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cassidyandonlycassidy · 6 months ago

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no one man should have all that power

miguel o'hara x reader

words: 2k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, NONCON!, RAPE!, size difference (canon, miguel just big as hell), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dark!miguel, p in v sex, threats, mentions of anal, cleaning lady!reader, attempted rape by not miguel/attempted mugging

your focus is half on your phone playing the local news through your headphones, and half on scrubbing down the sink in front of you.

you don't move on until it's spotless. perfectly clean. you're willing to use every tool in your arsenal considering this is your pickiest client.

you are about to spray down the shower and allow the chemicals to soak and do part of the work for you, when the news anchor shifts the conversation.

“and to discuss the issue of spiderman, please welcome nypd captain charleston and queens resident andrea roberts.”

your attention shifts fully to your phone. andrea begins, a sweet looking older lady who explains that spiderman saved her from being mugged. you feel your heart beat faster when they flash images of him on screen, his wide shoulders, dark black and red suit hugging his body and abs.

“and what happens when spiderman begins to ask for something in return? he saves you from being mugged, but then demands a payment. what happens when he starts to use his powers for evil instead of good? we must focus on unmasking him and stopping his crusade of the city. no one man should have all that power.”

you have to reach quickly to shut your phone off, powering down the screen and turning off the captains words as your client enters the bathroom.

“almost done?” she asks, a frown on her overfilled lips, shining with a lipgloss to distract from the fact that her skin is almost painfully stretched.

“yes ma’am.” you nod. “just the shower is left.”

“hmm…” you wait for her to find a critique, even the tiniest speck of dust that you missed, but she's unable to as she sighs dramatically. “i have a party to get to. see yourself out, the door will lock behind you.”

“and payment?” you hate having to ask just from the way her eyes turn dark, clearly annoyed with your questions, and while she may be one of your worst clients, she's also one of your best paying.

“on the kitchen counter.” she says before turning on her bright red heels and stomping away.

you sigh and turn your phone back on, frowning when you realize the spiderman coverage is already over before turning your attention to the shower.

you're whistling to yourself as you head home, needing the music to keep you from deciding to just pass out on the nearest bench, and you don't dare put your headphones in after the sun has set.

a full day of cleaning apartments from the elite of the city, and now you have to head back to your tiny one.

you clutch your tote bag further into your side, knowing there's cash from the few clients who refuse to prepay with a credit card until they see the work you've done, despite never leaving a client unsatisfied.

“hey pretty lady.” you're used to the cat calls, so you just keep walking past the man, not acknowledging him even when you hear him push off the wall and follow you, footsteps heavy and far too close for your liking.

“i said hey!” he shouts, voice turning aggressive. you look around, but there's no one else on the empty street but a few distant cars. “bitch, you gonna be nice and say hello back?”

the man grips your shoulder and forces your feet to stop. your eyes widen as you come face to face with him, his eyes furious and breath smelling of alcohol.

“hello.” you whisper out, hoping that's all it will take for him to leave you alone, but of course it's not as he shoves you into the dark alley between two apartment buildings.

“since you wanna be a bitch, you can get on your knees and suck my dick.” he's too strong as he shoves you down onto your knees, roughly hitting the pavement as you cry out, hoping someone hears you.

“and you can give me all your money too, whore.”

“now that's not a way to talk to a woman.”

the voice makes both of you jump as you turn to see spiderman emerge out of the shadows, even taller than you pictured him.

the drunk man scatters before spiderman can get any closer.

“th-thank you, spiderman.” you know you must sound pathetic right now, voice breathy and still on your knees as he steps closer.

when his hand reaches down, you don't hesitate to place your hand in his and allow him to pull you to your feet.

“are you alright?” his voice is soft and smooth like butter and it makes you swoon even more.

“thanks to you.” you know you're blushing as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, one hand still clasped in his.

“and what about thanks?” spiderman leans down. “would you give me a kiss to thank me?”

“i-yes.” you don't think about what it means as the area around his mouth and chin disintegrates, showing off his strong jaw and plump lips.

despite him being almost bent over, you still have to raise yourself onto your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

the kiss that you meant to be soft and sweet is quickly intensified as he pulls you up, arms wrapping around you to hold you effortlessly in the air as his mouth devours yours.

“wait!” you pull away, eyes widening when you realize that at some point the rest of the disguise covering his face has also been pulled away.

he's even more handsome than you could have imagined. perfect cheekbones leading to a strong nose, his eyes big and brown, showing all the intensity behind them.

“what?” he huffs out, annoyed that the kiss ended so soon.

“i-i don't even know your name.” you admit shyly. while you're alright with giving spiderman a soft kiss as a thank you, you're not sure how you feel about the hot and heavy make out session.

“im spiderman, isn't that enough?” he frowns at you, wishing you would just shut up so he can do as he pleases.

“i-”

spiderman leans back in, attacking your lips with his. you don't know what to do, your feet are so far off the ground, and his arms are holding you so tight to his defined chest.

you relax and just allow it to happen, allow his mouth to press kiss after kiss against yours.

you let out a gasp when spidermans hand grips your chest, shifting your weight to one arm around your waist.

the open mouth allows his tongue to push inside, dominating the kiss in a whole new way as his palm rubs against your boobs.

“i-” you try to pull away, but to no avail as he's not willing to let you out of the kiss.

spiderman moves until your back is pressed against the brick wall, his other hand dropping to your ass, holding you up that way instead.

his hand is so big, fingers stretching so far that he only has to press a bit more between your thighs to be against your pussy.

“how else are you gonna thank me, pretty?” he asks, finally letting you take a deep breath, his hand still squeezing your tits over your shirt.

“i don't want to do this anymore!” you squeal out now that you're able to talk.

“what?” his voice turns dark. “i saved you and you don't want to thank me?”

“i just want to go home!” you plead. you know there's no point in screaming or trying to run.

“not until you give me a proper thank you.” he growls out. “but since im feeling nice tonight, ill let you choose. should i fuck you or settle just for you sucking me off?”

“you can't do this!” you try to wiggle out of his hold, but he's too strong.

“i can. who is gonna stop me?” the chuckle that escapes his mouth sounds like pure evil.

“i know what you look like! ill tell everyone. ill go to the news, to the police-”

“you think they'll believe you? im spiderman. i rule this city.” he shakes his head like he's disappointed in you for even mentioning it.

“but-” he continues on. “since you've taken so long to answer, ill just have to fuck you.”

you manage to get out one yell, one shout, one plead for no before spidermans mouth is back on yours.

his hand does move to cup your pussy, thick fingers sliding against your core. you feel your pussy wetten from the movements, traitorous and betraying your true intentions.

you whimper against his lips as your pants are ripped away along with your underwear, literally tearing them easily off your body.

he must have disintegrated or called back part of his suit, you have no idea how the technology works, and you certainly have no interest in figuring it out now as you feel his cock slide through your folds.

spiderman has to pull away to slide you lower, your back moving down the brick wall as his strong hands guide your hips until his cock is against your entrance, poking in.

“you're- you're too big.” you try again to plead with him. “you'll tear me in half.”

he just shrugs, a smirk even twitching at the corner of his lips as he pushes you down, hips rising up to sink you down onto his cock.

you cry out, head falling back as he continues to move, feeling like it's never ending as he continues to split your insides to make room for him.

“shit!” spiderman shouts out. “you're so tight.”

you want to say it's because you're not turned on, that you don't truly want this, but you don't want to anger him even more as his hips begin to thrust up into you.

you cry out, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. it's not as painful after a minute, your pussy adjusting to his length and girth as he fucks you without abandon.

spiderman steps away from the wall and switches so his back is pressed against it as he begins to move you up and down, using you as he would a toy to pleasure himself, but instead of thrusting into plastic, he's pushing repeatedly into your cunt.

you lean forward, hands balancing against his defined chest, needing the stability as your body is forced into taking his cock.

“please!” you cry out.

“quit crying or it'll get worse.” you're not sure how it could get worse until the hand on his hip moves, moving between your ass cheeks and pressing a finger against your other hole.

“im sorry.” you quickly say, looking up in fear that just spews spiderman faster, pumping you up and down without even breaking a sweat.

“so warm and wet.” he smiles down. “are you sure you don't want this?”

you stay silent, hoping the experience ends soon as you feel his cock swelling inside of you, pushing against your walls.

“you gonna cum with me?” he asks, other hand reaching to swirl around your clit. you wish his rough fingertip didn't feel so good against your sensitive bud.

“i don't want to.” you whimper out, entire body slumping forward as you struggle to remain in control, feeling your hips begin to shake and the way your cunt clenches around his length.

“you're gonna. come on.” the bouncing, the movement of your body up and down and the way you're practically speared onto his cock is all too much as you let out a squeal, cumming hard just as spiderman does as well, shooting his seed inside of you, feeling like it's right into your womb from how deep it is.

“oh, fuck.” he moans out. “now that was a good thank you.”

he pulls you off his cock and places you back onto the ground where your legs instantly crumple, landing in a heap against the concrete.

“don't forget your bag.” spiderman kicks your tote bag that had fallen off your shoulder towards you, spewing the cash all over the ground.

you look up at him, fear no longer in your eyes, replaced with anger and disgust. you know nothing will happen to him, but from this moment on, taking down spiderman will be your only goal.

no one man should have all that power.

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lostsyren · 24 days ago

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Love love LOVED what you did with the request of Sofia overhearing Rafe, could we get a part two of a groveling really desperate Rafe who does everything in his power to show her how much she means to him and begging for it not to be over

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆standards part two ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

{a/n: thank you for the request lovely and thank you for the sweet words about part 1! i hope you like it! I’m getting through the requests slowly but surely, bear with me!! feedback is much appreciated <3}

{summary: rafe goes and tries to make things right after finding out sofia overheard what he said at the club}

{part 1 here}

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Sofia wasn’t answering any of his calls. Rafe paced back and forth across the cold floors of his house, biting at his thumb. His phone screen was in the other hand, the harsh blue light shining up at him saying the same damn thing: no new notifications.

He half expected her to come back to the house– that’s what she usually did. Then the words he said to Topper and Ruthie regurgitated in his brain yet again.

I’m not living with a pogue.

He’d really fucked things up this time.

Rafe knew she wasn’t at the club– she didn’t work on Saturdays. Than must’ve meant she was at home.

Despite knowing she didn’t want to see him, talk to him or even just reply to a text, Rafe grabbed his car keys and exited the house, the sound of the door slamming shut behind him echoing across the the empty, lonesome halls.

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“Me voy a dormir,” Sofia called out to her mom, heading outside to go into her bedroom. It was late, nearing midnight. All her siblings were asleep and her parents were in the living room watching TV.

Usually she’d be with Rafe. She was always with Rafe. Like a stupid little lapdog. The realisation hit like a punch in the face– all that time…it was nothing to him. Her heart began to feel heavy again, like an anchor was dragging it down far, far into her chest. So she sat down in bed, sighing deeply. Enough tears had been shed, her eyes red and bloodshot.

Her parents had looked at her as if they already knew what happened. Sofia’s mom bundled her up into a hug, pressing a kiss on her cheek, whilst her father had a knowing look in his eye– as if he’d been waiting for this to happen.

Sofia wasn’t stupid. She didn’t start messing around with Rafe with the prospect of a future. He was the one who led her on, he was the one who’d been so loving, he was the one who convinced her he was different.

But at the end of the day he was a kook and she was a pogue. Not that she cared; she thought he didn’t either.

Sofia sniffed away another bout of tears, slipping out of her blouse and skirt, realising she’d left her pyjamas as his house. So she grabbed a random shirt from off her chair, about to throw it on, before she realised it was his shirt– that she’d accidentally taken home with her ages ago and didn’t return. Sofia’s heart lurched with sadness, as she wore it regardless, the faint smell of him making her delirious with despair.

Collapsing back in bed, she picked her phone up, skimming through the wave of messages Rafe had sent. Sofia quickly swiped them away.

Instead she squeezed her eyes shut, willing for sleep to find her. Maybe then she could forget how much he hurt her and deal with all this shit tomorrow.

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Rafe had a rough idea of where Sofia lived, from dropping her off home and picking her up to drive her to work. But he still checked her location to find the right house.

He hated driving down to The Cut, with its dingy buildings and barely functioning street lights. Whenever he used to go down to see Barry, he felt the same, and now he was back again, in the thick of the night, sneaking into her house.

He parked his car down the street, so her parents wouldn’t hear the engine or see the headlights, before he snuck around past the gate and into the back garden.

Creaking cicadas and distant wails of car alarms hid the sound of his footsteps crunching across the gravel.

Rafe spotted her bedroom. Well if you could call it that– a tiny corner of the house, with peeling paint and overgrown weeds surrounding it.

There was no light spilling out the window. What if she wasn’t there? Getting closer to the glass, Rafe peered through, spotting Sofia lying in bed, her back turned to him. He let out a sigh of relief before the realisation of how creepy this was dawned upon him.

What the fuck was he doing?

He had time to turn back and go home. Respecting her wishes was the least he could do after all the shit he said. But she was right there.

He could explain. Apologise. Make things okay again. The prospect of redemption was too tempting– so he tapped on the glass.

Rafe watched as she turned around in bed, facing the door. She probably couldn’t see who it was in the dark, so Rafe decided to just let himself in.

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Sleep was futile, bringing only a gaping void in which she picked and prodded at her and Rafe’s ‘relationship’.

Sofia thought about when she first met him working at the bar. She was quickly enamoured by his beauty, her silent adoration only spiking when he spoke to her, his charm and humour winning her over in an instant.

He never seem perturbed by her status as a pogue. But she should’ve known from the little throwaway comments and his strange disdain for the Cut. But Sofia would brush these things away because despite it all, he’d still treat her wondrously.

She initially thought it was just sex, Rafe using her as a carnal distraction. But when he’d let her see his vulnerability, when he’d confide to her in the late hours, when he’d cling to her as if she was the only solid thing in his life, she felt special, she felt adored. So in turn, she adored him back.

A sharp tapping sound cut through her whorling thoughts and painful reminiscing. Twisting around in bed, she saw a tall, dark figure hover outside her door. What was her dad doing at this time of night?

Sofia sat up as the door creaked open, for her to see it wasn’t her dad– but Rafe Cameron.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sofia half shouted, half whispered, aware that her parents were a room away.

Rafe stood in the doorway, his hands held up in surrender as he watched her with unblinking eyes.

“I just want to talk ok?” His words were wary and calculated.

“Come in and shut the door,” she hissed switching her lamp on.

Rafe complied, hovering awkwardly as he took in her bedroom. Discomfort prickled across Sofia’s skin. She hated to admit it, but she was embarrassed that Rafe had to see her tiny room.

“Nice shirt,” he finally said, a shadow of a grin on his face.

“Shut up,” she groused, grabbing a cardigan to cover herself and her bare legs.

“Look, Sofia I really am sorry that I hurt you–“

“You’re sorry that you hurt me or you’re sorry for what you said?”

Rafe blinked in confusion, “both?”

Sofia scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself, “what standards do I fail to live up to huh? Is it my job? Is it my house? Can you even stand to be in the Cut for this long?”

“I didn’t even know what I was saying– it was Ruthie, you know how she is, always stirring.”

“Yes I know Ruthie, I have to put up with her whenever we hang out, cause that’s all we ever do– hang out with your friends.”

“I’m sorry–“

“I’m not finished,” Sofia snapped, “and I don’t care what she says or what she does, I care about you Rafe, and instead of defending me, you just threw me under the bus.”

“I know I know, I just– I wanna make it better. Tell me what I can do to make it better.” Rafe had neared her now, his eyes resembling the ocean at night, churning and ink like, as he looked down at her.

Sofia honestly didn’t know. One part of her wanted to say fuck it and just kiss him and make it all better again, whilst the other part compelled her to make him feel as terrible as he made her feel.

“I need some space.” She said in the end, taking a step back from him.

“No,” Rafe took a step forward, “no you don’t. Let me make it better, let me show you how much I care.”

He placed two hands on either side of her as Sofia stumbled back, nearly toppling into her bed.

She motionlessly watched him, as he got lower and lower, his eyes perpetually locked with her own.

He was on his knees, his hands sliding down her body, his fingers slipping under the cardigan to ghost the skin of her thighs.

“You look so good in my shirt,” he murmured, voice low and gruff. Sofia’s stomach somersaulted at the image of Rafe on his knees in front of her, so torturously close.

“Rafe,” she began warily, unsure what to do. He took that as a sign to continue. Rafe’s grip on her thighs tightened, dragging her closer to him. He dipped his head low, to press a chaste kiss on her hot skin.

“Please Sofia,” he whispered against her, his grip on her desperate and painful.

Her brain was cloudy, a millions thoughts swirling about in a dizzying cyclone. She was on the precipice of surrender, about to just let him have her, ready to put the shit he said in the past, when her dad’s voice called out from outside.

“Sofia why’s your light on? ¿Está todo bien?”

“Shit,” she gasped, stepping away from Rafe’s lips on her thighs, using her hands to push off his fingers from her legs.

“Sí, I’m ok!” She called out. But the sound of her dad’s footsteps on the porch indicated he was coming in.

Rafe whipped his head around, still on his knees, looking up at Sofia with a panic stricken expression.

“Get up! Hide in there,” she instructed, shoving him into her closet, his long and sprawling limbs barely fitting.

Not even a moment later, the sound of her dad knocking on the door cut through her and Rafe’s little moment.

Creaking open the door, her dad half entered the room.

“Hey dad,” she said trying to level her palpitating heartbeat.

“I thought you were asleep?”

“Yeah I tried but I couldn’t.”

“Oh ok.” He eyed the room, Sofia’s heart beating rapidly when his gaze hovered over the closet.

“You alright Sofia?” Her dad asked her.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Her smile felt strained and unnatural.

Her dad looked at her with a profundity that pierced through her, as if she was under a magnifying glass. “You’re worth more than all those pendejos at the club, don’t you forget that.”

Though he didn’t mention Rafe explicitly, she knew who he was talking about.

“I won’t dad.”

“Good. Now get some sleep ok? It’s late,” He said, leaving with a small smile.

Sofia let her shoulders drop once the door was closed, sighing deeply.

Rafe clambered out the closet a second after.

“You should go Rafe.” Sofia said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

“What? But I thought you– I thought we–“

“I changed my mind.”

She could tell he wanted to say something, from the way his his jaw strained and his eyes hardened. But instead, he simply just nodded. Perhaps he figured out what her dad was talking about…she was worth more than that.

If Rafe had standards, well then, so did she.

“Ok I’ll head out then,” his tone was defeated, pathetic. It almost made her want to backtrack. But she didn’t.

Rafe was about to leave, loitering by the door, his back to her before he turned to face her one more time, “I’ll wait for you, yeah?”

Sofia just nodded, not knowing what he meant.

“My door is always open for you, come back soon.”

And with that he left, leaving Sofia with the memory of his lips on her thighs, and his apology lingering like mist after a storm.

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#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe and sofia #sofia outer banks #sofia obx #rafe x sofia #drew starkey #fiona palomo #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe and Sofia fanfiction #rafe and Sofia fic #rafe x Sofia fanfiction #outer banks season 4 #obx 4 #༊*·˚syren

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vqlluna · 11 months ago

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SLEEP, MY LOVE ━━━ REMUS LUPIN

summary: Remus accidentally finds himself fallen asleep on you during a long road trip as he pleads for you to do the same

parings: f!reader x Remus Lupin, established relationship,

a/n: so this is actually my first time writing a one shot, but definitely not my first time writing. Sometimes I just have scenarios I make up that I can't add into my fics, so I've decide to spew 'em out here. If you find this, then uhmmmm enjoy?

IT HAD BEEN A WHILE since you'd taken a nice long road trip, and you wouldn't have been so much opposed to it if you weren't shoved into a large car with 8 other people. Far to many people in your opinion.

It was all Lily's idea of course, we should all leave this monotonous life for a quick getaway to the country side she said, it's no fun to be couped up in this disgusting apartment she said.

And even if you enjoyed the drive as you stuck your head out the open window, you just couldn't wait to get home to the busying streets. You were done smelling the outings of donkeys and cows.

So you sat, squished in a car filled with duffels and bags, and of course your friends. James and Lily took it upon themselves to occupy the front the seats, James giving Lily the luxury of being his passenger princess, in charge and having access to the radio in which she absolutely blasted Fleetwood Mac to the detests of James who begged to switch it back to the station where they'd just played some Bowie.

Of course he couldn't argue any further, she'd get what she'd want every time, to the full and whole detests of everyone else.

In the complete back row you could barely hear the slops as Dorcas and Marlene were all over each other, the disgust of Mary and Peter as they tried squeezing themselves far up the other side far away from the pair.

spews of, "Can you two just get a room!"

with snaps of, "You say that as if we could,"

Finally in the middle aisle, the calmest one in fact, you sat with Sirius and Remus. Sirius, knocked out like a light, sprawled his legs across both of your laps, and much to your annoyance as you were sat at the end his feet ended in yours, kicking and digging into you.

Having enough your shoved his legs onto the floor, earning an angry groan and mumble from his mouth, you simply rolled your eyes and continued to look out the window, anchoring your head on your hand which leaned itself on the ledge.

To your surprise you felt a new weight left on your shoulder. Turning your head to see what new accompanied your skin, soft brown hairs tickled you at your neck. Remus' head, along with the rest of his upper body, leaned into you at your side.

You softly smiled as you took him in. His cheek squished up against you as his mouth was only so slightly open. His chest, displaying a clean red jumper, floated up and down, and one of his legs below entangled with yours, stretched out from his height.

You could've sworn that James hitting the large speed bump with out realizing was to take this moment away from you on purpose, and not just another silly mistake, because just as everything jumped in the car Remus' eyes fluttered open before he let his lids fall down into a squint.

He woke up and looked around with his eyes in a small daze before settling on you. Figuring out that he'd squished you against the window with his nap he furrowed his brows.

"M'sorry," he muttered with a scratch from his tiredness, lifting his head away from you.

Your lips now slightly turned down in the corners, "It's okay," you uttered, taking your fingertips to his head, smoothing his hair back into place, "Didn't bother me."

Remus looked at you rather fondly, as he cocked his head you flushed from his gaze. "Yer sweet y'know that?" he mumbled. A smile fought at your frown, which you painfully tried to suppress.

Ignoring his comment you urged him on, "You should go back to sleep, love."

The boy squinted his eyes at you in suspicion, "Well are you gonna sleep?" he asked. You laughed a soft laugh through your nose.

"I don't feel tired, Rem," you said, which was much clearly a lie, the dark circles around your eyes told him as much. After all, you could never fall asleep on road trips.

Though this wasn't the same for Remus, you desperately need him to have some sleep. The two of you regretting your nightly outings from the past week.

He fully picked up his head, which now loomed right over yours. He raised an eyebrow at your statement, catching you in your lies. "What will it take to getcha to rest ya'eyes?"

"Well a queen sized bed for starts," you teased, making Remus' face fall in disappointment of your jokes.

Turning his whole torso towards you he brought his hand up to your face as he pressed his palm against your eyes, leaving you to see nothing but complete darkness.

"Rem," you whined.

"Hush, yer gonna sleep now," he quieted.

You sighed, "This is stupid." Taking his hand away in defeat Remus rolled his eyes. You wouldn't budge, but unlike James, he could stand his ground far longer than him.

Trying to get him to stop worrying you tried to assure him "I'll sleep once we get home," but that only earned you a scoff of disbelief as Remus shook his head.

"Oh we both know you're not going to do that, darling," So subtly your lips twitched at the name, and Remus always took account to notice. "-besides, we've still got like six hours, hm?"

You puckered your lips and moved them to the side, deciding whether you would let your eyes even blink for an extra two seconds. And once again the brows on Remus' face knitted together in concern, "Please, my love, promise me you'll try getting some rest,"

Remus always had a way of tugging at your heartstrings, especially when calling you names, but you were not yet set on sleeping. Besides, how could you sleep when the beauty of trees and blooming fields whipped past you.

You only caved when Remus looked down at you in a plead, his long lashes fluttering at you as he whispered, "F'me?" Because when it came to everything, you'd do anything if it was for him.

With a huff you scrunched up your face, letting him know you'd crack. He grew a wide grin, he knew what he was doing. "Fine. For you," you grumbled.

He gripped the sides of your face with both his hands as he pressed his lips to your temple. Your stomach fluttered as he praised, "That's m'girl,"

Just as swiftly, he brought his lips down to your own, planting a soft kiss as you brought your hands to wrap around his wrists. Just then the two of you heard a large annoyed groan from behind you.

Sneaking your eyes over the seats you saw Peter drag his hands down his face, "Not you two, too!" he complained. You giggled turning back as Remus captured you in his arms, resting his chin atop your head.

You closed your eyes as you exhaled, feeling your body relax. Remus found your hand and entwined his fingers in yours as he gave you one last kiss on the back of your hand and he hushed, "Thank you, darling,"

#remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x you #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fandom #marauders fandom #vqlluna

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captainsophiestark · 1 year ago

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Weirdest Day Ever

Daisy Johnson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 12 Prompt: "I'm not saying I didn't like it."

Summary: Daisy and Y/N broke up a long time ago rather than attempting long distance. Now, with a nudge from a terrigen crystal, the very thing that tore them apart might bring them back together.

Word Count: 1,694

Category: Angst, Fluff

Requested by @trekkingaroundasgard! Thanks for the request Nicola, and I hope you like it!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

The weirdest day of my life, to date, was the day I saw my ex-girlfriend on the news three times in the course of twenty-four hours, as a new superhero working for SHIELD. And until I bit into a takeout sushi roll from my favorite restaurant, I thought nothing could beat it for the number one spot.

Then I'd started transforming.

Inhumans and inhuman transformations had been in the news once or twice lately (at least one of my ex's appearances had been in connection with it), but I hadn't really thought much of it. I'd certainly never imagined I might be one of them, a latent alien gene just waiting in my genetic code. But as a chrysalis started to form around me, fear took over, and I knew what came next.

I didn't know how much time passed for me while I was totally crystalized, but when I came out of it, I collapsed in a heap on the floor. It had felt like floating, through time and space, with no anchor. My body was exhausted and a little sore, and my head hurt. I looked around, finally glancing at a clock to see about four hours had passed.

What the hell was I supposed to do now? Seriously, what did somebody do after a transformation like that? What was the normal reaction?

Slowly, I got to my feet, waiting for some crazy, obvious sign of my change. I walked to a mirror on unsteady feet to find that I looked the same as before, if a little shakier than when I'd been trying to enjoy my favorite food for lunch in peace.

I frowned down at my hands, experimentally shaking one out in front of me to see if anything happened. When it didn't, I flared my hand out, fingers spread wide.

That's when the new weirdest day of my life really kicked off.

A bright purple forcefield bubble appeared around my hand, growing rapidly in size the longer I left my hand extended. I watched it in fascination, until I heard a crashing sound behind me and whipped around to find the door of my apartment busted open. A dozen people in military tactical gear broke through the door, headed right for me.

Reflexively, I flung my hands up in front of my face. With my new powers, the forcefield responded, exploding in a circle around me and knocking the strangers backwards and off their feet. My sushi clattered to the ground, and I leapt over it as I raced past the stunned soldiers and through the door.

I heard shouts from behind me followed shortly by thundering footsteps. My pulse roared in my ears, beating a million miles an hour as I burst into the stairwell and ran down as fast as possible. I had no idea what my plan was, other than 'get away', which felt like a decent first step.

I barreled through the lobby of my apartment building and into the street, the people chasing me not far behind. I staggered a little, unsteady on my feet, more tired than I'd normally be thanks to the use of my new powers. I glanced over my shoulder, then flung my hands up to defend myself again as shots—hopefully nonlethal—fired at me. They bounced off my forcefield, but each hit still felt like a punch in the gut with the effort it took to deflect.

I screamed, flinging my arms out harder and farther away from me, sending another wave of purple force pushing my attackers back. It nearly knocked me to the ground, too, but I managed to stay on my feet and keep running.

I staggered around a corner and into an alleyway, hoping to lose them by going off the beaten path. I realized after a few steps, however, that I'd also just walked into a dead end. I turned around to go back the way I'd come, only to have my exit blocked by the soldier-looking people.

I stumbled backwards, almost tripping over my own two feet and going down. I managed to catch myself at the last second, heart pounding as my attackers advanced. I flung my hands out, but even the smallest forcefield had me seeing spots now.

I was trapped. No way out. And then, my day doubled down on the weirdness.

Like a fever-induced hallucination, my ex-girlfriend Daisy Johnson, formerly known as Skye, landed in front of me in a full superhero pose. She stared down my attackers, who hesitated at the sight of her, long enough for her to level a blast of her own superpower and send them flying backwards. She turned to me with a grin, and when I swayed a little on my feet this time it wasn't just because I was dizzy.

"Hey. Long time no see," said Daisy. She started walking towards me and I just watched her, still not totally convinced this wasn't a dream.

We'd only broken up because she was taking off with SHIELD, and I was moving across the country for work. We'd decided long distance with spies probably wasn't a good idea. To have her magically reappear in my life, right when some crazy latent superpower had been awakened in me... it felt too good to be true.

"Y/N? Are you okay?"

I shook my head as Daisy reached me, putting her hands on my arms and gently squeezing to try to ground me back to reality. It didn't really work.

"It's okay," she said, glancing over my shoulder before stepping even closer to me. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. We're gonna get you out of here."

I nodded. Despite not seeing Daisy for the past few years, I trusted her. I knew she'd get me out of here, that I could feel safe with her. As a result, the adrenaline quickly faded, and my light-headed exhaustion only got worse.

"It's... good to see you again," I muttered, giving Daisy the best smile I could muster. She returned with a confused frown, and I thought I saw her mouth my name, but the sound didn't make it past the encroaching blackness. The next thing I knew, I was toppling towards Daisy, the rest of the world completely slipping away.

****************

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the splitting pain in my head. I frowned before I even opened my eyes, memories of the events right before I blacked out only making my headache worse. I heard a snort, and my eyes flew open.

Daisy. Sitting on the edge of the bed I was laying in, looking at me with a fond smile. She'd swooped back in to save my life, and she looked absolutely fantastic doing it.

"Out of all the reactions of Inhumans we've saved, scowling before even waking all the way up might be my favorite," she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. I sat up, my heart racing faster at the sight of her.

"You... saved me," I breathed. She nodded a little, her worried eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"No, Daisy, oh my gosh," I scooted forward, unable to resist the pull towards her. After everything that had happened, to have her suddenly back in my life after I'd literally been attacked? I didn't want to waste another minute without her. "You saved me. You came at the perfect time, please don't apologize. I- I'm so happy to see you again."

She smiled at me, the small, soft smile that had been reserved just for me for so long when we were together, and I found myself leaning forward, pulled towards Daisy by some gravitational force. I brought my hand up to the back of her head, tangling it in her hair as I kissed her softly, every happy moment from our lives together rushing back. After a second, she pulled away, a rueful look on her face.

"Y/N-"

"Oh my God. Daisy, I am so, SO sorry. I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have just kissed you like that, I-"

"Whoa." She held up a hand, stopping me in my tracks before I could really get rolling and rambling. I stared at her with wide eyes, and she gently took one of my hands in hers before giving me a soft smile. "It's okay. I missed you too, and when you kissed me... well, I'm not saying I didn't like it. But we haven't seen each other in a while, and you just survived a really, really big trauma that's gonna take some time to process. I think it might be a good idea if we take things a little slower."

I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... yeah, you're probably right. But Daisy? I do still want to head that way, if you do, of course. You know, back towards... something like what we had before."

She sighed. "I want that. For sure, I want that. But maybe you should take a little more time to process, make sure it's actually something you want and not just the delayed adrenaline dump or something-"

"Daisy." I shifted a little on the bed, taking my turn to stop her worry train before it got rolling, taking both her hands more firmly in mine. "Honestly, while forcefields will probably be a sick power, this whole experience has completely sucked. Every single minute of it... except for the fact that it's brought me back to you. So... if you're sure, I'm sure."

A smile steadily grew on Daisy's face, mirrored on my own until we were positively beaming at each other. SHIELD had been the thing to tear us apart, but now, it had brought us back together. There was some interesting kind of poetry to that, but I didn't care enough to analyze it. All that mattered to me was that Daisy and I would be side by side, working through all the weirdness together, today and for every new weirdest day that was sure to come our way in the future.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe

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timelessmulder · 25 days ago

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31 Days of horror day 19: Hunter

i am very behind. i am playing catch up. anyway here is a little thing with my monster of the week hunter, russ, a hobo from the 1920s/30s (this takes place in uuuh 1925)

Workmen liked to talk.

They talked on breaks. On quiet nights between shifts, before they retired to bed or their families or boarded the next train out of town.

Russ listened more than he talked. Of course, inevitably the other workers would take notice, and they would needle him for a story or two, and he could regale with the best of them. The places he'd been, the people he'd met. Tall tales, if that's what the others were after. But in most cases he would sit, and he would listen.

The tracks had spat him out at a dime a dozen dusty little town with a few dozen residents and a handful of shops along a street not yet paved. It was the sort of place with eternal odd jobs, everyone needing help with this and that but no long term work; it was tucked in the forest, but a disaster had ground the lumber work to a halt. The folks there talked about needing some new building or another: a new town hall, a new church, a bigger school house that the residents couldn't afford their children attending. But those drifted from person to person like a rumor, never to manifest.

Russ, freshly seventeen, still a tangle of limbs yet to be filled out, sat with fellow laborers on break. They'd been hired to help repair the rundown post office whose decades old roof had finally went from sagging to fully broken. The work had proven more extensive than initially believed, one day stretching into two when it was discovered rot had extended into the walls.

"Y'all heard about that disaster?" one of the men, a wiry hobo who went by Snag said. He'd been in town for a few months by then, and running the tracks a full decade longer than Russ. His hair was neat and clothes recently darned; rumor was he'd been flirting with the local tailor's daughter, a few years widowed.

An older man, square framed and leathery faced with bristly gray beard streaked with brown, spat. Bill had wandered the country longer than either of them - had seen more years on the road than Russ had in his life - only bunkering down when the influenza hit; he'd been lucky enough to not catch it, but safer to get antsy than roll into a brand new town. The man eyed Snag, and said, "The disaster that every twenty-somethin' says was some act of god?"

"It's a fun story!"

"Superstitious folk in a superstitious town." Bill rolled a loose stone under the toe of his boot, kicking it toward a far tree where it collided with the gnarled trunk. "I don't know if you've noticed but most of this town is Irish." He glanced at Russ, with his pale skin and freckled face and russet brown hair that shone red when the light hit it just right. "No offense, Rusty."

Russ scoffed, a sound close enough to a laugh. "I'm not that Irish," he said. "My eyes are brown." He rocked on the stump he'd taken for a seat, grinding the heel of a boot that had seen better days into soft dirt. "I haven't heard the story though."

"That's right, you just rolled in a few days ago. Still trust a kid as green as you more than Snag when it comes to swinging a hammer." Russ bit back a retort that he'd been on his own for a few years now, thank you very much, but he bit down on it. Meanwhile, Snag scoffed in his indignation. Bill waved his hand at him, swatting away his annoyance. "Whatever, Snag, you can tell the kid."

***

There was a monster, that lurked in the woods around the town. Something ancient, older than the land itself, pulsing in the roots of the trees and stirring in the underbrush. The work of the lumbermen had disturbed it, churning the earth around its sleeping body until the world split beneath their boots. Healthy trees had shaken loose from their anchors, falling to crush the men too stunned to move out of the way. It had been a warning, the townsfolk said, and they were wise enough to heed the creaking voice of the forest.

When work had stopped for the day, and the sun had just kissed the horizon, Russ made his way to the woods. He had his pack slung over his shoulder and notebook in hand, old and tattered and carrying all he had learned about beings and items that most people ignored. His tread was light, much like a hunter tracking a deer, and his ears were sharp, searching for any snapping twig that whispered danger. Shadows reached their grasping fingers across the leaf littered ground, dappled by the dregs of sunlight permeating the leaves.

Russ watched his step, wary of any hidden root that may catch him. Perhaps any equipment had been left behind some decades before, retaken by the wilderness. The last thing he needed was a turned ankle, or worse.

The trees thickened. The world darkened, a deep black that swaddled the terrain and the trees and the creatures creeping within. Tucked between some old work clothes was a flashlight, and while it danced at the edge of his thoughts, Russ didn't want to stop and paw through his belongings. There was still enough light from the stars pricked in the blanket of night sky and waning moon to see. He pressed on, eyes narrowed.

The further he got from the town, and the more sure he became that he should turn back, a profound silence took hold of the air. The night time band of owls and crickets grew more hushed, trickling into nothing, as if they were holding their breath. It was not an oppressive silence, he thought, now keenly aware of the thump of his boots and swish of his jeans. A church with its holy reverence, pulling at the air with its grand weight.

Something in that inky black was watching him. He could feel it, prickling along his back, and he faltered. He slowed. And he stopped. A soft breeze shook the canopy of leaves, a soft sigh of a noise. Russ clutched his backpack to himself, clumsy fingers finding the compartment where he kept his knife. He turned on his heel in a slow and steady arc, alert and searching in the deep and empty dark.

A set of eyes peered at him from a tangle of roots. They were large, but not impossibly so. Large in the way of a watching cat, slits staring out from the amber glow of its irises. It watched Russ, unmoving, unblinking, and there was something intelligent about its gaze. Something ancient, with a question more than a challenge what will you do now? Russ' fingers curled around the worn canvas of his bag, swallowing against the knot tying itself in his throat.

The air around him shifted. It rippled with an unseen mass that made Russ take a step back. "'M sorry," he said to the creature still watching him. His voice cracked in the way all boys' voices do at that age, but there was no room for its accompanying embarrassment, too consumed was he by the sense he had stepped somewhere he didn't belong. "I'll uhm. I'll be going."

He made a slow and careful way back to the town. He did not pause to search for his flashlight until he heard the first chirping of crickets, though he was sure those curious eyes had followed after him. Just to make sure he left this place, whatever it was. He swept its beam in a steady arc and did little more than startle a barred owl perched in a nearby tree, revealing nothing of the thing that stalked behind him.

The town still hummed with life, when he crossed the barrier between forest and civilization. It was like the piercing of a veil, the woods almost reluctant to relinquish its hold on him. He scrambled out of the shadows and into the flickering glow of the town's handful of streetlamps and the houses that were still awake. Switching off his flashlight, fear melted away into feeling foolish. It was just an animal, he told himself, letting the flashlight cool down before being put away as he made his way to the small inn where he was staying (not in exchange for work, for once, the innkeeper's daughter had batted her eyes at him and gave a tilted smile when she gave him a place to board. He still wasn't sure what she wanted in turn). He'd wandered into the woods on the heels of a tale. He knew things existed, had seen enough for himself to know that.

Maybe the woods of the town had nothing to show for it. Maybe it didn't want to give up its secrets.

Russ did not return to the woods to investigate. Not in moonlight nor sunlight. He didn't speak to the others about going in and what he felt, what he saw. He finished the work and took the meager pay, and he hopped the next train he could.

#31doh2024 #31 days of horror #bat writes #horror

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puhpandas · 1 year ago

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Veering Off Course

(2,305 words)

Gregory and his family get a call that Vanessa, whos in a different state for college, has gotten hurt. Gregory calls Evan, and Evan is able to use the things he's learned about himself since meeting Gregory to help his friend with his emotions regarding the situation.

Its early in the morning on a Saturday when Evan gets the call. It woke him up, so all he does is blink groggily and swipe at the screen blindly while propped up on his elbow until his thumb hits 'answer' on his phone. "Hello?"

"Evan." It's Gregory, and the serious tone to just that single word clears up Evan's brain as fast as lightning. He scrambles to prop himself into sitting up and rubs at his eyes with one hand.

"Gregory?" Evan asks, looking at the little icon he set for Gregory's contact of a picture of Evan and him at an amusement park. "Is everything okay?"

It takes a second for Gregory to respond, and it causes the anxiety that had steadily began to bubble inside of him to surge. "Gregory?"

"Sorry." Gregory finally answers. "I-- Uh... can you..." His friend struggles for words, and Evan tries to be as patient as possible as it becomes clearer every second something is wrong. "Can you come over? Like right now?"

Evan flounders for words for a second, but manages to force his mouth to say, "Of course."

"Okay." Gregory replies, and a surge of worry shoots through his chest when Gregory sounds like he might cry. He takes a breath on the other end, then, "Please hurry."

After that, Evan only lingers enough to respond with a short confirmation and goodbye before hanging up the phone. It takes him record time to shoot out of bed, sling on some shoes, and get down the street a few houses to Gregory's own.

His mind had played multiple awful scenarios of what terrible thing could have happened the entire time, but his worry does not ebb when he makes it to the porch and knocks on the door to a teary eyed Gregory.

Evan's immediately herded inside. Freddy has his phone in his hand pressed up against his ear, and he's pacing around the room. Aunt Chica and Aunt Roxy sit in the living room. Bonnie is sat in a dragged-over dining chair by Freddy and frowning.

It's dead silent in the house; even the TV and seemingly endless energy flowing through and causing bustling noise is snuffed out to nothing. Evan watches as everyone sits completely seriously and quiet, hands held in their lap or thrumming against something.

Impatience, is what Evan first thinks of. They're waiting for something. News, maybe? Freddy is on the phone. It's so silent you could hear a pin drop. Or somebody else's phone vibrate.

Evan's dread and anxiety only get worse when Gregory shuts the door behind him and tugs on him a bit. Evan follows without struggle, thousands of words and questions on his tongue when Gregory leads him to one of the unoccupied seats in the living room; a loveseat.

He sits down with him, and Gregory's face is scrunched up in barely restrained worry. Evan watches his friend, who's been an anchor for himself for so long, tremble and hunch in on himself. "Gregory?"

Gregory's eyes dart to him, and Evan leans down, hunching forward with his elbows rested on his thighs like theyre their own personal bubble. Evan's own brows furrow, and he feels the familiar thickness in his throat just at watching his friend be upset.

Evan grabs at his hand, squeezing it tight and lacing their fingers together. "I'm really worried, Gregory... please tell me whats wrong." Evan pleads. "Please?"

Gregory nods unsurely after a moment, and Evan watches him swallow thickly before turning to him fully. "Dad got a call from the University of Oregon today."

Evan's brows raise, but he nods to keep going. The University of Oregon is the college Gregory's sister, Vanessa, had left home to go attend. Evan hasnt gotten the chance to meet her, yet. She's already been gone two years strong, with a seemingly bright future. Evan's heard Gregory and his family talk about her enough to know her talents.

Gregory's breath hitches, and Evan wraps his other hand around Gregory's, the one he already has ahold of. He sandwiches it in-between his own and hopes it's enough comfort.

"Somebody called us and told us Vanessa got into a car crash today. On campus."

It's like a bucket of ice water is poured on Evan's head. His feet go cold, and his eyes widen to saucers. Fear shoots like an arrow through his stomach. When he stops reeling from the news, he watches Gregory begin to shake and lose the carefully gathered composure he'd put up since Evan arrived.

"They said..." Gregory's brows are furrowed so much it looks like it hurts. Theres a clench in his jaw and a wetness to his eyes Evan isnt used to. "They said she's already been taken to the hospital and is in surgery." He frowns, and theres a twist in his lip that Evan is so familiar with. "They... a-all we can do is wait. They told us they'd let us know any updates."

The house is thrown back into such jarring silence after Gregory stops talking that Evan's ears start ringing. Which makes it clear as day when Gregory's breath turns harsh beside him.

Evan tears his eyes away from the floor and ignores the twisting feeling in his chest to look at his friend. He has his face buried in the hand that isnt held by Evan and is shaking in a way where you can tell theyre trying so hard to keep it together. Gregory's angled away from him, but Evan can see the panic on his face even from where he can see.

Evan's breath hitches, and the thickness in his throat begins to turn into burning as he scootches closer to Gregory on the couch and sets a hand on his shoulder. He tugs a bit until Gregory gets the message and let's him wrap his arms around his middle and hold him close.

Gregory makes some sort of horrible, upsetting hitching noise that causes the dam to break for Evan, before he sort of flops against him and brings up his own arms to clutch at his T-Shirt. Gregory's head thumps against his shoulder, and it's one of the only times Evan really becomes aware of the height he has on his friend.

"Its okay..." Evan says into Gregory's shoulder, because it's all he knows to do in the moment. He glances around and sees that Gregory's family has shifted to the dining room, leaving them alone. Evan finally feels the tears slip from his eyes as he presses closer, hugging him like his life depends on it. "Its okay, Gregory. It'll be okay."

"It's--" Gregory says, and Evan can hear how much his voice shakes with barely contained tears. "Its not. I can't-- We can't even go see her. We can't go and wait for her to wake up, or anything... we just have to--" He cuts himself off, and Evan feels Gregory shake harshly against him.

"We just have to sit here." Gregory says, voice thick. "I dont know what to do, Evan. I don't know what to do."

And its only that sentence that causes Evan to grapple at what to do, if his friend can't. And all he can think about is how himself would react if it were Gregory getting hurt.

All he'd be able to do is cry, he realizes. He wouldnt be able to do anything. Just wait and be scared.

But that's what Gregory is getting at, isnt he? He can't do anything. That's the thing. Evan has known Gregory long enough to get him. To know, him. Evan knows that Gregory doesnt sit around and cry like Evan does. He prefers to get up and do something about whatevers wrong.

Hes a problem solver instead of waiting around. A fighter instead of a crier. No wonder hes so bent out of shape about this. To have a loved one in danger, and when you're so used to getting up and making a plan to fix a problem and are forced to sit in standby...

Evan eases them down against the cushion of the couch, not once untangling themselves from eachother. Gregory shakes, but he does not cry. "So what would you do if you could?"

The hair from Gregory's bangs brushes against Gregory's neck as he moves his head. "I'd... I don't know. I'd at least try to get to her." Gregory says, voice unbelievably quiet. "At least get to her. Then figure it out from there. Just so I'm not waiting on phone calls."

Evan nods against him, his chin scrunching up Gregory's hair. His tears have long since stopped falling, but he knows he has dry tracks on his cheeks. "You have a plan."

Gregory makes some sort of noise that would sound like a snort in any other circumstances. "I would if I could." Gregory replies, squeezing his arms a bit tighter. "But I cant" He sighs, shuddering and heavy. "I just have to wait."

Evan hums. "You're worried, and you're stressed." He makes the same noise Gregory just did. "I know how you feel... I really do. Maybe not your exact situation, but... I get what it's like to feel helpless." He says. "You know what I would do?"

Gregory hums this time, questionative. Evan rubs circles into his back. "I'd sit there and wait, and wish for it to different. And when it wouldnt be, I'd cry."

Gregorys head shifts against that crook between Evan's chin and chest, almost like hes trying to look him in the eye but the hug prevents him from being able.

"All I ever did was cry." Evan says when Gregory doesnt respond. "Its the only thing that I could do to cope."

"...So..." Gregory asks, and his voice is thick again. "You mean..."

"You're stressed." Evan answers. "You're stressed and you're worried. So... why dont you let it out?"

Evan, out of anyone, knows how valuable emotions can be. He didnt, once upon a time. When everyone would just tell him how annoying it is. How useless it is. How he's asking for it. How he should have toughened up by now. When instead of comfort, he'd receive ridicule and prodding.

That's changed. Ever since a certain someone entered his life. He doesn't think of his emotions, himself so little anymore. So worthless. So maybe that's why Gregory perks up ever so slightly in understanding.

And that's all it takes.

Gregory's trembling turns into shoulder shaking sobs like the snap of a finger. He cries, open and unadulterated, and Evan just hugs him close and rubs his back, offering reassurances like Gregory has done for him so many times.

His own eyes burn when his best friends sobs are heard so openly and he can feel every shudder of his body. Evan's chin scrunches, and the tears fall right along with Gregory as Evan hugs him close, tucking his face into his hair.

"Im--" Gregory cries. "I-Im just so worried about her."

"I know." Evan responds, his own voice breaking as he pets Gregory's hair. His shirt is damp with tears but he doesnt care. "Itll be okay. It'll all be okay."

They stay like that for a while, and Evan can tell Gregory needs it. He needs it. The worry he felt that morning doesnt ever really leave, and it stays ever-present as Evan watches his friend fall apart. They stay stuck together like magnets, eventually only shoulder to shoulder with linked hands on the loveseat, and none of Gregory's family try to peel them apart when they eventually wander back into the living room.

They stay in a state of constant agonizing limbo all day. At 8:00pm, Freddy calls it a night. Gregory protests immediately, but Aunt Roxy calms him down almost seamlessly and convinces him to go to bed.

Of course, Evan follows him. He cant imagine a world where he doesnt. The air mattress stays deflated in Gregory's closet as it has been most of the time nowadays. All Evan has to do is kick his shoes off since he left home in his pajamas anyway and they're wrapped around eachother, tucked in Gregory's bed under his comforter in the dark.

Gregory is silent all throughout the night, even though Evan knows he's awake. Evan just hopes that... he did the right thing. Something knows is that suppressing how you feel isnt good. It never works. No matter how much you want it to.

Gregory taught him that. He just wants to return the favor. Not because he owes Gregory, no. Gregory has long since hammered it into Evan's thick skull that he has nothing to pay him back for. That his kindness is not a deed to Evan, but rather that Evan himself deserves to be treated kindly.

Gregory does, too. Evan knows this with all his heart. Gregory is his best friend and has done more for him than anyone else ever has.

Evan... all Evan did was change. Change for the better. And hopefully he helped the most important person in his life with the things he learned. The things that person taught him.

He hugs Gregory's middle a little tighter, not daring to break the silence. Gregory needs time, but doesn't want to be alone. Evan understands. He does. He just hopes to convey what he truly feels through the one action.

Thank you. I'm here for you. I'll always be here. You're my best friend. I'm so glad you trust me. I trust you as well. So much.

Gregory himself wraps his arms tighter around Evan in turn, and Evan feels like the single movement lso has a deeper meaning he cant read.

They dont speak. They just lay in silence until eventually they fall asleep, stuck together like two puzzle pieces.

ao3 link

#this oneshot is mostly just to focus more on gregorys character and how i imagine him (not headcanon #his actual canon character) to handle problems.#ive always seen gregory as instead of letting fear/emotions take over #he pushes past to get a task done/fix whatevers wrong. so i wanted to translate that into the flashlight duo universe with the emotional/pr #especially because of how important emotions are to evans growth and how gregory is the reason for that growth #and i also just wanted to finally write a bit of evan helping gregory since ive written so much vice versa.#i needed something for gregory to be super worried over and well. this universe is already family centric. poor vanessa.#its a normal ass world okay theres not much i can do #vanessa is okay btw.#the next day theyre supposed to get news about surgery and recovery and plan to go on a road trip to oregon to see her while she recovers #(i actually already wrote some of it but cut it out because i didnt like where it was going.#just veered (ha) too far away from the core of the fic)#so you can imagine that happening.#anyways hope you enjoyed! still need a better idea to showcase evan helping gregory but i think this is okay for now.#i have some other plans for this duo (as always) having to do with love languages so im excited about that.#lets see how long itll take me to actually write it lol #pandas writes #my fics #flashlight duo #flashlight duo oneshots #gregory #evan #the fazbears #oneshot #kinda feel like this is cringe #but whatever im cringe and im free two cakes etc #not my favorite work ive done but whatever #its okay

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braveclementine · 4 months ago

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Surprise?

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC Elizabeth Lightwood. I do not condone any copying of this.

"My mom tried to talk me out of enlisting but um, not Aunt Peggy." Sharon said as her and Steve walked through the hotel. "She bought me my first thigh holster."

"Very practical." Steve almost laughed. He wondered how old she was on that day and imagined a little toddler running around with a thigh holster on.

"And stylish." Sharon said. She pressed the up button and turned to face Steve.

"CIA has you stationed over here, now?" He asked.

"Berlin. Joint Terrorism Task Force." Sharon answered.

"Right. Right. Sounds fun."

"I know, right?"

"I've been meaning to ask you." Steve said, trying to fill the awkward pauses between. "When you were spying on me from across the hall-"

"You mean when I was doing my job."

"Did Peggy know?" Steve asked.

Sharon sighed, "She kept so many secrets. I didn't want her to have one from you." The elevator door dinged so that it opened for her, "Thanks for walking me back." She said.

"Sure." Steve said. He wanted to kiss her, but Sam interrupted them.

"Steve. There's something you gotta see."

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

"A bomb hidden inside a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna." The news anchor said as Sharon paced behind Sam and Steve, talking to someone on the phone.

"Whose coordinating?"

"More than seventy people have been injured. At least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Solder."

Steve felt the realization hit him, and then the guilt.

"The infamous HYDRA agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations."

"I have to go to work." Sharon whispered.

And then the hope.

They were going to find Bucky.

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

"Yeah?" Natasha's voice spoke into Steve's ear as he called her.

"Are you alright?" Steve asked immediately.

"Uh, yeah, thanks. I got lucky." There was a pause and then she said, "I know how much Barnes means to you, I really do. Stay home. You'll only make this worse. For all of us. Please."

"Are you saying you'll arrest me?"

"No. Someone will. If you interfere. That's how it works now."

"If he's this far gone, Nat, I should be the one to bring him in." Steve said heavily. He looked over at where he could see Nat, talking into her phone.

"Why?"

"Because I'm the one least likely to die trying." And then he hung up and walked into the café where Sam was eating.

"She tell you to stay out of it?" Sam asked and nodded his head, "Might have a point."

"He'd do it for me." Steve said.

"1945, maybe. I just want to make sure we consider all our options. The people that shoot at you usually wind up shooting at me."

Sharon joined them at the bar, "Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everybody thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of its' noise. Except for this." She quickly slid along a white packet. "My boss expects a briefing pretty much now so that's all the head start you're gonna get."

"Thank you." Steve said sincerely.

"And you're gonna have to hurry. We have orders to shoot on sight." Sharon said, before pushing away from the bar counter and leaving.

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

Elizabeth and Bucky were in the fruit stands. Bucky was wearing a sweatshirt and a baseball cap, his metal hand covered by a glove. She had grabbed some limes and Bucky was now speaking Romanian in a really hot accent and she loved listening to his voice.

He had such a nice voice. It reminded her of Loki surprisingly on a spectrum of voice ranges. In reality, they did have with different voices. But they were both eloquent and nice to listen to.

After they had paid, Elizabeth slipped her arm through Bucky's to act like they were a couple and she let him lead. He paused in the street and instead of heading back to the apartment, starting heading towards a newspaper stand.

"What's wrong?" She asked, seeing that the man who had left the newspaper stand was running down the street now. She grabbed the newspaper on the counter and saw with horror that he was being blamed for a bombing attack on the UN.

"Shit." Elizabeth cursed. "Bucky, let's get back to the apartment now." She pulled out her phone, "Y/N, you see me? Where? Okay, I see you. Hurry we need to get back to the apartment now."

🎃 ::::: 🧡 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 🧡 ::::: 🎃

"I'll make sure the apartment is safe." Bucky said, when he saw the door was open. He looked over at the two of you. Elizabeth nodded hesitantly, bending down so that she could pull out her shuriken's and knives. You pulled your pistol from the holster and waited.

It was a minute before you heard a familiar voice ask, "Do you know me?"

"You're Steve." Bucky said. "I read about you in a museum."

You hurried inside and stopped when you saw Steve there all suited up, Elizabeth next to you.

Steve looked at you. "Y/N? Elizabeth? What-"

Elizabeth hurried to Bucky's side. She had a faint smile on her face and nudged Bucky playfully. "Liar." Bucky smiled just a little.

"I know you're nervous," Steve said slowly, though he seemed rather confused now, "and you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying."

"I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore." Bucky said.

"He's telling the truth." Elizabeth said quickly. "Steve he hasn't left this apartment anywhere except for groceries in the past week."

"And how do you know that?" Steve asked.

"Because we've been here with him the entire time. When the UN building blew up, we were eating Ice-cream and watching the Sound of Music on his crappy little TV." Elizabeth answered, slightly angrily.

"A week!" Steve nearly shouted.

"Surprise." You said weakly, remembering how you said you wouldn't go looking for Steve's soulmate without him.

Oops.

"Okay, well the people who think you did are coming right now." Steve said quickly. You released the safety on your handgun. "And they're not planning on taking you alive."

"Well they can just try on getting through me." Elizabeth said heatedly.

"That's smart." Bucky said instead. "Good strategy."

"This doesn't have to end in a fight, Buck." Steve said. You could hear the footsteps pounding outside.

Bucky sighed heavily. "It always ends in a fight."

"You pulled me from the river." Steve said angrily as Bucky took off his glove. "Why?"

"I don't know."

Elizabeth shook her head and muttered 'Liar' to you again.

"Yes, you do." Steve muttered.

A grenade came through the window, which Steve hit with his shield. It bounced off the window and Elizabeth kicked it towards Steve, who slammed his shield over it. Bucky hoisted the mattress to block the next shots and you leaned around, firing and knocking someone off the nearby building. A battering ram hit Bucky's door.

Bucky slammed the kitchen table that you had been so used to eating at, at the door, which jammed it shut.

One of the men came through the window. Elizabeth tackled, him getting her legs around his neck and choked him out, though she didn't kill him. Bucky punched the second one straight in the face.

"Buck stop." Steve said as they worked together to kick someone out of the room. "You're gonna kill someone."

Bucky slammed Steve to the ground, punching his hand into the floor. "I'm not gonna kill anyone." He grabbed his backpack that he had hidden there, throwing it out the window. Bullets started to spray. Steve grabbed Bucky, trying to block the two of them from the bullets, while you grabbed Elizabeth and threw the two of you behind the wall.

Bucky grabbed Steve and threw him at one of the soldiers so the two of them crashed through the window on Bucky's balcony. You watched as he used his metal hand to block the bullets, before smashing the man into his bookshelf.

Elizabeth joined Bucky as he smashed down his own front door and started to fight his way down the stairs. Meanwhile, you jumped through the window, kicking the gun from the man's hands, helping Steve to his feet.

"Me and you are going to have a talk after this." Steve said angrily, breaking the rest of the window to get back in.

"Yep." You muttered unhappily.

You sighed as Steve decided to just jump entire stairwells instead of running down the stairs like a normal person. Then you saw that both Bucky and Elizabeth were jumping stairwells too. Elizabeth looked like a fricking gymnast as she swung from the railings to the next floor.

Okay, so you were going to run down the stairs like a not normal person apparently.

By the time you got to where Steve was, he was just leaping off the building like a fucking moron, landing on the other building.

"Aw c'mon." You groaned.

"Hold on cause there's no seatbelts." Elizabeth sighed, before turquoise mist wrapped around your body. You screamed as you were catapulted to the other side of the roof. You landed on the cat man, knocking him to the ground. You rolled off quickly, shaking.

"I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!" You screamed as Elizabeth launched herself over, rolling.

"Love you too bestie." Elizabeth sang.

And then, they were jumping off that roof too, just one after the other. Elizabeth groaned this time. "You know, I only have so much magic."

"I want Pietro." You whined as she lowered the two of you gently to the ground. You caught sight of two motorcycles. "On the other hand."

Elizabeth glanced over. "We need permission, right?"

"What would Loki do?" You asked as a joke, the two of you racing for the bikes.

"He'd totally steal these. Definitely makes it right." Elizabeth joked and the two of you took off on the bikes.

You sped in and out of the cars, finding the on ramp to get under the tunnel where the others were just running past cars like dumbasses. Seriously, they could get hit!

"Listen." Elizabeth shouted over to you as the two of you attempted to catch up. You watched Steve steal a car and nodded your head in approval. "I need you to block the cat man. I'm going to try and get Bucky on my bike. I think if I can get us away from civilization, I can get him to Asgard. Once we're safe there, I can work on his mind more. Loki can help me as well."

"Okay." You said, trying to get the AR-12 out of your own backpack while you drove. You positioned it over the handle bars and shot out the tires on another car. "The cat man seems powerful though, I'm not sure how that's going to go."

"Hopefully Sam and Steve join in on the help." Elizabeth said, driving off onto your left, speeding through more cars. You quickly pulled up, passing Steve in his car, which the cat man had just jumped on.

Elizabeth had almost pulled up level with Bucky, before he stole a bike from somebody while they were speeding past him, somehow straddling it in midair and taking off. Seriously, it was like he had super strength- oh wait.

Elizabeth was riding level with him now, the two of them looking like they were racing each other. She was shouting stuff at him, and you decided to focus more on yourself now, reaching behind you, trying to shoot the cat man off of Steve's car.

Suddenly, the cat man grabbed Sam while Bucky planted an explosive. The cat man then leaped off of Sam, popping the back wheel of Bucky's tire. He went down and Elizabeth flipped off her bike to stop and get back to Bucky. The Cat man threw her away easily. You flipped off your bike- on accident unlike Elizabeth- as your tires hit rocks. You tumbled off and rolled, while Steve ran and tackled the cat man.

Elizabeth was by Bucky's side in an instant, shuriken's in her hands. You limped to their side, holding your pistol and AK. Cars and sirens surround you on all sides.

All of a sudden, Rhodey dropped from the sky, gun out, and lifted his hands. You groaned. Party over. "Stand down, now." Steve put his shield in his holster, raising his hands, "Congratulations Cap. You're a criminal."

"Leave him alone." Elizabeth snapped as they shoved Bucky to the floor. They shoved her to her knees as well, arresting her too. You let the handcuffs be put on you easily and your eyes widened when the cat mask was taken off.

"Your highness." Rhodey said.

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raccoonfallsharder · 1 year ago

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Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟ updated 10/26

18+ only | rocket x oc | 17/26 Chapters | WIP | Word Count: pending.

girl falls first; racoon falls harder.

His head is down, and she can see the sullen set of his shoulders. Jolie sets Groot onto the floor gently, and he gallops over to his adopted father and climbs onto a couple crates next to Rocket to watch him while he works. Should she say good morning? Will that just annoy him more? She’s hurt and scared, yes, and even a little annoyed in her more practical moments. But she reminds herself, again, that what this is really a result of - probably, mostly - is Rocket being frightened or wounded, and she doesn’t want him to be alone in that. But he doesn’t exactly look receptive right now. She chews her lip, then winces and shakes her head, and tries to distract herself by doing a quick check on the kitchen cabinets. Most of the dishware is anchored down in the built-in, padded racks that come standard-issue in ships these days, but a few of the plates are chipped on the edges, and one of the new glasses is cracked down the middle. She tosses the glass into the compressor. All in all, the damage is less than she’d expected, and most things are salvageable. She hesitates, then heads to the hold, peering out into the forest, toward the spaceship Ego left behind. Rocket doesn’t spare her a glance.

[NEW 10/26] ✧･ﾟ:*Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

lots of angst. healing isn't linear but rocket is in a much better position to come back from the consequences of his actions now than he was way back when they were on conjunction. unfortunately there's never enough time for these things, is there ~ ♡

General summary/notes + links to recently preceding chapters behind the cut. let me know via comment, message, or ask if you'd like to be added or removed from my fanfic taglist ♡

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slow burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies). let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best boy raccoon

*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship.

Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron.

Chapter III. A Kindness. in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food.

Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave.

Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course.

Chapter VII. I'm Here. in which we visit Knowhere.

Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.”

Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking.

Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice.in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way.

Chapter XI. Let It Be .in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost.

Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes.

Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm.

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared.

Chapter XV: Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly.

Chapter XVI. Run. in which Rocket falls victim to his superstitions.

Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

Chapter XVIII. I Happen to Know a Guy. in which our heroes get fucked. Again. Still not in the good way.

Chapter XIX. He Was Loved. in which a planet is killed, a friend is made and lost, and nobody still has any frickin’ tape.

Chapter XX. Some Nerve. in which an ultimatum is given.

Chapter XXI.

Chapter XXII.

Chapter XXIII.

Chapter XXIV.

Chapter XXV.

Chapter XXVI.

Epilogue: Interviewing Rocket & Jo. ten years after Window ends. short/drabbly, silly fluff.

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick

#rocket raccoon fanfiction #window across the galaxy #rocket x oc #eventual smut #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #rocket raccoon #angst with a happy ending #rocket raccoon x oc #gotg fanfiction #guardians of the galaxy #rocket x you #romance #ao3 author

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melon-fodder · 2 months ago

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Tw: natural disasters/hurricane

I don’t know exactly how to put this into words, and I have to draw upon my own experience, but anyway

As someone who has gone through a catastrophic hurricane several years ago (Harvey), I have seen the aftermath and complete devastation. I’m not sure if I even have followers in the regions hit by Helene, and if I do, I doubt you have the means to access the internet, but maybe someone will see. Maybe a worried loved one.

I am sending y’all all the positive energy I can.

In hurricanes like this—really any disaster—even if you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t lose property or family, watching it all unfold around you and being completely helpless and trapped, is so traumatizing. So much worse for those who do suffer losses.

During Harvey, we kept our power for a few days before it went out, and the whole time we had the news on. I will never, ever forget hearing the anchor say that first responders could not get to everyone, to stop calling emergency numbers if you weren’t in chest deep water. Chest deep. I won’t forget watching the interview of the lady who had lost everything in Katrina only to lose it all again decades later in Houston. I won’t forget officials telling a neighborhood to evacuate because they had to open a nearby dam in a controlled way before it was destroyed. I will never forget the recordings of people begging for help because they had elderly parents and young children in a flooding home, the images of people on rooftops waving for help.

To those of you weathering Helene, you will never forget this, and I am so incredibly sorry for that.

However, you will never forget the way your community will come together afterward. People you’ve never spoken to will help you clean up, will push totaled cars out of the streets, will pick up debris and offer what they can be it food, power from a generator, clothes.

And, it’ll take a long time to come back from this. A long, long time.

But you will get through it. So please take care of yourselves. Please fight. Please survive.

#Harvey was the first hurricane I experienced that scared me #and I had been through several before #it was the first one that made me feel helpless #I remember my mom waking my brother and me up at like 4 one morning #after watching waters rise all around us #and tell us that it was time to start gathering things #pick things up from ground level and get bags ready #the look of fear and defeat on her face will stick with me forever #the time lapse video of the waters rising downtown so quickly #we weren’t hit by the wind; it was the water that got us #and it got us so so bad #my TikTok has been full of Helene footage and it is heartbreaking and triggering #and it just takes me back to 2017 #to watching the city I grew up in get completely decimated #coastal towns wiped off the map #nature is a beast #but so are humans

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galaxyedging · 1 year ago

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Jackson!Joel Miller x gn!reader

A short drabble on grief.

Healing

The day fades away, casting a glow like dying embers. Stars swirl up into the sky like smoke as the night draws in to pull back the veil cloaking them. The cool, crisp air carries the remnants of dinner time, sticks to your ribs stew and warm, sweet apple pie. The metallic creak of the swing keeps the time like a metronome. The outside world is a million miles away.

Its distance lets you slip through the cracks of your memories. The cracks allow them to slot together. Bringing old memories right alongside the new ones. A thought weaves the two together.

I could take those leftovers to Mom and Dad.

It's a brief slip made by a wary mind. It only flashes through for a second but a second is all it needs to shake you. They were back. They were with you. Alive and well. In a blink they are ripped away again. Taking with them the fragile peace you had made with the past. The unrest in your mind travels to your body as you shift in Joel's embrace. Joel feels the shift in you, no longer do you melt into the warmth of his love. The tension that was ever present in your body outside of these walls drags you from him. With no danger in sight he knows that the anxiety comes from within you. With one look of your tear glazed eyes, he knows.

He knows how it hits like a freight train. They'll be rounding up the kids for movie night and he'll forget to go get Sarah. When he sits at the table with you and Ellie there's a moment where he expects Sarah to fill the last seat. He knows how deep those slips cut.

"Where were you, honey?" His words skim your temple as he pulls you close again. The weight of his arms anchoring you to the present.

"Home. Before the outbreak. Thinking about taking the leftovers to my folks." A huff of a self pitying laugh escapes you.

Joel's guidance is as gentle as it has been since you returned to Jackson. His pace is unhurried much like how you never hurried him to settle in Jackson and he never hurried you for more than friendship. He leads you to the far corner of his yard, opposite Ellie's small home. In the corner obscured by the snow covered branches of sleeping perennials, is a small patch of raised ground. It's bordered by large stones. Two piles of smaller stones are stacked with reverence in the middle. The snow hits the floor with a muted thump as Joel moves the branches aside.

"This is where I tell Sarah all the stupid ways that I miss her. Like when I burn food and she's not there to harangue me about it." His short laugh clouds above his head.

Looking to the second Cairn you ask "Who is this one for?"

"Ellie's mom. Not that Ellie comes to it much." An old wound of a different kind throbs in you at his words.

For a moment you thought he would say 'for Tess'. A woman you never met, that you'd only heard about in Joel's sleep until you spoke to Ellie. It was strange to be jealous of a dead woman but part of you is. The jealousy twists with guilt in your gut like a drill. That wound eases as Joel hands you a wide, flat stone. His shoulder is firm at yours as he shows you how to work. Occasionally, his hands guide yours with weathered experience.

The embers of the day are well and truly snuffed out by the time you have finished. The yard light just about reaches your quiet corner. A light of a different kind now stands in the darkness. A beacon of love, old and new. A memorial to your parents and the love that persists for them, made with the love Joel has for you.

The darkness that serves as a blank space to project old memories onto is filled with old memories of a different kind that night while the heat of Joel's bare chest warms the last of the chill from your cheek. You see your first meeting with Joel. As the stranger passing through shakes your hand for a second or two longer than most. You see the awkwardly shy wave of a neighbour as he moves in across the street. You see the flicker of desire in the eyes of a good friend who longs for more. You see the lips of a new lover parted in bliss with each shaky exhale. You see the face of a partner who shares the depth of your love. Most importantly, you see not only the past but a future.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller #tlou au #joel miller x gn!reader

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purposefully-lost · 2 years ago

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The TV played softly from the living room. Christine was only vaguely aware of it, having pushed it to the back of her mind as she scrubbed at the dishes from dinner. She was mainly thinking about biology-- there was a quiz tomorrow and she'd skipped twice this week to instead spend time getting photos of the football team while they practiced during their gym periods. A couple of the boys had sneered at her while she did it, but she didn't really care. The first game was tomorrow night, and so tomorrow morning the school paper would need a page on them front and center. They'd be bragging about it once they saw it, and her sitting at the sidelines to catch the photos would be entirely forgotten.

It wasn't like she'd wanted to skip the periods for it. It'd been at the insistence of the newspaper club's sponsor, Mrs. Mathis. And while she didn't exactly mind missing biology, she also didn't want to fail the quiz, and besides, it was the only class she had this semester that she shared with..

"...a teenager has been taken into custody this evening after the death of his--"

Christine paused as the words drifted through to her. Brows furrowing, she shut off the water and shook her hands dry, stepping out of the kitchen to peer towards the tv. It was the eight o'clock news, a banner at the bottom of the screen declaring breaking news in bold letters. The camera was pointed towards what would've been an average family home, if not for the fact that a gathering of police cars and an ambulance were situated in the front yard. Police tape sectioned the yard from the rest of the neighborhood, where she could see a few people had gathered near the street.

"What's going on?" She asked, prompting her mother to look around from where she sat on the couch. She gestured for Christine to come in, shaking her head.

"They're saying a whole family was found dead. Just a couple hours ago." She turned her attention back to the television, her gaze concerned. Christine walked in and leaned against the back of the couch, searching at the image on TV. She didn't recognize the neighborhood as far as she could tell. "Well, almost a whole family," her mother continued. "There was something about a little girl.. oh!" She paused and reached out her hand as if to shush Christine too, eyes widening.

"Authorities have now released the name of the suspect," the anchor was saying. The image cut back to the newsroom, a familiar dark-haired woman presumably reading off a teleprompter with a grim expression on her face. "Fifteen-year-old Jonathan Stone was taken into custody earlier this evening after he was found attempting to evade authorities. An attendee of Northbrook High School, he is also the foster child of-"

Christine didn't quite catch the rest. She was too busy listening to the way the blood suddenly rushed in her ears as she stared, uncomprehending, at the dark-haired anchor. Then there was her mother, gasping and turning to look at her with about as much shock as she felt.

"You go to school with him!" She exclaimed, her eyes widening suddenly with concern. "You don't know him, do you? Christine, so help me God, if you--"

"No," she answered defensively, before the reality tried once again to hit her. It didn't quite get through, Christine instead frowning at her mom as she finally ripped her gaze away from the TV. "I mean-- Jesus, mom. I- I kind of knew him, he's in my class, but.."

"Fifteen years old," her mother continued, already onto the next subject while Christine still reeled. "What is the world coming to?"

"I- I don't know," she answered half-heartedly. She looked back to the screen again. Four victims, they said. Surely Jack hadn't killed four people? That was ridiculous. That was stupid, it was so ridiculous. Jack was quiet and he liked reading and animals and even if he answered with an air of awkwardness, Christine had come to like asking him about the books he read just to hear him speak. The idea of him slaughtering his foster family just didn't correlate. She frowned at the tv, her hands digging into the back of the couch without her realizing. They had last year's yearbook photo up of him now, and as her eyes landed on familiar scars, her heart started to race.

She'd never asked him where those had come from. And her guesses could be wrong, but scars or no-- his older brothers didn't treat him well. That was easy to see, easier than daylight. A nervous shake settled in her chest as she wondered...

No. No, no, no. She wouldn't think that. She didn't have the full story. Watching the anchor continue to rattle off details about the deceased family, she forced herself to release her grip on the couch and step back. She swallowed, realizing tomorrow there probably wouldn't be any Jack to share lunch with.

"Hey, mom?" She asked, waiting until her mother turned around to continue. Christine crossed her arms, fighting not to glance at the photo of Jack as it appeared on screen again. "Can I.. stay home tomorrow? It's probably gonna be weird, because of all this, so.."

She trailed off. A tiny bit of relief released in her chest when her mom gave her a shrug and a yes. "Sure. But you'll have to help me run some things for work, tomorrow."

"Sure," Christine answered. Afterwards she slipped upstairs, decided she didn't want to see the rest of the story they had to run tonight. She'd just catch the update tomorrow, when they'd probably announce Jack's release. At least, she hoped they would. He probably hadn't hurt anybody.

#drabble #alex prescott #hunted // rabbit #😔💔

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pwblogarchive · 4 months ago

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March 2006

March 8, 2006

“fucking savages…”

Don't sweat it kiddo...just look on the bright side,...you helped usher alot of young ladies into woman-hood tonight.

secondly, would everyone leave the poor guy alone already? Everyone wonders what drives people in bands "over the edge" or into a "meltdown"...its shit like this. How would you like it if someone posted "risque" pics of you online. Have some tact people. fuckin weak.

PS: Los Angeles will bury you alive

March 11, 2006

its funny how i seem to find myself home alone on friday nights. ill catch a look in the mirror at myself on the way up the stairs and i realize that i am not much different from the loser i was in 8th grade. still totally flawed in the same ways- only presented with these flaws at the most inopportune times. thats okay though. it helps my pen. and with the weeks ive had- i am probably a bit better off sitting this one out. i can't wait for everyone to get a chance to see the new video. we spent alot of time on it- patrick scored the entire thing and i have to say that he did an amazing job. but really i just want to be back on the road. playing shows is the only thing that feels okay lately. that and the one time she called me "serious george". lets start a club for all of us losers sitting at home on the internet on a friday night. what should we call it?it feels good to focus on the words again rather than all the bullshit that surrounds, a nice escape the way it used to be.new songs you will like i hope, maybe even love.here are some passages i was writing tonight:"The new uncool. And im leaning my head against some window in sometown. It doesn’t even really matter.

My head feels heavy. Tissue stuffed in my nose caked with dried blood, stuck like glue (the way I am to you). Ive got bad luck fists and every single joint in them is dyed a deep bruised violet. The blood is thick coating my throat, I heave towards my feet. December fights mean the most. Your face hurts before you even get into it. In Chicago if you hit somebody in the winter, you really mean it. it hurt my fist everytime I hit this kid’s cheek and teeth. And lets not even talk about how the concrete feels skidding against your face below zero. It’s the only time I don’t skip out on myself. I stand in there for every shot. The first fist in my stomach felt like it turned my guts inside out. I fell onto the curb and heard my keys clink down the angle of the street. I licked my bloody spit on my hand and slapped the kid that just punched me in the gut then walked off to find my keys. This kid spun me around and for the second before he hit me, I laughed cause my spit and blood on his face looked like warpaint, then he hit me right dead center in the face. Like a hiccup in time, it all slows down after you get hit in the face- you cant feel another fucking thing on your body. Like the cartoon stars, this is what they are referring to. Only all I had was every single tear duct on my head working overtime to get enough buckets out. the tears freezing on my cheeks, the blood, salty and quickly working into a paste when mixed with the dirt I had sucked up when I hit the ground. I hear converse pounding the cement in the distance, the sound is absolutely gorgeous. All I can do is smile back at this stupid kid like the worst kind of dare- the kind of smile that says "too late". Sound the cannons. The cavalry has arrived. This is why he will always be my bestfriend in my mind. us chasing these kids home. And him catching one on the front porch of the kids own home and pulling him off of it, the skin on this kids hand tearing as he is wrenched from the safety of the doorknob he has anchored himself on. this kid was screaming like he was being murdered. We’re panting in the cold air. Kissing off "maybe we shouldn’t"s like they were nothing. He is holding the kid and I am laying into him again and again. Right hand only. I want this kid to feel every hit. Its like green/silver on the screen, our glory days, his mom coming out of the front porch and my bestfriend telling her to ‘get back in the fucking house’. This kid defiant until the end, I gotta give that to him, no white flags- "fuck you"s between every hit. Me spitting my blood into his mouth. I get into a rhythm until this kid goes limp. For every single time I couldn’t sleep at night cause I knew what kids like this were gonna say to me in the morning. We wash the blood off of our faces and hands in the snow on the kids front lawn and walk home. Stopping when I see the glimmer of my keys in the sewer. He’s got longer arms then me so he reaches in and takes them back.

There’s no other reason to remember this than- no one deserves the title bestfriend if they don’t sound like the cavalries cannons or aren’t willing to bleed next to you.""I never meant for this to end up the way it has, you gotta believe me- the songs, the words, the flashes of the camera, the same interviews with the same answers over and over again to hell- im always a phone call away from making it or breaking it. and you should know that only when I see your sweated out eyes, that almost look like tears, living and dying right in front microphone altar, it’s the only reason I don’t throw the towel in. instead I shrug it off, another year down. Tell myself anything to make sense of it all. "Damn, kid- you really believe in yourself". I used to believe in dragons too. And I used to like these words a whole lot more but then they started sleeping around with your eyes and ears. Im coughing directions into the phone, my lungs hurt like im smoking sympathy cigarettes with you every time you light up. "turn left at the second stop sign. At the end of my driveway turn (b)right". thank god "I can’t wait to see you" weighs a whole lot more than "I cant let you see me like this" in the greater scale of things. You look so fucking good on my front porch when youre coming this way. I fake shyness at the door but only because I think that’s what you want. There is a breadcrumb trail of melancholy that leads back up to my bed or maybe out the third floor window depending on whose following it. We soften, we surrender in the failing light. I kiss your cheek goodbye (you’re not the one leaving). But its only a formality, like crossing yourself before you kneel in church. You are the bright oval light spotted out by the flashlight and I am everything else in the dark room. In the beginning I was only planning on holding on to you and using you recreationally, but then I started needing you at nights and then all the time. The not remembering is what gets to me the worst. Honestly the sex is overrated and the conversation is fucking terrible- so why do you still have me programmed in your phone? I broke out the ougie board and tried to contact the living. I said I need an outline and a diagram but then I can pretty much take it from there. Switch out the characters in this dream cause they just don’t seem realistic. Play the part- change the light cause it makes my skin look washed out. The hardest thing about life is the living part."

- petey

March 14, 2006

icantwaittoseeyouagain:He said "I was pretty much born in an abortion clinic".Lines like that are show stoppers.Imagine records being scratched at parties in the movies."I was born in Tampa in may of 82’, they razed the hospital and by January 83’ it was an abortion clinic".And this was my introduction to one of my bestfriends.He’s the gun that didn’t discharge.He’s The quarters you cant pick up cause they are glued to the ground.He is a disaster- He’s all the worst parts of the bible, thrown into one.The disaster sleeps in a bunk less than 3 feet away from me (there are worse things tonight than the bus crashing). He’s wearing a shirt that says "cowgirls ride better bare back".It’s enough to make me laugh, if only because he’s used that as a pick-up line.The light on my laptop pulses white on black like morse code mayday signals in the dark.It always wants me.It always knows what im thinking (so does The disaster).The disaster is looking in my bunk over the curtains again.Hes’s always looking for something to ruin.I close my eyes to fake sleep.Im not fast enough or he knows me too well.Right now he is a cycle: scream, laugh and fall over, repeat."Networks would pay good money for a reality tv star like you" I say.(We are the opposite of diamonds in the rough).Maybe he’ll hyperventilate and pass out."pete, you in there?" he shouts in response.Clearly there isn’t an iq equvilancy test to be my friend.I tell him, "gimme your moms number. You know its not too late for her to have an abortion"."alright, lets go eat"- he spits as he stumbles towards the bathroom.He’s either too drunk or not drunk enough.I couldn’t make up a kid like this.Our lives as a greek tragedy. Every single fucking character you get attatched to dies at the end.The bus crawls into texas.But it doesn’t matter. All the skylines look the same now.Everywhere is- not home.But we still live the lives you always dreamed of.We don’t pay covers. We sleep through the days.I mostly think of vampires.Not quite. But they are the closest I can come.They gotta know something about the way we don’t go to sleep until the sun comes up. Or maybe something about the marks she’s been leaving on my neck.Yawn.Squint.Dark glasses.I hate the way the sun looks at me. Like it knows everything ive been up to.There is something intensely foreign but at the same time charming about texas. Put the love on hold. We move slow.The disaster is wearing a "don’t mess with texas" shirt.The unOriginal gansta.The disaster says "im faded, but you should really think this over cause it could take all night".But I’m pretty sure he was just faded.My bunk feels like a coffin tonight. The air feels humid here. It makes it hard to breathe. It makes every pull worth it.This is the curtain call on desperation.So come out and take a bow. They’re all throwing roses.Could we get a brighter light to stage left and maybe a bit more attention.(I am all the parts of the bullet but the powder).(I am diamonds into coal).Fuck your low carbs.Fuck your atkins diet.Fuck your southbeach diet.Nothing keeps the weight off like depression.My friends all wonder about my abs- it’s a serious regiment of like a month of sitting alone, waiting for phone calls that never come.Sometimes I feel like the fucking pied piper.The tinted glass is like a two way mirror.This is so voyeuristic it hurts.(I never meant to be like this).What we’d all do for alittle attention.Its like the pied piper-But I am following the light down a vermin hole.You probably shouldn’t come after me.It’s like the pied piper-Only it’s a little bit more like a cult.And I don’t even feel like I am the one behind the wheel anymore.I look up at the light shining through the curtains.The disaster is on to another bunk. Hes got me smiling.

- petey

March 17, 2006

so the tour has kicked off. it’s been pretty intense. the kids in new england have been amazing so far. we are playing for about an hour and a half every night- including one of our oldest songs ever and a new song that we’ve never played before live.

oh and some of you were wondering- the quote at the end of my last journal was from a movie called “the united states of leland.”

i found this song that is so rad- total “listen late at night with one light on barely, drinking sleeptime tea” song. i don’t know who it’s by. i will find out though.

keep voting for 16 candles over on trl so we can brag to our labelmate n-yo that we’ve got cooler fans.

really exciting news about decaydance right around the corner.

glad to see old familiar faces in the front row- i was worried.

EDIT: okay- the song is called “fall away” and it’s by lauren hoffman- i have no idea anything about her but it’s perfect to listen to when you are falling asleep alone- “I heard the warning of the sun, Remember all the days I strayed, I found you, The moon fell down and made no sound… Where’s my mind I lost it too, And you put my love away”.

also- bob from the hush wanted me to let you know they are playing a super small show at chain reaction on april second in anaheim- you know all the creeps and jerks in the bands on this tour will be there.

posted by: peter, patrick, andy and joe

3/17/06 Q&A

question

does leslie write rainy day kids? or do you write it? or do you just take credit for it?

answer

i am writing it. leslie is editting it. trust me. youll be able to tell its me by the style.

question

Hey Pete….I was listening to MYAMERICANHEART today and looking through who the band thanked and it said “Pete Wentz and Clandestine Industries” Did you know that they thanked you? I thought it was cool.

answer

yeah. they are great kids and a good band.

question

Dear Pete , I wish you didnt speak so badly of fat people , females especially . I know that you have so called “vanity issues” of your own but that doesnt tolerate the fact that “fat” women are subjected to ridicule and underappreciation by you . As always said … skinny bitches are evil , i think you should recognize .Plus watch out cuz you might get whats comin to ya .Karmas a bitch trust me I know .

answer

im not interested in making fun of anyone because of their body type. i myself have always been made fun of for being short- so i dont need karma- ive always had that. i dont think many people feel safe in their own skin. but their is not reason to call “skinny bitches evil” either- because noone chooses how they look. ivedated people of all shapes and sizes. initial attraction may be physical but at the end of the day its the people who keep you laughing and talking that matter- no matter what size they are. actions speak louder than words- dont believe everything you hear (even if im the one saying it).

question

hey pete umm i had this boyfriend and he was gettin bugged at school and well he killed himself and it was so hard for me to watch him go like that and i broke my heart cuzz not olny did i lose my best friend but i lost the person i wanted to send the rest of my life with and it bothers me cuzz i loved him so much and every time i hear some of ur song i start to cry and somtimes i feel like killing myself but i just cut my wrists but i dont no how longer i can stand this before i do somthing really stupid and i need to no what to do so i am asking you please dont let me down ur my hero so dont let me down my life is in ur hands now

answer

the truth is, its okay to feel blue and down. especially right after someone you love kills themself. it is confusing and scary. if our music helps than that is amazing and probably the best compliment we could ever be given. but the truth is- you have to know that their are other people who have felt like this before and it is hard but you will make it through it. i mean, you have to. you definitely need to be talking to someone, a friend or your parents. the day after tommorrow could be the best day ever.

question

i have to say that im a bit dissapointed that youre playing at a non-smoking venue in denver…somewhow smoke smell adds to the beautiful concert ambiance (even though i dont smoke…is that weird?)

answer

yeah its pretty awesome. iron lungs and chemotherapy are really sexy. nah their not. smoking cigarettes is so two years ago- and you can tell joe trohman i said that.

question

im really upset about you guys not going to warped tour…why arent you?????????

answer

with warped tour- its supposed to be one year on, one year off- when you play the mainstage. were gonna come out and hang at a couple of the dates.

question

how in the world does andy spin the drumsticks so long…..i am a really good drummer me and my freiends have a band, and i have been tryin so hard to spin it but i get nowhere with it……

answer

its all cgi- we hired the guys who did the last star wars movie and they editted like that. he doesnt even really have hands.

3/18/06

question

Hey Pete, is that dog in the new video your dog? I saw you holding in a picture recently and I was wondering about that. Whats his/her name? Its a very cute dog. =)

answer

its not mine. its bonnie janes. but it does always look delicious.

question

i sleep with my arms across my chest and dream of you with someone else…” what is that a lyric from?

answer

maximo park. go listen.

question

could I just correct you…goats dont eat everything, they make pretty good pets they like chocolate and mountain dew but I havent seen a goat eat say…a tin can. you silly city boy.

answer

i saw a goat eat dirty laundry once. it was gross. like even grosser than when dirty picks his teeth with my comb.

question

hey! i just got home from a party and it was so fun but it got me thinking, whats your dance style/move? love always, princess pat

answer

hide in the corner and laugh at my friends dancing- look at pretty girls and then go home and go to sleep. thats pretty much my only move.

question

hey pete im planning to make patrick a friendship braclet and i wanted to give it him personally im going to the Jacksonville concert should i throw it up on stage(since i have floor tickets) or should i wait around after the show like a weird stalker and hand it to him as you guys are leavn??

answer

meet and greets are the best chance to give him something. throw it on stage but try not to hit him in the eye.

question

Pete what is it like to be on trl?

answer

its like a million people screaming and spazzing and then they realize you are an ordinary boy and its cool cause you just get to meet people and its very relaxed.

question

I just saw the new music video, A little less 16 candles, A little more touch me I was just wondering why did u pic a vampire theme. Also i saw the making of the video on Mtv and why does patrick not wear his glasses when he plays but then he wears them like in “real life”??

answer

because there are actually two patricks. one does his appearances and the other plays shows. its quite confusing. the only way you can tell is: patrick number two has a 2 right behind his left ear- duh- whyd you think he always wears hats?

March 22, 2006

"baby im getting on a plane in a minute i wanted to say bye and i love you..."

its funny the way being young exaggerates everything. when we fall in love or fall apart its all magnified. ive been waiting on a change. ive been waiting for you to not give up on me. i should have bet against myself and thrown the game. its always the same. the same people that are not me with the strange coastal breeze and the strange coastal boys. the truth is even funnier. its slippery. it looks different at 1am than it does at 10am. it looks different two weeks later. you know what the fuck i am talking about. its always new names and numbers. but its the same. and i am dirty, forgetful, lonely, arrogant, stubborn, secretive, and many other things i hear in whispers. but my heart is fucking in it. you could set your watch by it. and that has been thrown out and trashed. lied to. ignored. run away from. i have the opposite of midas' touch. no matter how you spin it- it hurts. words cannot explain- congratulations! you did it again. but being in the bitter boys club just keeps the cycle spinning. so this is me walking away. this is the closure i needed. or close to it. i want to be in love again. she is the start of it- she reminds me of sweet child o'mine and staying up all night talking and the truth and winks that are just for me. there are no futures here. there are no more second chances or arkansas- or wrong text messages. 'the girl i loved never really existed at all'... this journal doesn't really make sense anymore. the purpose i started it for is out the window and out of my mind. this will be the last entry in here. its gonna be okay. "its not that id die for you, its that i already have." next time try telling the truth. Current Music: "wish you were here" pink Floyd

March 22, 2006

i cant believe how i started that last one off. it read so wrong. the last time i felt anything:My wrists are black and blue from bumping the edge of the table next to the keyboard like a punching bag. Im sorry just that’s the only way I know how to get this out. consider it closer to preheating the oven for when I drag the pen across my skin and spill the ink. My eyes black and trembling, sinking like stones. Her hands hold my head back once an hour as I throw up in the sink. The front of the stereo lights up "hello" when it turns on, it’s the only conversation in the room. Every night the alarm goes off at last call reminding me. I leave the house just in time to meet her out in front of the closed bar. Neon lights set free as they are shut off, they now go to sleep without a purpose. We own the edge of the street. I had concerns but they’re wearing off in the moonlight. I tell her I love the angle her hair takes in the shadows stretched across the street, cars plowing through the silhouettes of our torsos. Shes not impressed. I follow it up by telling her how she seems so L.A., she thanks me, though I never meant it to be a compliment. Her eyelashes are black and long- they seem to be the stitching around her eyes, holding all the fabric that is her together. I fight the urge to pull one and watch her unravel like an old sweater. I chew swallowables just to get them in my bloodstream faster. I skip the cell phone and just knock on her door just to get her in my bloodstream faster. I apologize for remembering everything out of order but my mind never was too linear. My head feels full of perfumed air and disinfectant spray. It feels like its been blown up with air but not floating more with an air heavier than the earth’s atmosphere and rolling slowly down the street. My head is swimming in milligram doses. Detatched, maybe this is what it feels like to be her, thinking of me. My last thoughts are of leaves floating in an abandoned pool in autumn. Strange. The way their stems move like fish. My pupils are fucking collosal, and if you could read them they’d be like the sign on a storefront "I’m sorry I have stepped away for awhile". Close the lid of the computer and lay back my head on the pillow blackened by your mascera. There’s people on tv a half a world away that are being blown up for trying to vote and I am complaining when we have diet soda instead of regular on our rider. You probably don’t even know what a rider is, but that’s just proof that you’re focusing on the wrong part of that sentence. Im skidding my shoe along the sidewalk, you’re telling me about your day- only I stopped caring about your days about a month ago. Im wearing your scarf cause I love the way it smells, the weather definitely isn’t calling for it, but it makes my memory feel comfortable. Im always trying to please my memory lately so it stops running off on me. Stop at the corner. We both have our hoods up, I tug yours towards my face. our eyes should always be this close(d), to this day ive never written a word about your lips just because I could never found ones that they are deserving of. And im not one for breaking habits, so I wont now. Fuck it. This isn’t gonna make any sense when I read it in the morning anyway.

- petey

3/22/06 Q&A

question

So, how is the reunion of Landshark 1 and Landshark 2 going so far? xoLC

answer

amazing. weve been riding bikes everyday. pretty much the best kid ever.

question

pete, im confused. in the interview joe said that fob is far from ever being on a tour buss, but sense your van/trailer crashed, wat are you riding in now? xo, sarah

answer

we didnt get a tour bus until about a year after that was filmed. and when we did we shared a bus with matchbook romance- after that weve been riding in a tour bus to write a record but we crammed our entire crew into one tour bus for warped tour. we tour between 200 and 300 days of the year. it is necessary for us to sleep and try to have some kind of home or else we would have to tour way less. it makes the music and shows better. we have also always paid for our tour busses ourselves. we have never taken tour support to do it. not that it needs to be justified because honestly we were in a van for 3 years in this band alone, not to mention the other bands weve done.

March 28, 2006

got some good news. i figured i'd post it here cause some of its kinda fbr related:1. first and foremost. i am excited to announce that lifetime has signed to decaydance (fbr) records. mostly, because the world needs another lifetime record. this is a partnership before it is anything else- and i have an intense respect for this band. how they go about things will be unchanged whether they play 2 shows or 200 shows - or who they record with or what the new stuff sounds like. i am a super fan and its exciting to have the chance to hear new songs! more than anything i hope new kids who are fans of bands from this scene can see where all of us got much of our influence from.2. the clandestine / fender squire bass has been set into motion- i will get pics up asap over at the buzznet. i am thinking that it will be available around the last two weeks of this tour possibly- and we are going to keep the price as low as squire basses are (under 300 - sold at guitar centers for between 220 and 260). i am excited about it.3. off day in new mexico. us and the all american rejects took over a chucky cheese. pictures will be up soon.4. deep breath, smile. dont take it all so seriously (that was mostly directed at me).xo

- petey

3/28/06 Q&A

question

Where the hell do you find apple fanta?? Ive lived in texas all my life and i didnt even know the made that.

answer

its always in dusty bottles and is almost always flat. so good.

question

how come you guys only answer a certain few questions?…oh and is it ok if my band plays your songs practising? btw your drummer is brill, but i can drum to your songs..(nah nah nah) sarah xx

answer

cause 99 percent of the questions are: “will you give me your screenname”, “will patrick kiss me”, “can you tell gerard that hes a hottie”. it is very evident to me that i should move to where ever you are because i would like to use “s” instead of “c”.

question

is your your bus stinky?

answer

yes.

#fall out boy #pete wentz #livejournal

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peppermintquartz · 4 months ago

Text

Buck thought he heard the words, Tommy choking out "I love you" at the tail end of a particularly rough thrust that sent sparks skittering down Buck's spine, but he couldn't trust his ears when blood was rushing through his veins like liquid fire. He pressed as close as he could, nearly breathless with how much he wanted to say it back, but he wasn't sure Tommy understood just how afraid Buck was. Words thrown out in the throes of passion were not always what people really felt. He kissed and kissed and kissed Tommy, shoulder and neck and shoulder again, breathed him in, and decided that, whether Tommy said it or not, Buck could show him just how much he loved his boyfriend.

After the hit-and-run, after seeing how the middle-aged man had come stumbling out of the house across the street screaming for "Mama, Mama", and trying to hide the woman's mangled body from her son's sight, Buck had dragged himself to Tommy's to seek comfort, and received it without a single question or complaint. Tommy just held him after dinner, let him decompress in his own way, didn't force conversation or probe, and when Buck could finally share what happened, finally weep for that poor man who lost the anchor of his whole world, he let himself drift. He felt the touch of lips on his forehead, a murmur of sound. He thought, he hoped Tommy had said "I love you". It would be good to say it back when Tommy needed it.

He had not expected that they would get into a massive row the very next morning over something stupid. An issue of a wrench left in the wrong place, or maybe it was about leaving mud caked on shoes, or something about Buck's new diet. Something Buck did. Stupid, trivial shit. But he was still raw from the day before and he had yelled back about Tommy's paints getting onto the wall, pointed out the three half-completed projects in the garage taking up space that Buck's jeep could use, and shouted, "Why do you give a fuck about any of this?" And Tommy had yelled back, "Because I want us to be able to live together, goddammit! I don't want us to keep fucking pissing each other off and getting into stupid fights, because I love you!"

And Buck just. Stopped. He glared, because that was not how love confessions were supposed to go, and then he had needed to make it clear to Tommy that that was the dumbest thing to say in a fight over stupid shit, and he needed to kiss some sense back into his usually cool-headed boyfriend.

"I love you," Buck told him after the kiss calmed them both down. "We'll deal with our stupid shit later after breakfast."

Tommy took a deep breath, color high in his cheeks. "Okay."

"Say that to me every day," Buck then said. He knew Tommy knew what he meant.

Tommy did. He smiled bashfully, pressed his forehead to Buck's, and said, "I love you. Every day. I love you."

And for the first time, Buck thought he could grow to get used to it.

The first "I love you" was accidental, a gasp borne from overstimulation and exhaustion, and Tommy had not been able to hold back the three words. Evan only thrust all the way home, one long hard sweet push, his chest pressed to Tommy's back, both of them sweaty and hot and far too sensitive, and kissed Tommy's shoulder and neck, buried his face into the space between Tommy's shoulder blades. He had held himself there, held Tommy there, a few agonizing moments, and then he resumed rocking his hips against Tommy's ass like his life depended on getting them both off within the next ten seconds.

The second "I love you" was murmured against Evan's brow when he was sound asleep after a gruelling 48, when Evan came home silent and withdrawn and headed straight to the shower. He avoided Tommy's eyes during dinner, but cuddled close as they watched a documentary on marsupials. As the credits rolled, Evan said the team lost two that day. One had been a hit-and-run driver and drove head on into a semi that raced the light. The other one was the victim of the first crash, an elderly woman who was pushing a trolley of food home to her mentally handicapped son. Evan had cried himself to sleep cradled in Tommy's arms, tears soaking into the older man's T-shirt. And Tommy had whispered the words, heart aching because Evan felt so sincerely for everyone; the world did not deserve him.

The third "I love you" ended a shouting match over something incredibly trivial that somehow had also seemed very important at that moment. Evan had glared at him like he wanted to rip the skin from Tommy's face, before closing the distance and kissing him like he needed Tommy more than air.

The fourth "I love you" followed the third, Evan drawing back from Tommy barely an inch to say it back, his voice shaking and quiet and full of hope.

"Say that to me every day," he told Tommy.

"I love you," Tommy replied. "Every day. I love you."

Tommy stopped counting after that.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley

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hiddles-and-skittles · 3 years ago

Text

News Flash

Pairing: News Anchor!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,161

Summary: Blowjob under a desk? Classic.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, IF YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR PROFILE DESCRIPTION I WILL BLOCK YOU, smut/oral (m rec), a little angst but it's fluffy, mentions of cheating (no actual cheating), the nickname ‘pumpkin,’ reader being a little insecure, also Sharon is a biatch trying to steal yo man, please tell me if there's any more!

Notes: Aaaaaand we’re back! This might not be the most original idea, but I've had this photo saved since the start of my Seb obsession last year, and all I see is newsanchor!Bucky. Not sure if that's an AU that's been done, but it's something I wanted to try. I don't have my own and I've been dying for something new!

***PLEASE READ Something I’ve noticed a lot when I copy from Word and paste into Tumblr; my paragraphs paste out of order? If something doesn’t make sense, let me know. It always looks different on my laptop vs my phone. I’m a perfectionist so I make sure fifty or so times everything’s good on my end, but tumblr doesn’t agree sometimes. In my last fic the banter was out of order and wedged between paragraphs and it didn’t make sense. The ending paragraph was also at the beginning. So I’m begging you to tell me if something doesn’t make sense. Thank you <3

You might have stolen your boyfriend's spare key to the broadcasting station he works at a few nights ago while he was fast asleep, slithering out of bed and tiptoeing around him in hopes he wouldn't wake up. Or 'maybe you lost it in your car somewhere,' you told him, giggling when he couldn't find it. It took three days to hatch this nefarious plan and now it was finally time to execute it.

You made sure to get to the station early; before anyone else could spot you and before the cameras turned on. The lights from several TVs and other equipment were the only things visible in the dark, so your phone light guided you to where the anchors' desk was. This was one of the wildest plans you'd ever concocted, and the thrill of getting caught turned you on that much more. Hell, this is illegal. You might get Bucky fired if you're not careful enough.

But you're sneaky. You know the setup.

The underside of the desk was a deep enough hole to hide your full body and then some, so you push yourself underneath and scoot backwards until your back hits the front panel. You have enough room to stretch your legs all the way out and still not be seen, and if you didn't know better you'd think these desks were built for times like these.

You slide his chair in front of you before returning to situate yourself and read on your phone to pass the time. About thirty minutes and a broken neck later, lights flicker on, the smell of coffee hits your nose, and a whole slew of people briskly walk in with only their bottom halves visible. Immediately you sit up and make sure your phone is on silent, moving out of the way of the chair when he pulls it out to sit his cute little ass down.

You're giddy as a school girl ready to jump his bones but you tear yourself away from misbehaving, knowing the build up would be far more satisfying. He clears his throat to rehearse his intro but cuts himself off to fake laugh at what his co-anchor Sharon says, causing you to roll your eyes knowing damn well you're funnier than she is. You get lost in his raspy, early morning voice, the one that always oozes sex and makes you gush without him ever having to touch you, and moments later Sharon says the routine good morning. He follows her.

"Coming up: A fire wreaks havoc in the city but an unexpected hero saves the day. And are these the warmest temperatures ever recorded for a New York's winter? Stay tuned." The camera cuts and the next spot is cast to a reporter who stands in the street in slacks and a t-shirt. Bucky leans back in his chair and adjusts his tie then takes a sip of water, oblivious that you're under his desk.

He and his co-anchor chit chat and you decide to test the waters by tugging ever so slightly on his shoe laces, but when you get no reaction you pull on the bottom of his pants. His knee immediately jerks up and hits the desk and he mutters a pained ‘shit’ under his breath upon impact. She asks if he's okay and he says something about not quite being awake yet, so she volunteers to get more coffee for him. The second she leaves his chair rolls back and your heart pounds violently in your chest. Curious steel blue eyes widen in shock when he notices your seated form, causing him to nearly topple backwards but saving himself when his coworkers turn their heads to the commotion.

"What are you doing here?!" He whisper-screams, trying not to get anyone's attention. A wicked grin appears on your face as you gaze up at him but before you could even think of a response, Sharon brings the coffee to him and he quickly rolls himself back to the desk. His leg stretches out and his foot lands on your chest, softly pushing you back from the potential line of sight.

They resume talking and the spotlight is brought back to them as they pick up their stories for the morning. You crawl back towards him on your knees and rest your hands on his boots. His entire lower half is completely at your mercy and you'd be fucking stupid not to seize the moment.

Sharon laughs and coos at a video in the background. “In case you missed it, late last night at the Central Park Zoo a baby red panda was born! They named him Roscoe! Isn't he just adorable?” She playfully elbows Bucky in the arm, but seems offended when he doesn’t respond with equal enthusiasm. “Ahem, I said, isn't he adorable, Buck?”

Running your deft fingers under his pants and up his legs, you rake your nails through the hairs that adorn them. His breath hitches at your touch. You continue outside of his dress pants, kneading up his toned calves and sliding over his knees, wandering slowly over the insides of his thighs until he adjusts himself by opening his legs for better access. He then clears his throat to try and focus on his story. One of his gloved hands disappears from the cameras' view and grips onto his chair beside him and he taps his foot as a warning, one you pay no mind to.

You rim your fingers along where his shirt is tucked in and tug him closer by his empty belt loops. You force his legs apart wider and pop his pants button open, leisurely dragging the zipper down and licking your lips when he sucks his stomach in.

You hook a finger in his boxers and pull down, springing out his semi-hard cock, then kiss the inside of his thigh, watching his cock twitch. Grinning like a Cheshire, you huff out a warm breath to tease him, his thighs flexing at the sensation.

Before you proceed you double check to make sure you've got enough headspace below the desk that you don't accidentally knock yourself out giving your boyfriend a secret blowjob.

You wrap your hand around his length and pump until precum starts to drip from the head. What I'd give to ride him in front of all these people, all these cameras, you think to yourself, lifting up to lap at him. The hand gripping the chair moves to your wrist, begging you with a gentle squeeze. You repay the light squeeze on his cock and immediately hear him gasp. You just know how red his face must be as you hear Sharon ask if he's okay, and he responds with a squeaky 'just fine!' You laugh in your head, returning to lick up the thick vein on the underside of his cock. Though it’s impossible to gauge his reaction, his faint, delicious whimpers make up for it as you take more of him in your mouth.

“Uh yeah, Rascal's cute,” he grits out with a fake smile, shifting to sink a little lower in his chair.

“It's Roscoe,” she corrects him stiffly.

“Of course it is.” You see Sharon on the tv behind them shooting him a death glare, cocking her eyebrow in confusion. She straightens her papers and rolls her eyes away from the camera with a smile still plastered to her face. Your hand slides down to roll his balls between your fingers and you kitten lick the slit of his head. "B-back to Steve with the-ah-weather!" He chokes out, shooting straight up in his chair.

As soon as the cameras pan, he's biting down on a gloved hand to stifle a moan while the other is white knuckling the desk right above your head. You can't help but hum in satisfaction, the small vibration causing his hips to jolt forward and the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat. You gag at the abrupt intrusion but begin to relax your jaw, taking in all you can and pumping your hand around what your mouth leaves out.

“What is going on with you?!” Sharon hisses at him. You take him out of your mouth and listen.

“J-just havin’ an off day,” he lies breathlessly, his eyes glossed over.

“Well I’m worried,” she whispers, standing up and bending over enough for her lips to brush the shell of his ear. “You know you can talk to me.” She kisses his cheek and rests a hand on his thigh far too high up for your liking, then reaches her other hand up to thumb his chin dimple. You see red. As she walks away you can see that Bucky is uncomfortable and right now it isn’t from his compromising position.

You angrily go back to him and hollow out your cheeks, closing your mouth tighter around him with your teeth encased in your lips, sucking harder as your head bobs faster. The clicking of joints is heard as his toes curl in his shoes, a clear indication he’s nearing his release. Your focus shifts completely to getting Bucky off. His legs shake and his hips jerk of their own volition in a silent plea to keep going, but you know the best way to drive him crazy is to slow down to the point he thinks he won’t finish. You slowly twist your hand up and down his shaft while sucking his balls into your mouth and his hips stutter twice more, his cock aimed towards your open mouth, eager to collect his release on your tongue. He grunts out a final time as his cum shoots into your mouth, and you smile in victory as you swallow every drop.

From this angle you see him relax, his breathing shallow as he finds your cheek and gently runs a gloved thumb over it. You nuzzle into his palm and quickly reach to stuff him back into his pants, but your mind is brought back to the way Sharon touched him and you try not to grip him in frustration. He intentionally drops a pen and jumps down from his chair.

“How are you getting out of here?” he asks you, grabbing his pen. Your brain can’t even form a response with how upset you are. Is he cheating? Or is she just a bitch? “...pumpkin?”

“Fire alarm,” you snap, not meeting his eyes. He looks dejected with his brows furrowed and eyes searching yours, but he shakes himself out of it.

“Got it,” he nods. He makes a quick adjustment to his pants and stands up, tucking his shirt back in and excusing himself to the bathroom. You finally sit down on your ass and relax your legs, but the thought of Sharon and Bucky together gets so deep under your skin it brings tears to your eyes. The obnoxious sound of the fire alarm pulls you from your anxious addled brain and you harshly wipe at the falling wetness from your cheeks. The office lights flash and the news crew panic and gather their things, but you stay under the desk until the entire room is emptied out.

The door flies open to reveal a freshly disheveled Bucky, who practically leaps over to you and reaches his hand under the desk for you to take. You refuse his offer and get yourself up. “Let’s go,” you tell him, brushing yourself off. Once outside you’re met with the crisp morning air and the sun rising enough to cast a hazy orange reflection on the building’s windows. He takes you to a spot that’s hidden from his coworkers.

“You're gonna pay for that later," he laughs as he tries to pull you close but you shrug him off and fold your arms over your chest.

“Good,” you sniffle, leaning into him.

"What's the deal with Sharon?” you blurt. “Do you...like her or something?" You finally look him in the eyes and he notices how red your face is, your eyes brimming with tears. His mouth hangs open and he fights the urge to hug you as tight as humanly possible.

"What? No, I swear, I've told her I'm not interested, she already knows I'm with you. It makes me uncomfortable, but she just won't stop.” His hands rest on your hips. “I would never even consider it, pumpkin, especially not with how good your lips feel around my cock." He blushes and smiles shyly as he whispers the dirty word, his eyes following yours to look at you earnestly. "Never." You stutter out a sigh and blink away your tears and he tugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your temple.

“You know I love you. She can never make me feel the way you do.” He kisses down your face and you snort, smirking up at him.

“I know she can’t. You just wait till you get home tonight.”

@loricamebackyetagain @jobean12-blog

#bucky x reader #news anchor!bucky x reader #news anchor bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader angst #fluff #smut #marvel fanfic #marvel faniction #my writing #mcu #my fic #I love Bucky #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes

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nephilim-tears · 2 years ago

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❝𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒❞

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 Warnings: F! Reader, Sploshing [food mention], Sensory play, Body worship, Daddy kink, Word count:3k+ ↳ Smut :: Whatever this says about me psychologically I don’t wanna know. Browse my catalog? You are responsible for the content you consume, as always read with care.

Not a shadow lingered under the docile orange glow of the street lamps flickering around the melancholy-blue suburban neighborhood. The still calmness drafted through your windows, it’s the kind of quiet that makes the twinkle of the stars sound louder than the dimming hum of the car engine outside.

Over the news anchors decanting the week’s events, you hear him rustling, one leg at a time, as he hoists himself over the window ledge. His boots hit the floor with a thud after he discards them with quickness.

“Steve?” You ask not even facing him, who else would it be?

The house's emptiness echoes under his feet as he closes the distance, snaking his arms around your torso and pulling you in for a tight hug. He nestles his head comfortably in the crook of your neck, his black leather jacket pressed cold and firm against your skin.

“I come baring gifts,” he whispers, dangling a tub of half-melted Rocky Road ice cream in your face.

It’s a joyous occasion when Steve habitually sneaks into your room but today feels different. He felt different, it’s as if the over-saturated somberness from outside bled through his hazel eyes like blue ink seeping past white pages tainting your fingertips with every touch.

“I know you didn’t drive all the way out here to bring me your favorite ice cream you stole from your day job,” over your shoulders, you smooth your thumb across his soft cheek, “Love of mine, what happened?”

“Got into it with my old man again.” He grumbled, confidence dissolving at your fingertips, “I just needed to see you tonight.” The crack in his voice broke the threshold waning his capacity for tragedy.

Sympathies were in order devoid of judgment, he didn’t need to elaborate, you’re familiar with his father and the nature of their heated arguments. After he escapes the fray, it’s not unusual he comes to seek solace when he’s at his most vulnerable; to stay this close is an act of self-preservation, he knows that.

Together you have fortified barricades around each other and made a home in it, it’s a defense against intruders. And when his crippling self-doubt seeps through the foundation, you take it upon yourself to encourage him to abandon his courage to hurt.

Steve is raw, easily hurt Romantics are often like that, where he sees wounds you see the totality of the man you love.

He backtracks on his decision not wanting you to simmer in unearned misery, “I shouldn’t have come here, I’m getting too complacent and comfortable because I know you’ll readily pick up the pieces.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” your tone sounding more defensive than you intended it to. After a deep breath you tried again, “Steve, in case anyone hasn’t told you yet, you’re enough. I’m proud of the man I’ve watched you grow into. And I am lucky to have known what love felt like in your hands, I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

While he pondered your words, you spoke again quieter than before, “It’s ok to be vulnerable, you don’t need to save everyone all the time.”

“You’ve saved me more times than I can count,” he adds, his voice light and ruminating.

“Oh and your dad’s a dick. Want me to fight him for you?” His charming boyish giggle spilled from his lips. It’s a sound he’s quite self-conscious of, thinking it’ll ruin his rolling stone reputation if anyone knew ‘King Steve’ giggled; You can’t help but disagree.

Steve sighs contently, realizing this was the first time all week since he’d felt a spontaneous burst of joy. Knowing he no longer needed to walk on eggshells, he lowered his guard letting his tense shoulders sag.

You whirled around, then stretched on your tippy toes and pressed your lips to his and the sun against his heat; melancholy-blue be damned. Steve melts green before the warmth of gold breaks through, maybe it was the mental image of you fighting his dad. Or maybe it was the solidarity and security he felt when he was with you that raised his hopes and made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

“I know what’ll make you feel better,” you smile, unwrapping the ice cream, handing him a spoon, and taking a seat on the edge of your bed.

From his crisscrossed position on the floor, Steve rests one hand on his cheek, and the other twirls the spoon between his fingers. Half a pint later he had stopped eating with every intention of leaving the last bits for you.

“Baby, I need to get you new roses,” he said mostly to himself as he eyed the bouquet he got you last week idly. Busying yourself with the ice cream you hummed in approval. Steve had refined tastes, he preferred the classics, red roses—a dozen every date night without fail. Which you’d preserve by your bedside without fail until he buys you fresh ones. Judging by their darkened colors and slumped posture, last week’s had begun to wilt and he thought wilted roses were not worthy of your presence.

Speaking of, his eyes trailed over your figure and fixated on the faintest smile that tugged your chocolate-stained lips upwards. A pink tongue darting from behind your lips to occasionally lick the silver spoon, then coiling back into your mouth. He took note of what you were wearing for the first time that night and thought you looked especially pretty. The dimly lit tv casts a vivid kaleidoscopic ethereal glow reflecting on your skin, your messy hair falling past the low scoop v neckline on your satin cream night dress that stopped midthigh, the—

“Steve”

“Hmm?” His eyes swiftly found yours, the dusty sunset pink spilled across his cheeks like water paint became more vibrant with each passing second, if you were a stranger he’d feel guilty for staring.

Your pinky finger touched your nose and then you pointed to his nose.

“Oh.” He stuck his tongue out trying to reach the stray bits of ice cream but to no avail. His strenuous wiggling motion sent you into a fit of giggles.

“Here, let me,” you bent down and licked it off the tip of his nose.

His breath hitched in his throat and he blinked at you twice not understanding the excitement that had begun to stir inside him. The gesture was so mundane and innocent enough, that you weren’t phased by it, instead, you resumed your original position occupying yourself with the tub.

Your faint “Oh no,” eased him out of his daze, as a splotch of chocolate slid down your chest.

“I got you,” he rose absentmindedly, hunched over your body, and dragged his tongue in one long broad stroke up your cleavage licking the sweet sticky bead. You flinch at the contact of his cold soft tongue sweeping against your warm skin.

Oh fuck.

Startled, he stared wide-eyed at your chest rapidly rising and falling, the area he licked had gone prickly with cold goosebumps from his saliva. “Was that you?” he whispered still processing the motion that unlocked something new and primal within him— the need to devour. Somehow his favorite ice cream tasted sweeter against your skin.

“No,” you swallowed, voice equally soft.

In tandem, your heads swung towards the tv and sighed at the embarrassing display that subdued the frustrating tension. The evening news had long ended, Spice, a scrambled salacious soft core midnight porn channel took its place.

Clearing your throat you wiggled from his personal space reaching for the remote but stopped when you felt a heavy hand rest atop of yours, “Wait no, don’t turn it off, I like this one.”

Slightly irritated you knitted your brows in disbelief looking back at him.

“What?” he shrugged innocently, “If I squint, the actress sort of looks like you.”

Fighting the urge to cringe at his candid confession, you smiled sweetly; he picked his erotic actresses based on your likeness.

As a surge of confidence emerges, you sized the moment, “I’ll do you one better.” You tossed the remote to the side turning your attention to Steve leaning back on both elbows on the bed, “Let’s make one.”

Weighing his options, he concluded it was entirely possible, the video camera he got you for your birthday sat an arm’s length away on your bookshelf, though he couldn’t tell if you were joking or not.

Still skeptical, he narrowed his eyes, “And if someone else sees it?”

“Then you better give them a good show, Mr. Harrington.” The corner of your mouth hooked upwards in a devilish smirk.

From reserve to assertive to now bold and experimental, Steve has watched you grow throughout the duration of the relationship with fascination. Pride swells in his chest as he witnesses facets of your personality only privy to him. Intrigued and invested, he can’t wait to meet the woman you’ll be in ten years.

“C’mere here,” he grabs your ankle and pulls you closer to his body, wedging a knee between your legs. Even though his jeans his firm muscles felt the heat radiating from your skin, he groaned at the sensation.

With steady hands, he reached for the delicate scoop of your gown’s neckline. It was a gentle fit, the lightest of touch at his fingertips pushed the thin silk straps down. The soft material tumbled passively over your breasts, past your thighs to the floor.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” he hovers over your naked body placing a small kiss behind your ear, letting his soft lips linger on your skin.

“Nothing’s in me yet, but you can change that.”

The disarming vulgar suggestion sounded like added sweetener stirred in bitter seduction, he clenched his jaw as his hardened cock twitched in his pants.

Amused, he knows you’ve tasted the power of promiscuity, and while he’s tempted to encourage your boldness; he, unfortunately, calls the shots in the sheets and will not concede without a fight.

Harrington stood back fully cloth at the edge of the bed stretching over the bookshelf to retrieve the camera. After he finished inspecting it he held it in position, letting his finger hover over the power button, “I’m giving you an out, Angel. Take it.”

You rolled to the center of the bed, parted your legs, and beckoned him closer with your pointer finger. His eyes flashed like summer lightning as he mirrors the coy smile creeping up on your lips. “Aw, there she is, the star of this show. My pretty girl and her pretty pussy— my perfect little cock sucker.”

The camera eclipsed half of Steve's face and shamelessly blinked envy-green in your direction at a steady pace, ushering actions forward in steep anticipation. You shuddered at the sight of the lens pointed directly at your naked body flat against the mattress stretched luxuriantly.

Completely at his mercy your ardent lover gradients down the landscape of your exposed form from head to toe.

Immortalizing footage of every crack, of every crevice as he drags a free hand groping your soft skin along the way, occasionally dropping kisses haphazardly. Enjoying the view through the invasive lens that illuminated the edges of your silhouette against the crisp white sheets.

He paused his movements at your core pulling your glistening folds back, and planted a soft open mouth kiss, letting the tip of his tongue brush against your slit. “Dream girl,” he whispered, the lens remained fixated on your pussy but he lifted his head ever so slightly to make eye contact, “I’ve wanted my whole life for you.”

Despite the aforementioned rolling stone persona, nothing about Steve’s love was cheap. You've grown to recognize those frowned brows and dilated pupils as sincerity when they lock with yours like this. Even as the weight of his words and evidence of your dripping devotion lingered on his lips, the earnestness was hard to miss.

Between the stillness of the world, your quickening pulse and breath, there was little room to ponder his words, your mind began to slip into obscurity. Your thoughts scattered and displaced as he strummed the ending strings of your nerves with his thumb like an instrument he had mastered.

Suffocated by the greed that gripped your throat, you gritted your teeth and tugged him closer by the collar of his expensive leather jacket.

The words came out, “I need you,” hushed against his lips, but the kiss meant: Melt into me forever.

Steve untangled himself from you, gently placing the camera on the shelf. The bulky thing stood upright requiring no effort, shamelessly staring at you with its one wide-open eye.

He shrugged off the jacket, then fluidly pulled the shirt over his head, hard biceps flexing and feather-soft tresses wisping at the motion. Tantalizingly slow he unbuckles his belt stepping out of his pants and underwear pooled at his feet.

Hawkins finest tilts his chin upwards, his Adam’s apple protruding with pride. He had every right to be. From outside, the dappled orange light drizzled across his smooth pale limbs. It embellished the tips of his gravity-defying hair casting a halo overhead that snuffed everything from your line of vision as he moved forward.

Sprawled under his weight, you rest easy stirring in his body heat ill with tenderness. Heavy-lidded, your body molding to the shape of his in submission. Was it an accusation or a confession? You did not know.

Dew-like dampness trickled down your thighs in plentitude, as his tip brushes your entrance slow enough to inevitably sow madness. Inch by inch he gradually sunk into you; deep and steady until he drove your last breath in one final huff.

The elegant lines of your neck pulled taught as you tipped your head back grappling the sheets beneath your toes. Wet and willing, you spread your legs further apart accepting everything he’s giving. His head wreathed in clouds of pleasure that struck a lightning bolt down his spine. Steve’s mouth hung agape, awestricken.

Then for your ears only, he grunted, “Who do you belong to, baby?”

“You.”

A reflex answer yet that made it no less true.

Both of his hands reached down to cradle your head, “My girl.” He affirmed, pressing his lips on your forehead.

Safe under his loving gaze, the stretch between your legs burned cinders under the raw skin. As if sun-blind by the heat you closed your eyes, the delicate fringe of your lashes fluttered against his skin.

The green, brown, and gold twilight in his dark eyes studied every muscle pressed against his, charted every breath that left your lips with keen intent till he was certain of respite.

“I— Steve, I can feel you in me.”

“We’d have a problem if you couldn’t.” You didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling, every syllable was taunting you with delight.

“Stop mocking me,” you managed but the words held no sternness.

“I would never.”

He brushed your hair from your neck and skimmed the pads of his fingertips lovingly over your bare skin, “Such a good girl for me,” he praised, “Don’t move. My good girls get rewarded.”

His tone piqued your interest causing your pussy to pulsate around him, squeezing him in anticipation. If you had to describe the type of man Steve was in one word, the word was: Generous.

As soon as the cold liquid skittered against your skin you clamped down harder on his cock and squeaked in surprise. Wide-eyed your head titled to your chest in disbelief, Steve’s smug smirk unwavering as he held the now empty ice cream tub triumphantly.

His eyes reflected a new animality crippled by desire and lust, it remained undisturbed by your surprise. For once you felt like the prey you were in this dynamic.

Milky, sticky, and sweet the mess slowly dripped down your décolletage, his intense gaze fixated on a particular icy droplet that dangled off your nipple's peak. Steve licked his lips then attached his pink pout to the sensitive bud, sucking the sludge off.

You stifled a groan as he lowered his mouth to the valley between your breasts and lazily dragged his tongue towards the base of your throat. Your hands resting at the nape of his neck tugged the hair lightly urging him forward but to no avail.

His tongue circled your breast and tugged the sensitive nipple with his teeth enjoying the plush skin rippling under the released tension. Still robbing you of further friction, bit by bit, Steve licked every last drop of dessert off of you.

Impatient, dizzy, and eager you grind your pelvis closer, enjoying his heavy length when it twitched touching the nerves at the base of your spine to the tip of your toes.

Steve unattached his lips from the spot he was sucking, the patch now varying shades of blistering purples and grunted disapprovingly as he processed your unwillingness to remain still.

“I’m spoiling you,” he muttered.

“Mmm you’ve created a monster, now you gotta fuck it.” You taunt.

He smiles down at you sweetly, “Oh the horror.”

Had it been earlier in your relationship, you would have clung to every last word not daring to disobey, but he was not blameless. He is far too lenient and can’t resist the temptation that is bottled up and flavored: you.

The obedience was fun while it lasted but he preferred you spoiled and giddy, you deserved nothing less. What a sweet conundrum he thought, Steve hopes he never gets used to this—The passion, the devotion, and the banter.

Thus far, this love was pure luck he’s managed to manufacture for himself and that left him in the mood to worship.

Outside of the camera’s frame, he gathered a few loose petals that fell from the bedside bouquet and scattered them along your torso.

Prettily adorned in his affection, the crimson petals glued themselves to the sticky surface of your skin. No doubt creating a blazing contrast to your skin, his skin, and the sheets on film.

In true homemade movie fashion, Steve dragged a petal up your thigh, your hips, waist, breasts, and throat to the highest point of your cheekbones. You hummed delightfully at the sweet aromatic scent lulling you to an even more relaxed state.

He nodded towards the camera, “‘m gonna keep this forever. Trust me, people would pay to look at these.” his hands giving your tits one final squeeze.

When he begins to move in and out of you, the air is thick and warm. His grip on your things pins you closer to him prompting you to lose the sense of separate beings. The supple clay of your skin molded to the shape of his fingers dimpling in his hands. Leaving an indentation that will certainly bruise as proof of his existence for days.

You hooked your feet at the ankles urging him closer, harder, faster — his cock throbbed inside of you, he was close all he needed was a push over the edge.

“Stevie?” you whined over the squeaking bed, unsure what you’re asking for.

“Nu-uh,” he bumps his nose into yours, “Not ‘Stevie’ try again.” He grits his teeth grinding his pelvis in full circular motions into yours.

On command inexplicably, inadvertently you arched your back off the bed rising up to meet his body grinding down on you, threw your head back and moaned, “Aww daddy—”

Steve screwed his eyes shut, the words flipping a switch prompting him to thrust into you with the kind of vigor bound to break beds and hearts when he leaves.

Beads of cold sweat gather between his frowned brows dripping onto your forehead when his tongue found yours. His words muffling against yours, “That’s right. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

“Steve, it’s, it’s too much.” you panted, drawing quick breaths after every thrust.

“Shh, I know, I know,” he coos towering over you, gaze fixated on the ripples of your breasts. “You can take it, I know you can. I’ve seen you do it so many times.”

You dug your nails into his firm biceps for support, “I’m gonna cum,” you squeaked.

“Go on baby,” he grunted, “You first, always.”

In split second the world fell silent.

And it was you alone staring at the blank after image of shock. In the dream-struck night, the stifled sound of Steve’s voice tethered you to a reality developing in fragments as you recalibrate your senses. The ringing static of the TV, the smell of the roses, his cologne, the fluid dripping down your thighs.

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you want me to help clean up,” his voice near your ear from where his head rested, on your shoulder.

“No.”

“Good call, I’ll just fuck it back in you later,” he yawns, feather-soft hair brushing your chin.

Engulfed by silence, Steve lays wary, a fugitive nestled deep inside your body, his skin still flushed red and glowing with sweat. Lovingly you traced the crescent moons you’d dug into his skin earlier and the freckle of stars that littered his back. If it wasn’t for the heavy thump of his heart vibrating against your chest, you’d think he was asleep.

Before you dozed off he whispered, “Let’s runaway, somewhere far away from this town. We can go anywhere you want.”

“You gotta put a ring on it first, mister.” you quipped.

“I got you.”

He’s got to stop saying that, ‘I got you’. He’s got something but it’s not you. And he places it in your chest. You feel it rattle against the bone when he fastens his fingers between the spaces of your gilded ribcage and pulls you closer. What he’s ‘got you’ is an echoing ancient ache. It makes you long for him when he leaves until he comes back and does this again and again and again, no he doesn’t ‘got you.’

You’ve got him.

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