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nicole-timey-wimey-stuff · 7 months ago

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Pretty Little Letter’s

Dbf Negan Smith x Fem Reader

Synopsis - After finishing college you decide to on a gap year to take a breather after many years of hard work. Setting out to travel the country, you promise to write to your dad every week, what happens when his best friend Negan makes you promise to write to him too.

Warnings- No apocalypse AU, dads best friend, large age gap, feelings, love confessions, adventures, reader travelling, reader described as female, mentions of cheating, Negan is the one cheated on in this fic by ex wife, struggles with feelings, I took the John Winchester idea and made Negan a mechanic, obviously not canon at all, vague mentions of sex, but no actual smut in this chapter. There will be in later chapters though so 18+ only please.

Let me know if I’ve left anything out

Word count - 6.6K (sorry it’s a long one)

This is part one of two chapters in this mini series.

_______________________________________

Tomorrow was the day, the day you’ve been waiting for, the day you were leaving for an adventure. After 4 years of hard work and dedication, you had graduated Yale University with honours. You’d surpassed anything you felt you could accomplish, with the amazing support of your dad, who had raised you single-handedly. He has supported you throughout your life from scrapped knees and boo boos as a child, to finishing school with the grades you needed to get into Yale.

It was a dream you’d always had, even as a child. You’d pinned up pictures of the college on your wall, telling your dad ‘one day I’ll be here!’ When you received the letter you’d ripped it open with such ferocity, your dad was sure you’d shred your hands. Only to crumple to the floor in floods of tears, walking towards you he settles next to you pulling you in for a big hug, “Hey don’t worry baby girl, it’s not the end of the world we still have other letters coming, other options. No matter what I’m soo proud of you my darling girl” he cooed. You shook your head no, trying to steady your breath “No d…..ad” you stuttered “We did it, I got in, I did it dad! I got in” you continued through staggered breaths, he reached over and pulled it from your grasp reading the words carefully, his hand clamped over his mouth in shock. He started crying too, pulling you in tighter, letting his tears fall freely.

Being the amazing father he was, hours later he was on the phone with his oldest and closest friend Negan, explaining you’d got in, you’d done it, and if Negan could look for a house up there for you both, Negan lived in a small town in Connecticut not too far from Yale. He’d instantly agreed, finding you a lovely 3 bedroom home only a street away from himself. Your dad had been there behind you every step of your life, and he wasn’t about to let this one be any different.

So you packed up your life, making the lengthy trip from Virgina to Connecticut.

The experience has been amazing, you’ve loved every second of college. You came home every night excitedly animating your days to your dad, and many days to Negan too. He would be over often for dinners, you guys also going over his frequently too, the three of you spent many evenings together BBQs, football games, board game nights, you name it. You’d spent a lot of the last 4 years with Negan, he was a great friend to your dad. They’d kept in contact when he had moved from Virgina with his wife, because she wanted to be able to commute to New York easily. She took to the big corporate job like a fish to water, but she began coming home to Negan less and less, giving excuses about early starts and having to stay in some fancy hotel. Unfortunately one day when he made a trip to the city to surprise her, he’d found her rolling around the bed with her boss.

He called later that day to tell your dad what happened, your dad being the great person he is dropped everything and came up here to be with him, leaving you with your grandma for a few weeks.

After a lengthy divorce he’d stuck it out in the sleepy town, deciding he didn’t want to upheave his life once again. You hadn’t known Negan too well then, your dad called him often and you knew his voice, that deep rumbling voice, from their calls. You’d even answered the phone to him a few times, making polite small talk until your dad could take over. But he’d moved to Connecticut when you were only 2 years old, so you’d never really gotten to know him.

That all changed when you moved to start Yale, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t developed an enormous crush on the older man. Gods was he beautiful, he was funny sometimes making you actually cry from laughter. He was kind, loyal, owned his own mechanics garage, he was an all round great guy, and you had no idea why no one had snapped him up yet. Though secretly you were thankful no one had, because the mere thought stirred an ugly pit of jealousy in your stomach.

But tonight things were perfect, you were having a farewell dinner with the two men in your life, sat around the coffee table on your living room floor, eating pizza, heads thrown back in laughter as you whoop your dads ass at monopoly.

“Oh come on y/n not another hotel” your dad pleads playfully.

“I’m afraid so dad, told you the light blue were worth buying, the houses are cheap to buy, I can get as many as I want” you goad in giggles.

“She has you there man! I’d add another to Euston Road if I were you sweetheart! Finish him off” Negan jests.

“Don’t encourage her!” Your dad grumbles, causing you and Negan to roll in laughter even more.

“You know what I think I will” you reply adding another hotel.

Your dad takes his next roll landing on one of your hotel properties,

“Oh shit man! That’s you done isn’t it” Negan teases. Your dad stands then playfully tips the board over, making you gasp in mock shock before falling into giggles once again, in the moment you end up leaning your head against Negan’s shoulder.

“Right that’s it I’m done with this silly game, who wants another beer” your dad laughs.

“Me” you say, Negan nodding in unison his breath slightly shaken from your head still leaning against his shoulder, like it belongs there which in his mind it does. Man he’s dreading you leaving for a year, every time he thinks about it, there’s a constricting feeling in his heart. He brings his arm around you pulling you closer for a second, taking a moment to bask in your warmth. He gives you a quick squeeze, before moving to start packing away the game.

You watch him with a warm smile on your face, my goodness were you going to miss him. But you needed this, you needed to stand on your own two feet and experience some living. You also needed to get over this silly crush, he was 20 years older than you for Christ sake, he probably looked at you like a niece. He definitely wouldn’t return your affections, so you should go and clear your head. See some of the world, meet people and have experiences.

They always say you discover yourself while travelling alone.

You wanted to see if that was true.

But leaving these two behind would be hard, even if it wasn’t forever a year was still a long time. “So sweetheart your really leaving us tomorrow?” Negan asks, “Yup! Just like Bilbo Baggins I’m off on an adventure” you giggle, trying to make light it it, when in fact your heart is sinking at the thought. “Not gonna be the same without you here darlin’” he affirms, there’s a smile on his face but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and those beautiful dimples aren’t showing. For a second you wonder if he returns your feelings, but that wouldn’t make any sense so you push the idea out of your mind.

Your dad arrives back 3 beers in his hands, “I can’t believe my baby girl is going out into the world tomorrow, you promise to write to me every week yeah??” Your dad asks. “You know I can just text you? And call you right?” You answer, “Yeah you can call too, but I want hand written letters to have a part of you still coming home every week” he replies voice sounding emotional, this was a big step for him you had never been away from your dad before. Getting up you give him a big hug, “Ok dad I’ll write to you every week and I’ll send you postcards, so you can see where I’ve been!” You promise. “Yeah that sounds great baby girl” he affirms.

After your dad passes out snoring on the couch, you clean up the pizza boxes with Negan. While you’ve moved on to clearing up the kitchen he stands in the doorway watching you, “You know sweet cheeks, I’d love for some of those hand written letters too” he expresses. Looking up at him in shock, you ask “Really?”, “Yeah I want to hear everything your doing, plus it would be nice to have a part of you here with me too, like I said sweetheart it won’t be the same here without ya” he replies stepping closer, gently brushing a hair out of your face, hazel eyes bearing into you. “Ok Negan I’ll write to you too”, “Good” he sighs, leaning in he kisses your head wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “Gonna miss ya kid”, “Yeah I’ll miss you too” you reply.

Letting him out the door you say your goodbyes, before tucking a blanket over your dad.

This was going to be hard……

_______________________________________

You’ve been travelling a week now, slowly making your way down south to Florida. You made sure to stop for a few nights at your grandmas, you loved spending time with her, just like your dad she was a sweet soul, and you’d really enjoyed some long chats and a homemade meal.

The last morning of your stay you popped by taking a look at the house you grew up in, you always wondered if your mother had ever stopped by to see you. Missing you because you’d moved away, would she be proud that you’d made it to Yale, probably not. She’s never cared enough to call, she upped and left the day after you were born. Just left you in the hospital, for your dad to find when he came back in after some rest at home. Leaving your dad to step into both parents roles, which he took on without complaint bringing you up in a home full of love and laughter, you were beyond blessed to have been given him as your dad.

With that you tucked those thoughts away, your dad and grandma love you, are proud of you and support you. You didn’t need anyone else, well except maybe Negan.

By the end of your first week you’d made it to the Croatan National Forest, in North Carolina. You decided to stop here and see the sights, maybe do some hiking, some swimming on the coast. You found a cute little beach rental you booked for a few nights, it looked out to the river which joined the ocean. It was peaceful here, kids had all gone back to school and the soft autumn breeze was setting a chill in the air. So the beach was practically empty, with the exception of a few dog walkers.

Dark skies started settling in, greys and blacks filling the vast space, the clouds looked as if they were rolling towards you. A storm was coming which emitted some excitement in you, to sit there and watch them was one of your most favourite things to do, especially if the lightning was close and you could see it crack across the sky.

Settling in the bay of the bedroom window, you looked out at the water, pulling out your notebook you got to writing your dad his first letter. Folding it up you sealed in in an envelope, adding your home address and a stamp. Then you began to write Negan’s,

Dear Negan,

I’ve made it to North Carolina, to the Croatan National Forest. I’m staying in a really cute little beach house, which was cheap due to the holidays being over. I’m currently sat watching a storm roll in, windows open enjoying the breeze.

I stopped to see Grandma on the way down, she sends her love to Dad and you. She still hasn’t changed bless her, I also stopped by my old neighbourhood to see the house. I didn't feel as sad seeing it as I thought I would. I think that’s because you’ve made our lives so much more incredible. I miss you both it’s odd being without Dad for the first time, but it’s also strange being without you too now. You’ve ingrained yourself into my life now and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I think I’ll take a swim tomorrow if the weather allows it, I may even swim in the rain if I can. So there you go, you can picture me dancing under the storm.

Yours truly

Y/N

You sealed the letter, writing his address and placing another stamp. Maybe you poured a bit of how you feel about him in there but it felt good to let some of it out, like it was healing a small part of you.

You ran down to the post box before the rain hit, dropping the letters in and running back to your temporary home. Closing the door just as the torrential downpour started. “Phew that was close” you giggle. That evening you sat in your window watching the storm, the bright lightning cracked above illuminating the beach. Rain pouring and winds blowing, while you stayed cozy eating your soup admiring natures fierce show.

When morning came around it was still raining, though the storm had passed. You threw on your bathing suit and braved the weather, running into the water with a loud gasp as the cool liquid surrounded you. You laid back watching the rain fall from the sky, in that moment you’d never felt so free.

_______________________________________

Back home Negan received his letter a few days later, he’d been checking his post box every single day, like a man deranged. ‘Finally’ he thought tearing open the envelope before he even made in back inside. Sitting down at his dining room table he read your words, smile adorning his features, dimples pulling deep. ‘Ingrained himself into your life, and you wouldn’t change it for the world’ for the first time he allowed himself to hope, that just maybe you returned his feelings.

Was this your way of telling him so? He didn’t know but he needed to find out, he’d have to play this safe though, edge it out of you slowly, god only knows what would happen if he assumed wrong, you’d tell your Dad no doubt, he’d loose you and his best friend in one go, he couldn’t risk that.

Pulling out his phone he sent you a message,

‘Hey sweetheart,

Thank you for my little letter, I hope you had fun swimming and dancing in the storm, though I also hope you stayed safe.

You’ve also ingrained yourself into my life angel face, came into it like a spitfire but I wouldn’t have it any other way either. Enjoy your next week, just make sure you stay safe.

Negan

Xxx

He sent the text, and waited under baited breath for a response. He almost jumped out of his chair when his phone pinged.

Hi Negan

Your welcome, I can assure you I am staying safe, I’m checking my oil and water levels too, as promised. Car is running smooth still :)

‘Spitfire’? I wouldn’t say that! But I’m glad you wouldn’t have it any other way because your stuck with me now.

I’ll send you your next letter same time this week, till then ……

Y/N

Xxx

He smiles to himself once more, you most certainly are a spitfire. But you’re also the best thing to ever come into his life, he hopes one day he’ll be able to tell you so.

_______________________________________

End of your second week, it’s rushed by so fast and you can’t believe your already in Jacksonville Florida. Today your sat on the beach it’s much warmer here, no sign of any autumn breeze and the sunny weather bringing many people to the beach. Your currently writing to your dad again while listening to the soft waves crashing onto the shore. Finishing his letter you once again start writing one to Negan,

Dear Negan,

What a week I’ve had! Can you believe I’m already in Florida? Today I’m sat on Jacksonville beach watching the waves crashing. It’s much busier here and much warmer, apparently there’s a swell coming in tomorrow so I may try surfing. I’ll be sure to send you both some hilarious pictures, of me falling on my face.

I’m staying two nights here in a hotel overlooking the beach, the buildings here on the coast are like mini skyscrapers. I think they may be too tall, it ruins the feel of the place. My next move may be Orlando Disney, I’ve always wanted to go! May even get made into a Disney princess! Because hey you only live once, which one should I go for?

I’m starting to really miss you both, how’s my dad coping? I hope my boys are looking after each other,

Well I’m going to go find somewhere for dinner, speak soon.

Y/N

Xxx

Getting up you brush the gritty sand off your legs, setting out on a mission to find somewhere to post these letters. After exploring a few busy streets, you see it, Bingo! You spot the blue metal of the US postal boxes, slotting in your letters before finding a diner to eat dinner in.

Back home 48 hours later Negan received your second letter, “my boys” he reads, the thought of being yours makes his cheeks flush, and his heart quicken. He feels like a teenage boy again at 52 years old, he’d be yours in a heartbeat if you’d ask him. But he knows it’s out of the question, your his best friends kid, and what would you want with an old man? Your so beautiful and he doesn’t feel he’s got much to offer you at this point of his life. Even so he will allow himself to enjoy these letters, living in a little daydream for a while.

After pacing his kitchen for a good ten minutes he decides he has to talk to you, the words “my boys” still swirling around his head. Giving in and pulling out his phone he sends you a text,

Hey sweetheart

I remember Jacksonville well, I visited about 15 years ago now. I went to a work conference there. Your right the buildings are too tall beside the ocean, definitely not one of my favourite beaches.

Surfing? How did that turn out I’m still waiting on this photo.

“Your boys hey” I like the sound of that darlin. But yeah I’m making sure your dad cooks for himself, and I fixed his lawn mower for him, so your gardens looking a lot better now!

Make sure you continue to stay safe sweetheart, I hope you enjoy Disney, but you don’t need to dress up to be a princess you’ve always been one.

Negan

Ping

His heart is beating rapidly in his chest as he opens your reply,

Hey Negan

Actually I did ok surfing, I managed to stand up and everything lol

Ping

He opens the slightly blurry image of you standing up on a large longboard, big smile on your face. You look so beautiful and so happy.

Ping

So as you can see, not a complete disaster! I went to Disney world yesterday, it was great fun but all in all too many people about. I’ve set off west now aiming in a general direction of New Orleans, as I’ve always wanted to go. I think it may take a week or two to get there though!

And don’t worry I will be careful I promise. You’ll always be my boys

Y/n

Xxx

He smiles to himself you were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

Ok sweetheart

Look at you! You’re a natural! Well I’ll wait with bated breath until your next letter, I think you should send two a week I Think one a week is just too long to wait for sweet cheeks.

Negan

Ping

Ok Negan

Two it is, I’m off to bed now

Night

Y/N

He grins, two letters a week, he feels all important now. He wonders if your dad will also get two letters a week? Or if he really is special enough to be the only one.

_______________________________________

A few weeks pass in a blur, you keep your promise to Negan and write to him twice a week. Not only that you both text constantly and have started video calling frequently too. Your currently walking through the vibrant streets of New Orleans with your phone in hand, on video call to Negan as you show him the current festivities happening. “Look at the colours Negan! I’ve never seen anywhere so bright and colourful, and the musics been incredible.” You ramble off excitedly, “Yeah I can see that sweetheart, I wish I was with you right now it looks incredible” he replies.

“I wish you were with me too, it’s amazing! I’ll have to bring dad here at some point.” You gush,

“Yeah maybe we should all plan a trip” he replies and you nod along, “Yeah that sounds good!”

“So where are you off too next?” Negan asks, “Well I’ve booked to stay two weeks on this women only ranch just outside Austen Texas, so I’m going to enjoy a slower pace for a couple of weeks, I’ll get to go riding everyday and read books in the sun” you answered, “That sounds like a good plan sweetheart, you haven’t slowed down in weeks.” Negan hums, truth be told you were looking forward to slowing down for a bit, it’s been a full on couple of months, and as much as you’ve enjoyed it you’ve burnt yourself out a little.

Back at your hotel room you and Negan chat over video call for hours, you admire him as he throws his head back in laughter, while laying back on his couch. You're sat cross legged on your bed, window open so you can see and hear the ongoing festivities outside, the cheerful jazz music floating around your room.

“I can’t believe I’ve been away two months now, it’s gone so fast”, it hasn’t felt fast to Negan, it’s felt like every hour has dragged on without you home. Nights with your dad are much quieter, and your presence is constantly missed. “Yeah sweetheart” he agrees half heartedly, and you sense the change in his tone. “Everything ok?” You ask, voice laced with concern. “Of course darlin we just miss you is all” Negan admits.

“I miss you too you know, life on my own has definitely been quiet. It’s why I enjoy these video calls so much, it almost feels like your here, like it’s a normal Friday night Just without the beers and pizza” you laugh.

His heart warms at your confession, slowly over these weeks he’s noticed little things. The way you look at him, or the way your face lights up when you answer his calls, your letters have become sweeter too. He allows himself to truly hope, that maybe you return his feelings. He’s in half a mind to jump in the car and meet you on your travels, take you into his arms and lay it all out, tell you how he feels and hope you say you feel them too. But his mind always falls back to your Dad, his best friend of nearly 30 years. How would he take it, would he ever talk to him again? Would he forbid him ever seeing you again? It’s these thoughts that stop him ever taking anything further than flirty remarks, and terms of endearment, but god does he wish he could just take you in his arms, feel your skin against his own as he spends all night worshiping your body like the goddess you are.

“Negan…..Negan are you with me” your voice cuts through his daydreaming, “Yeah sorry sweetheart, must be getting tired it’s past this old man’s bedtime” he teases. You huff out a small giggle “You’re not old Negan” you reply. “I’m 52 darlin, I’m nearly at the end of middle aged” Negan groans, you shake your head in disagree “Nope I don’t agree”, “Well I’ll take that” Negan laughs, “We should get some sleep though, it’s like 1am! Night Negan”

“Night Beautiful”

As the call ends you sit there shocked, that’s new, he just called you beautiful! He’s never used that pet name before, usually it’s darlin or sweetheart. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. You fall asleep that night with the smile never leaving, listening to the distant hum of jazz.

_______________________________________

The ranch is beautiful, picturesque like a postcard. You feel like you’ve stepped into some country and western film, you’re currently sat under a large tree watching the horses gallop about the pens. There’s a few other women staying at the ranch with you, and you’ve enjoyed getting to know them. One is a lot older than the rest of you, her name’s Frances, she’s been cooking for you all and mothering everyone.

It’s been nice, you weren’t used to a motherly woman being in your life. You’ve told her so too, told her about your life and that your dad raised you alone. She’s been a great listener, she brought up her two sons and how she couldn’t understand a mother ever leaving her children, she could never. When she asked if there was anyone special in your life, you’d bitten your lip and done your best to redirect the conversation. After much convincing you’d told her there was a man who held your affections, but he was much older than you. So it wasn’t an easy situation, but she’d told you there’s no age restrictions on love, so long as both parties involved were adults and felt the same.

It lead you to hope, that maybe you and Negan could maybe one day be something. You were starting to also hope that maybe he felt the same way you did, he had called you beautiful after all.

Taking out a pen and paper you began writing your letter’s.

Dear Negan

This ranch is beautiful, even in the sweltering heat it’s like something out of an old movie, there’s other women here too so it’s been nice to get to know them and make some friends.

I’m currently watching this black horse run through the field, he’s almost ethereal the way he moves. He looks so free, no worries in the world, and I fell like I’m witnessing his wildest joys and deepest secrets.

There’s a lovely lady here called Frances, she’s been like the mother hen to everyone. I’ve had many chats with her, especially about mum. She couldn’t understand how she just left me, said she never could leave her children. I do wonder if she ever thinks about me at all? Maybe she does, or maybe she just moved on with her life and never looked back.

I talked about you too, how important you are in my life too. I’ve been thinking a lot recently. Anyways I’ll send another letter soon.

With Love

Y/N

Xxx

After sealing the letter you wondered if you should send it, had you made things too obvious? Maybe you needed too to see if there was something there? With a deep breath you dropped it in the postal box, placing it to the back of your mind for now, before joining the rest of the girls for the activities for the day.

_______________________________________

Just two days later Negan received your letter, reading the words he felt incredibly sad. You were hurting he could tell, he doesn’t understand how your mother left you either, she’d never know how incredible the girl she brought into the world turned out to be.

Because you were, you’re incredible. So kind, loyal, brave with a determination he’s never witnessed before, and you were so beautiful beyond compare. So yeah she was the one who had missed out, missed watching that baby girl become the most amazing woman. Something himself and your Dad had never taken for granted, even only really getting to know you these last four years, he’s seen you change and thrive becoming the amazing person you are today.

He’s glad you’re making friends along the way though, he was worried you were starting to get a bit lonely being alone for so long. Still the thought of coming to the ranch himself and holding you in his arms was so compelling right now, you were sad and he felt such a great need to make you smile, or hold you as you cried. You deserve the world, he hopes he can show you that someday.

His heart lurches at the thought of you talking about him, and thinking about him? Thinking how? Is that a confession? Or just you missing home? He would call you later, see what he can coax out of you.

You were sat on the porch watching the sunset, the sunsets down south were the most beautiful you’d ever seen, the oranges and yellows shine over the whole landscape, painting the buildings and your skin in a warm orange glow. As you were admiring the skies your phone started buzzing, removing it from your jeans pocket you smile seeing Negan's name flash up.

“Hey Negan, how are you? Sorry it’s been a little while since we’ve called, I’ve noticed only certain areas get signal” you explain as you answer the video call.

Smiling at you “That’s ok sweetheart, I understand, you’re out in the sticks no one gets phone signal there. How are you doing darlin? I got your letter today and I thought I’d call you”

“Yeah I’m ok, I felt sad for a little while thinking about mum, but I’ve realised how lucky I am to have the people I do in my life. I have people who love me and some people don’t have that.” You admit.

“It’s ok to feel sad though sweetheart, what she did to you wasn’t right and it’s ok to be hurt by that, but yeah you are loved, sometimes I don’t think you know how much your loved sweet girl, your dad, your grandma, myself, we adore you, you’re not alone not ever and I hope you know that.” Negan assures.

Tears well up in your eyes, you swallow a large gulp before answering him “Thanks Negan I needed to hear that” you admit.

“Anytime baby girl”

A small creak behind alerts you of someone’s presence, “Sorry love I just came to tell you dinners ready, if you’d like to join us” Frances explains.

“Oh yeah please, I’ll just be a moment” you answer, she nods walking back into the barn.

“Well it looks like I have dinner to attend” you laugh, “Ok beautiful, enjoy your dinner I’ll speak to you soon” “Yeah speak soon” you smile, hanging up the phone you stand up and dust yourself off before heading inside.

Frances meets you at the doors with a knowing smile, “Was that him?” She asks, blushing you look downwards, “Yeah that’s him” you admit. She nods before saying “Marry that man girl, if he looks at you like that, and speaks to you like that, you’d be a fool not too”. You gasp “How much did you hear?” She gives a gentle laugh, “Enough. Now come on in and eat” she guides you inside, but your whole stomachs fluttering now, and you don’t know how much you will actually be able to eat.

_______________________________________

It was the morning you were leaving the ranch, you felt sad to be going. It had been such a positive experience being here with these women, you’d made some friends and you have exchanged numbers with Frances, who would love to stay in contact. Hugging everyone goodbye you waved your last farewell as you entered your car, today you’d be starting your trip to Los Angeles. Although you didn’t think you’d want to visit Hollywood, you had mapped out some lovely vineyards and beaches.

Starting the engine you made your way off the ranch and onto your next adventure. Driving down the highway you turned you music up, opening the windows letting the wind whip at your hair, singing along to your favourite song. Determined to enjoy every aspect of your road-trip, including the tedious highways.

You made it as far as the Texas/ New Mexico boarder before pulling into a motel for the night. Once you were settled in your room you pulled your phone out and called your dad, “Hey baby girl! Long time no speak, where have you been! Only one letter in two weeks and no phone calls! I’ve been worried!” Your dad stresses.

“I’m so sorry Dad the ranch had nearly no signal, Negan managed to call once while I was there, I think I found a fluke spot that evening, because I couldn’t get through to either of you again” you explain.

“That’s alright honey, I just worry, you know I do! How have you been? I didn’t know you spoke to Negan, do you call each other often?” He asks, and you can tell the confusion in his tone.

“Umm yeah we talk a couple of times a week I guess, same as you and I talk. I think he likes to know what I’m up too. I’m good yeah thanks dad been super busy though, but yeah I’m having a great time, how have you been doing?” You answer.

“Yeah no complaints here, I miss you though. House is too quiet without you kiddo, and it’s ok I just didn’t know the two of you were talking, he’s never said anything to me. Other then the fact you send him the occasional letter too” your dad explains.

“Yeah I write to you both, as per requested” you laugh before adding “I hope your looking after yourself though dad, and actually cooking? Not ordering take out every night. I do worry about you both when I’m not there, you don’t have the best eating habits” you giggle.

“Hey we are doing just fine! I did a BBQ the other day we even had salad!” You dad defends.

Laughing out loud now you reply “Oh some salad too! Well I don’t know why I was worrying then”

“Oi little miss, I do just fine! I managed to cook for you ok growing up!” He argues playfully.

“Yeah I know dad I know, I’m just teasing, well I’m glad you doing good, I’m going to head to bed it’s been a long day, lots of driving” you admit.

“Ok kiddo sleep tight”

“Will do night dad”

Ending the call you lay back on the bed and sigh, your dad seemed so confused about you talking to Negan, you hope you didn’t give your feelings about the man away? Nah he was probably just surprised. It will be fine, you think.

After getting ready for bed your phone starts buzzing again, you glance at it sat on the bedside table. ‘Video call from Negan’ grinning you answer the call “Hey!”, “Hey beautiful, how is your journey going?” You admire him for a second, dimples showing as he grins through the phone at you, why does he have to be so beautiful, “Yeah it’s going well I’m on the Texas/ New Mexico boarder, in a small town called Eunice I think. I’m in a small motel, I’ll be carrying on towards Los Angeles in the morning” you answer.

He’s walking about his kitchen, tidying up and nodding as you speak. You love the domestic feel to it, you wish you were there with him, just doing ordinary household chores. “That’s good! You’re making great time sweetheart. And at least now you have signal” he laughs, “Yeah there’s great service here, so what have you been up too?” You ask, “Not much darlin, just work. Some poor guy came in last week with a blown head gasket, it’s taking a lot of time to fix it. So I’ve been at the garage long hours this week. Other than that not a lot, Bill is trying to set me up on some date with his wife’s friend, but I’m not too sure” he admits.

Your stomach sinks at that, a date, no don’t go on a date you think, especially not when I’m thousands of miles across the country and can’t do anything to help stop it. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you try to keep yourself together. “Yeah?” You ask, voice sounding way more strained than you hoped. “Yeah, you ok sweetheart?” He asks looking at you full of concern. “Yeah I need to umm go get some sleep it’s late and I’m exhausted” you blurt out in haste.

“Yeah ok darlin, goodnight”, “Night” you answer before quickly hanging up. Tears sting your eyes as you lay back on the bed, harshly rubbing the tears away you sit up, sod this I’m going for a drink, you determine. Pulling some jeans and a jacket on, you cross over the road to the local bar.

Entering the building the smell of stale beer and smoke hits you, wrinkling your nose in slight disgust you sit at the bar, “A beer please” you ask the bartender, who nods at you placing a bottle in front of you.

Across the country Negan can’t get your reaction out of his head. He was thinking maybe the date would be a good way to move on. Because you probably didn’t feel the same as him, he was delusional right? Thinking he saw signs that you wanted him. But you went from cheerful to distressed in seconds, now he doesn’t know, he could always ask you, he knows this. But he also knows he couldn’t deal with rejection, not from you. He sits down on his couch placing his head in his hands as he tries to make sense of it all.

You on the other hand have just stumbled back into your room after a few drinks, and you feel in your drunken state that your heads so much clearer. With the new found confidence the alcohol has given you, you pull out your phone and send Negan a text before passing out on your bed.

Don’t go on that date Negan, please don’t …I love you

The buzzing of his phone he’s pulled out of his thoughts, reading your message he’s sat in shock. You love him? Gods you love him! That’s it he needs to see you. Jumping up he rushes to pack a bag, throwing as much as he can fit in the duffle. Moving to grab his keys, phone, charger and passport. A flight to you will be the quickest way!

Leaving the house he sends you a message back,

Don’t go anywhere sweetheart, I’m on my way! Xx

#negan smith #Dbf Negan #negan x reader #twd negan #negan x you #the walking dead negan #negan fanfiction #negan x female reader #dads best friend #Dbf x reader

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thefallennightmare · 1 year ago

Text

Ménage à Trois-nine

*credit to me(thefallennightmare) for creating the gif. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+ only please, swearing, angst, fluff, kidnapping, torture, violence. M/F/M relations.

Summary: Bucky has a proposition for Reader, something involving Steve. This trio, however, never expected for their lives to change after that night the way it had.

A/N: I believe there will be either four or five chapters left. But I do plan on having a sequel because I've decided to follow the Captain America universe timeline! Tags are open!

Tags(open): @matisse030502 @buckystevelove @floral-recs @inlovewithametalarm @buckies-dolle @cjand10 @matchat3a @kamaria-sweet-writes @pono-pura-vida @miikayywhocares @kunaikunari @mousee555 @akmenia @pono-pura-vida @ezraa-the @kandis-mom

The rain pelted hard against the car as I sat in the backseat, staring at the raindrops that slid down the window. A muted yawn slipped through my lips and I leaned farther back into the leather of the seat, knowing that I still had a while before I reached my destination. Even though I was exhausted, thanks to the long flight, my knee still bounced with the excitement of seeing him. It had been almost two months since I last laid eyes on and kissed him, and my body buzzed with the need to feel him again.

After Steve became the super soldier, the government needed him for something other than fighting the war. I was apprehensive at first when Steve told me about it but he assured me it would only be a few times then maybe by then, they would send him off to fight in the war.

But that was two months ago, and the Senator had Steve singing and dancing on stage to sell bullets or bonds; whatever it was, it was working. So much so, Steve received his new nickname.

Captain America.

I laughed out loud when I first read the flyer I saw hanging in a store window shortly after Steve left.

But what was supposed to be a few shows in New York turned out to be 20 shows all over the country before it went overseas. Steve called me a few days ago to check in and tell me he was heading to Italy to visit some troops there to raise morale. I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice when he told me it would be even longer before we saw each other again.

“I’m sorry, doll if I could change it you know I would.”

The phone call ended in a fight; me accusing him of wanting to do this more than spending time with me and Steve saying that he needs to do this, for Dr. Erskine.

“I don’t think this is what he had in mind when he made you this super soldier, Steve,” I spat into the phone before hanging up.

As soon as we hung up, I instantly regretted fighting with him because I did not know when the next time I could talk to him. I was already in a terrible mood because the letter I sent to Bucky last month got returned to me. After all, he wasn’t at that base anymore. It had been almost three months since I heard from him and my heart was hurting with the thought of if he was alright.

“Miss?”

I broke my gaze away from the window and smiled at the driver. “Yes?”

“We’re here. Would you like me to walk you over to him? The rain is quite heavy.”

Immediately I waved him off. “Unnecessary. A little rain never bothered me. Thank you for driving me.”

Before I got out of the car, I looked around the base camp the car stopped in front of. Even if it was dreary because of the rain, I don’t think the sun shinned much here. Which made my heart ache even more for Bucky. He was stuck in something like this, away from the two people he loved the most.

With a small smile, I quickly darted out of the car and took the direction the driver gave me where I could find him. This trip was a surprise, thrown together by the Senator for Steve's great job.

Ducking away from the rain, I stepped in front of a tent that was assigned to him. He was sitting outside, hidden from the rain with his back to me and I saw him leaning over, sketching something in his book.

“Steve,” my voice came out soft like butter.

He peered over his shoulder, doing a double take when his eyes landed on me.

“Hi,” he said.

I raised my shoulders. “Surprise!”

He tossed the sketchbook inside his tent before standing to his feet, quickly taking me into his arms. The familiar warmth spread over every inch of me as I took in his scent, my hands gripping his back.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked into my hairline.

Still in his embrace, I looked up at him. “The senator was pretty happy with how your little tour is going so he flew me out here to visit you.”

Underneath his smile, I noticed how tired Steve was. The lines at the ends of his eyes were deep and the darkness under his eyes mirrored the stormy skies. The tips of my fingers grazed over his cheek, a frown pulling at my lips.

“When was the last time you slept?” I asked.

Steve brushed his lips across my forehead. “Not since the night we fought on the phone.”

“Oh,” my heart dropped into my stomach and I wrapped my arms tighter around him. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” he said before dropping his lips to mine, capturing it in a long overdue kiss.

This was the longest I had been away from Steve since I first met him and now that we were dating, it made being away from miserable. I missed the way the heat from his body would radiate off of him when he held me at night or the way his lips would brush against mine as his cock slammed into me.

My cheeks blushed at that thought and my core ached with the need to feel him again especially when Steve’s kiss picked up to a ravenous pace, his tongue darting into my mouth with such force it made my head spin.

When we finally pulled away, I motioned to the tent him. “You’re not bunking with anyone are you?”

Darkness filled Steve’s pupils as he shook his head then laced our fingers together and all but dragged me inside. It wasn’t much, only a cot with a blanket and one pillow. His bag lay unopened at the end, his clothes scattered throughout. A table next to the cot had some of his sketchbook and a picture of him, Bucky, and me.

I grasped it tightly in my hand, and a lone tear dropped onto Bucky’s face. It was taken about a year ago and it blew my mind how much hand changed since then. Steve stood behind me, staring down at the picture over my shoulder.

“Do you think he’s doing alright?” I asked.

His lips left a kiss on the top of my head. “It’s Bucky. He’s doing just fine, doll.”

Setting the picture back onto the table, I turned to face Steve.

“Can I be honest with you?”

When he nodded, I continued. “Sometimes when we’re together, I feel guilty. I know Bucky said we can do things like this but a part of me scolds myself for falling into bed with you while he’s somewhere fighting this war.”

“Y/N,” my name came out hushed on his lips. “It was Bucky’s idea for all of us to be together. What we’re doing isn’t wrong.”

I nodded. “I know that and I’m not saying it’s wrong. It’s just-.”

My voice trailed off unable to find the right words for what I’m feeling.

Steve lifted my chin with his finger, bringing our gazes together.

“You wish he was here,” he observed.

“I miss him so fucking much,” I admitted with a shaky breath.

Strong arms wrapped around my hips and I allowed Steve to bring me into his embrace once again, pressing my cheek into his chest.

“I’m sorry for getting so upset. We only have one night together and I don’t want to ruin it,” I said.

I could only stay for less than 12 hours, the Senators ordered.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve admitted with a quiet breath.

Instead of answering, I lifted my face to his and pressed our lips together. It was slow at first almost as a way of remembering how we tasted but soon, Steve’s tongue brushed passed my lips devouring my own. I moaned into it, my hands sliding underneath his shirt to graze over the skin of his stomach. His muscles tensed under my touch before shivers plowed through Steve. My name fell from his lips in a desperate moan. It had been a while since we were together like this which made me pull away from our heated kiss. Steve’s lips were swollen red from our kiss and I was sure mine matched.

“Can we-?” My words trailed off as I looked from the opening of his tent back to him.

Steve’s usual bright blue eyes were darker because of the lust and he nodded slowly. “You’ll have to be quiet, though.”

I snickered. “We both know that’s impossible.”

Our lips touched once more and Steve began to slowly lead me towards the small cot, the back of my knees hitting the side of it before falling onto it with him cowering over me.

My nails scratched at the skin of Steve’s chest, tracing white lines in shapes that made no sense to me but that didn’t seem to bother him. His chin rested on top of my head while his hand rested on my lower back and his breathing slowly evened out.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to your new stamina,” I joked.

Steve chuckled while squeezing me. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Something burned low in my stomach as I thought back to not even an hour ago when Steve had me bent over his cot, cock slamming into me hard and fast while one of his hands was over my mouth to keep me quiet while the other strummed lightly over my clit. The words he groaned into my ear replayed in my mind.

“I bet the thought of getting caught is making your pussy wet. Knowing that any moment someone could walk in and see you bent over taking my cock so well, it’s making you weak.”

When I said nothing, Steve’s hand left my clit for a few seconds to land a hard smack to my ass. My answer then came out in a dragged-out yes.

“Not at all,” I hummed while placing a kiss on his chest.

Ever since he became this super soldier, Steve’s stamina during sex had increased and he could go faster, harder, and longer. It wasn’t something I was used to, even though I had been with Bucky for so long before Steve.

The last hour did exactly what I needed it to; forget about Bucky being away from us. But now that our high had dissolved, I let out a shaky sigh.

“What are the chances Captain America will perform for Bucky’s unit?” I asked.

Steve tensed underneath me only for a moment. “I’m not sure. They don’t tell me who I’m performing for. Only where to go.”

The sadness behind his words made me look up into his eyes. “Come back home with me.”

“I can’t do that, doll,” he sighed.

Knowing that this would only end in another fight, I bit away the words from my lips before resting my cheek against his chest once more. Steve knew I wasn’t happy with his answer but did nothing to reassure me, also knowing the same thing I did.

“I have another show tonight,” his voice broke through the quiet after some time.

I looked up at him again with a raised brow. “Are you saying that I finally get to see Captain America in action?”

Steve chuckled. “It’s nothing special.”

“I beg to differ. I’ve been dying to see how you look in those tights.”

Now Steve’s brow raised. “Oh, yeah?”

I nodded while rolling on top of him, his large hands sprawling over my back. It was already a tight fit for the both of us on his small cot because of the size of him but Steve was fast to make our new position comfortable.

“Do I have to beg you to wear it one night in bed?” I questioned.

Steve’s cock twitched underneath me, the head of it brushing against my folds. I let out a breathy moan while my eyes fluttered shut.

“Doll, you never have to beg me for anything,” he groaned into the crook of my neck.

A quiet cough from the other side of the tent caused Steve to roll me off of him, hiding my bare form behind him. I peered over his shoulder at the redhead who stared straight ahead at Steve’s chest and then down to the blanket that hung loosely on his hips. Thankfully, it covered his bottom half.

“Fuck,” he cursed.

Peggy’s lips pulled in a tight line. “Clearly.”

My eyes sliced into her not liking her tone.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” I asked.

She motioned to the tent. “How can I?”

Steve knew I was a few seconds away from launching myself over him to give Peggy a piece of my mind so he placed a hand on my hip.

“What do you need?” He asked her.

“I wanted to see how you were doing but seems as if Y/N beat me to it,” Peggy said.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered into Steve’s bare back.

“I’m fine, we both are. Is there anything else?” He asked while clutching the blanket closer to his hips.

Peggy nodded but made no effort to leave.

“I heard that the last show was rough.”

Steve shrugged. “They would rather have seen the girls.”

“Well, it’s been a tough time for the men. They’ve lost half of their unit in the last attack. Who you saw earlier was the rest of the 107th.”

At her words, my spine straightened as I sat up in bed holding the blanket against my naked body.

“Did you say the 107th?”

The question came out shaky and broken.

Steve was also sitting up in bed, his shoulders rigid.

Peggy looked between us unsure why we were so upset with her words before nodding. My ears filled with what felt like blood as the noises from the rain outside faded away, my thoughts tangling together.

The 107th? This was Bucky’s unit. This entire time, we were on the same base as Bucky and didn’t know.

“Did you know?” I quietly asked Steve.

He was quick to shake his head. “No. I didn’t see him in the crowd either.”

My heart fell into my stomach when I slowly realized what that meant.

“I need to talk to Colonel Philips,” Steve said while slipping his briefs back on underneath the blanket.

I sat frozen on the bed with fear filling my veins, as I thought the absolute worse. If we were on Bucky’s base camp and he wasn’t in the crowd earlier during Steve’s show that must have meant they captured him.

It was when Steve, who was fully dressed now, placed my clothes from earlier into my lap and then grasped my chin between his fingers.

“We won’t know until we talk to Colonel Philips. Get dressed.”

I blinked, coming back to reality, and nodded. Bucky was heavily on my mind now more than ever before and I needed to know if he was alive.

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neonovember · 2 years ago

Text

Bruised Knuckles

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

9K words

a/n: this one is a really long chapter, I went a little overboard, maybe this makes up for my procrastination

The whizz of a snowball blurs crystal white from the corner of your eye as your feet crunch across the gravelled road, the breeze of melting ice from the summer heat just misses you, and for a second you think- he's going to hit you for real

You can hear the barrelling of shoes behind you, and you know he’s advancing. He makes it really obvious when he tries to send an outstretched hand towards you, attempting to trip you, you laugh maniacally as you slip past wavering fingers.

“You gotta be a lot faster than that Rogers!” You howl it into the wind as it takes it, and the grunts of running are heard behind you as you slip through the alleyway into the trail that leads to the pine forest on the edge of town.

“C'mon, that’s not fair!” Steve shouts after you, turning your head you catch his staggering frame, hands pressed into his knees as he bends over, huffing and puffing as if the world didn’t have enough air to fill his lungs.

“Hey, you’re the one with the so-called impeccable aim” You tease

You slow down your pace as you feel the wind ruffle your hair, it’s summertime and you drink in the syrupy goodness that comes with evenings in daylight. The broad pine trees tower over the both of you, leaves and sprinkles of birch fall from the tops and settle around you as you lean against a tree. You would never get used to this, the earthy smell of some thousand-year-old monuments, the laughter of Steve’s voice. Never.

“God, I wish I could just stay here forever”, You whisper to him, eyes glossing over the clearing you both arrived at, an ingrained letter of your initials in one of the trees to the left, a fire pit surrounded by rocks, now ashes and dirt.

“We could, you know we can” Steve’s voice comes back, between awkward breaths of lung-filled air.

“Yes we could, we could, but then we’d just be like our parents, stuck in a town that’s stuck in the past. God, I know my father would never forgive me if I ended up like him” You say solemnly, kicking a stone at the base of your aged converse.

“Come with me,” Steves says suddenly, and you look up to see his staggering form leaning across a tree. His breathing seems to be back to normal, as he walks towards you. Suddenly though, it's your heart that has begun to thump loudly behind your ribs.

“Huh? What- What do you mean?” You ask bringing up a hand to wipe the perspiration settling uncomfortably on your forehead.

“Let’s go, me and you, right now. Let's leave this town and everything in it for good. Your mom, my father, fuck, everyone” Steve urges, his hands wavering around his words, he's never been afraid to look you in the eye, but now his focus is anywhere but you. God, he couldn't do this without you, he needed you, and now he was praying to the heavens you needed him just as bad.

“I-“ You begin to form your reply, before forcing Steve's chin to face you, he had grown a whole foot taller over the winter and it was awkward to reach up at him at such a low angle.

“Look at me Stevie” You plead, and all it takes is the sound of your calling for him to do anything you ask him to.

Steve’s cerulean blues watch you closely, the burning feeling of anxiety and trepidation spilling into his stomach as waits on your every word.

You begin mouthing words, your eyes shining with an expression his only since one before, but he isn't able to understand. Like his dove into the deep end, your words are muffled and unintelligible, you look at him then, confusion lacing your features. You look at him like he’s turned into an alien, and he can't fucking hear you goddamnit. You mouth those same words, yet they don't reach Steve, hitting the surface, unable to penetrate and find him.

The edges of his vision begin to burn a dirty orange, and the pine trees surrounding the both of you begin to melt. The bright orange storm of a wildfire burns behind you, lighting up your features like a beacon. Steve begins to scream, he tries to scream, he fails to scream, he reaches for you, shaking as he nudges your shoulder to look behind. The confusion on your face increases as your eyebrows furrow and a shivering fear wraps itself around Steve's spine, as the fire edges closer and closer.

You're not listening, acting as if nothing has happened as the heat drips down Steve’s back, a feeling of grief washes over Steve as he realises your going to die out here, in the town you hate, you're going to be buried 6 feet into the dark dirt of this place for eternity.

And for the first time, Steve panics. He can't speak, he can't move, he can't save you. He's a little boy again, hanging onto the last bar of the monkey bars as you cheer him on from below. But no matter how far he stretched out his hand he can't reach it, he can't reach you. And those same hot tears spill down his face, dripping down his neck, dirty and humiliating and fucking weak. The flickering tongues of the wild forest fire wraps itself around the pine trees, and before Steve can reach for you, before Steve can even scream, you're engulfed by the formidable inferno, and like a flame to a photograph, you’re gone.

Just like that.

-- -

Steve wakes with a shivering sweat, his internal furnace staining the sheets as the glistening perspiration slides down his back uncomfortably.

The sun is just peeking through the fluttering linen curtains, and Steve reaches around to place the fallen alarm clock back onto the side table. It seems it was knocked during his slumber, his slumber. You had begun to seep into his mind until you began to stain even his subconscious, confronting him with past memories that seemed like mirages all these years later.

There were ginormous, those pine trees that towered over the edge of town, he remembers how they seemed like giants compared to his sullen form. In a sense, Steve admired them, they were resilient, to man-made destruction, against the forces of nature, they stood still and remained unchanged, he doesn't doubt they would be the same even now when the both of you had changed so much. He doesn't doubt those engraved initials would still feel the same against his thumb, even if Steve felt something akin to betrayal when you had scraped both your initials into one of the birch trunks.

Those pine tree roots that sprung beneath the surface that travelled for miles, seemed to interlink the both of you, wrapping themselves around you until you both would be forever joined, somehow, even thousands of miles away. Steve would never escape their grasp, he could never escape you, no matter how hard he tried he was nothing against the monumental giants of nature.

A burn of nostalgia and regret begins to unfurl in Steve's stomach as he begins to piece back the fractured parts of the dream that had slowly begun to slip between his fingers. He's reaching desperately, hopelessly, reaching for them, grabbing at scraps of years where he wasn't always so mad, so exhausted, so indifferent.

It had been years since his mind had reopened the memories from his childhood, and it is with caution, those times were locked in a chained drawing cabinet, filed impeccably and thrown into the Mariana trench and left to rot. There wasn't time, and money to waste on nostalgia, not in the life Steve had chosen for himself, not after those same hands reaching for that chest were blooded and raw with sin. No, no, those memories were long tainted, there was no point in digging up old graves.

The bleeding red digits indicate it's far too early in the morning, and therefore just the right time to get up, for Steve Rogers, at least. The crumbled and sweaty sheets are left haphazardly on the bed for the in-house maid to clean, and Steve wastes no time jumping into a cold shower to wash off the uncomfortable reality of his past.

The activities from last night still seeped into his blond locs, across his chest, and between his fingers, and Steve grumbles as he recalls the waste of space and energy that informant had been. Steve turns the water a scalding hot and the nostalgia, memory and fevered dream of you is washed down the drain along with the dirty red specks of blood and dust that were still stuck to the edges of his skin.

He just needed to talk to you today, and use this poorly organised meeting to clear his head. If he set boundaries, if he set an endgame then it would be easier to de-attach himself from the grasp of contingencies. Steve wouldn’t make you a liability, he couldn’t, he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he did.

The clank of Steve’s cuff links roll across the chestnut drawer and they remind him of the years with his father. The red and white pills rolling across the rotting wooden floors of the home you wouldn’t call home. His snake eyes and silvery skin seemed to pale and scale each day that passed. Steve shakes his head, muttering as he clicks them into his cuffs. As far as he knew, his father was as good as dead. To him at least.

His fingers grasp the keys to his car, they jingle in his broad palm and he pockets them swiftly, the ring of his cell phone resounds through the quiet room and Steve reaches for it quickly. A call this early in the morning meant one thing and one thing only, what had occurred in the night was not yet finished, seeping into the safety of the morning light.

Steve nods along to the gruff voice sounding from the receiver, a hand coming to push back his fallen locks, leaving the room Steve enters the Manor's kitchen space.

Bucky is perched on one of the silver stools, sipping on a glass filled with what seemed to be orange juice, but with closer inspection was clear to be all parts liquor with a splash of the citric acid. God, alcohol this early in the morning? Steve ought to get Bucky a therapist.

Bucky senses Steve's presence before he even steps into the room, eyes trained on his figure practically hugging the cell phone perched between his ear and shoulder. A puzzled expression fills Bucky’s face as if to say ‘What are they saying?’ And Steve waves him off as he takes the steaming cup of coffee waiting for him on the ceramic countertop.

The kitchen is soundless this early in the morning safe for Steve's peaceful sips and Bucky’s fervent gulps, and a few minutes pass before Steve ends the call abruptly, a grim expression overtaking his features.

Bucky stands at attention, his eyebrows raising as he awaits steves explanation for such an early call.

“Got some trouble from the east end, some low-level goons messing with some of our men. One of the guys wants to meet up to talk ownership over the east side docks.” Steve replies, throwing the cell phone onto the granite counter, it clatters and bounces for a second before it settles in the corner.

“Isn’t that owned by, ya know, our runaway girl's husband?” Bucky replies, pushing against the counter to get up and walk towards Steve.

Steve nods, hands bent across his chest as he leans against the counter.

“That��s what’s confusing, Micheal, you know the guy? Short stoic and always a little on edge? He’s saying that Matthews is willing to talk about some sort of alignment. Make that area some fort of peacekeeping, owned by the both of us” Steve replies.

“It’s not bad, both of our men up there would mean the problem of those pocket-picking gangs would be solved, less of a strain on us” Bucky nods along, before adding

“But, Micheal, he’s-, he isn’t really known for being the most reliable ya know? Gets you caught up in the details, blows them out of proportion and leaves too many loose ends” Bucky reasons, his body now across from Steve.

“It makes sense though, those rising groups haven't just incapacitated our operations, Matthews is suffering from their outstanding resilience to incapacitate them. But you’re right, Micheal can’t be completely trusted, that’s why I need to talk to some contacts and see what’s been seeping into conversations underground. Either way, I need to check on our men up there, see if everything alright” Steve sighs, mind reeling over the impending tasks on his mind, but most importantly you.

“You were meant to see her this morning, right” Bucky smirks as if reading Steve's mind from across him.

“Told her we’d iron some things out in the morning, promised to pick her up. This thing I’ve done, I don't want it to be for nothing Bucky, and I don’t want to go back on my word” Steve says solely, checking his phone for the 3rd time for your call.

“I need you and Sam to fill in for me,” Steve begins

Bucky nods before whipping his head to face Steve’s

“Sam? Why does he have to come, I'm perfectly capable of talking to her by myself” Bucky grumbles, and just like clockwork, Sam comes strolling in, his shirt rolled up to his forearms as he dusts off the specks of blood littering his chest.

Bucky looks towards the man in disgust, eyes rolling at the displays of violence clearly sprayed across his body.

“Really? Do you have to walk around the house looking like you've just come from massacring a family of 5?” Bucky groans, going to plunk his glass into the sink.

“Who’s to say I didn’t” Sam replies, a mischievous grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, as he bumps into Bucky, pushing him to the side with his hip as he washes off the grime covering his fingers.

“Let's face it Bucky, you’re a bit…intimidating.” Steve trails off, amusement on his face as he watches Sam groan at the discovery of a stain ruining his dress shirt.

Bucky swirls his body to face Steve’s, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Inti-intimidating? There’s a man in this room with blood-stained cuffs, and I’m the one who’s intimidating?” Bucky sputters

Steve shrugs his shoulders, a whisper of a smile etching itself on his face.

“You just have this lone wolf thing about you, it scares people off” Steve murmurs thoughtfully as if he’s been analysing Bucky’s palatability before.

“C'mon, she was practically telling me to piss off the last time I talked to her, she out of all people can handle a Barnes”. Bucky replies, an annoyed expression on his face.

Steve bristles at Bucky’s comment, for some reason, a fuelled hatred fills his chest at the mention of you having to ‘handle’ anything.

“She’s already agreed, there’s no need to intimate date her further, besides, from what I’ve heard it seems she’s the one intimating you both” Steve lets out a comical laugh, swiping his phone from the counter and shoving it into his suit pants.

“Guess it’s a road trip?” Sam replies, before dodging an incoming plate thrown at him from the hands of Bucky.

“I swear to god…” Bucky replies gruffly, shouldering in his suit jacket before pushing past a snickering Sam

“Hey-“ Steve calls, his voice a little lower than moments before. Bucky’s stiff back turns slowly at the sound of Steve’s suddenly baritone voice that bounces through the swallowing hallways.

“Don’t scare her, try and be- just don’t show her your daggers or pull some stupid shit, I mean it. She’s different, I mean she was practically inducted into this life but she was always kept hidden, ya know? Never knew how deep it got” Steve says, the icy expression that morphs his features into the dark formidable creature he turns the air around them a frosty cold.

Both Sam and Bucky nod, they understood a command when they were told one, and this one seemed as if Steve’s entire being was hanging onto it.

— -

It's well into the morning light when you finally rise from your slumber, the beating heat slipping through the cracks of your blinds. A sense of anxiety rushes through you as you realise you’re late to work, clamouring out of bed and ending up on the floor.

However the sound of the neighbour kids bustling footsteps through the apartment complex eases your worries, it’s Sunday. Your well-earned, and only, day off.

You lay there, on the dusty carpet of your bedroom floor, and drink in the bliss of a day without a multitude of tasks that needed to be completed. Your legs ached from the turbulent labour you’d that had been forced on you daily for a job you knew didn’t pay for the work it took. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it, you'd only just ends up in a spiral of depression and regret you don't know you could pull yourself from. What you did need was coffee, you think you might collapse back onto the floor if you don't get that liquid gold in your body.

What can you say? Old habits die hard, for you, it was caffeine and for your husband it was knuckles on skin.

-- -

Your shower lasts less than the amount of time you have warm water, which is about 15 minutes. Not nearly enough to wash the grime and dirt that was always stuck to the back of your ears or other inconspicuous cracks you’d only find after the water had drained out.

It’s when you're pouring yourself a steaming brew into your favourite mug when you get the text. Your phone lights up, illuminating the small kitchen darkened by the black-out curtains you’d bought to keep the sun out. You can't help but grow audibly as you fear that your one day off would be interrupted by your boss’s demand for you to come in. It wouldn't be the first time she had thought you lived breathed and slipped on her every beck and call.

Flipping to the screen side up, your heart hammers loudly against your rips when you are confronted by an unknown number outlined in dark text

Something came up, Sam and Bucky are gonna come pick you up?

Steve.

You should be thinking about how he had found your number, or who this Sam is, but all your mind reels at is his apparent absence. Hell, you don’t know why but your heart sinks at that. You had thought that maybe, stupidly, you'd find out why he truly wanted to help you, use this meet-up to determine what his endgame was, and quell the what-ifs and questions that had been swirling around your skull since yesterday.

It was foolish really, to think that he would just open himself to you, that he wouldn't don the same mask he wore when he was ripping off drug lords and executing their men. You were simply another source of information to him, nothing more, nothing less. At least this way you knew where you stood.

Your phone begins to light up as the bubbles of an incoming text display on the grey chat.

That alright?

He's asking for your permission? You can’t help but laugh, it erupts from the depths of your stomach and escapes through your mouth. And without even a blink of a second, you bent over, loud laughs leaving your mouth uncontrollably as hiccuped tears run down your cheek. The man who had no less than shown up at your workplace followed you home, and send his men after you were asking for your permission. You knew it meant nothing, you knew he would still send them anyway, he just wanted to make sure you did too.

You snatch your phone from the laminate counter, scoffing as you type out a reply,

Perfectly fine.

It was NOT perfectly fine, but you’re too tired at this point to argue, a little talk wouldn't ruin your day, and most importantly he wouldn't ruin your day.

Plopping yourself on your velvet couch you wipe the fallen tears stricken on your cheeks, you still had your coffee. Maybe you could throw that at him, he may be a formidable monster that dominated the criminal scenes of New York, but he was still human, and coffee was still fucking hot.

-- -

You watch Bucky and Sam pull into your apartment before they do, it wasn’t hard, a car like that in a place like this stood out like a sore thumb, you wouldn't doubt by the time they'd dragged you out of your home that they’d find their tires missing.

A smile lights your face at the thought, now that would be funny.

They exit with the car still running, donning tailored suits that clung to every dip and stretch of their body. You don't wait for them to knock when you catch their heavy footsteps pounding against the concrete balcony, maybe if they thought you weren't home they would just leave you alone.

You remain huddled into your coach, watching their tall shadows move about the front of your apartment. They wouldn't try and break in right..?

There is a hurried knock that causes you to jump involuntarily, and it is soon followed by a bellowing baritone voice that seeps into the cracks of your plaster walls.

“Doll, we ain't got all day, and I know you’re in there so why don't you be a pretty peach and open the door?” Bucky’s voice causes you to bristle, and your teeth press into your bottom lip nervously. There is a sliver of dominance in his voice that doesn't quite reach the surface. Enough years and you learn when someone is trying to hold back.

There is a rummaging of clothes before Bucky begins to speak again,

“This look like some reinforced steel Sam?, How about tripe pane glass?”

A man's voice soon follows, replying with a chuckled no.

“You hear that doll? Your door isn't some reinforcement against us, it won't protect you, I figure I could bust it down with the tip of my foot. Now I don’t think your neighbours would quite like that disturbance this early in the morning hm?” Bucky’s voice is muffled by your door, but you can tell he's stepped closer, his lips pressed into the crack between the door and your hallway wall.

“Am I right doll?” Bucky reiterates, his voice deepening a dangerous octave, the kind that probably gets him what he wants, no questions asked.

Your eyes travel to your apartment door, the paint chipping off the sides of the wooden frame, dust falls to the bottom as Bucky taps his foot against it, chuckling at the pitiful sound it makes in return.

Yeah, your door is practically a pillow against them.

You cough loudly as you attempt to form a reply, the words getting caught up in your throat

“Yes, I'm coming, just, just don’t break down my door please” You finally let out, you hope to god you sounded the least bit content, but as you fumble with the door handle you know there remains a tremor in your voice.

One last swift turn does it, and you open your door swiftly.

They is a short moment that passes, where they both seize you up again as if you'd changed from those days before. Bucky eyes wander behind your shoulder, practically scrutinising the contents of your home.

“For your information, this door has withstood a grade A snow storm,” You say, your hand resting on the corner of your door,

Bucky flashes you a sickening grin, his canines shining against the morning light. The man beside him is just as tall, only a mere few centimetres below Bucky, his suit stretches against the expansive muscle of his chest and shoulder, and with the veins running up his arm you don't doubt that he could quite literally crash you with his bare hands.

His stance is domineering, and his short black hair makes him look infinitely more lethal. He looks the picture of the men who work for your husband, and occupy the hallways of your home at all times, however, there is one defining difference. His eyes. Even whilst they are a deep earthy brown the kind shadowed by trees and left in the darkness of the underground, they are soulful.

They carry a hidden kindness, even if they may be muddled by violence and bloodshed, it is still there. The sliver of humanity that separates Sam from the thousands of men you've encountered, those men of your husbands whose fox eyes watched your every move, surveying you, scrutinising you as if to find a reason to hunt you down.

You never found peace in that home, for your every move was watched by cameras and hundreds of pairs of scrutinising eyes that were bought with money that was caked in blood.

‘Do you want another minute to judge my apartment or can you shove me into the boot of your Mercedes already” You sigh, grabbing your bag, and throwing in your phone and a jacket.

“Your lead, and for your information, it's a Maserati” Sam chuckles edging closer so he whispers it into your ear. A shiver runs down your back and you fix your shoulder, locking the door behind you as you walk down the concrete steps that crumble beneath your feet.

Sliding into the backseat, you don't notice the way their eyes linger on you, watching you from the review mirror as your gaze travels across your apartment and neighbourhood, the kids are still playing some game of ball, the basketball aged and torn apart from its frequent use, the old man at the bottom of the stairs is resting on an armchair, smoking a cigarette you've told him countless times will contribute to his death.

You bid them farewell, as Bucky turns out of the parking lot, the pine trees towering at the edge of the road blur a green and brown as you let the scenery around you consume you. This side of the city can be beautiful when it wants to be, when the morning dew hasn't yet fully melted, and the blanket of security covers you just for that moment.

You don't like to, but it reminds you of your childhood strangely, the trees and the way the sunlight shines through the branches. You don’t quite know why, it presses into the edges of your mind, like half-memories, like a big chunk of your mind has been cut open and taken out. There's a searing pain whenever your mind travels to those years before, a white-hot burn whenever you think too hard about it. So you don't. You close your eyes and rest your head against the leather seat, with two pairs of eyes watching you the whole ride.

-- -

Your body moves along with the twists and turns of the route Bucky follows almost mechanically, Sam had gone into a rather long phone call, the cell phone perched between his head and shoulder.

The terrain has changed from the concrete skyscrapers of Brooklyn, venturing into the natural scenic roads separating the buzz and hum of the city that was always alive. You hadn't travelled or even explored much since your settlement in Brooklyn, so much of where Bucky was taking you was unknown to you, you would’ve liked it, you think. If you weren't on the run and had notches of your past scorched into your back. Maybe in another life, you would've spent your twenties backpacking across the states, an ocean blue van that would be your home.

Now though, it takes everything to push the rising anxiety back down into your chest and not have a meltdown in the back of Bucky’s car.

As the smooth city roads turn into fragmented gravel paths you shift in your seat, edging closer to the window, your eyes watch the world around you evolving into the nature that once replaced New York, Bucky almost senses your wonderment, and quietly pulls the window down an inch or two. The scent of sea foam and wet dirt waft through your hair as you breathe it in, you reach out with a hand, letting the soft wind from Bucky’s press of the accelerate twirl and glide between your fingers.

You catch a pair of eyes watching you closely, but before you can look up they’re looking away, back to doing what they once were before.

The speed of the car begins to slow down, and Bucky turns into a dirt road surrounded by forest trees. A sense of unease fills you before Bucky drives up to a clearance, the shrubbery and foliage clear up to some sort of national park. A long lake snakes around the rocky mountains, hidden behind the same deep brown trees towering over the sides of the road.

There is a car park towards the front, in which Bucky pulls into and parks swiftly, your gaze travels across the park, a wooden sign at the front is carved with the name of the clearing, some founder or explorer you had probably learned in 8th grade but is forgotten at the back of your mind. A map is attached below, along with the phone number of the park ranger closest. Triangle-shaped yellow signs warn hikers of the habitual animals that roam the parkland, and you smile as a figure of walking ducklings urge drivers to be wary.

There are a few cars parked around Bucky’s; a large red minivan with aged and peeling bumper stickers attached to the back, a dark black jeep, and a small sedan with one of those stick figure family stickers at the back.

You don't wait for Bucky or Sam before opening the door, the crunch of your sneakers against the gravel path.

“Wait a sec” Calls Bucky, you look behind your shoulder to find him rummaging in the backseat of the car, before shutting it and jogging up to you.

“Sam’s gotta finish up with something” Bucky explains as you catch Sam half smile as he continues with the phone call. You and Bucky must seem out of place, him with his perfectly tailored suit and you with your lazy Sunday outfit you pulled from your laundry.

Bucky leads you both to a park bench, and as you being to settle down Sam pops up, sitting across and joining Bucky, shooting you a quick apology.

“So, since you've agreed with this... arrangement, we've got to set out some ground rules and finalise a few things” Bucky begins, taking out a few papers with typed-out paragraphs of jargon you probably wouldn't understand.

“Do I need a lawyer..?” You ask as you eye the printed documents sitting across from you.

“It's all a formality, Steve.. he uh, he likes to be professional with his dealings is what I can say” Sam chuckles, crossing his head

“In exchange for your voluntary participation and the provision of sensitive and confidential information, Steve will provide you with fully serviced protection and surveillance of oneself and accommodation. Basically, me and Buck will come around each day to check everything is in order, and one of our men with be stationed at your apartment” Sam continues, nodding towards the documents before you.

“So ill be followed everywhere,” You reply, you had just escaped a life of constant surveillance and control, and right now it just felt like you were taking two steps back.

“I know what it sounds like, but most of our men are more friendly and less..well, automatic and mechanical. Steve only really trusts us, so you'll be seeing us more often than some random guy with a gun” Bucky says, smoothing down his suit pants.

Steve only really trusts us

You don't know why but your heart fumbles at Bucky's inclination that Steve cared about who was around you, your comfortableness, your satisfaction. It seemed so wrong after years of negligence to truly be cared after.

The loud sound of a dog barking causes you to tense just a fraction, your eyes flinch and you shift nervously in your seat. Get your shit together dammit, it was just a husky running beside its owner, the park never said it was free of dogs, but you can't help but stare at its blubbery open mouth, spit hanging from its sharpened teeth and a look of pure animalistic instinct in its eyes.

Stop, this isn't like the ones he keeps. Stop. overreacting.

It seems as if the dog sparked some sort of realisation that you were not in the safety of your apartment or in your workplace diner, that you were in a space occupied by the public in which anyone, even your husband could enter.

The more they talk, the more you itch with the anxiety bubbling in your chest, the bench under you is hard and itchy, you don't like it, and the sun has risen high into the sky, beating down on you. You try to keep up with them, head fuzzy as you nod after their every word, they glance at each other after a while of your scattering mind.

Both Sam and Bucky notice your uneasiness and the way your eyes dart around the nature park. Years in this life taught them how to read someone easily, and right now, you were practically crawling out of your skin.

You just, weren't used to being so out in the open, you feared you were running out with a printed target on your back saying “Shoot Me”. In the darkness of your apartment at least you felt somewhat safe, here, where you didn't know where you could hide, or if there even was somewhere to hide, the expanse of shrubbery and forest trees looked domineering, like they tower over you and swallow you whole, you didn't feel safe. In fact, you felt like it was open fucking season.

They'd picked an open space out in public, so you dint feel boxed in or isolated, a chance to feel a sense of normalcy whilst discussing deals with the mafia, huh, what a fucking joke. You keep readjusting your necklace, and they keep looking at you with that unreadable expression on their faces.

“You alright doll?” Sam replies, you can’t focus on him, the lines of his features blurring a little from the pounding headache that has begun to radiate from your temple

You nod and try focusing on the soft sounds of the nature park, the calls and whistles of native birds and the currying sounds of animals burrowing in their habitats. You know it does nothing, but you try and sink yourself into the false security of it.

Sam nods awkwardly back, he glances at Bucky and an unreadable conversation passes between them before Sam collects the papers you don’t remember signing.

“I think that’s enough business talk for a bit” Sam glances at his watch, muttering an obscenity under his breath.

“How about we drive you back home so can spend the rest of your day without having to deal with us, huh?” Sam replies trying to lighten the mood that has gone still with your curt answers.

You nod, itching to get home and under the covers, or under the heat of your shower to wash off the sludge of unease and anxiety coating your skin.

Bucky quietly watches you, and you throw him an always smile as you get up from the bench, tugging your sleeve down.

A moment passes with Bucky watching you closely before he smiles in return, but it’s one that mirrors yours, insincere and masking true emotions.

This time Sam opens the front passenger door for you, and you slide in quickly, shoving your bag at your feet and clicking the seat belt on. Bucky leaves the window down for you and you shut your eyes and let the warm wind settle the nerves that seemed to remain in your stomach.

— -

Bucky pulls out of your apartment complex, despite almost hitting a young boy running after a beat-up soccer ball.

He hadn’t pulled out until he had been sure you were safe and secured in your apartment, walking in and checking the place for any intruders despite your objections.

God, he never understood it, why you hated the idea of anyone helping you. Most women in this life demanded constant and immediate attention, hell he’d seen his own mother not lift a finger his entire life, raised by the many nannies and maids that had been employed at his family’s estate.

You though, helping you was like pulling teeth. It added to the hundreds of other questions Bucky had about you that Steve refused to answer, like why you had run away from a life he thought was full of luxury and opulence, or why Steve was so adamant in him and Sam to watch over you.

Steve had never really involved himself in these types of business arrangements, but this one, it seemed as if Steve would commit murder if he found out you were left alone with one of his dispensable.

Bucky reaches for his phone left in the car’s compartment, fingers dailing Steve's phone as his other hand rests on the steering wheel. It rings twice before he picks up.

“Yeah?” Steve's gruff voice resounds against the echo of the basement he’s in, and Bucky has already gathered that he is deep within the monster that consumes him and enables him to rest on the throne of New York.

Bucky coughs a reply

“Hey, uh, we just finished up with her-”

“What’s the problem, something happen?” Steve’s voice replies in urgency, a sliver of concern in his tone that doesn't go unnoticed by them both.

“No, nothings wrong, we just-, well she-, Steve, I think you outta talk to her again, she's agreed and everything but she is, she’s on edge. I have a feeling she doesn't think you can protect her” Bucky finally lets out, the expansive nightlife of New York flashes past against the tinted windows of the car as Bucky follows the twists and turns to home.

“I mean she was practically clawing out of her body being in a goddamn park, Steve. A park. I figured she needs you to talk to her a little, and reassure her because, without her confidence in whatever this is, it all goes to shit. It’ll all fall down” Bucky says.

There is a beat of silence before Steve replies.

“Okay. I'll take the night off, tell everyone I'm off fucking.. somewhere. Back at the club.

“Alright,” Bucky replies before Steve ends the call abruptly. Sam glances at Bucky, sighing out loudly in the car before sinking into the leather seat.

“I have a feeling this will be the beginning of something that will be the end of us” Mutters Sam, but Bucky hears it all the same. And he can’t help it, but it all rings true. You will be the death of him.

The clench of Steve's jaw tightens as he slides his phone into his back pocket, rolling up his sleeves, Steve waste no time before striking the man bound to the chair across the face. Stringing blood and pieces of bone are scattered across the dingy basement floor, the burning lightbulb above them is the only thing that gives the light in the damp room, and it only adds to the sinister maliciousness that radiates from Steve.

He’s already dealing with an uncooperative subject, and the unexpected call from Bucky didn't quite ease the tension beginning to appear on his shoulders.

“Tell me,” Steve says, both his hands resting on either side of the armchair the man, a look of boredom crowds Steve’s face, his features unreadable as always as he stares down the snitch

“No” The spits it out along with flecks of blooded spit, and Steve chuckles, wiping away the blood splattered on his cheek before calmly replying

“You are nothing, your loyalty is that of a drop in the ocean, you don't think they won't cut your tongue and throw you in the Hudson with concrete feet for even getting caught by my men? Face it, you're a snitch, a rat- Steve pauses to spit to the ground- “and you and I both know the destiny a man like that has. Now do yourself a favour of a quick death and answer me, why is Matthews trying to free up the eastern docs?”

“Maybe he’s gathered a change of heart, it is the season to be generous no?” Chuckles the man, he smiles with his teeth covered in. blood, and Steve's grip presses into the armchair.

“You think this is a fucking joke? When has Matthews ever been generous, there has always been an endgame to every single move he does, what's the endgame to a fucking peace keep? Huh?”

“Look, I told you what I know, Matthews is trying to look as stable as possible, especially since he's begun to slip through the cracks, you know what they say right? That his little wife has gone running away? That sweet thing managed to slip past the biggest army in Northern America” The man replies, laughing manically.

Steve grunts at the mention of your name that passes through this animal’s mouth, how fucking dare he. He knows he shouldn't, he knows he needs to reign it in but all he hears is your name muttered from chipped golden teeth and he swings.

The savagery in the way Steve beats the man does not go unnoticed by the men around him, they watch on, as the crunch of bone and flesh fill the quiet basement, and the groaned pleas of the man are muffled by Steve's iron fists, his jaw collapsing in on itself as Steve throws his body to the ground with an obscene shout.

Steve had sometimes forgotten, how he has that formidable creature within him clawing its way out each time he steps out his front door, how he lets it consume him whenever he thinks of Matthews, and in a way; you.

“Clean this shit up, I don't ever want to see this fucking rat in New York ever again”. Steve growls towards the man around him, reaching for his keys and swiftly exciting from the cryptic warehouse on the edge of New York’s industrial area.

-- -

He doesn't quite know how he found himself outside your apartment, nor how fast he got there, but the thought is pushed to the side when you open your door suddenly. Wear eyes watching his staggering frame against your door frame, and all you have to do is nod before he’s entering your home.

“I thought Sam this morning would be the last I’d see of your men” You reply as you reach for two beers stacked away in your fridge. You weren't really a drinker, and you don't doubt they were stale.

“I said my men, I never said me” Steve chuckles, accepting the cold beverage you hand him appreciatively as he eases himself onto your small dining table in the corner of your room.

He practically swallows the entire place, his knees bubbing against the table as he awkwardly arranges himself on the too-small chair beside you. You hide your chuckle behind the neck of your beer bottle that you knock back down your throat.

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls over the both of you as you silently sip your beer bottles, and you find yourself reaching for another before ungracefully slumping your tired body into your wooden dining chair.

Steve catches the deep set bags under your eyes and the way your back practically hunched over as you rub a hand across your face

“Can’t sleep?” Steve murmurs, you look up as you catch his gaze which softens momentarily. Shaking your head you chuckle pitifully.

“That would be an understatement, more like can’t even shut my eyes” You scoff, before knocking back another sip of your beer.

“With this thing, we've arranged, hopefully, you’ll be able to” Steve replies, shifting in his seat as he looks towards you.

“If only it was that easy. Unless someone can enter into my brain and shut it off for a full 8 hours, I won't be getting any shut-eye” You smile wrily, before running a hand down your face, shaking your head.

“It’s fine, it's alright, ill- ill figure something out. It isn't like I haven't dealt with a few nights without sleep ya know? I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, you probably could care less” You reply with a finality that has Steve looking at you with that same strange expression you can't decipher.

Just as he begins to say something, Steve thinks better of it, simply shaking his head

“It’s alright, you're talking to an insomniac veteran over here, god knows I've burnt some eye-sized holes in my ceiling”

You can't help but let out a laugh, a real one, and the sound of it makes Steve’s heart collapse in on itself. Without even a moment Steve already knows it's his favourite thing in this entire world, he wants to keep it, bottle it and keep it behind the white of his ribs and the coldness of his heart.

“Can I just ask you something?” You say suddenly,

He nods, giving you permission.

“Why do you want to do this? and tell me the real reason, not some false one you’ve made up.

“Honestly?”

It’s your turn to nod now,

“It’s selfish and cruel but I want to finally own something /make something of myself. This may come as a shock to you but I wasn’t always this fierce and formidable” you roll your eyes comically.

“I spent much of my years just wandering aimlessly, working jobs for other people, my loyalty was tied to one person and one person only. Myself.

“Seems like a tough way to live” you reply. You got it, something over came you when you got the keys to your first apartment. The first thing you actually owned since that bicycle you spend afternoons mowing lawns for. Selling lemonade for.

“You know, this deal, this arrangement-everything, means nothing if you can’t put your trust in it,” Steve says, running his hand down the neck of his beer bottle, letting the wet droplets fall down his fingers.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, silently, eyes looking up through the horizon of the beer bottle

“Do you trust me to protect you?” Steve asks again, as he rests his back against the wooden chair, an expectant expression on his face.

Do you? Everything in your mind is screaming at you to say no and run away, to hide back into the dark corner you’ve made a home out of, but as your gaze travels towards Steve, with those golden locs and cerulean blues, your heart murmurs with a familiar longing that you can’t ignore.

“Yea, strangely Steve, I do”. You reply with a look of pure candour on your face.

Your gaze travels to his hand gripping the neck of the brown bottle, and it is only then that you notice the tattered and bleeding skin of his knuckles. Steve catches your concerned gaze, eyebrows furrowing at the bruising beginning to form.

“It's nothing, just a little hands-on approach to a situation” Steve replies, shifting in his seat, but his excuse does nothing to quell the burn in your stomach.

“I know I have a first aid kit somewhere here” You murmur, rummaging through your kitchen cabinets as you peruse the tattered and peeling shelves and drawers.

“It's alright, doll, I'll get it patched up later-” Steve tries to argue, getting up from his seat, but you jolt up suddenly from your crouched position, a faded red first aid kit in your palm.

“Got it” You smile triumphantly, you rest yourself against the kitchen counter across from Steve, and Steve can say nothing as you raise your eyebrows, almost taunting him to protest against it.

“You’ve got men stationed outside my apartment, fixing up a few bleeding knuckles is the least I can do” You interject, moving towards him.

“Besides, if you're bleeding out on my living room floor, who else will be there to protect this” -you gesture your hands around the apartment- “Sanctuary?” Your question, a small smile softening your features and that's all it takes before Steve is conceating, following your footsteps to the small bathroom.

It's fitted with a peeling sink cabinet, toilet and a ceramic bathtub cramped into the corner, the low yellow light attached to the ceiling gives the room a sickly feel and Steve has to bend down onto the edge of the bathtub so you can reach him.

Pulling his blooded sleeves up, the reality of the damage on his hands can be inspected, the skin around his knuckles has peeled off completely, and splotches of dried and et blood seep from the wound.

As you take his hands into your palm softly, Steve grunts under his breath, not because of the pain radiating from his knuckles but because your fingers are so soft against the rough pads of his fingers.

You whisper an apology he waves off before ripping open an alcohol wipe, pressing it gently against his knuckles, making sure to clean off the grime and dirt stuck between his fingers.

The smell of blood that begins to permeate the air is one that is familiar, years of drunken nights had taught you how to patch up bruised cheeks and split stitches. Nights when your husband was so deep in his hunger for power and greed that he had thought you were here to take his kingdom from right under him. You knew what liquor could do to a man, but your husband to put it lightly, has always been and always will be, a mean drunk.

You feel a pair of eyes burning into you, and you look up to catch his intense stare watching over your every move, you have to look away after a moment, focus on the tap tap tap of the loose bathroom sink.

You take the small bandaged adhesives, and place them over his bruising knuckles, before covering them with bandaging cloth. You follow the same motions you had been forced to learn over the years to his other fist, feathering the cloth in and out between his fingers.

“How do you know how to do this?” Steve murmurs under his breath, his intense blues boring into your soul, as you look up from his bandaged knuckles.

“I was quite an adventurous kid, spent a good chunk of my childhood with my dad kneeling over me, patching up cuts and bruises” It is almost automatic, the way the well-practised lie slips from your lips, it leaves your mouth without a second thought.

Steve blinks at your reply, the blank expression covering his features is now taken over by his darkened eyes, his jaw tenses against his teeth and from the way his shoulders raise, you know there are a hundred things running through his mind. His fingers flex painfully in your grip, wrist rolled into a tight fist.

“Hey! Don’t go ruining my handiwork” You chastise him, flexing out his finger so they lay flat against your palm.

“We’ve all got history..right?” You smile, before his gaze travels across your features, nodding in a grimace.

“Some more than others” Steve replies, his left eye flinching as he catches the fading bruises peeking through your sleeves.

“Thank you,” Steve says, motioning to your fingers gripping his bandaged knuckles.

“It’s the least I could do I mean-” You begin before Steve cuts you off momentarily

“Hey, no, thank you really, you didn't have to, but you did” Steve's domineering voice crowds the small bathroom and you have to look down at your laced hands to let them out of your grip.

“I’ll leave you alone now, and I mean it this time,” Steve says, following you out of the bathroom.

“So I shouldn't be expecting any more nightly visits from men with guns at my door?” You question with a smile, as Steve shoulders his suit jacket on carefully, so as to not ruin your bandages.

“No, not tonight, if you see or hear anything or anyone, call me,” Steve replies, his voice deepening into a level of seriousness that gives you no choice but to listen.

“I mean it, you've got my cell, as well as Sam and Bucky’s, and I am an insomniac, so don’t have me second guessing alright?” Steve's baritone voice takes up the entire room, and all you can do is nod fervently.

You follow the loud footsteps of Steve's dress shoes down the short narrow hallway that leads to the front door, opening with one swift turn, Steve turns back to you swiftly.

“Don’t let mind cave in on itself, burying yourself in your thoughts only leaves you with a fatigue that doesn’t wear off and a bed that runs cold” Steve murmurs, a look casts a shadow over his eyes as his gaze trails over your tired features. But it leaves as soon as it comes and you find yourself still staring at that same spot on the carpet after he’s shut the door and left.

Taglist 🏷

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@stupendouslovegardener @nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3 @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta @@wolfieeebbbyyy @namelesssav @nessie2183

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 11 months ago

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hi there! im wondering if you have any fics recs for an au where peter doesnt get blipped? or also any OP/insanely strong peter fics you enjoy? i’m fairly new to reading spiderman fics and would love any recs! thanks!! 💖

Hi!! Sorry it took so long to respond. It's been a busy couple of weeks!! But I totally have a few BAMF Peter Parker fics in my bookmarks! And one very good fic where neither Tony nor Peter blipped.

🕸 to fear and to fly by idyllic_dae Rated T

“You’ll come to learn that there’s only one thing worse than having nothing.” Trying to hold onto his fight, Peter shoots back, “Yeah? And what’s that?” “To have nothing, after being able to believe you could have everything.”

The streets are dirty, crowded, and the jagged bumps in the asphalt are hardly comfortable to sleep on. They’re home, though.

Peter is just about finished with New York City. It’s gotten impossibly harder to find even a scrap of food, and what little belongings he does have are unlikely to keep him alive through the winter. And the memories. God, the painful memories here.

So he saves up. Makes a plan to get out of there.

Then, somehow, he accidentally saves Tony fucking Stark from a gang of eight mercenaries, and the majestic plan disintegrates into ash.

The worst part about it, he knows, isn’t even that he met Tony. It’s that Tony met him.

^^ This one is incomplete still but it is SO VERY GOOD.

🕸 Trojan Teenager by Sara (ctrsara) @ctrsara Rated T

Tony, Peter, Happy, and Daren make a trip to California during Peter's Spring Break, both to get some business done at SI-Malibu, and to look into another hotspot for the human trafficking ring they've been trying to break down. As it often does when self-sacrificial Spider-kids are involved, things go a little off the rails.

^^ This one is part of a series but can be read alone. However, I highly recommend the whole series! It's crazy creative and super well-written.

🕸 turn back the clock (and I'll try again in the morning) by madasthesea @madasthesea Rated T

Peter gets stuck in a time loop. In it, he lives through some of his worst nightmares, only to wake up that morning and have no one remember. He needs Tony to help him get through.

And if that isn't bad enough, his identity is revealed over and over, every day.

^^ This fic has me on the edge of my seat every time I read it, I swear

🕸 The Worst Field Trip by mak5258 Rated G

Peter's kidnapping (Before You Go, chapter 40) from other POVs.

^^ This is part of a much larger series but can be read alone. It's sooo good! If you're looking for a longer read, it's parent fic, Before You Go , is also great.

🕸Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spider by Bergen Rated T

“Tony fucking Stark,” Clint says, and he points at the black smoke. “Did you blow up that base, you piece of shit?” “Absolutely not. I almost got blown up with it.” Clint is not alone. A few yards behind him, a scrawny figure halts and squints at Tony from underneath a frayed baseball cap. Sunken eyes. Dressed in a black undershirt and cargo pants. Can’t be older than eighteen. “What are you doing here?” Clint jerks his head at the boy behind him. “SHIELD mission. Extracting a hostage.” Tony glances back at the teenager, whose face has now morphed into something entirely impassive. “He seems thrilled about his rescue.” — Tony is roped into a mission to transport a teenager to safety. But when things go south, it soon becomes more and more puzzling who the teenager is and what ‘safety’ means for him.

^^ Oh my goodness. This one has a super strong stoic Peter, who also manages to (eventually) be so super soft. I love everything by the writer, honestly.

🕸 Peter Protection Protocol by JAWorley Rated T

"The hell?" Knife guy breathes. He looks at Tony, and then back at the suit. Ned can hear the wheels spinning in his mind. If I have Iron Man, then who is in the suit?

There’s silence for a second, then another. Everyone waits with baited breath until Peter’s tinny voice comes out of the suit. “Give me back my Tony.”

Peter’s class barely makes it in the door to Stark Industries for their field trip when they find themselves in a hostage situation. Peter and Ned know exactly what they have to do to save Mr. Stark from the bad guys. A short fic that’s supposed to be fun and easy to read. Not crack, just fun. Minor angst near the end.

^^ This author has SO MANY super fun and amazing fics, but this one definitely fits the BAMF Peter Parker bill.

Insane Mistakes Everybody Makes by Fluencca Rated T

The Avengers' kids are kidnapped for leverage and ransom. Tony tries to find them, while Peter--who somehow is part of this mess--tries to keep the kids safe.

^^ Love this one so much. It has all the amazing BAMF Peter.

🕸 Survivor's Guide to The Galaxy by fanfic1892 Rated T

Space rock crunched under Peter’s armor-clad feet and he dropped his hand from his eyes, turning to Tony. "Mister Stark," he said softly. "What do we do now?”

The question was entirely reasonable, Tony supposed, but being the one expected to answer it was like an infinity gauntlet punch to the gut. (Now there was a unit of measurement he could submit to the CGPM.)

Or: In a billion-to-one cosmic fluke, Tony and Peter both survive the snap and are left alone on Titan with an alien spaceship and no plan in sight. Peter’s presence brings Tony to make a tough call: diverting their course away from Earth in search of food and fuel. With the galaxy in shambles and no clear route home, the two survivors must carve out a path of their own somewhere in the great infinity.

^^ This is one of my favorite fics of all time.

As usual, I could go on for days with fics I love and would love to share with others. But we'll stop here for now. lol. And look! I didn't even self-promote this time! Thank you so much for asking. Don't forget to leave kudos and comments!!

#irondad fic rec #irondad fic recs #bamf peter parker #peter parker #tony stark #marvel #spider-man #iron man #mcu #irondad and spiderson #fic rec list #must read!#some o my favorite stories

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dontcryshopgirl152 · 1 year ago

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Your Husband Jo

Josephine "Jo" March x Fem!Reader

Summary: For as long as you could remember, you’d had a crush on Jo March. You and Jo are both back home for the summer after getting engaged and married, respectively, and your midnight rendezvous will end with a different kind of union. (2.9K Words)

Notes: Hello! Apologies in advance for any inaccuracies, I'm a very casual fan of Little Woman but a very serious fan of actual women.

This is my first fic, and I hope you enjoy it! This is fun writing practice for me after a long hiatus from the craft, and just a fun way to be more chill with sexuality, so please don't take it super seriously. If you did like it, let me know, I'd love to make more writing friends!

Warnings: Sex! Fingering, scissoring. Some angst (given the whole engaged/married situation, but very light and not mentioned much).

For as long as you could remember, you’d had a crush on Jo March. She was the star you perpetually orbited around, no matter how long you’d been away or how many other dazzling women you met. There was something intoxicating about the way she held a pen, a fork, hell, even a handkerchief; she was so sure of herself. She let herself be clumsy and strong and ungraceful, and she did it all with such confidence.

Over the years, the two of you had become close friends, bonding over a shared love of theatre and long walks and hating the small town you were both stuck in. Living a few doors down didn’t hurt, either; sneaking out at night was easy in the warm summer months, and you had spent many clear nights down by the creek, laying elbow to elbow watching the night sky slowly spin past above you.

She would lay her head on your stomach sometimes when her neck hurt from being bent over her desk too long, and it took everything in you to keep your breathing normal when her cheek rested on the soft, thin cotton of your nightgown. Every once in a while, she would fall asleep there, her head drifting to the side, breath blowing gently up into the curve of your breasts, and your heart would flip in your chest.

Those girlhood summers came and went, and now you found yourself home for a new kind of summer. You had met your fiance while traveling to New York for a visit to your uncle, and he was a kind and gentle man, and soft-spoken, and he adored you. But you’d scarcely gotten to know him before your family deemed it a suitable match and sent you home to prepare, brushing up on all of your wifely duties.

It was on a trip to the post office to send a letter to your betrothed that you see her again. Stepping down from a carriage, blinking into the blinding Massachusetts sun, hand shielding her eyes. The woman’s skirt catches on the step of the carriage, and she has to turn and bend down to free it, revealing a flash of bare skin. You stop in your tracks; Jo never wears stockings, no matter how much her mother harps on her to be proper. She rights herself quickly and turns towards where you stand transfixed. She gasps a little and her face breaks into a wide grin.

“Y/N!” she shouts, dropping the small bag she has been clutching and running towards you at full speed. You drop your envelopes and meet her in a crashing hug. She lifts you easily and spins you around, laughing. When she sets you down, she leans back to meet your gaze.

“It’s been so long, I didn’t expect to see you home this summer. What are you doing here?”

You were just as surprised. Last you’d heard, Jo had married some German professor after moving to the city, and that was three years ago.

“I’m to brush up on house-wife duties before I…” you trail off. You don’t want to tell her you are engaged, it feels wrong for some reason.

Her smile falters a bit. “You are engaged to be married?” You nod.

“That’s marvelous, Y/N!” she grins again, but this time a little too wide, her voice going up a bit too high. “You must let me walk with you later so you can tell me all about it!”

You nod in agreement, then see a man approaching from behind where Jo stands. Tall and lanky, he reaches her silently and simply places a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, Y/N, my deepest apologies, this is Friedrich Bhaer, my, uh, husband.”

He lifts up a hand to remove his hat, but his gaze never leaves Jo’s shoulder. He swiftly returns his hand to his jacket pocket and looks at Jo expectantly.

“We really must be off, but may I see you later? We can go to our old spot.” Jo meets your gaze again, something wild in her eyes, and you nod.

“Of course, Jo, that sounds wonderful.”

She clasps your hand tightly with her own, and then she is gone.

…

For reasons you can’t fully explain, you find yourself sneaking out when night falls, and your feet lead you to your and Jo’s old spot. Three quarters of a mile into the forest, there is an old, hollow fallen tree that lays beside a quieter stretch of the creek. It is here that you would abscond with old rags and candle stubs as girls, creating a little house in the shelter of the old fir. You would read poems and tidy the fallen branches that fell around the base of the tree, pretending to prepare for company, cook meals, and lounge by an imaginary fire. Now, you sit inside the empty shell and sigh. It’s a clear, warm night, and everything feels hazy and stretched to infinity. You had tried to sleep earlier, but an hour, then two had passed and your eyes still did not grow tired.

You had tried to imagine what being married to your future husband would be like, but it frightened you. You were afraid of exposing yourself to him, having him make love to you. You had heard it was painful from cousins and friends, in hushed conversations overheard around clothing lines and kitchens after dark. You had kissed a boy when you were small and remember it being underwhelming. You thought back to the summers here at the tree, how Jo would gaze up at you from where she lay on your stomach, fingertips dancing over your legs, how your hands would tremble, mouth becoming dry.

You remembered the summer before she left for New York, the last night you shared here at your spot. How she bent her head to your forehead, placing a kiss there. How her hands found the hem of your skirt, gently lifting it up, exposing your legs to the late autumn air.

“I will be your husband tonight,” she had whispered, slipping two fingers into your waiting mouth. You had sucked gently, and those same fingers had guided you to gasping.

Lost in the memory, your hand wanders to your breast, squeezing gently, hoping to replicate the feeling of that night. You had tried so many times since, but couldn't make yourself gasp the way she had that night. You close your eyes and try to remember what she had smelled like, the way the ends of her hair had felt just barely touching your arms.

You jolt out of your reverie when you hear a twig snap a few feet away. You shrink back into the tree with a start, your hands flying away from yourself. Who could have seen you leave? The whole house was fast asleep when you padded out the door. And no one knows where this spot is, it’s off the path and well-hidden by branches.

Suddenly, Jo’s face appears in the opening of the tree. “I thought I might find you here!”

You gasp a little, nervously. “How did you know I would be here?”

She crawls into the tree, her knees scraping along the forest floor to fit inside. “Just a hunch.”

Her hair has fallen out of its braid and flows down her back. She wears a thin chemise and long, flowing skirt, thinning at the hem from wear and tear. You notice with a start that you can see her nipples poking up gently beneath her shirt, and swallow to see their pert attention. You had seen her like this before, but not in years. You bring your gaze back up to her face and she is gazing at you, that same wild look in her eyes as before.

“You’re engaged,” she repeats her earlier question again, softly, sadly. You just nod. “Do you love him?”

You realize you’re holding your breath and let it go shakily. Jo reaches out to grasp your arms, gently but firmly, with all the strength of her lean frame. You jolt a little under her touch, and realize that despite the warm summer evening, you’re shivering a bit.

“I…I do not know,” you concede, eyes flashing down to study the leaf strewn floor. Her grip tightens, nose flaring as she breathes in hard. You have scarcely seen her like this before, she seems nervous and on edge.

“Y/N…” she begins, biting her lip. She rocks forward a bit, seeming to become unbalanced, and you grasp her biceps to help hold her up. She sucks in a breath and you meet her gaze again.

Before you know what is happening, she is leaning in and crashing the soft pink of her mouth against your lips. You gasp a little and fall back into the wall of the tree, and she follows you, pinning you there by your elbows. It takes you a moment to process that Jo March, the woman you have been in love with since you knew what love was, is kissing you. And you are kissing her back, your body seeming to move of its own accord. She lifts her hands from your arms to your face, cradling your jaw in one hand and pulling you deeper into the kiss with the other, tangling it in the hair at the nape of your neck. Your hands fall to her waist and you feel her suck in her stomach at your touch. One of your hands sits just below the hem of her shirt, and you feel the skin of her lower back there, beneath your fingertips. It’s warm and soft and feels electric. Everywhere your skin touches hers is on fire.

She deepens the kiss, pushing her tongue into your mouth, and you grip her tighter, your other hand coming up from her skirted hip to her back, pushing her shirt up an inch higher. She sighs and eases one hand down your neck to the small of your back, and you arch into her at the sensation. She holds you fast and pivots the two of you sloppily to lay you down on the soft leaves below, notching one knee in between your legs and one to the left of your hip. You grunt as you hit the ground and she pulls her face away for a moment.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, her eyebrow knit in concern. She is breathing hard, her face flushed. You smile a bit, dazed.

“No,” you answer, ‘I’m fine.”

“Good.” she sighs. You glance down at her chest again and see her nipples, now straining a bit at the fabric. You realize you’ve bunched it in your hand behind her. You start to loosen your grip, but get a better idea and let your hands wander from her back around to her breasts under the shirt. She realizes what you’re doing and her mouth falls open a bit. She fumbles to remove her shirt but soon her torso is set free, and you watch as her breasts become exposed to the moonlight.

They look so soft, like fallen snow still untouched after drifting into smooth heaps across the fields. Her nipples are starkly darker, and look like small hardened pebbles in this light. She shivers a little at your initial touch, but seems to melt a little into your hands as you work at her breasts, rolling her nipples between your thumbs and forefingers. This elicits a small whimper from her, and you raise your eyes to meet her. She is panting a little now, her mouth still hanging open a little. You look back to her breasts and roll her nipple again with your left hand, more slowly this time. She lets out a low moan and dips her head a bit towards you, eyes closed. You remove your hand and she whimpers, only to gasp when your teeth close around the spot your fingers had occupied. You suck on her and she leans into you, chest heaving beneath your mouth.

“Y/N,” she gasps, a hand shooting up to grasp the nape of your neck and pull you closer. You lavish your tongue on her nipple and use your other hand to massage her other breast, and you can feel her shaking a bit. You pull your face away and look into her eyes again, now just a few inches from your own.

“Be my husband,” you gasp.

In answer, she starts peppering kisses down your neck, slipping the buttons of your nightgown open to reveal your own breasts, already heaving from before she had arrived. She sucks a harsh kiss into the space just below the curve of one, and you suck in a hot breath. She pulls you up to remove the nightgown from your arms and keeps kissing you, warming your skin with her mouth. Your stomach is upside down, and there is a heat in the pit of your core that you know well. You are sure there is a spot on your nightgown where your arousal is pooling beneath you.

“Jo,” you moan, winding your fingers into her hair. “Please, I am begging you.”

She stops and leans back, breasts heaving, hair wild. She reaches a hand up to your lips and you open your mouth to her fingers, two sliding in easily. You loll your tongue around them, sucking gently, and she moans again. She pulls out her fingers with a soft pop and lowers her hand to your stomach, pulling up your nightgown with the other hand to reveal your thighs and now dripping pussy. She grins wickedly.

“My, my, dear wife,” she coos. “What is this?”

You groan at the title. “Please husband,” you pant. “Please, I need you.”

She teases your folds a little. Her spit-soaked fingertips have grown cold in the air, and you shudder and gasp as they meet your hot center. She slips one finger in, then another, up to the second knuckle easily before curling them a bit inside you. You cry out and she smiles again.

“Yes, dear wife, let your husband take care of you,” she whispers huskily. She is thrusting into you now, gently but with a quick rhythm, and you can hear the wet sound of her hand going in and out. It sounds like heaven. You close your eyes and let the feeling wash over you. Jo March is making love to you. Jo March called you her wife. Jo March-

She stops for a moment and you groan in frustration, but the feeling is quickly replaced with fresh arousal as you feel her breath on your clit. She licks you a little, gently, experimentally, and the sound that comes out of you is embarrassingly needy. You slap a hand over your mouth and she looks up at you, a small smile on her face.

“My darling, do not worry,” she says, gently, licking you again. You groan once more, and she meets your gaze. “No one can hear you when you are safe in my bed, dear wife. Let yourself feel my love for you.”

She kisses your clit and begins moving her fingers within you again. You suck in air, but it is never enough, as the fire within you consumes it instantly. You find yourself arching into her touch, words leaving your mouth in an endless stream you have no awareness of as she hurries her hand inside you.

“Oh god, Jo, I love you, Jo, Jo, please, I need-”

“Call me your husband,” Jo hoarsely utters as she sucks in a breath.

“Husband, please, I am going to-oh god.”

She pulls her fingers nearly out of you and adds a third, stretching you. You whine and a sob comes out, the sensation of it overtaking you. Her hand within you is going so quickly you feel you might faint, your heart is pounding in your head. A great light explodes inside of you and you hear yourself cry out, even louder.

She never stops her motion, locking her lips around your clit and sucking while her hands work at you from the inside out. You feel yourself clenching around her and she hums contentedly, making sparks dance behind your eyes. Warmth spills out of you around her hand and you whimper, head swimming. She whispers into your clit in between licks, coaxing your cum out of you as you grasp at her hair, her shoulders, anything to keep you grounded.

As your orgasm subsides, she smiles and leans back, slowing her hand but not removing it. You take a shaky breath and open your eyes, blinking up into the starlight.

She leans up to kiss you gently and removes her hand, relishing the small whine that escapes your lips.

“Jo-” you start, then break off into a small sob. “I cannot marry that man.”

“Don’t worry, my dear wife,” she whispers, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “I will take care of everything.” She leans in and kisses your forehead, then pulls up and cradles you into her. You nestle into her chest, breathing in the scent of her skin mixed with your arousal, floating on the humid air. Your breathing slows as you listen to her heartbeat, the sound of the creek bubbling past, and the soft owl hoots in the distance. You feel safe here in her arms.

She strokes your head gently, whispering how much she has missed you in your ear, how every night she dreamed of coming back to this place and reuniting with you. You sigh contentedly and wish you could stay in this moment forever, soothed to restful sleep by the voice of your husband Jo March.

#little women #x reader #jo march x reader #jo march #little women 2019 #fanfic #saoirse ronan #amy march #beth march

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millylouedward · 1 year ago

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Iris Kelly Doesn't Date - Book Review

In the famous words of Ruby Sutherland, "Read queer all year."

I am gay. So is this book. We are a match made in heaven.

Iris Kelly Doesn't Date has two main lovers, obviously, and then a circus of side characters who aren't really relevant to the romance at all. And that's fine. It's like when you're a little kid in church and you have a crush on the girl in choir. There's a whole bunch of people singing, but to you, it's only you and her. I swear I'm not speaking from experience (but I will save my religious trauma for another day).

Last year, I went into my first day at a new job. They took me into a room to do fingerprinting because this was an office that required security clearance. I was already riddled with anxiety but ya girl was pushing through. I'd made it all the way to 11 AM. I was on a damn roll. And then, the fingerprinting scanner wouldn't accept my fingerprints.

I kept trying the three fingers that wouldn't take over and over again. I began to think, what if I'm stuck here forever? What if I won't be able to keep this job? What if I died and I'm in hell and this is literally hell? Next thing I know, my heart is racing. My vision is getting blurry. I'm sweating like a possum in headlights. I puke into the nearest trash can, in front of my new boss.

Suffice to say, this was the worst panic attack I'd ever experienced. So when Stevie practically puked all over Iris, I was like, damn, she's so me.

I love the GAD rep in this book. Anxious girlies unite! And what's crazy about that first big panic attack that we see Stevie go through, is that it feels so real. I didn't notice we were even heading in that direction until it happened. That's exactly what anxiety is like for me. I don't notice my frantic thoughts or my racing heart until my body warms and I feel the vomit coming up my throat. The author has such a strong grasp on what it's like to have a panic attack that I almost had to wonder if she got inspiration from me (she didn't).

Let's talk about the spice. And no, I don't mean nutmeg. Iris Kelly Doesn't Date is sexy. Like blushing, covering my agape mouth, looking away from the screen sexy. I had to shield my screen from my cats for fear that their baby eyes would be exposed to such nasty smut, I mean that in the best way possible. I don't really read books for the smut though. It's fun and all, but I'm here for the romance damn it. I want to see this couple defy all odds to be together!

Ashley Herring Blake, I love you and your writing, but this book is too long, there are too many things happening, and there are too many characters. I get it, the fans want to see everyone from the previous books return. But I had a difficult time remembering who was who outside of the famed Delilah, Claire, Astrid, and Jordan. Everyone else was a blip to me. And between the play, the fake dating, the sex/romance lessons, the anxiety, the book writing, the New York, the Malibu trip and Adri stuff, there were just too many plots, none of which were fleshed out enough. Neither Stevie nor Iris really have the time to think and feel and take control over their stories because so much stuff is just happening to them. I like that in a YA adventure, but not so much in an adult romance. It was a lot to follow for me. I think if the author had cut some of these side plots down and fleshed out the others, it would've been a 5 star read for me. It's still 4 stars though!

Folks, this concludes my Goodreads reading challenge. I cannot believe I made it all the way to 52 books this year. At some points during 2023, I really didn't think I would make it all the way. But here we are, 52 whole books. I'm not done yet, though! I want to finish the PJO series before the year is up and maybe get through Chalice of the Gods. I have a couple library books available now too but had to delay those so I could finish this one. Keep an eye out for my best books of 2023 list soon!

#bookish #booklr #books #books & libraries #book quotes #new books #bookworm #book review #reader #reading #review #romance books #smut writing #bright falls #delilah green doesn't care #astrid parker doesn't fail #iris kelly doesn’t date #ashley herring blake #goodreads

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containatrocity · 1 year ago

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THE CANARY: KERRY "LEX" COLEMAN

So long live the car crash hearts, cry on the couch all the poets come to life- Fix me in forty-five.

"Doctor Kerry Aleksandre Coleman. Though most people call me Lex or Doc. I'm 35 years old, and while I was born in Montpellier, France, I studied psychology and law in New York City where I would quickly make a name for myself as a capable criminal psychologist in several high-profile cases. At least, I had until three years ago when the long-distance trip I was making to testify in a case took a wrong turn and stranded me in Huntsville. The night of my arrival took several things from me, including my pregnant wife and any hope I had of leaving this place ever again. While I do not fall victim to many vices, I've been described as a harsh, apathetic man who largely cares only for results. Suppose that's good news though, given I've been one of the town's only practicing psychiatric health professionals since 2020."

Name: Dr. Kerry Aleksandre Coleman

Aliases: Lex, Canary, Shrinky Dink, Doc, Ker-bear

Age: 35 (December 31st)

Sexuality/Gender: Bisexual Demiromantic Cis (?) Man he/they

Personality: Lex is a hard man to love. Apathetic, harsh, and short in temper, his tendency to tell people what they need to know but don't want to hear has made him little more than a necessary evil to the people of Huntsville. He is good at his work, sessions with him regularly setting heads back into place on shoulders in a place where it's easy to spiral. A logical, intelligent sort, it's easy to forget he's human, sometimes, speaking in large words and difficult terms when he's in 'work mode' and unwilling, truly, to let that part of him slip, he is sardonic even beneath it, blessed with a cutting wit and a head like a steel trap, mentally sound- but wounded, nonetheless, a grief looms below the surface- he suffocates it under other people's problems and the promise that someday he'll die too.

Occupation: Criminal Psychologist, currently serving as a psychotherapist in Huntsville for the... hard cases.

Affiliations: Mostly just police departments outside of Huntsville, and various reporters who use him as a source.

Scent Profile: Something expensive and musky, used sparingly as he's been stuck here for some time. The cloying smell of oil used to ensure the joints in his hand function correctly, cigar smoke, biting and sharp, flowing with sandalwood and real, rich leather. Sweet mint on teeth and tongue, fresh and bright to mask nicotine and coffee.

Aesthetic: A perfectly pressed suit and a cup of to-go coffee from the corner shop- a stop in your favorite bodega, for something bad for you from the heated cabinets. An analog watch on the wrist of a prosthetic arm, set perfectly to the second- time is money and he won't waste a dime. Man's best friend with a leather collar hand-stamped with his name, fluffy white hairs clinging to clothes betraying a harsh demeanor with something soft. Metal on metal, glass floating in the air- the screech of tires, the smell of gasoline and the whole of your world ending, right in front of you- rising to your feet and dusting off- you were not raised to quit.

The only thing I haven't done yet is die- And it's me and my plus one at the afterlife.

CHAPTER ONE: LIFE IN HUNTSVILLE POST ARRIVAL

Regarded largely as a necessary evil in town, Lex hasn't made many friends in Huntsville in his 3 years there since the car accident that inadvertently saved his life and ended three others. He is a capable doctor, with a vested interest in improving the lives of the people who come to see him, even those most others would deem hopeless, but it's at a professional distance, not friends to be helped or people to be cured, but case studies to be completed, something to sign, seal, and deliver to the desk of the next person tasked with their existence. He can't do much for some people- certain disorders would mitigate with medicine, others are tied to the town itself, but therapy sessions are oddly gentle, albeit blunt, when helping people is all he has left, it's become his entire existence, jaded and cold as he may be. He spends much of his time in the diner, drinking coffee and going over patient files, or simply people-watching, with Baguette the corgi set obediently beside his feet, the only other survivor of his arrival- the dog he 'didn't want.'

His habit of sleeping with the 'exceptionally hard cases' isn't common knowledge, but it's whispered- those he can't seek to fix in a 45 minute session, with a similar arms-length approach to others invited as temporary salvo on the ache in his heart and mind, his whole life was ripped away upon arriving, craving physical intimacy and emotional distance with the ability to read people well enough to find those just broken enough to provide. He's made his home and office in a small townhouse in the middle of Huntsville, living above his place of work, "Dr. Kerry A. Coleman Psy. D." on a front window in careful penmanship, his office hours in similar gold strict and unwavering, as are most things about Lex.

#l.threads #l.bio #l.aesthetic #l.music #l.musings #l.headcanons #Healthy Ego;#huntsvilleintro

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dragthemovies · 1 year ago

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To Wong Foo... a Brief Review

Hello and welcome to the first official post of Cinema’s a Drag! I will be talking about various movies and media that has showcased the popular queer art form known as DRAG over the years! This post is dedicated to the 1995 film To Wong Foo: Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar starring Patrick Swayze as Vida Boheme, Wesley Snipes as Noxeema Jackson, and Jon Leguizamo as Chi-Chi Rodruigez. The opening sequence shows the process of Vida and Noxeema getting into drag for the regional Drag Queen of The Year pageant and ends with the introduction of Chi-Chi being harassed on the street for presenting as femme and holding her wig in her hand. Vida and Noxeema are announced the dual winners and are crowned by the reigning queen Rachel Tensions (played by RuPaul) while sporting a sequined confederate flag gown. The first 10 minutes of this movie bring up 3 points for me:

The sequence of the queens “Dragging up” is familiar to anyone who has done drag, and it’s such a small and playful scene that doesn’t particularly advance the story, but it feels like we are on screen from Vida putting her wig on and saying, “Here comes Mama” to dancing along to I am Body Beautiful by Salt-N-Pepa while putting makeup on. It is very clear that there are drag queens on the producing team that helped share this story as authentically as possible (with straight cis-men playing queer characters, but that’s for a different analysis).

While upsetting, Chi-Chi’s first appearance on screen is also a familiar experience to drag queens and other queer people who present their gender identity differently than they are “expected” to. One could ask “why wouldn’t she wear the wig to ‘pass’?” Those who don’t do drag may not know that drag wigs can be fragile and even hard to see withWe were introduced to her character as a young and outspoken person who isn’t afraid to stand up for herself even when she’s being faced with a possible violent situation.

Rachel Tension’s entrance is as problematic as it is iconic. We all know the significance behind the confederate flag and have known for a long time. This speaks to one of the properties of drag that goes against “the norm” or what is appropriate. A black queen wearing a notoriously anti-black pattern with the name Rachel Tensions is a great example of a drag concept being perfectly executed… there’s humor, there’s a bit of shock, and a WHOLE lot of glamor.

To not spoil the WHOLE movie I want to cover some of my favorite or important moments and scenes.

When the queens are picking a car from the used car lot to drive from New York to Los Angeles, they see a yellow Cadillac convertible and are enamored by how beautiful and fabulous they look in it. The car dealer explicitly warns them that it won’t get them to California, and they should take a (might I add dingy looking) gray Toyota Corolla. The queens ask the age-old question, “Style or Substance?” and a high energy driving montage of the Queens cruising down the highway.

When Vida drives through her affluent hometown, Chi Chi, who grew up in a low-income neighborhood, could not wrap her head around why Vida would leave a place with so much to offer. Vida explains “Vida gave all of this up to be Vida.” This gives us a window into Vida’s life and her queer roots. Many queer people come from many different walks of life, but there has unfortunately been a constant in many young LGBTQ+ peoples upbringing of being turned away from their own homes just for being queer.

During the road trip, Noxeema starts to read Chi Chi for not being experienced or polished enough to be a drag queen. In this (outdated and less than politically correct) scene, the ladies set up Chi Chi’s character progression for “polishing her up” to be what drag is to them. This scene stuck with me personally because when I first saw it, it gave me an opportunity to look at my own drag progression up to that point and see where I feel I am. I feel a sense of accomplishment every time I “level up” my drag in my own way.

Sherriff Dollard character is a very interesting take on homophobes. The blatant hypocrisy and disrespect with a hint of curiosity bubbling beneath the surface really makes him more comical than offensive (except for the racial slurs). From groping Ms. Vida to calling them perverts for wearing dresses. When he went to a bar, he was rambling about gay people in detail about what he thinks they do in private, which could be more of a window into his imagination or even history, although it’s never explicitly stated.

While the queens are getting to know the townspeople, the women mention their upcoming “Strawberry Social” and the queens help them put together a “girls day out” with makeovers at the beauty parlor, and new outfits at the local store. I specifically love when Noxeema falls in love with a burnt orange/auburn fringe 2 piece set that is also very much my taste.

There are plenty more iconic scenes, lines, and reads that I couldn’t cover in this post alone. To see them, To Wong Foo: Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar is available anywhere you can rent films. I hope you check it out, thanks for reading!

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plenilune · 2 years ago

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tagged by @endquestionmark an age and a half ago but I lost it in a tab. however I love to do a little Survey like it's 2004 on Xanga.

relationship status: ecstatically partnered, but non-monogamous

favorite color: the specific pale green smoothing to black of oxidised copper, and the dark dark pine green that is its companion.

favorite food: god I love food. favourite categories include: inventive sandwiches with many layers, very simple and perfect sandwiches (peanut butter, nice salami, ham on brioche with kewpie mayo, tamago sando, the old American man version of tamago sando which is very mustardy egg salad on toasted pumpernickel), tomato soup, buttered toast, ramens and stir fries, anything of the put an egg on it variety, Corey's chicken cooked in herbs and butter and white wine, Corey's strip steak, hot dogs from the roller grill at Speedway, anything you can order at a diner at 3am, Fancy Pizza, anything that goes in a fry-up, quiche, marble rye, beer bread, fresh baguette with cheddar, rosemary bread, focaccia, savoury scones, sourdough, bread, also bread, other bread, more bread,

song stuck in my head: perpetually the main riff from Charles Mingus' "Moanin'" (specifically this version), a tune which Corey and I have decided is just the soundtrack to an easily imagined animated piece about small terriers getting into Trouble. thus it has become the melody to at least a third of the little songs we sing to and about our small terrier when he is, getting himself into Trouble.

last thing i googled: kdjsshjkghs. well. it was "bicycle in tenebrae" because I watched the opening to Argento's Tenebrae last night and discovered the protagonist spends the first scene riding a MOTHERFUCKING CELESTE BIANCHI to the JFK airport and I needed to know if any other bicycle enthusiasts were talking about this. (a Bianchi is a very iconic Italian racing bicycle, often painted a highly recognisable shade of oxidised-copper blue-green called Celeste. anyway I happen to have one from the mid-80s because Corey, who works as a bike mechanic and salesperson at a terrible little bike shop that is absolutely exploiting them, scored a frame in perfect condition in my exact size and has been refurbishing her since like, August, and she is my pride and joy and the fastest and most beautiful bicycle in the WORLD.) the most ABSURD special-interest collision I've had in months. anyway Corey was able to identify the bike in the film down to the model and the approximate model year, which I thought was very sexy of them.

local time: 5:19 pm

dream trip: I want to show Corey (and everyone else I love) New York, the city I fell in love with, and Corey wants to show me London, which they fell in love with as a teenager, and we both want terribly to spend a month in Scotland, walking Edinburgh for hours and bicycling through the otherworldly green hills. I want to go back to Boston. I want to go back to West Virginia. I want to go back to Nova Scotia, and explore the plains of Canada as well, and I want to drive up the entire west coast and get my head lost on those long strange highways. I want to see Prague, and Tokyo, and Berlin, and Vienna, and Mumbai, and Sao Paolo, and Paris, and Beijing, and, everywhere that's a city that has become a myth of a city. I want to see places I'd never considered and fall in love with the unexpectedness of them. I want to take every single subway in the world. I want to go on a food tour of Italy, and Vietnam, and Turkey, and Morocco. I want to see forests that are older than any building I've ever touched. I want to see Australia, and Galapagos, and I want to get stoned as fuck with Rebecca and Britt in Atlanta and then go hiking, and for Corey and Rowan and Dylan and I to all cook a big meal together and then scream about tv, and go thrifting with JD in Texas, and have Kater show me her best weird secondhand shops in upstate New York, and Avery I want to lie on the floor with you and the record player and get so fucking lost, and I want all the people I love best to show me the places they love best, and tell me why it matters to them and try to see the ways in which they love that place and if I can get it inside of me, too. I want to see so much. I want to see everything.

#the diary #memery #about me

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survey--s · 1 year ago

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609.

The last time you were in the fridge, what were you looking for? Iced coffee.

Do you like clowns? Nope. I'm not terrified of them or anything but they really do freak me out.

Have you answered all of these questions honestly so far? I mean, there have been two questions lol.

What’s the third text in your inbox? It's from Mike saying he needs new tyres on his car.

Are you listening to anything at the moment? I have Two and a Half Men on in the background and I can hear my own typing, the dryer and the dog snoring.

Do you twitch when you’re falling asleep? Yeah, all the time.

Are your dishes in the dishwasher clean or dirty? We don't own a dishwasher.

Are you at home or with friends more often? Home.

When is the last time you were on a bicycle? About six years ago.

What have you eaten today? Two slices of toast and a donut.

Would you date someone 15 years older than you? No, probably not.

Do you own a strapless bra? I'm sure I have one somewhere, yeah.

Does the person you like know it? Yes.

Did anything brighten up your day today? It was nice to have a lie in, but otherwise it's just been a pretty normal day so far. I slept in, had breakfast, walked the dog, bumped into Suzanne and Charlie, showered, did two loads of laundry, went to the shops, fed the animals and now I'm doing this.

How are you feeling at this exact moment? Kinda hungry, but otherwise I'm absolutely fine.

Are you someone who worries too often? Not so much anymore.

If you could date somebody who would it be? My husband, lol.

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? Sure, I know people judge me when I'm walking Archie and he's stressing out about other dogs.

What is one good thing you’re known for? Ironically, how good I am with other dogs haha.

How about one bad thing? I have no idea.

Are you taller than most? Most what? Most women, yes. Most people in general? No, I don't think so.

When was the last time you sang an ENTIRE song? Today in the shower.

Are you the type of person who likes to be out or home? I like both. I find being at home really relaxing and I recharge the best that way, but I can't spend too long indoors without getting out - otherwise I get cabin fever.

What time do you normally go to bed? 11 pm - 1 am.

What is one thing that is currently bothering you? Nothing in particular, to be honest.

What did you do today? Oh, I kind of answered this already lol. I slept in until about 8.30am, did a load of laundry, vacuumed, had breakfast, walked the dog, came home, showered, did another load of laundry, went grocery shopping and fed the animals - now I'm doing this and watching TV.

Do you consider yourself to be attractive? I think I'm pretty average looking.

What was the last thing that you drank? Pepsi Max.

Is anything annoying you now? Not right this second, no.

Has anyone ever said i love you to you and not meant it? Yeah.

Do you regret going out with the last person you did? No.

Do you realise it when you curse? No, not always.

When was the last time you showered? About three hours ago when I got back from walking the dog.

Who did you last talk to in person? Suzanne.

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? I always do SOMETHING, but yeah, I do have some properly lazy days at times, lol.

Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? Yes.

What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? I've never seen it.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? Nope, I don't really believe in that stuff.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? About 3-4 hours.

Best field trip experience? When we went to Paris for a week.

Have you ever been to New York City? Nope.

If so, is it all its cracked up to be? ...

What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? Personally, about £30 per head but my dad once took Mike and I to a restaurant that was about £300 per person, not including alcohol.

What museums have you visited, if any? Too many to name. I was always dragged around museums as a kid.

Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? Sure, all the time. It's why I've always hated stuff like that.

What’s your worst travelling experience? Getting scammed in France I guess, but it was no big deal in the grand scheme of things.

Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why? The first one, I guess because it's what I grew up with along with all the expansion packs.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? Sure, but that's what happens when you live in terraced housing or apartments. You just deal with it.

Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? Probably my senior school tutor.

Best muffin you’ve ever had? I love a freshly baked blueberry muffin.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? Yeah, we had to for a while in school.

How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? I'm logged into it all the time but I only really check it when I have a notification or want to upload something.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? I'm not good at any kind of maths, lol.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? I love it - most people I meet haven't heard of the stuff I like, ha.

What is the strangest thing you’ve ever seen outside of your house? I honestly have no idea. The girl over the road from us walks her ferret sometimes, that's pretty weird.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? I mean, I think sometimes people get lucky, sure, but I don't think it happens for any particular reason.

How often do you “half-ass” things (put little effort in)? God, all the time hahah.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Sometimes, yeah. I don't pick messy foods if I'm out in public as I'm pretty much guaranteed to spill it down my front LOL.

Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? Ohh yes.

How reliable is your internet connection? Generally it's fine but it has been going on/off a bit lately for some reason.

Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? Yeah, sure.

What’s something that makes you incredibly nervous? Phone calls with people I don't know.

What’s the latest you’ve ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? I pulled multiple all-nighters at university.

If you don’t have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them? I've been wearing glasses since I was seven years old.

If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn’t need them anymore? That would be AMAZING. Unfortunately, my prescription is too complicated for laser eye surgery so I'm just gonna have to live with them for now.

How many vegetarians do you know? Probably quite a few, but I don't really go around asking people things like that.

Have you ever considered going to art school? Nope.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? No. I don't really spend time with anyone like that.

How quickly can you write an essay? Depends on the subject and how long the essay has to be.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? Nope. I've never understood how people can do that.

Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? Yeah, a few times.

If you have a job, who is your least favorite coworker/manager? I'm self-employed.

Favorite episode of Spongebob? I couldn't pick a particular favourite. I like the ones with Squidward as the main focus.

Do you have any silly/odd emotional connections to anything/anyone? Sure, don't most people?

Are your parents supportive of you? They most certainly are.

How often do you take the train to go places? Never. Around here, it's MUCH quicker and cheaper to drive.

Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? I do when I'm like, waiting for an appointment or for a friend to come back from the toilet or something, but I try not to do it in company as it's pretty rude.

#survey #surveys

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harringtontmaa · 2 years ago

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⚡ — @trickstercaptain sent :

This is the first time that the two of them have properly been on their own all day, but Jack hasn’t minded it at all. Dustin and his mom couldn’t have been nicer hosts if they’d tried: from the way that Mrs Henderson had cleared out the basement of their house and moved in a spare bed ( it was a tight squeeze for the two of them, but truly no different than life in their apartment ) just to house them both, from the smaller but no less significant ways in which they’d included him as part of the family despite only being here as Steve’s plus one. Jack wasn’t used to this sort of kindness, and despite knowing how important it was to be on his best behaviour and tone himself down here in rural Indiana, he’d still felt very relaxed here behind closed doors. There’s the long drive back to NYC waiting for them in the morning, but as Steve sits on the edge of the mattress, getting ready for bed, Jack steps over to him and presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head. His fingers linger on the back of Steve’s neck. “ This has... actually been really nice. Thank you for inviting me to come back here with you, love. ”

THE TRUTH IS, steve is excited to go home tomorrow — especially now that home no longer means hawkins. he's going to miss dustin, of course. being able to spend some time with him had been the best part of this whole holiday trip by far. but the kid was growing fast, already talking about where he wants to go to college. so steve knows that it won't be too long before he gets out of here, too. & right now, he actually kinda misses their cramped & drafty apartment in new york that has become so familiar. after all, home is more than walls. what steve really misses is feeling like he can walk down the street holding jack's hand without it drawing glares, being able to kiss him without having to look around to make sure no one is watching first. it's not that dustin & claudia haven't been incredible hosts — both of them have gone a long way to make he & jack feel welcome in their home, & steve is grateful for them. but there's still an uneasy sensation of always being watched here in hawkins. it's just how the town is is, like there could be monsters lurking just around every corner. living far away in the city has really only made that feeling more distinct. & while everything seemed quiet & normal at the moment, steve couldn't help fearing that this place wasn't done with them all just yet. not all monsters came from the upside down, after all — some were born & raised right here in rural indiana. he's lost in thought as he changes into a clean t-shirt & prepares for sleep, only pulled back to the present when jack steps directly into his line of sight. but then the touch of his lips to steve's crown pulls his mind out of the anxious spiral it's gotten stuck on instantly, all thoughts of monsters vanishing the moment he looks up & catches his boyfriend's eyes. ❝ jack, stop it, ❞ steve breathes, a pink flush coloring his cheeks at the sweetness in jack's tone when he calls him love. ❝ i really think i should be thanking you. ❞ steve reaches out, his fingertips circling around jack's waist before interlocking over the base of his spine to keep their bodies close. suddenly, he loathes every inch of space that comes between them, wanting nothing more than the comforting warmth of his boyfriend in his arms. jack's mere proximity calms him; it always does. ❝ being back here, seeing my parents again — it was a lot, you know. but it meant a lot to me that you were there with me. to be honest, i don't know if i could have done it without you. you've been... just really amazing. ❞ then steve tilts his head to one side to press a small kiss of his own to the nearest spot of jack's that his lips can find : the soft skin at the inside of his wrist, just beside the inky wings of his tattoo. ❝ so thank you for coming with me. &, you know... for everything. ❞

#trickstercaptain #⚡ — INTERACTIONS.#⚡ — v / new york.#⚡ — v / closed au.#⚡ — ic / answered.#ok so there's BARELY any angst.#just a tiny little wisp.#also i assumed that jack still has his swallow tattoo in modern.#& i went looking on your blog to see if i could confirm or deny.#but instead i found an old hc on your archive abt him still having his brand in modern as well? & now im suing u for pain & suffering.#but anyway. here is your holiday fluff. with just a whisper of sad.#steve is already in love lowkey. he's not gonna say it yet but. he is.

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themculibrary · 29 days ago

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Weather (Themes) Masterlist 2

part one

a cliché title about shelters from the storm (ao3) - returnsandreturns matt/foggy E, 1k

Summary: A few hours after Columbia cancels classes for the next day in anticipation of Hurricane Sandy, Foggy comes back to their room and announces his gift of a half-empty bottle of vodka and a carton of orange juice, adding, “Never say I don’t provide for you, Murdock.”

Beating the Heat (ao3) - KandiSheek steve/tony E, 1k

Summary: It's too hot to do anything but lie in bed together. Steve and Tony find ways to entertain themselves.

Blizzard (ao3) - blue_sweater bucky/darcy/steve E, 5k

Summary: A snowstorm hits New York, and Bucky and Darcy make the most of their dire situation. Steve doesn’t mind at all. OR Steve calls all of the shots even when he’s not in the same state. Bucky is a well-behaved lover. Darcy is left begging for mercy.

Blizzard (ao3) - YellowGumballs steve/bucky T, 1k

Summary: Steve is stuck in the middle of an blizzard with no heat in his apartment, luckily he has some body heat.

Cold (ao3) - vulcanscully steve/tony G, 3k

Summary: Steve Rogers never liked the winter.

Ice Ice Baby (ao3) - Last_Chance_Anna steve/tony M, 4k

Summary: Basic story of heat and ice and romance. Nothing important here. I just needed to clear my head.

Keeping Warm (ao3) - DepressingGreenie steve/thor G, 200

Summary: Steve dislikes missions in colder climates.

Make It Rain (ao3) - copperbadge steve/tony T, 1k

Summary: Steve Rogers is SO DONE with global warming.

Pressure Changes (ao3) - sahiya pepper/tony G, 8k

Summary: Peter is pretty sure he’s dying. Possibly of an aneurysm. (Spoiler: He’s not.)

Storm Incoming (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor clint/steve/tony N/R, 1k

Summary: Clint is terrified of storms, has been for as long as he can remember. But now, he has two alpha’s to comfort and protect him from the storms, even though he sometimes forgets and needs reminding. Also, Bucky’s there, because I thought it would be cute.

Sun-Kissed Walks & Talks (ao3) - Anonymous agatha/wanda T, 1k

Summary: Wanda and Agatha are walking to the school to pick up the boys.

Basically, a walk and talk between Wanda and Agatha, the latter whose attitude and mood keep changing

The Fall (ao3) - Reioka bucky/tony G, 1k

Summary: Bucky thought he could out-sail the storm.

the lightning man (ao3) - angelheartbeat bruce/thor G, 2k

Summary: While hes on the run, the lightning delivers a bleeding, bruised god to Bruce’s door, and suddenly he’s got a viable reason to stick around.

the weather outside is frightful (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor steve/sam T, 1k

Summary: Sam is staying in the cabins with Bucky. On the way back from a trip to the town, Sam finds himself in the wrong cabin, but there’s a blizzard outside and there’s really no choice but to bunk with the stranger during the blizzard.

To the end of the line (ao3) - Holdengrey0 steve/bucky G, 85k

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, a jet carrying Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes crashes in the Canadian wilderness. With winter starting and the temperatures plummeting, will the team find them in time?

New feelings emerge between the men, a whole world looking, an injury, and all sorts of challenges they have to face. How will it end?

warm you up (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor tony/sam G, 1k

Summary: Sam finally gets to leave the house after a miserable week-long heat, and doesn’t think about wearing a jacket, which is how he finds himself being wrapped in some Alpha’s arms.

Winter Never Turned To Spring (ao3) - orphan_account steve/bucky G, 3k

Summary: Even the Winter Soldier can be cold in winter. With Hydra constantly chasing after him, maybe it’s time to take a break and embrace the warmth.

You know what, scratch heating blankets (ao3) - Lequia G, 6k

Summary: In which Peter Parker does something even he considers to be stupid, Tony Stark turns into a giant pillow, and Pepper Potts is, well, Pepper.

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #masterlists #weather #weather masterlist #coldweather #storms #thunderstorms #rain

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calicoaidan · 2 years ago

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2022.

Like most folks, 2022 represented an up and down year for me.

On a personal level I lost someone very dear to me in January and had the joy of marrying my lovely partner of 13 years in October, it's not one I'll forget in a hurry.

In a sporting sense 2022 took me to the Women's Euro final at Wembley which was wonderful in so many ways, a full stadium cheering on the first England team to win a major tournament in 56 years, male or female.

To Sarina Wiegman and company, thank you for that heartwarming July day.

After 15 years of waiting I finally got to watch the Green Bay Packers play - twice! The first was a long-awaited game in London which ended in disaster with the Packers losing (after being ahead by 14) and Aaron Rodgers breaking his thumb.

Fast forward two months and I got to see them again in Chicago of all places! This time they saw victory after being behind by 13 - the duality of sports writ large.

In a professional sense I'll be blunt, not much has happened. The above really took over for me in the year gone by and there's no hiding places on this - the head hasn't been there for a fair chunk of 2022.

This also applies to cultural things and my own delving into creative bits. Grieving and the general mist of wedding planning just doesn't work well as a combo, and the numbness I've felt at times hasn't been nice.

My general feeling is that this time has passed and it's time to get the wheels spinning again, forcing myself to log things is part of that - I don't like being stuck and I'll endeavour to work through this inertia.

2022 took me to Chicago and New York, with trips to Dublin and the Lake District alongside a few visits to London - there'll be more written here on this front in the near future.

Best Gig: Foals at Castlefield Bowl

Best Album: Skinty Fia by Fontaines D.C. (I Love You is a sensation)

Best day: 28 October

Best day that wasn't my Wedding Day: 31 July

To all the lovely folks (too countless to name) who've made the nice days nicer and the grey days that bit brighter, I thank you.

Here's to 2023 and more productive times, best book those driving lessons in...

#2022 #nyc #chicago #euro2022 #wedding #LakeDistrict

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theaterism · 3 years ago

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☆ a surprise for @magickedhat !

Foxtrot had never traveled outside England. New York felt distant, intangible, real in concept alone.

And yet, Wren showed him an invitation to a witch gathering there, and they asked him to accompany them. Foxtrot, baffled, lost his voice at first. They could bring one person with them. They’d thought of him. And they’d chosen him, someone who wasn’t even a witch, to join them. Gratitude and eagerness leapt in his chest. Some nerves flared as well, but he agreed with a smile. Of course he did. It was Wren.

The day of their departure arrived. Wren had hidden a transportation glove in Wetherton, tucked into a tree in the field where the circus performed. Suitcase in hand, Foxtrot took a breath and slipped his free hand into the glove. One instant he stood on grass; the next, he found himself in an unfamiliar room with a familiar face grinning at him. Wren. They wore the other glove and thereby held his hand the moment he appeared. He mirrored their grin in a heartbeat.

Time rushed past after that, and it swept him along with it. He’d arrived in Lou’s home in France. He met Lou soon afterward in a flurry of an introduction that slightly bewildered him. Wren called her a friend, so he trusted her. And she was nice. Genuinely nice. She gave them a tour of the bakery beneath her house. Foxtrot marveled at the magical treats in the back. Star-shaped tarts speckled with stardust and berries. Cakes with baked-in magic that brought happy memories. Donut filling laced with laughter.

Lou’s parents drove them to the magic portal to New York, concealed within a forest. Wren brightened the ride with conversation. Foxtrot smiled as he listened, and he felt comfortable enough to chime in as well.

The gathering struck a more familiar chord. He knew the etiquette expected in similar events. Manners. And the theater sometimes held formal occasions, which had provided him with suitable clothing.

He also revealed he could tie a tie.

Wren’s open approval flustered him so much that he flickered out of sight. His face burned. He returned the compliments with ease when he found his voice again, though, and sincerity softened his words.

He still teased Wren about their shopping quest. Several people had entrusted them with a proper pile of goods to buy. The kids split the list between them, and they turned the search into a competition to see who could find their items faster. Lou was right: it did prove to be a rather brilliant bonding activity. They got distracted with jests, but that added to the fun.

Something else caught their attention as well. The chocolate fountain. An amazing find. They debated stealing it. Tragically, it wouldn’t fit into Wren’s hat.

They sought grander excitement in the city. They roamed between towering buildings, down bustling streets, within crowded stores. Potential adventures surrounded them at every turn. And they couldn’t resist causing trouble. They stole souvenirs from shops. Wren hunted for fox-themed items; Foxtrot swiped model planes to add to their collection. He also stole Wren a fluffy stuffed dog — and naturally, they refused to consider it fluffier than him. They snapped candid pictures of each other to send to friends. They play-fought over the sillier ones.

On Wren’s broom, they soared upward and landed on rooftops. A rush of cold air and adrenaline. The people dwindled to pinpricks far below them. The cars seemed toy-sized. Heights thrilled them both.

They spent more time exploring the city than within the mansion. Still, they drifted inside for the festival. They pursued elusive items on their shopping list, conversed with other partygoers, admired the chocolate fountain. It continued to tempt them.

The mansion tested Foxtrot, though; more than he’d expected. Restlessness prickled beneath his skin. Sudden noises startled him. Certain things stirred half-forgotten memories or memories etched in nerves alone: a piece of clothing, a tone of voice, a clatter of glasses. His heartbeat raced. His throat tightened. He tried to ignore it, distract himself, focus on anything else. He could handle it on his own. He could control and stifle it. He didn’t need to bother Wren with it. And he masked it rather well.

The most trouble arose at night. They were staying in guest rooms in the mansion during the festival.

Foxtrot couldn’t sleep. His mind refused to settle; his worries echoed over and over: what if it happens again? what if I don’t escape in time? and Wren’s in the mansion as well, so what if— what if— And when the sharp taste of soot rose in the back of his throat, he slid from his bed and padded to the window-seat. He sat and gazed outside. The city lights washed out the starlight, the sky dark, so he traced memorized constellations in his head. He planned escape routes in case the past repeated itself. And he waited.

He dozed off sometime in the early morning, leaned against the cold glass of the window. Sunlight greeted him when he jolted awake. He bottled up the jagged remnants of dreams, and a breath of relief left him. Everything hadn’t quietly fragmented to ashes in the night. He was okay. And when he saw Wren again, the tension melted from his shoulders and he could breathe easier. They were okay. Safe.

Sleeplessness followed him the next night. Again, his wariness spiked once the sun dipped below the horizon; and again, he reviewed the best ways to escape. Weariness draped itself over him. He could still feign energy — as always, Wren’s presence brought easy grins and laughter. But they knew him. They spotted the slight shift in his demeanor.

His request to explore the mansion one night might’ve betrayed his unease too clearly.

They asked him about it. He faltered and misdirected at first, but he worried they’d assume he didn’t enjoy the festival — or worse, assume he didn’t enjoy their company — if he continued to hide the truth. So he admitted he’d lived in a mansion as a child. Staying in one again felt… strange. Not the whole truth, but more than he’d usually reveal. It was a deeper secret; a detail shoved behind him; an avoided subject.

The old mansion was a wound. He preferred pretending it had healed over without a scar.

He’d noticed subtle restlessness in Wren’s demeanor as well. He didn’t want to burden them and worsen their stress. Really, he wanted to ask whether they were alright, whether he could help them somehow, but the questions remained lodged in his throat.

They suggested a hotel. Gratitude swept over Foxtrot even as shame twisted in his stomach. A sharper guilt — years old, but enduring — burned in his core and reminded him he didn’t deserve their kindness. But passing out from exhaustion struck him as a more definite way to ruin their trip, so he agreed. His hesitance lessened when he helped pay for it.

Amazement grew within Foxtrot as they moved to the hotel and their trip continued. He expected Wren to express frustration or disappointment. He sensed neither. But he’d messed up; he’d shown weakness. He’d done nothing to earn their continued warmth. He feared their exploits would lose their excitement.

And yet, and yet, and yet — lightness and laughter resumed between them as though it had never left.

The hotel eased Foxtrot’s jumpiness; apprehension loosened its grip on him. Danger no longer seemed to lurk in the darkness after nightfall. Sleep regained its sense of safety. His dreams smoothed over, lost their smoldering sharpness. He could rest. His energy returned. And during the day, they joked around and explored and caused more trouble.

They spent a whole day dashing from one adventure to the next, narrowly avoiding danger several times along the way. The sky dimmed and darkened to a velvety blue. The city stayed alight. Rows upon rows of skyscraper windows glowed and stretched high above them. Headlights and streetlights gleamed in the streets. The motion quieted but never ceased. The kids’ sightseeing slowed as their energy faded. Exhausted, they collapsed onto a subway seat.

He’d messed up. And yet their fingers intertwined as casually and naturally as before.

They fell asleep leaned against one another. Their stop came and went, and another stop passed… and another. When they woke up, they found themselves disoriented and far from the hotel. Shared earbuds and music kept them awake on their return trip. They found ways to cheer themselves as well. Illusions deceived fellow people on the subway — pranks of Wren’s invention — and a fair bit of cash (possibly pickpocketed) found its way into Foxtrot’s jacket.

They made pancakes one morning. Their typical food was takeout, but Wren noted the benefit of cooking in hotels: they wouldn’t need to clean the resulting mess. A fair point. Foxtrot couldn’t argue with their reasoning. He lacked any skill in cooking — he was rubbish at it, really — so Wren did most of the work. They talked and joked together all the while. Their conversation meandered and glimmered with humor.

As Foxtrot rummaged for ingredients, his gaze kept drifting back to Wren. Their presence was familiar and vibrant and bright. They lit up every room they walked into. The weight on his shoulders eased, and warmth bloomed in his chest, light and sparkling.

He was happy, he realized. Truly happy.

Was that okay?

He still needed to ask Wren about their wellbeing. He would ask them. The words no longer felt trapped. He wanted to offer them the same compassion they’d offered him. They’d shown him more warmth than he’d ever deserve; more understanding than he’d ever expected to receive. They were a brilliant person in general, really. He’d be there for them, no matter what. Of course he would. It was Wren.

He poured the batter onto the pan, his brow creased with focus. Distantly, he noticed the flames on the stovetop didn’t spark anxiety. Wren’s flow of words washed away his nervousness. Aloud, Foxtrot compared the pancakes to coins. Wren mentioned doing tricks with them, and Foxtrot deemed this a challenge. One pancake fell from the window and landed on the head of an unfortunate passerby. Foxtrot and Wren dissolved into laughter.

Was it okay to feel this happy?

It’s okay, Foxtrot decided then, his smile lingering.

In this moment, it’s okay.

#magickedhat #|☆| stories #(gives u this very very gently!!!)#(gosh this got so long aaaaa)#(i literally just finished it before u showed me art of them agsgd kids!!!)#(their new york trip has been stuck in my head for so long and i wanted to write it out!!)#(i loved discussing it so much and i cried writing it agdgd)#(i had a bunch of fun with it as well tho!!)#(also i realized fox had never been to a place where he couldn’t see the stars before and hhhh)#(he felt lowkey lost…….)#(he was super grateful for wren in general!! it was tricky at times but they helped him a lot and he had so much fun)#(their support meant a lot to him)#(guilt definitely set in as well but the softness was very very good!)#(and i wanted to show what led up to him crying when they called him amazing bc like agdgd it was a Lot)#(and what led up to him hugging them………)#(BUT YEAH JUST!!)#(I APPRECIATE THESE KIDS A BUNCH!!)#|☽| foxtrot ( clever fox )#|☆| to the stars || fox & wren

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beautyandthenovels · 2 years ago

Text

Princess of the Night // eddie munson x fem! OC

THIS FIC IS ALSO PUBLISHED ON MY AO3, LINK BELOW!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40050807

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Original Character

Summary: Gabrielle ‘Gabby’ Montgomery is stuck in Hawkins, Indiana after a family tragedy shakes her world upside down. Done with the overbearing pressure to be popular, the senior ex-cheerleader finds solace in Hellfire Club, especially their Dungeon Master.

Navigating falling in love for the first time, overcoming grief and getting thrown into a supernatural world where something or someone seems to be hunting her down, Gabby has a lot to deal with during senior year.

Notes: First fanfic ever. *scared* I am sorry if there are grammar errors (English is not my native language) or if it simply is a piece of shit. I am very sad about the Eddie ‘situation’ in Stranger Things so I decided to write my own version of what that sunshine fluff ball deserves.

Please show love or guide this padawan through the fanfiction universe.

CHAPTER ONE

The sunlight across the window burned her eyes, causing her to close them aggressively. The bus drove fast, making her sweat from the scorching heat but also from anxiety. They were about to cross the Indiana state border, all the way from Tennessee, where she had hopped on. Gabrielle glanced at the clock in her right wrist, confirming seven hours spent inside that smelly bus. She felt movement at her side, from a middle aged woman enthralled by a magazine containing the latest gossip, ultimately pressing Gab’s body harder against the window, much to her dislike.

Gabrielle was traveling down to Hawkins, a small town in Indiana, to live with her Grandfather August for her senior year, although she lived - or had lived - in Tennessee, alongside her parents and older brother. Tears threatened her eyes, not unusual these days, but she successfully contained them, not wanting to cause a scene inside the bus.

It was now mid-August, which meant she should have been enjoying the long days of summer, helping her mother with her veterinary work… or maybe they would have gone camping or she could have been helping her brother settle down in New York. She remembered afternoon sweet tea on the porch, neighbours coming for barbecues, horror movies with her Dad and Aaron.

A memory from the crash jolted her senses, driving her momentarily incapacitated. She performed the breathing exercises her dad taught before for panic attacks. ‘Gabby, inhale slowly and exhale…Don’t let it dominate you, you’re the one in control.’ He reassured her every single time. But sometimes it was difficult to remain in control, especially when the accident reminisced inside her head.

In the beginning of July, her parents, herself and Aaron had decided to go on a trip to New York to search for houses for him to live in, since he was going to college there. They left for the airport on a Saturday afternoon, after her regional cheerleading competition, when a truck hit them sideways full speed, not stopping at a stop sign. Time seemed to stop during the strong impact. She couldn’t remember much else, besides spinning several times, ultimately awoken by Aaron, who unfastened her seatbelt, and pushed her body towards the broken window, while he remained with his legs smashed against the seat and the truck’s weight. Her parents seemingly had died instantly, but her brother’s suffering haunted her, conscious, not able to escape or be released. He finally passed away on the way to the hospital. Gabrielle was just recollecting his crying while she screamed outside the car, when the bus suddenly came to a stop.

“Hawkins, Indiana. All passengers for Hawkins, Indiana may leave now. Thank you. Next stop:…” Here she was, in this hell hole of a town, away from home. She got up, obligated to push the lady aside to get off, extended her arms to grab for the huge duffel bag and made her way down the stairs, glad to breathe fresh air after a long time. The bus stop was located on main street, where she looked around and spotted a diner, a clothing store, general store, the post office, among other small services. Her grandfather was nowhere to be seen. She walked around, noticing people’s stares, conjuring ideas of who she was and what she was doing in Hawkins.

She walked through the suburban neighborhood, all very similar to the last time she had come here to visit, when she spotted her grandpa’s house at the end of a cul-de-sac. A charming white picket fence house with a porch engulfed in flowers, still there after Grandma Jean had passed away 2 years ago. On the swing there was a tall man seated, with a newspaper spread out on his hands. He turned right as Gabrielle’s sandals approached, a sad tired smile forming over his thin wrinkled lips.

‘Honey, you’re home!’ Gab welcomed the warm familiar feeling of her Grandpa as he hugged her. She quickly noticed the sharp pain in his face as the one she identified on her own when she stared at the mirror.

‘I’m here Grandpa.’ she sniffed, unable to control herself much more.

‘I am so sorry for driving you out of Tennessee but I am so old, this has been my house for decades… Don't be angry at me for making you come here please. ’ She cleaned the tears forming in her eyes, entering the house.

‘I’m not angry, I just… It’s weird leaving Tennessee, Dad’s farm.’

‘Are your other grandparents taking care of it?’ She nodded affirmatively. Her mom’s parents were very different from Grandpa August and Grandma Jean, they had a lot of money so they employed people to keep the farm running and decided it was better for Gabrielle to spend a year away, but since they lived in Maine they thought it would be best to live closer with Grandpa August in Hawkins, until Gabrielle finished high school and became independent.

‘How are you holding up? Have you been sleeping?’ No, she thought. She frequently relived the accident when she tried to sleep throughout the night so she normally spent hours ravaging Aaron’s metal cassettes on her walkman, or reading her brother’s D&D’s campaigns and fantasy books until eventually succumbing to an extreme state of tiredness there is no way she would dream.

‘Much better actually.’ Liar. ‘And you, how are you?’ Her grandpa kept his stoic face in place. ‘Better than yesterday.’ Both liars and both knew it.

After some time talking a bit more, an effort Grandpa played out since he wasn’t much of a talker unless Grandma Jean had been around, she was taken to her new room or, in other words, her dad’s old room. She unpacked, organized her clothes, toiletries, the cassettes and notebooks she brought from Aaron’s room. Finally, she took out a picture of the four of them standing in front of their farm, smiling, content, happy. She paid attention to her stupid face, all sunshine and careless, dressed in a baby blue dress her mom had bought her. She had been so stupid, worried about being liked by everyone in school, partaking in every single club, being class president. She regretted everything now, especially cheerleading. Aaron was so right about everything, how cruel her friends were to poor, unpopular people. How they used to act out in school like they were part of some VIP club, so above everyone else. How she got along with everyone, polite and nice just for her perfect image. It had been for nothing, got her nothing. None of her friends cared enough when her family passed away, they came around once or twice for condolences but quickly went on with their summer activities and parties. The ones who kept her company and made sure she wasn’t alone or had food were Aaron’s friends, whom her ‘friends’ absolutely disliked. Some people spoke behind their backs because Aaron and the rest of the gang had a peculiar style. But, in reality, they just hang at Gab’s house, listening to metal, play cards and Dungeon and Dragons.

‘Hey, brunette Barbie, wanna join us in our deadly quest against the zombie army of popularity?’ They knew her since she was a baby so she knew they weren’t being mean, they understood she was different from them. But she enjoyed their D&D campaigns the best and hung out with them, listening to the wonderful stories and characters they created, always with the purpose of letting good prevail over evil. It haunt her that the popular crowd at school asked her if she was turning into a weirdo like her older brother, her best friend Sheila even dared pushing her into one stall in the girls bathroom one day and warn her that she needed to give Aaron and the boys the cold shoulder because people were starting to notice and it would jeopardize all she had ‘accomplished, especially cheerleading’. Gabrielle felt numb and had no idea how to respond to that, what had one thing to do with the other? When she arrived home that day and stepped into Aaron’s room, listening to her secretly favorite song by Iron Maiden ‘Hallowed Be Thy Name’, she brought up what had been happening and the conversation earlier with Sheila.

‘So, you’re going to pretend you don’t know me and the guys? That’s it?’ He kept playing with a pencil, turning it round and round over his two fingers, his green eyes feral and hurt.

‘No! I would never do that but I just don’t understand why…’’ He brushed his mid-shoulder dark brown hair backwards, frustrated.

‘Listen Gabby, I am not going to tell you what to do because you’re a big girl. These people, they suck, they don’t know anything besides being a bunch of snobs who hang at the country club. They see themselves as the norm and anyone who lightly deviates from that line, from their so-called perspective of normality is a danger solely by existing. I know you have good friends like Sheila, who’s worried about you in her own way, but is this all you want? To be pretty and shake your pom poms, have a perfect GPA, be known as Miss Sympathy? You love D&D and hanging out with us, I know you do, you actually even like some music I listen to, right? ’ He chuckled at the last bit when she rolled her eyes.

‘I mean, you can be a nice girl, a cheerleader and still love Judas Priest. Those fuckers are the ones who simply decided you have to be A or B. Don’t let them shape you, that’s my advice.’ Gab got up from his bed and hugged him fiercely, so happy she had him for a big brother. It was the last time she ever did.

An accident that never would have happened if she didn’t go to that stupid cheerleading competition. Sharp pain ate her in her when she thought how it all could have been prevented hadn’t she go, had she never been part of that cheer squad that she didn’t even like. It had all been her fault. They were all dead because of her.

Gabrielle woke from the memory, realizing she had been sitting on the bed for quite some time, noticing it was dusk outside, the last few rays of sun piercing the window, dust particles flowing around the room in a disorganized dance. She glanced one last time at the family photo, vowing in Aaron’s name that this time it would be different, she would remain true to herself and strong, whatever or whomever came in her way. ‘I love you’.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!oc #eddie munson x female original character #eddie munson x female oc #stranger things 4 #st4 #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female character

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