands was starting to make him feel sick. It was Eddie’s blood. He hadn’t cleaned it off yet, he was still in shock, still in pain after what they had all gone through. 

Eddie made it, he was going to be okay, his injuries were bad and he was losing blood, a lot of blood, but he would be okay. And yet, Steve had felt anything but it. 

He almost lost a friend, he almost lost Max, he almost lost… you. 

He was sitting down beside you, though he couldn’t bring himself to look up and face you. You looked so… dead. Your skin lost its color, and the bandage around your head was new, yet there was a blood stain already. The machines were beeping beside you, it was the only sound in the room. 

And then the door opened, only then did he lift his head to look up, expecting it to be your parents or maybe your sister but it was only Nancy. A cup of coffee from the machine outside in her hand, a sad look still resting on her features. 

“Hey,” she whispered as she walked towards him, handing him the cup, “here, I didn’t know what you liked so I just got you a regular coffee.”

They’d been together for over a year and she couldn’t even remember what he liked. Should he even be surprised? No. A small thing like this still managed to hurt him. 

“Thanks, Nance,” he mumbled as he tried to give her a smile. He reached for the cup, ignoring the way it felt when his fingers brushed hers, how his heart had fluttered despite her rejection only a few hours back. 

She cleared her throat and looked away, sitting down at the end of the bed, she looked at you. 

He took a sip of the hot coffee as he leaned back in the chair, he avoided looking at you still, instead he kept his focus on her, the way he always did. There was disbelief, anger and sadness flashing in her eyes as she stared at you. 

“I can’t believe that Jason did that to her,” she whispered, “I knew I saw something in his eyes, I just didn’t think that he was this violent.” 

Steve nodded. 

He too was still in disbelief. 

You survived the night in the upside down, you fought off bats, didn’t even bat an eye when one of them got you good, but Jason, you almost didn’t survive him. And Steve felt so much rage as he sat there and thought of the guy that almost murdered you. 

“Yeah, me neither.”

There are monsters in different dimensions, in dark worlds, ones that do not know of a different way of living, they exist to kill because it is in their nature. But sometimes there are worse monsters, ones that hide behind kind eyes, ones that are raised into a world that should be more humane but because of them, it never will be. This world will always be just as dark as all the other ones that exist in secret. Jason was one of the monsters that got to you. 

This world is a hell just like the ones he and his friends had been dragged into but there’s still kindness left, peace and order. Though, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what this world would have turned into if Vecna had won. 

He would have brought endless war and chaos on this planet and people would have followed, they would have turned against each other so quickly. Everything would have crumbled into pieces. 

Shivers ran down his spine as he thought of what could’ve happened had they not stopped him. You were a part of it all, you helped in stopping him, had you not been at the Creel house, things could’ve gone sideways so easily. 

“Hey,” Steve whispered, clearing his throat. “Thank you… You know, for jumping into the water and saving my ass back there.”

Nancy furrowed her brows, a soft laugh fell from her lips, she looked away from you and turned to face him, shaking her head a little. 

“Everyone did.. And, she did first. She jumped first on the boat and she jumped first into the water, then I followed, then Robin and then Eddie.” 

His eyes widened, flashed with confusion as he tilted his head at her. 

“Huh? Who jumped first?” 

Nancy’s blue eyes were filled with confusion, her bangs fell in front of her eyes as she turned back to you, saying your name. 

You were the first to jump. 

You were the one to go after him first. 

You wanted to save him. 

How could he throw such horrible words at you after what you had done for him? After risking your life to save him? 

He wouldn’t even be able to begin to describe the guilt that kept him up all night. He wanted nothing more than to drive over to your place and apologize, even if he would have to drop to his knees, he would. 

But Max had told him that it was better to wait, to give you the time that you need, so that’s what he did. But he was going crazy, the guilt and the regret were eating at him, making him feel worse and worse with each passing second. 

Going to work that day had been torture as well, he was nervous and restless, he kept bouncing his knee and tapping his pen against the unmarked crossword in front of him. His mind was forcing him to think of you, of the look in your eyes, of the tears and the hurt. He felt so awful, he felt like King Steve again and he is someone he despises, just the way he despises himself, right this second. 

Robin told him to leave before he could even finish his shift, knowing that all he wanted was to set things straight, to make things right with you. 

And here he is now, standing on your porch with a racing heart and sweaty palms. 

He doesn’t know how you will react to seeing him here, but knowing you, he is certain that you will slam the door in his face – he’d deserve it. 

He rang the doorbell once before, but you didn’t open it. He wonders if you saw his car in your driveway already. He rings it again, hoping for you to open, hoping for you to give him a chance so he can… try, try to make it up to you. 

He tugs at his hair, feeling more and more stressed the longer it takes you to open. As he stands there, staring at the wooden door, he realizes that it’s only the second time that he stands here, on your porch, on the doorsteps of a big house, just as big as the one he lives in, if not bigger. The inside of your home is just as much of a mystery to him as you are. 

Steve knows nothing about you, absolutely nothing and he still opened his mouth and threw words at you that you didn’t deserve – even when you pushed him, even when you were being mean to him, you had never sunk so low just to hurt him, not once. 

After he got all this anger off his chest, you were no longer the girl he saw before, you were someone else, someone vulnerable, someone heartbroken and that hurt even more to think about. 

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when you finally open the door. He snaps his head up and his eyes meet yours for the first time that day. 

He had seen you in a bad state before, after your fight with Jason Carver, after the surgery that saved your life, you looked bad. Your skin was marked with bruises and scars, you had that traumatized look in your eyes that no one dared to even mention. You barely ate or talked for the first few days, whether it was because of the surgery or the trauma that Carver had left you with, you were in a bad, bad state. 

But he had never seen you like this before. 

Not even the sadness from last night was this strong as the one in your eyes now. They are glassy, a mix of anger and hurt swirling in them. Your lips are puffy just like your eyes, from all the crying. Your hair is messy, a big hoodie that doesn’t even seem to belong to you hanging loosely on your form. 

Another pang of guilt hits him at the sight of you. 

You stare at each other for a long moment before you try to slam the door shut again, but he jumps forward, pressing his palm against it, “Blondie, please! I just want to talk!” 

He hears your sniffle, like you’re trying not to cry again. You stop pushing against the door but you don’t pull away either, you don’t let him see you. 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he hears you say. 

“I-I just want to apologize, I was an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve it. I messed up.. fuck..” He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling desperate to fix this between you two, “I’m sorry, I’m really fucking sorry, Blondie.” 

“Y-You’re forgiven, now please leave..”

The weakness in your voice makes him feel like the worst person alive, knowing that he is the cause of your suffering, right now. 

How did you feel last night? 

“No,” he begs, shaking his head as though you could see him, “please just let me in, I-I want to talk to you, I want to fix it, please let me fix it.” 

You are silent on the other side of the door, you don’t move, you don’t speak. You hesitate. And it feels like forever that he stands here with a pounding heart, willing you to open the door and let him see you, talk to you. 

Without a word, you open the door and you step aside, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, blinking as he takes in the sight of you, once again. 

You stare at him with both impatience and annoyance now, wanting to get this over with quickly, while he wants time – time with you. 

He had never felt such desperation before, especially now that he sees you. 

“There’s nothing to fix, it’s okay, you told me what you–”

He says your name, and he says it so desperately that it shuts you up. 

“I won’t leave until I can properly apologize to you.” 

You blink, your upper lip twitches and you take a moment, staring at him for what feels like forever until you nod. 

“Fine..”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. 

He takes a deep breath before he steps inside the house he has never been in before, he closes the door behind him and he can’t help but look around, taking in the sight of the big hallway, the wide stairs are on the right side, pictures hang on the wall all the way up to the second floor, there is one that is slightly bigger than the others, and even from afar, he recognizes you – you are no older than twelve in that picture, you wore a wide smile on your face, pigtails that were tied with pink bows at the end, you were wearing a dress and you looked happy in a way he had never seen before. Your big sister was next to you, holding your hand as your parents stood behind you both, the smiles were genuine, even on their faces. 

Only as he stares at the picture, does he realize that he has never actually seen your parents before. 

“Are your parents home?” He asks without looking at you, still questioning 

You hesitate. 

“No… I uh, do you want something to drink?” You ask awkwardly, not knowing what else to say or do.

Steve is too busy staring at the picture, trying to remember your parents, wondering why they didn’t come to visit you at the hospital, only your sister came to see you.

When he looks down at you, away from the picture of the girl that once looked so happy, he now sees a broken one, for the first time, he sees past those glares and cold looks. 

He runs his fingers through his hair. 

“I-I’m sorry… I’m really sorry about all the awful shit I said to you last night, I was angry a-and I let it out on you and you did not deserve this, you really didn’t deserve any of the words I threw at you.” 

You blink, and you press your lips together just like you did before, just like you did last night. 

“It’s okay–”

“No, I said things that I had no clue about and I never wanna do that again. I just, I want to understand you.. I want to get to know you because.. fuck, I’m realizing how much I’m hurting you.”

Your eyes soften and you genuinely look surprised at his words, eyeing him as you stay silent. 

You don’t blame him, he’s not at fault, not entirely. He knows nothing about you or your life, so how could he know that those words would cause so much damage? 

You carry guilt, just like he does. 

You both kept throwing knives at each other, hitting one target after the other but you were both blindfolded to the pain you were causing to each other. 

You shift, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater you are wearing, you close your eyes for one second, taking a deep breath, before you open them again and look up at Steve. 

“What do you want to know?” You ask, surprising him with your words. 

He expected you to be more stubborn than this, but you seem willing to let him get to know you, the real you. 

“Anything you want to give me really.. so… I just want to stop hurting you without me realizing it… I don’t… I need to stop hurting you, Blondie.”

You look at him, really look at him, and you notice that he looks just as bad as you do. His hair is messy – a very unusual sight for him. He has dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept all night and his eyes are filled with guilt.

With a sigh, you tilt your head into the direction of the living room, motioning him to follow. You turn on the lamp on the dresser, making the room appear lighter, it’s gloomy outside and the rain has been falling all morning, it only just stopped. 

“Sit,” you mumble, pointing to the couch, “wait here.” 

He nods at you and sits down, he watches you leave the room again and listens to your footsteps as you make your way upstairs. He looks around, there are fewer pictures around here, though still enough for him to get curious about your parents again. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers on the small table in front of him – Daisies. A throw blanket lays on the other end of the couch, an open book next to it, were you reading when he got here?

It doesn’t take you long to come back into the room. 

Steve’s brows furrow a little when he sees the shoebox in your hand, you place it in front of him and take a deep breath as you look into his eyes, pointing to the box. 

“Here’s everything you need to know about me.”

His lips part at your words. 

“You can look, I’ll tell you anything you want to know and then we can… move past all of this and go back to the way things were before yesterday.” 

He blinks, noticing how your shoulders slumped a little, you don’t want to go back to the way things were, and neither does he. He enjoys the bickering but not when it means that he is hurting you. 

You break eye contact, and turn around, “I’m gonna get us something to drink, feel free to look..” 

And with that, you leave again and Steve, he stares at the box for a while, feeling like he is about to intrude, despite you telling him to open it, to look inside, he still feels like he is intruding. But his curiosity gets the best of him, he removes the lid carefully and puts it down on the table. 

Polaroid Pictures. 

So many of them. The box is filled, all the way up to the top with pictures of friends and family. The first one that catches his eye is the one of you and Max. He reaches for it, bringing it closer. You are both smiling into the camera, Max is wearing her red sunglasses and you are wearing your heart shaped ones, an ice cream cone in her hand and a can of diet pepsi in yours – he can’t help but smile as he stares at it, you looked so happy. 

The date was written under the picture, with a pink sharpie: May 7th 1985. 

He places the picture down, reaching for the next one. 

This one doesn’t have you on it, only your sister, with a black cat on her lap – Luna, the cat’s name was Luna, he overheard you talking about her to Max. And your sister, he doesn’t remember her actual name, only the nickname you called her when she came to see you at the hospital; Twinkie. He almost laughed at that, the first time he heard it.

The next one is one of you and your dad at the beach, he recognizes him from the picture in the hallway. Both of you were holding surfboards. Your eyes shone with happiness, a bright grin on your face, your dad’s arm was wrapped around your shoulder. In this picture, you looked even happier than in the one from last year. – This one was taken in the summer of 1981, you were only fourteen. 

He flinches a little when you place a soda can in front of him, “here, I found some coke in the fridge, figured you’d prefer that.” 

He raises his brows and then looks at the pepsi you’re holding in your hand. 

“Oh, thanks,” he mumbles, trying to smile. 

You nod at him as you sit down beside him, looking at the picture that he’s holding. 

“We spent the summer in California, my parents had a summer house in Monterey.” 

“Had?”

You nod. 

“Yeah,” you whisper as sadness takes over your features, a sadness he hadn’t seen before. It’s not the kind that he had seen last night. It’s one that reminds him of grief, like the one on Max’s face when she mentions Billy. 

Oh no. 

“My sister sold it last year, I asked her not to but.. for some reason that house gave her more painful memories than this one,” you say as you gesture to the room you sit in, you lean forward, placing your drink on the table as you reach for a picture in the box, “that was.. that was two weeks before they uh.. got into an accident.” 

You hand him a picture but he can’t look at it yet, too busy staring at you and at the way you try to hide the tears in your eyes. 

Steve’s heart aches in his chest, the guilt eating at him like never before. 

“I-I’m so sorry, Blondie,” he whispers as he slowly looks down at the picture, at your parents who both smiled into the camera. That one was also taken in the summer of 1981.

Steve started to feel a little sick as the seconds went by, at each picture that he looked at.

“Twinkie and I took the flight back with our grandparents, we wanted to spend one more week with them in Indianapolis before going back to Hawkins, we didn’t know that this would be the last time we’d ever see them.” 

His heart no longer aches at your words, it breaks for you. He didn’t know this, he never knew anything about you. You lost your parents when you were so young, right before your first year in high school. 

Now he understands why you had always looked so.. lost. 

Why you had been so rude and unapproachable. You pushed people away while you were grieving, you didn’t want anyone to see.

He doesn’t know what to say, no words will give you the comfort that you still clearly need. 

“I-I never knew.”

You chuckle as you look at him, still blinking away those tears, “I didn’t want anyone to know, especially not when it just happened.”

“Why not?”

“I’d forever be the girl that lost her parents, and honestly, I’d rather have the whole school hate me than give me pitiful looks.”

“Of course,” he mumbles, shaking his head at you. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” he shrugs, running his fingers through his messy hair after he puts the picture down, “you’re just so… I don’t know, it’s just.. classic you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, not with anger in your voice but with curiosity. 

“Well, you’d rather have the whole world hate you than let them see you vulnerable.” 

You shake your head at him and his eyes meet yours as he turns back. There is that look in your eyes, the one that reminds him that he doesn’t know anything about you. 

“I let some see.” 

Right. Some. 

He nods and looks away. 

He’s surely not one of those that you let see.

When he reaches for the next picture, he freezes, staring at the two little girls with wide eyes. It’s not hard to figure out who the one next to you is. Strawberry blonde hair, the two front teeth way too big for the small face, she was wearing a cheerleader costume – not knowing that she would’ve become cheer captain years later. Chrissy Cunningham. 

The girl next to you was Chrissy, you were hugging each other from the side, giggling. 

He looks at you, you were wearing a fairy costume, green and pink colors on the dress, and your smile was big. You looked happy. 

He shakes his head a little, not understanding what he sees in front of him. 

He had never seen you and Chrissy around each other, not even once. In fact, he rarely ever saw you around anyone for that matter. Sometimes he saw you talking to Jonathan, something that gave him more of a reason to dislike you back then, he’d throw the word ‘freaks’ at the two of you whenever he passed by you. The memories of that fill him with guilt and regret, he always wishes that he could turn back time and change things, change the way he acted. 

But he never ever saw you even talking to Chrissy.

He slowly turns to face you, holding up the polaroid, “y-you and Chrissy knew each other?”

You only glance at the picture before you look down, “yeah, we were childhood best friends, we grew apart but… we still kept in touch. She’d stay over sometimes.” you explain, not meeting his eyes.

You lost your parents. You lost a friend. 

His words from last night echo in his mind and the guilt crashes over him, harder than before. 

No words appear before him, what can he say that will make you feel better in the slightest? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

But the monsters have gotten to her without her knowing about them.

That’s what Max had told him. Now he understands. Even more so, when a different picture catches his eye, one that shocks him even more than the previous one. 

Only this time, he doesn’t just freeze, he feels a shiver running down his spine and his chest feels weird, all of a sudden. Because the guy in the picture isn’t someone he ever expected you around with. 

He takes it, between his thumb and his forefinger, bringing it closer with a shaky hand. He blinks, like he can’t believe what he is seeing, but it’s real, it’s so very real. No amount of blinking will transform the guy into someone else. It’s unmistakably Billy Hargrove in your collection of polaroids, a collection that reminds you of the people you loved. The box of memories that is frozen in time. 

Billy is sitting on the hood of his car, a cigarette held between his fingers as he snickered at the camera. It was taken back in 1984. 

You were friends with Billy Hargrove? 

He can’t even utter a single word, just reaching for the next picture which is just another one of him. 

Billy was lying on the grass, probably in your backyard, his eyes were barely open but he was smiling into the camera, with a thumbs up in the air. It’s clear that he was drunk when you took that picture. 

He feels your eyes on him, he notices you shifting on the couch as you lean back, still looking at him. He doesn’t turn to face you, not yet. Too curious to find more pictures of Billy, he doesn’t expect the next ones to be more intimate than the ones before. 

He stares at the one of you first, it looks as though you have cried, but you are smiling, and the only thing that covered your body was a blanket, while pushing the camera out of your face. 

And for a moment, Steve can’t help but think how beautiful you look in this picture with your hair all messy, your exposed skin looking so soft and glowy beneath dim lights, and a smile so content. 

But the picture of Billy makes him frown. He was sitting on your bed, shirtless and with a cigarette between his lips, his eyes were red but he was smiling just like you were. 

It’s obvious what happened before these pictures were taken and he can’t shake the weird feeling in his gut, the longer he looks at them. 

Were you and Billy dating? 

Is that why you have been so miserable since last summer? Because he was just another name on the list of people you have lost?

As though you can read his mind, you lean closer to him, reaching for the first picture you ever took of him, the one where he sits on the hood of his car. 

“I ran into Billy at Big Buy’s, well, behind the building. He was smoking a cigarette and he was crying. I hadn’t seen him before, it was the weekend before school started again. I approached him and he obviously tried to scare me off, but… fucker didn’t know who he was talking to,” you chuckle. “He was being rude, like really rude, calling me names and trying to get me to leave, I stepped on his foot and he yelped, literally yelped. I left after that but uh, after that, we just started pestering each other at school and then one day, he showed up here, with a bleeding nose and a busted lip, he didn’t know where else to go.”

Steve watches you, the way your eyes are filled with sadness as you look at the pictures in front of you. 

“It took him a while but eventually, he opened up to me, about his dad and everything.”

He knows about Billy’s dad, about the abuse, the emotional and physical abuse. Max told him all about it. 

“So uh, then that happened,” you murmur, awkwardly, not meeting his eyes as you point to the pictures of the two of you only covered by the sheets. 

“Were you two dating?” He asks, and somehow he feels a knot in his stomach at that question. 

You scrunch your face up at his words, almost in a way that makes him laugh. You shake your head at him. 

“Fuck no. We weren’t even attracted to each other. I just, at that point we were close and I trusted him so uh.. I just wanted to do it with someone that I felt comfortable with and uh, the beer helped too, I guess,” you say with a small smile on your lips.

Steve turns away from you, biting the insides of his cheeks, the knot slowly undoing itself in his belly.

“We never mentioned it again after this, it wasn’t awkward or anything, we were just.. best friends.” 

There is no bitterness in your voice, he notices. You had no feelings for Billy and that for some reason, and that for some reason makes his shoulders relax.

He looks back at you when he feels your eyes on him, your smile has fallen.

“He came to my house… you know.. after he beat you up and he was drugged by Max.”

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips. 

“What?”

“I told him that it was wrong, what he did, that you did the right thing, that I told him time and time to lay off Max. Damn, I even slapped him across his head when he broke her skateboard.”

His eyes soften, and his lip twitches. 

“I-I was doing the right thing?”

“You protected Lucas. When I found out how he was treating him I got so mad at him, we got into a fight and I didn’t talk to him for days. I just hated what he did to him and to Max,” you mumble, breaking eye contact when the look in his eyes gets a little too intense for you. You also didn’t like what Billy did to Steve, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Billy he was.. driven by his father’s words and actions. The abuse turned him into that. He was vulnerable with me, but– the anger was still inside of him… bright red.”

As Steve looks back at the pictures, he realizes that he had never seen Billy like this, happy, smiling. He almost looks like a different person. Regret floods through him, he can’t help but wish that he would’ve gotten to know this side of Billy, the one that you knew, maybe things would’ve gone differently if he did, maybe Max wouldn’t have lost her brother. 

“I never saw Hargrove like this.”

“No one did,” you shrug, “only me, sometimes Max. I-I tried to change him and his dumb views but Billy was just.. stubborn and angry.” You shake your head, blinking away the tears that welled up in your eyes, you close them and tilt your head down. “A-And then he pushed me away when he.. when he was possessed.” 

Steve notices the way your voice got so much more shaky than before, how you seem to be on the verge of tears. 

“Max,” he whispers, now understanding why or who the reason was for your friendship. 

“Yeah… Max. We received letters, well, notes from Billy,” you mumble. 

He watches how you bring your hand up to your face, wiping away the tears with the sleeves before you reach for something in the box, a folded piece of paper that you hand to him. 

“He told me to stay away in mine, all messy, but he said that he didn’t hate me, that he could never..”

Steve doesn’t open the note, your words are enough, he doesn’t want to intrude more than he already did, he understands this enough. Billy pushed you away to keep you safe, and he did it with cruel words to keep you away, because he knew that that would work with you. 

Steve is at a loss for words.

“And Max, he called her his sister in hers. She didn’t read the note until a few weeks later though.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and it all clicks in his head. 

Why Max had been suffering as much as she did in those months after Billy’s death, why she seemed more depressed than ever when the summer was over. 

“Is that why you are so close with her? … For Billy?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding. “She’s like a sister to me, I’d do anything for her.”

And you did. You did and you almost gave your life protecting her. 

“And I almost lost her too.”

Just like everyone else you loved and cared about. 

Steve’s words did more damage than he thought they did, and they echo in his mind, over and over again. 

Don’t you ever ask yourself why you don’t have anyone? Why no one bothers to stick around because I’d be really surprised if someone did. 

The nausea that fills him almost overwhelms him, it almost knocks the breath out of him. He swallows harshly, and he starts to put the polaroids back into the box, blinking as he looks at each and every one of them again. 

His eyes linger on the one of you smiling, the one from the year before. When you found your happiness again when a new friend had stepped into your life. 

Steve couldn’t stand Billy Hargrove, he really couldn’t stand him, but his death was cruel and even he didn’t deserve what happened to him and you didn’t deserve to lose another person you cared about. 

You lost. You lost people, you lost family, you lost friends and you lost your spark, your happiness. And now he understands why you are the way that you are. Why you keep pushing everyone away, you’re scared to lose again, scared to get too close to someone only to watch them being taken away from you. 

As he stares at your smile, he can’t help but frown at the picture in his hand because he will never get to see this. He will never see you like this with him and in this moment, he can’t help but envy those who will. 

“You are right.” His voice sounds small, filled with regret, filled with sadness and hurt.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know what loss is. I– shit. I don’t know if I could have handled it like you did.”

You feel your eyes burning at his words and before you can even try to blink your tears away, one falls from your eye. 

Steve’s eyes soften when he hears your sniffle, he watches the tear roll down your cheek. He moves without thinking, raising his hand up to your face, he catches the tear with his thumb.  

You freeze and your lips part in surprise, his touch giving you butterflies despite what happened yesterday. 

His touch feels so foreign on your skin, yet comforting and warm, like something that you have been craving and longing for since always. You slowly turn to face him and only then, does he realize what he did. 

His cheeks flush red and his eyes fill with embarrassment, he clears his throat and pulls his hand away from your face, not knowing that this makes you feel empty again. 

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, apologizing to him, for the first time. “Knowing that they’re alive yet still deciding to leave you behind.. that’s not easy either.”

He appreciates your words and his lip twitches, he shrugs, trying to play it off – The pain he always endured by himself and never voiced out, and he won’t start doing it now. It’s done with.

“I have the kids and Robin.”

“Right,” you whisper as you push yourself up, unable to sit here with him any longer, you reach for the box, ignoring the confused look that he gives you, “they take care of you.” 

He noticed the sarcastic tone at that last phrase, but he nodded either way. 

“Okay uh, time to go, Lego head. I need a shower.”

This time, he can’t help but smile at the nickname. 

“Okay, Blondie.”

You lead him back out into the hallway, avoiding the hazel eyes that fill your heart with nothing but sadness and longing. 

You feel your heart pounding, your eyes still burning as you feel yourself nearing the edge of yet another breakdown this day. 

“Hey,” Steve whispers, taking a hold of your arm he pulls you back so he can see your face again. 

“Yeah?” 

Your eyes show him so much and now he can’t help but wonder if these emotions have always been there and he was just too blind to see them or if you only showed them now. 

“I’m really sorry about everything,” he whispers. 

Your lips twitch, though not into a smile. 

“Me too, Steve.”

He keeps holding your arm, ignoring the wish to hold you instead. 

“Are we.. good?” 

His question makes you laugh and you squint your eyes. 

“When have we ever been good?”

He rolls his eyes, though he can’t help but smile. He brings his left hand up, running his fingers through his messy hair.

There is that look in his eyes, the one that shows you that he is thinking about something, deeply. 

“Do I still call you Blondie…?” He asks as he realizes that he had always called you by a name that must have taken you back to a time where you had felt the saddest, the loneliest. You were fifteen when you had bleached your hair and tried out new styles, all the time. He never knew that it was something that you needed to do, to distract yourself from the grief. You had no friends, no one to talk to, no one to be with. You only had that – box dye, makeup and new clothes every week. 

Oh. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, digging your nails into your palm. He knows. 

“I would be mad if you didn’t. It’s weird when you say my name, Harrington.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head a little.

“Yeah yeah, Blondie, keep acting like you don’t like it.”

You smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see it.”

“I guess we’re still Lego head and Blondie then, huh?” He asks, snorting. 

“Always.”

He licks his lips, nodding. 

“Always,” he chuckles as he lets go of you and walks towards the door, he opens it, but he doesn’t step out, right away. He looks back at you, one more time, “you know, I didn’t mean a single thing that I said to you, last night. And I’ll do anything for you to believe me. B-But, I think that you’re amazing and the people that had the chance to get to know you… the real you were really fucking lucky.” 

He leaves you with those words, closes the door and walks away from you. 

And you stare at the front door for what feels like forever before you finally break into tears. You were pushing away your pain and your sadness but the fight from last night, his presence and his words have made it all so much worse again. 

You bury your face in your hands as you sit down on the stairs, letting tears fall that you haven’t felt in ages but instead of relief, you feel frustration running through you. You didn’t miss this, you didn’t miss this for a single second. 

There is a knock on the front door and it fills you with annoyance when you expect it to be Steve again. 

Wiping your tears with anger, you rip open the door, expecting to see him again but instead it’s Max on your doorstep. Max and Eddie. 

You blink, looking between them, back and forth. 

Max’s blue eyes fill with worry as she looks into your glassy eyes. 

Eddie smiles at you, despite matching the look in her eyes. 

“Hey, you didn’t let me come in yesterday so I assumed that if I brought Red here you would let us in,” he says, still smiling cheekily. “We brought movies and got your favorite snacks,” he points to Max’s backpack.

You don’t know what comes over you, but the kind smile on his face, of the guy that has been trying desperately to be your friend, makes you want to continue crying. You don’t know how, but you keep your tears at bay.

You know that they can see that you were crying, but it brings you comfort to know that neither of them will push you to talk about anything. 

“Hey guys,” you try to put on your best smile as you greet them, you step aside without another word.

Eddie’s smile widens, he bumps his shoulder into Max. 

“Hey,” she smiles, still eying you worriedly, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, placing your hand on her shoulder, “I’m okay.” 

She doesn’t look convinced but she doesn’t push you to talk, she doesn’t ask any more questions either. She just walks straight into the living room. 

“She feels at home, huh?” Eddie chuckles. 

“It’s basically her second home so yeah,” you laugh. 

His brown eyes take you in, his lips twitch but his smile doesn’t fall. He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t speak up. 

You both follow Max into the living room, expecting her to be unpacking the snacks but instead she stands there frozen in place as she stares at the box of polaroids.

Your eyes widen and in panic, you rush over to the coffee table, wanting to close the box. 

“S-Shit, I’m sorry–”

“No!” She grabs your hand before you reach for the lid. “I-It’s okay, I’m okay. A-Are you though?” She asks as she looks away from the pictures of Billy. 

Eddie looks between you two, furrowing his brows as he takes a step closer. He looks into the box and his eyes widen instantly. 

“Holy shit, is that–”

“Eddie don’t,” Max warns him.

You shake your head, “no.. no, it’s okay, Max.”

Eddie doesn’t even look at Max or you, he is staring at the picture of her brother, in shock. 

“I-I promise, it’s okay,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose as you feel your heart starting to pound again, “I just.. I need some fresh air, I’ll be right back.” 

You leave the room, rushing out of the house. You sit down on the porch steps, taking a deep breath. The earthy smell that lingers after the rain comforts you a little. 

You knew you wouldn’t get more than a minute to yourself, because only moments later, the door opens. You know that it’s Eddie, you hear the flick of his lighter, and seconds later, the smell of smoke fills the air, mixing with the smell of the after rain. 

You hear his footsteps and then he sits down next to you. Without a word, he offers you the cigarette. You take it, placing it between your lips, you take a drag and blow out the smoke. 

Eddie doesn’t talk, he just wants you to know that he is here because he wants to be, he wants to be your friend but you don’t want to lose him too. 

“I lost a lot of people I cared about, Eddie.. Every single one of them, my parents, Chrissy, Billy.. I almost lost Max and you too,” You trail off, taking another drag before you hand him back the cigarette. “And I can’t lose any more people, Eds.”

He stares at you with his big sad eyes that you can’t bring yourself to look into for longer than two seconds. 

“I feel like I’m fucking cursed or something. Everything that I touch immediately rots. That’s why I just.. I keep pushing you away because I already lost a best friend.. so just please.” 

He sees the way you’re blinking, the way your hands are shaking just like your voice is. He knows what you’re asking of him and he only shakes his head in response, moving closer to you as he feels his own eyes burning. 

You’re his friend, a friend that he doesn’t want to lose either. 

“Nah.. It will take a whole swarm of demobats to rip me away from you. And even then, hey, I will still survive, already did once,” he tries to crack a joke but only makes you tear up even more. 

You finally turn to face him, looking into the kind eyes of your friend before your eyes move down to his neck, to the bandaid that covers his scar. 

“But–”

“No buts. You are not cursed. You are not responsible for anything that happened to those people. It’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to love, Darling. Let yourself do it,” he says, smiling as he throws his cigarette on the pavement before he wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer, “and stop pushing me away, please.”

Your bottom lip trembles and the tears flow like a waterfall, you stop fighting it, you stop fighting him and you let him pull you into his arms, closing your eyes as you lay your head on his chest, letting yourself fall into the hug that you so desperately need. 

“Let it out, sweets.”

The soothing tone in his voice makes you cry even harder, your tears seep through his shirt but he doesn’t mind, he rubs your back and holds you. Your heart is crying, your brain is banging, your breaths are cut short thanks to your sobs, but it’s something you needed. And even through all of that, you are feeling so relieved, so light at each sob that rips out of your throat. 

And when you feel Max’s hand in yours, her head on your shoulder as Eddie still holds you, you know that everything will be okay, that you will be okay. You might not need anything else for now… these two people right here are making you feel fuller than you ever felt in the past year.

You won’t lose them. 

You won’t have to live without them. 

They will be more than just a short time. 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals:

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @sherrylyn628 @livosssblog

for you, for me | joel miller x f!reader

masterlist | joel masterlist | kofi | follow @swiftispunkupdates and turn on notifications for updates

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 4.4k

summary: joel makes a bad day better. warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] porn with basically no plot, a touch of angst, established relationship, no ages mentioned but in my mind joel is in his 50s, reader is whatever legal age you want her to be, hurt/comfort but make it horny, daddy kink, dd/lg vibes (reader is not heavily infantilized), d/s dynamics, risk-aware consensual breath play, choking, implied subspace, needy!reader, soft dom!joel, unprotected p in v sex, finger sucking, cockwarming, creampie, pet names (including use of "little one" and "little girl"), a hint of degradation (joel refers to reader as "dumb" but like, in a romantic + comforting way), dry humping, praise kink, aftercare, reader is described as wearing a skirt, reader has hair, implied anxiety and depression. no use of y/n.

additional notes: this is a work of fiction. joel and reader have pre-established rules and trust surrounding breath play and you should always research the risks before engaging in any kind of edge play irl. additionally, the kinks and dynamics portrayed in this fic are based on a combination of personal experience, research, and wish fulfillment. it is not meant to be read as educational. it is a fantasy.

a/n: no wheel being reinvented here. just some good old comfort sex with daddy!joel. enjoy if this is your thing, scroll on if it's not. thank you to @joelscruff and @5oh5 for reading this over for me and everyone who showed this fic love on ao3.

You should turn on the lights. The lights always help.

The power bar is right there, just out of arm’s reach, tucked between the arm of the couch and the space beneath the windowsill. You could switch it on if you could only convince your muscles to unfurl from the fetal position you’ve been locked in since you got home, if you could blink away the tears in your eyes long enough to see the plug where it’s wedged against the drywall.

But you can’t. So you don’t. You just sit in the dark, still clad in your work clothes and cry. Let the weight of your day consume you. Replay every mistake you made at work, every judgmental side-eye from every uninviting stranger. You can’t control the way it spirals when you get like this. One cruel word from one cruel coworker dredging up a lifetime of failures and anxieties. You just want it to stop.

The lights would help. But they’re silly and childish and you feel stupid for wanting them. And they’re all the way over there.

You need Joel. Joel always makes everything better. 

But when he finally comes through the front door, minutes or hours later, you can’t even find the will to get up and greet him. You tuck your face into the couch cushions and think how pathetic you must look, alone in the dark in his living room, sobs wracking through you for some reason you can’t even remember now. 

“Oh, baby girl,” Joel murmurs. You hear his work bag hit the floor and the rustling sound of his boots coming off. He rounds the couch and you feel him kneel down before you, one big hand cradling the back of your head. The contact, so warm and comforting, makes fat tears well in your eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he whispers gruffly, stroking your skull in a manner almost frantic, still somehow gentle and reassuring. He shifts a bit, and you peek an eye out from where your face is pressed into the couch to see him reaching over to plug in the lights.

They cast the room in a twinkling, warm glow, and it helps. 

“There we go,” he says, resuming the steady petting of his hand on your head, letting his palm drift down the knobs of your spine while he’s at it. You feel him lean in, and you breathe in the welcome smell of him.

“Baby, can you look at me?” he implores. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffle, and think about denying him–but you don’t. You tilt your face to the side, and take in his familiar, beautiful face, brown eyes sparkling in the glow of the fairy lights. In their comforting light, you watch the moment the concerned little furrow in his brows dissolves into sympathy at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“There’s my pretty girl.” He traces your cheekbone with calloused fingers and you sigh a shuddering breath. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You shake your head–as much as you can without lifting it off the couch. Everything is wrong, but seeing his face, feeling his touch…it helps. You know what you need, and you think he does too. You need more. You need to let go and you need him to help you do it. 

You clear your throat, reach out and grab at the fabric of his shirt with needy little fingers and almost whimper at the feeling of his solid, warm chest beneath your touch.

“Bad day, daddy,” you tell him. You lace your voice with innocence, and his response is immediate. 

Though infinitesimal, the shift is always noticeable, at least to you. The marginal darkening of his eyes, the slight catch in his breath, the subtle twitch of his jaw. He effortlessly moulds to your needs and you happily sink away in turn.

“Yeah?” he coos, concentrating the tender brushing of his fingers to your face. His voice drops an octave and something comes alive inside of you. “What happened, little one?”

You shiver at the endearment, slip a little further into that smaller, weaker part of you. 

You shake your head, deliberately defiant this time. “Don’t wanna talk about it, daddy.” 

You suspect he already knows that.

His eyebrows shoot up a little, feigning surprise anyway. “No?”

“Mm-mm.”

Joel’s lips twitch a bit, maybe a little amused at your petulant refusal. But there’s still a lingering glint of concern in his eyes. There’s something so paternal about that look. 

“C’mere,” he says suddenly. He grunts a bit as he stands and you start to whine at the loss, but then he’s manhandling you upright with sure, gentle hands and you willingly go with ease. He makes another laboured noise as he sits down into the couch and moves you so you’re straddling him, murmuring a, there you go, baby , as you wrap your arms around his neck and press yourself as close to him as humanly possible.

He rocks you, and it feels like home. He’s so safe. 

“Wanna talk about it now?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head against his shoulder and grab at fistfuls of his curls. 

“No, daddy,” you groan despondently. His hands traverse your back and his breath is warm against your skin and his strong thigh presses deliciously against your clothed pussy and you do not want to talk about anything at all. Unconsciously, you find yourself grinding against his lap, breath catching at the contact where you suddenly need it most. Joel stiffens beneath you in response, his arms tightening around you.

“What do you need, sweet girl?” he presses, soft but stern. He pries you off him and holds your face in his hand, thick fingers cupped firmly under your jaw. “Use your words, please.”

Demanding this of you serves two purposes. His tone implies control, which you and he both know is what you need from him right now. He takes control and you slip a little deeper, go a little foggier and a little dizzier, a little closer to letting go completely. In many ways, though, he is giving you the power, imploring you to clearly communicate even when it feels impossible. He only ever wants to take care of you, and he is always determined to do it right. 

“I need…” You’re cut off by a whimper as your hips move of their accord against him and part of you wishes he’d let you off the hook, just let you chase this feeling instead of forcing you to verbalize it. But he’s still clutching your face and watching you with eyebrows raised, expectant. You pout and force yourself to say it. “Need you to do that thing…”

He bucks his own hips upwards then–just to toy with you, you think–and smirks when it makes you lose your train of thought all over again. 

“What, baby?” he murmurs like he’s done nothing wrong, petting at your cheeks with big, strong hands. “Tell daddy what you want.”

And you can’t argue with that. At last, you sink below the surface and when you next speak, your voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. 

“That thing where you make my brain go all fuzzy,” you say, words pouring from you so fast they nearly blur together.

Of course Joel understands at once what you’re asking. A worry line reappears between his brows as he considers your reddened eyes and your already faraway gaze. His hand moves to curl around the side of your neck and you gasp softly. 

“Baby…right now?” he asks. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you almost sob, craning your neck so his fingers drift that much closer to your throat. You hardly ever ask for this, wouldn’t ask for it now if you didn’t think it would help. “Please, daddy.”

Joel sighs as he softly places his palm at the base of your throat, trailing his touch featherlight upwards until his hand rests just below your jaw. Something carnal takes over. You grind on him faster, your need for him reaching near embarrassing levels. 

“Please, yes–” you beg him as he applies the faintest bit of pressure around the column of your neck. “Please, daddy. Please– please–”

“Sh, alright, it’s okay,” he nods, but then he surprises you. His hand moves right past your throat, up and over your chin to sink his thumb into your open mouth. You close your lips around it at once, eyelids fluttering as you obediently suck with a whimpered sigh. Joel exhales a breathy little laugh. 

“There ya go,” he smiles. “Good girl.”

He pushes his thumb deeper, rough skin all salty and woodsy against your tongue. It silences you so effectively, pulls you down that much deeper when he slowly retracts it all too soon, only to replace it with two thick fingers instead. You clutch at his wrist with both hands, holding him there as you dreamily moan around him.

“Oh, my little girl,” he croons as he languidly pumps his middle and index fingers between your lips. “You want daddy to get rid of all those bad thoughts for you?”

You feel like you could cry all over again at the offer.

“Mhm,” you sigh, swirling your tongue around his fingers just to taste him better. 

Joel hums. 

“Whatever you need, sweetheart.”  

His voice is so sweet in contrast to the third finger he forces between your lips, the stretch almost too much to take now as you slacken your jaw to make him fit. Your eyes pop open and you’re sure you must not be a pretty sight anymore, straining and drooling around his thick, insistent fingers. But Joel looks at you like you’re the most perfect thing in the world, his dark gaze drinking you in as you submit for him fully. 

“Your daddy always takes care of you, don’t he?” he growls. 

You shiver as arousal burns between your legs. 

“Yes,” you say, the sound muffled around his fingers. Joel smiles, tilting his head to the side in wonder. 

“My girl…you’re so sexy,” he marvels, lazily fucking his fingers into your mouth. Your eyes are watering now and spit trickles down your chin, a soreness budding in your jaw as you strain to open wide enough for him. “So goddamn beautiful.” 

At that, you frown, something about his words pulling you back from that perfect, blissful place. The memory of your day floods your brain and even Joel’s adoring gaze can’t chase away the feelings of inadequacy that still linger at the back of your mind. He catches the response.

“Hey,” he admonishes lightly, suddenly yanking his fingers free from your mouth to clutch your face. “What do you say?” 

You pout at the gentle scolding and cast your eyes downward instead of at him. 

“Thank you, daddy.” 

“That’s right,” he insists, forcing you to meet his gaze. His voice is firm, almost angry; he doesn’t like it when you’re mean to yourself. “No arguin’. You’re perfect. You understand?” 

“But I’m–” You start to argue anyway, but the look Joel gives you in response stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyebrows knit together and somewhat reluctantly you grumble, “Okay, daddy.”

Joel nods, seemingly satisfied. Your cheeks hollow as he grips your face a little tighter and you go pliant under his touch, let him nod your head up and down for you, side to side for you, while he offers you his stern command–

“That’s all I wanna hear from now on, alright, babygirl?” he instructs slowly. “‘Yes, daddy.’ ‘Okay, daddy.’ ‘Thank you, daddy.’”

 His voice is so low, so measured and even. It entrances you.

“Okay, daddy,” you promise in a whisper. 

“Good girl,” he praises you lowly, big hand moving to cradle the back of your head and pull your face in closer to his. “No more thinkin’, okay? You just focus on me.”

Through the haze that is slowly beginning to take over your mind, you’re conscious of his other hand wrapping around your waist, gently but assuredly encouraging you to continue rocking on him. You gasp when you feel his hard cock pressing against your pussy through layers and layers of fabric, wetness pooling inside your panties at the steady contact as he coaxes you to ride him. Your eyes flash downwards, but Joel’s hand at the back of your neck holds you in place, leaving you little choice but to lock your stare with his. 

“On me ,” he repeats.

It doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself, Joel’s hand on your waist relaxing as you begin to rock on him in earnest. Your work skirt bunches at your waist and the hard line of his cock feels so big and warm against your core; you don’t even care how obscene you must look. You just rock and grind and chase, lean into the humiliation of it all. You’re no better than a dog in heat for him–and that’s exactly what you want to be right now. There’s not a thought behind your eyes except that of relief as you rub your clothed pussy into his lap and hold his ravenous gaze. 

“Does it feel good?” Joel implores darkly, a delicious hint of mocking underscoring the question. 

A wave of slick gathers at your centre in response and heat smolders in your stomach. You move on him frantically, something like a sob getting caught in your throat. 

“Yes, daddy,” you manage. 

“Do you wanna come?”

You nod so fast it makes him chuckle, even before you breathily beg him,

“Yes, please.”

“Go on n’let go, baby,” he encourages you. Then, in a whisper, “Go on.”

And for him–you do.

You shudder violently above him, the ridges of his jeans catching perfectly on your clothed clit as you come apart. You fall forward into him, bury your face into his shoulder while you come and come, Joel’s hand holding firm around your waist to keep you moving through the waves. He’s whispering praises in your ear and you’re floating floating floating–so far gone you don’t notice him reaching between your bodies to push your panties to the side and free his cock from his jeans. He holds you close against his chest as you come down from your high, barely giving you a chance to breathe before he’s carefully shifting you in his lap and sitting you down onto his length without warning.

It’s too much. It’s perfect.

“Shh s’okay…” he whispers when you gasp and whine at the sudden stretch. “I know, I know, I know, baby, I know.”

He murmurs quiet praise at you until he’s sheathed completely in your warmth, the both of you moaning when you’re fully seated in his lap again, now with his cock nudging at the deepest parts of you. With his arms wrapped around you, he holds you there, chest to chest, his breath warm and all-encompassing at your ear. Your pussy drips and strains around his girth and you are so fucking full you could weep.

“Daddy…” you whimper. “So–fuck–so big, daddy…”

“It’s okay, you’re doin’ so good,” Joel hums quietly, stroking your spine comfortingly. “Takin’ it so well. My perfect little girl.” 

He pulls back far enough to look at your face then and whatever he sees there makes him smile with pride.

“Oh, baby, look at you, huh?” he chuckles, cupping the side of your face with one massive palm, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “So pretty like this. Daddy’s gorgeous girl. What do you say when daddy gives you his cock?”

“Th-thank you, daddy.”

“ That’s right,” he murmurs, shifting beneath you just the slightest bit so his cock hits somewhere dizzying inside of you. Your mind goes beautifully blank, eyes rolling back into your skull. Joel chuckles.

“Daddy’s cock got you feelin’ a little dumb, sweetheart?” Joel sweetly taunts and you nod; he’s not wrong.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s okay” he grunts, rocking you in his lap as he speaks. The pooled fabric of his boxers rubs against your clit while his cock tickles your insides and already you can feel the urge to come again building in your core. “I know how smart y’are. Work so hard all the time. You can be a little dumb for daddy. Right? You can let go for me.”

Fuck–you want to. You just need more. 

“Daddy, please …” you whine, rather pointedly finding his arm and bringing his hand up to your neck, unable to find the words, knowing Joel will understand. 

He does, of course he does. He groans as his fingers ghost around the base of your throat, his hips bucking up into yours. He pulls himself together with a growl deep in his chest. 

“Okay, alright,” he nods.

It’s a blur then as Joel hastily tears your shirt up and over your shoulders, moving with your pussy still wrapped around his cock so you’re lying flat on your back on the couch and Joel is hovering above you between your legs. 

You feel smaller like this, exposed and open with Joel still fully clothed above you, his thick cock filling you so perfectly. You allow yourself this feeling, let your eyes slip closed and wait for Joel to take away whatever thoughts are left in your mind. 

“How’s that, sweetheart?” he checks in first, softly cupping the side of your face until your eyelids flutter open again. “You comfortable?”

For the first time today, you feel yourself smile. 

“Mhm, yes.”

Joel smiles too, a fleeting little thing that falls once concentration takes over his features. He has to focus now, you know that. 

He only wants to take care of you. 

“Right,” he nods. You start to drift away again but Joel isn’t having it. Not for this. “Nu-uh–eyes right here for me, please.”

You do as he says, infusing your gaze with all the trust and devotion you can muster. Joel steadies himself, his hand moving to curl around your throat. He rests it there, letting you get a feel for it as he dives forward to slant his mouth against yours. 

He kisses you deep and long, lips moving against yours at an unhurried pace, not unlike the way he’s now finally fucking you, cock dragging liesurely through your walls, all sticky-wet and patient. 

“Put your hand on my arm,” he whispers gruffly when he breaks the kiss, pausing the languid thrusting of his hips. You obey at once, touching your fingers to his thickly muscled bicep.

“How many times do you squeeze if you want me to stop?” he asks.

“Two.”

“Lemme feel it.”

Impatient as you are, you know it’s important. You demonstrate squeezing his arm twice in quick succession, repeat it when Joel says again , and only then does he nod his approval. 

“Good girl,” he breathes. Your pussy clenches around him at the praise. “M’only gonna do a couple seconds, alright?”

You nod frantically, heart already hammering with anticipation. You will gladly take whatever he gives you. 

His fingers find that perfect spot around your throat and you involuntarily shiver.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he reminds you. Your eyebrows knit together as your gaze locks with his and then, with just the right amount of force and pressure–he squeezes.

Any hope of keeping your eyes on him dissipates in an instant. Sweet nothing clouds your vision, a blissful sort of fog moving in as Joel restricts your oxygen with careful, steadfast fingers. For a few beautiful seconds, you float away to nowhere, until all too soon, his grip around your neck loosens, and a blinding wave of pleasure washes over you as your lungs refill with air.

“Fuck, good girl,” you hear Joel groan, diving forward to kiss your face, crowding you as you feel him start to fuck you again, thanking you for trusting him with each push of his hips into yours.

“Again, daddy, again– please,” you find yourself begging. “More.”

“Oh, fuck.” Joel pulls away, pistoning into you now with a slightly crazed look in his eyes. You recognize that look. As much as he loves relinquishing you of your power, he also–to some degree–relishes in owning it. When you give in, so does he. He lusts for the control, craves the responsibility of caring for you. 

“Yeah?” he growls. “You want daddy to decide when you get to breathe? My little girl doesn’t wanna think for herself at all, does she?”

“Mm-mm, no, daddy.”

“Fuck.” 

Joel curses under his breath as he works to slow his thrusts again, his fingers retaking their place around your throat. His nostrils flare and his chest heaves and you think he looks like a god. You bite your lip at the sight of him and actually feel his cock twitch inside you. 

Somehow, he remains focused.

“A little longer this time, okay?” he grits.

You nod, a desperate little noise squeaking out from between your parted lips.

Joel takes a deep breath, keeps his eyes trained on your face and for the second time, his fingers close around your airway.

Like he’d promised, he draws it out a little more this time. A slow build before stars burst behind your eyes and your body melts away into the couch as Joel softly presses down down down into your windpipe. You lose sense of time altogether, blinded by euphoria. But then Joel is letting you breathe again and you’re moaning as the blood rushes back to your brain, head lolling dazedly against the cushions as he resumes fucking you, harder now. 

“Christ, yeah , she fuckin’ likes that–you’re so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he marvels. He clutches your face beneath your chin and gently taps your cheek to refocus you. You blink up at him, so large and imposing as he fucks into you and overwhelms every single one of your senses. “You gonna come again? Get daddy's cock all messy?”

You want to–you will. You can feel tension coiling deep in your core, so warm and wet and inviting but–

“Need it…one more time, daddy,” you plead hazily as needy little tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Please.”

Joel groans but works to oblige you, slowing the steady strokes of his cock with a heady, ragged grunt. It seems to take considerable effort for him to hold his composure now, but he does–for you. 

“One more time,” he repeats definitively, eyebrows raised. You whine out a noise that sounds like please and Joel’s fingers find their way around your throat once more. 

“Ready?” he asks. You nod before he’s even finished speaking.

Joel’s chest rises and falls, his thick brows furrowing as he squeezes his deft fingers around your throat one last time. 

And oh –that does it. 

Release builds in you while your mind drifts at the sensation. You can feel him fucking you through it even as his hands make careful work of restricting your airflow, so sure and precise with every move he makes. He lets it go on until that welcome fog passes over you again and you’re sure you’d fall right through the floor if Joel wasn’t holding onto you. When he releases you, ecstasy floods your nerve endings and your orgasm crashes through you with dizzying force. His thumb finds your clit through it all, rubbing you through the peak of your climax so it seems to go on and on and on. Your ears are ringing but you can still hear yourself crying out, voice all hoarse and wanton with daddy daddy daddy thank you daddy.

“There she goes,” Joel hums as you come. He sounds so far away. “That’s right, little one, that’s right. Let it all go. Just like that for me.”

His free hand moves to cradle the back of your neck while you arch and writhe under him and when it ends, your mind is finally–perfectly–empty.

You’re not sure when it happens, but somewhere in the haze, Joel moves so you’re back in his lap. Like muscle memory, you snake your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life, a listless thing in his grasp as he fucks up into you so hard it jostles your entire being. 

“Atta girl, just keep fuckin’ takin’ it like that,” he grunts haggardly into your hair. “Just like that. Daddy’s perfect little doll. This is what you needed, huh?”

Yes. God, yes. This is all you ever want, you think. To just be a mindless little thing with no problems or fears. Only Joel’s. 

A breathless hum of agreement is the most you can offer him in return. Joel groans appreciatively, clutching you tighter as he chases release. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He sounds almost apologetic, like he can hear how tired you are. He knows you love this part just as much as anything else though. It might be your favourite part, actually–to feel so useful to him while doing nothing at all. It’s like a gift. 

He’s just worried about you, you think blissfully, smiling into his neck while he pounds your spent, weeping pussy. He only ever wants to take care of you.  

“M’almost done…almost there,” he promises, thrusts growing erratic. “Tell me where you want daddy’s cum.”

“Come in my pussy, daddy.” You say it like you’re making a wish, voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

“Yeah…yeah, baby, daddy’s gonna come in your tight little pussy,” he rambles. “Gonna give my little girl just what she needs–gonna–”

He’s cut off by his own strangled moan, coming undone with a final few pumps upwards into your wasted hole. His arms envelop you as he fills you with hot release, moving your ragdoll form along his length as he milks himself completely. It feels like he comes forever, cock spasming between your walls until you can feel spend leaking out around his length and dripping down onto his clothes, staining your inner thighs. He holds you there on top of him, even when his shudders subside and he’s filled you as completely as he can, fat pools of slick and cum sticking to your skin at the place your bodies are still connected. 

You can feel your eyes welling with tears again, some mixture of gratitude and grief setting in. Gratitude for finally feeling some semblance of comfort after such a painful day. Grief at the thought of having to come back to reality. Joel lets you stay below the surface a little longer, keeps reality at bay with his softening cock buried inside your pussy and his arms around your body, whispering praises and assurances that daddy’s here, daddy’s got you, you’re okay. 

He only moves to help guide you to the bathroom after several long, steadying moments. You still feel like you’re floating as he meticulously washes you clean in the shower, taking extra care around your neck, dotting sweet kisses there and painting your skin with tender, loving caresses. He offers your aching pussy the same gentle treatment. 

And when he tucks you into bed, he leaves the fairy lights on in the bedroom too, moulding you into his chest under their soft, heavenly glow.

“Tomorrow’ll be better, babygirl,” he whispers. “Okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

For now, at least, you’ve got the lights. And you’ve got Joel. And that helps.