#And it happened in the middle of the stream without a fucking warning

[piritos03]

2024 vs 2022

[slut4thebroken]

Baby Fever

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Tommy Shelby x wife!reader

Summary | Free use wife.

Warnings | Smut, breeding kink, free use lol, in public, exhibitionism, pregnancy (very few details cause… c’mon lol… I’m the one who wrote it💀), light humiliation.

Words | 1.5 k

Notes | Yeah this gif still makes me feral

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 2: free use + breeding kink

Tommy didn’t expect much from you as a wife. There were already staff who cooked and cleaned and you didn’t have any children yet. The one thing he did expect from you though, was being ready and willing to take his cock at any time of the day. 

Sometimes he’d be more gentle about it, coaxing you away from whatever task or conversation you were involved in to somewhere more private where he’d ravish you until you could only think about him and his cock. Other times, he’d be more desperate. 

If you happened to bring him lunch on a particularly stressful work day, he’d drag you in his office and bend you over the desk, fucking away all of his stress, if at least for a few minutes. 

Sometimes at the race track he’d pull you away to a more secluded— but still very public— area and cover your mouth as he plowed into you, rough and desperate, borderline animalistic. If the sound of your muffled moans didn’t give you away, the loud slapping of skin definitely did, but he didn’t care. If he wanted you, nothing was stopping him from taking you. 

A few times you even woke up to him lazily rutting into you, fucking you deep, but keeping the pace slow. He’d moan quietly, kissing and biting your neck, even sucking on the sensitive skin to leave marks. 

If he was ever short on time, he’d force you to your knees and fuck your face, making you gag and choke on his cock until tears streamed down your cheeks. Sometimes he’d blow his load down your throat. But if you weren’t in public or in too much of a hurry for anything, he’d paint your pretty face with his come, marking you as his. 

He knew you were embarrassed everytime you came back after he dragged you away. Every single time, without fail, you always looked like you were just fucked stupid. But that only encouraged him. He liked showing people that you belonged to him— that his wife was more than happy to satisfy him, even in public. 

It was also common for him to pull over and make you ride his cock in the car, smiling at all the people who drove past. If he couldn’t pull over, he’d grab your hair and force you down on his cock. Even if he arrived at the destination, he wouldn’t stop until you drained his balls and swallowed every last drop. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of the day or if it was pitch black out— it didn’t even matter if the window was open or not. He’d fuck your face and throw his head back as the pleasure consumed him until he finally fell over the edge. Sometimes, his sounds would attract attention, and he loved the look on people’s faces when you lifted yourself up, smiling and wiping the lower half of your face with the back of your hand. 

This didn’t happen often, but if he were ever in the middle of fucking you, too consumed by the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock, and someone knocked on the door, he’d tell them to come in. It was usually someone you didn’t even know— one time it was Arthur… that was a particularly humiliating experience for you— but he wouldn’t stop. He’d keep you bent over his desk or on his lap and continue fucking you as you tried to not make any sounds. He always thought it was amusing when you tried to be quiet. 

One time, he walked in on you holding Ada’s baby, smiling and cooing at him, making him giggle relentlessly. As soon as Tommy got you alone, his cock was inside you and he rambled on about fucking a baby into you, breeding you nice and deep until he knocked you up. His words were almost incoherent with arousal as he described this fantasy of your belly full with his kid, your tits swollen with milk, and the glow that you’d have from all of it. He rambled on about raising them together, how good you’d look as the mother of his kids, how he wanted to fuck baby after baby into you… breed you until he fucking ran out of come. 

That sparked a conversation between the two of you. While the original plan was to wait a few years, you both agreed to shorten that time frame. So less than two years later, you were off of birth control and he was breeding you every chance he had. Honestly you were getting a little worn out, but you never complained. No matter how tiring it could be, you still absolutely loved it. 

It became even more of a frequent occurrence for you to be walking around with either come soaked panties or come running down your thighs. He also took a liking to cock warming. In bed, on his desk chair, in the car— anywhere he could— he’d fuck you and fill you with his come, then keep you plugged up, wanting to make sure it really had a chance to take. 

At home, he’d put you in the mating press position, then stuff you full of his come. Only instead of letting you relax, he'd keep your hips tilted up so none of it could leak out and make you come again with his mouth as a reward for staying in that position. 

The first time he fucked you after finding out you were pregnant… he was practically feral. The fact that there was a baby inside you— that it was his baby, made him all but lose control. He ravaged you with an intensity he’s only had a few times, rambling on about how he planned to fuck you like this for a while since he would eventually have to be gentler— if he could even fuck you at all. The problem was that his promise didn’t just apply to when he fucked you in the privacy of your own home, but it was just a problem for you. Tommy loved that you couldn’t keep quiet. 

Months down the line, rough, hard fucking turned into gentle love making. He’d kiss you tenderly as his hips rocked into you, keeping the pace almost tortuously slow. He tended to kiss over your stomach whenever he could and caress it with gentle hands. Both of you were surprised and disappointed by the fact that your breasts were far too tender for any touch to feel good. So he kept his hands and mouth elsewhere. 

The love making usually took place in bed. But every once in a while, he’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your small frame, placing his hands on your belly as he kissed your neck until he finally got too impatient and lifted your dress to slip his cock inside. 

Around eight months, and even for weeks after the birth, he showed no sign of needing you like that. He never made you feel pressured either, even when he’d hold you at night. You were grateful though because your body definitely wasn’t ready for that yet. 

It was a little after two months postpartum that you were becoming a bit too needy though. One day, after watching him play with and hold the baby, you finally snapped. The second you were alone you practically jumped his bones, kissing him almost animalistically and pulling on his hair until he moaned into your mouth and finally grabbed your hips. 

“Love,” He started, but cut off when you unzipped your dress and let it fall to the floor, pooling around your feet.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to lose my mind.” You warned breathily, working on ripping his clothes off. 

“Slow down, darling. You have to be careful.” He said gently, making you more frustrated.

“Thomas Shelby, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me, I’ll go find someone who will.” You growled, giving him one last warning. He raised his brows, shocked and amused by your words. “I carried your child for nine months. The least you could do is make me come on your cock until I forget my own name.” 

“You’re that needy, eh?” He smirked, making you scowl. “Calm down, Mrs. Shelby, I’ll give it to you…” you still get butterflies when he calls you that, “but you know I can’t resist teasing you.” 

“You’ve teased me for months. Either fuck the shit out of me or I’ll get it from someone else.” You said, voice low and almost threatening, but you knew it only made Tommy more amused. 

“How have I teased you for months?” He asked innocently. 

“Christ, Tommy— just fuck me already. You have to do what I say because I just birthed a whole baby for you.” 

“I guess you're right.” He said with a sly smirk. “Until you forget your own name?” You nodded eagerly and he walked you backwards until your legs hit the bed. Once you were laying down, he crawled over you and kissed you deeply, making you moan against his lips and bring your hands up to his hair. “As you wish, darling.” 

[tojigasm]

Thinking very hard about Logan talking you through it

He knows you're close ultimately before you do. Seasoned by his many years of life, your tells are specific but not impossible to discern.

It's different each time he's come to realize. A different scent to you based on the mood you're in, how quickly he brings you there, your vulnerability, and how he speaks to you.

Logan's a greedy man. He knows that. And he knew as soon as the first time it'd happened that he shamelessly selfish in getting what he wanted.

You smell like cinnamon and vanilla and fuck if it wasn't better than all the drugs he'd ever tried combined.

A part of him still thinks he might be chasing your high.

He learned quickly how to manipulate you to get different responses. Testing out what you react to and which scent meant what.

When it's a euphoric intimacy, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla isn't so strong. It's diluted some, like a soft cloudy mist.

More emotionally frustrated intimacy smells far more tart, almost coppery. It often reminds him of blood in his mouth, soaking into his lungs and taste buds like tar.

When you're in a far more glum mood, you smell like rain on cement. He's starved for it.

You're so pretty beneath him. Eyes lidded and swollen lips parted loosely as he scissors his middle and forefinger against your velvet walls.

Logan bumps his palm against your clit and you let you a gasp – your hand jumping from the bedsheets to grip his forearm.

"Right there, huh?"

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you give him a nod at that, tucking your chin to your chest as he moves his other hand to press one of your thighs upwards to where your knee almost hits your breast.

He slips his hand from your cunt, moving to pull your other hand to hold your own thighs to your chest.

Wordlessly, he kneels and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed before hooking his arms around your waist.

Without warning, he runs the flat of his tongue up the length of your cunt to your clit with a deep hum.

You know he can feel you shiver beneath him by the way he smiles against the sopping folds of your cunt.

"Feel good?" He chuckles softly, looking up at you from between your thighs.

You're reduced to broken whines and choked gasps, but you manage a hum in response, readjusting your grip on the backs of your thighs as Logan slips his tongue past your folds.

You smell of faint cinnamon.

"Lo," you sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes with a chipped whine.

Logan hums into your cunt, the sharp of his nose rocking back and forth against your clit.

He unwraps his arm from around your waist, reaching upwards to weave your hands together with a soft squeeze.

"Haa... ahh." Your voice grows watery as Logan brings you closer to the edge.

"M'close, Lo," you breathe, readjusting your hand on your thigh to keep it close to your chest.

"I know, sweetie." He circles his tongue around your bundle of nerves before blowing a stream of air onto your clit, "m'gonna get you there."

When he sucks on your clit again, you're cumming almost immediately with a shiver that simmers itself down your spine to your toes.

"There we go. It's a big one, huh."

A wave of vanilla woven with cinnamon washes over him and he nearly cums in his jeans.

You hear Logan before you've noticed he's moved from between your legs to stand above you, thumb circling your clit softly.

Whining, you turn your head into his forearm beside you.

"Doin' so good, sweetie," He coos, stroking his hand, still held by your own, down the side of your face before placing a kiss on your temple.

Your smell is much more prominent there, as though it travels through the roots of your hair and tickles itself through your soft skin.

Another shiver runs down your spine, causing the air on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand.

"Need you." You sob, voice muffled by the skin of his arm.

He settles down beside you on the bed, chin propped up on the flat of his right palm, squeezing your hand with his.

"You're okay."

The vanilla sinners throughout the room, and he swears he can see it in the dust that floats past the Amber hues of his room.

[yaut-jaknowit]

All this talk of breeding and babies has me curious!!!! Maybe a fic where Vic, Uie, and reader DO decide to have a hybrid baby? How would they be as dads?

Daddies

Pairings: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader X Vic'tao (Male Yautja)

Warnings: slight description of birth

Word Count: 2205

Summary: Where we get to see how good Vic'tao and Uihoy are as dads.

Author Note: This was such a cute idea. I will say, they has been a lot of asks about babies happening lately. Is everyone ovulating or something? Ain't complaining, just worried and preparing for another round soon.

Masterlist

Ao3

When they first smelled the change of hormones in you, they buzzed with energy. As a human yourself, you couldn’t tell that early. Their change of attitude towards you concerned you. Not only were they more excited, but they treated a lot more carefully. Like you were glass and one wrong look could break you.

It wasn’t entirely due to the fact you were pregnant. You are a ooman. A pregnany ooman with their child. This was a whole different ballpark they’ve never even thought to step foot into.

One day, you grew to your boiling point.

Rage weaved into your very bones. For the last three months, they’ve acted different. It was like a one-eighty that flipped everything. Here you were, in the middle of the common rooms watching as the two kept their distance. It hurt. But it made you angry.

Hot tears burned your eyes. “What in the hell is wrong?!” you shouted at the top of your lungs. Your voice echoed back at you, bouncing off of the walls. “You won’t touch me. You won’t even look me in the eye anymore! Have I done something wrong?” Not only were anger but fearful you may have done something to mess up everything. You were the one to join their group. The last one to be initiated into the party.

Both of them stopped their retreats and glanced at each other. Confusion flashed upon their unique features. Like they had any reason to be puzzled. It was them causing all of this. Uihoy first broke the eye contact and what seemed to be timidly looked at you. You never thought Uihoy could do anything timid, scared-like in your life.

Your gaze narrowed down on the purple Yautja peering at you with a flickering gaze. “Look at me damnit! Tell me what the hell is wrong?” You couldn’t stop screaming, needing to get this rage out of your system. “Three months, three months without proper touches.” Tears streamed down your cheeks. “Are… are you disgusted by me now?”

Those words cracked not only your heart but theirs as well. Vic’tao made a pained whine and rushed towards you. His knees met the ground before your feet. He went to touch you but stopped shy, pupils narrowing. He didn’t want to touch you.

Pain not only shined in your eyes but expanded across your features. His yellow eyes met yours briefly before he softly rested a hand on your shoulder. The other cupped your chin. The touch was welcomed despite the issues arising currently. You whimpered and turned to nuzzle his hand, relief flooding your system. It has felt like a century since they’ve land their touches on you.

“Tell me, what is wrong? Why have you both drifted away from me?” you softly cried, shoulders jumping with each sob.

Vic’tao’s brows furrowed as if he confused himself of his own actions. That just made you want to bite him. Hard.

Uihoy came to join the two of you and knelt besides Vic’tao, gaze towards the ground. Even he wouldn’t met your eyes. You cried harder and wretched your head from Vic’tao’s touch. It hurt to do so but you didn’t want comfort if they were just going to keep hurting you.

The yellow Yautja chirped to his partner and nudged his shoulder with his own. Now, they weren’t going to speak in English so you could understand the situation.

When you were about to take a step back, the two of them faced you. “Do… do you not know?” Vic’tao questioned and tilted his massive head at you. You scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Clearly, I don’t fucking know when I don’t understand why you’ve put distance between us. I don’t even remember doing anything wrong. But do enlighten me.” You couldn’t help but be snarky in the moment. They deserved it.

They glanced at one another again for a fleeting moment. Usually, both of their eyes on you would make you nervous. But, you didn’t care this time.

Uihoy jerked his head up. A light bulb appeared over his head. “C’jit. Ooman.” It was like the two of them had a sudden life realization without bringing you up to speed. You kept glaring at the two of them. Then, the purple male scooted closer to you on his knees and softly embraced you.

Despite the anger in your veins powering you, you instantly wrapped your arms around him and squeezed tightly. “We-we so sorry, little hunter. Little hunter is ooman. Doesn’t smell. Doesn’t know. Doesn’t understand,” he cooed to you and ran a hand up and down your back in soothing strokes. You couldn’t help but feel offended by his words.

You pushed back to look him in the eye. “What does that mean?! Just because I’m human doesn’t mean I’m less!” His eyes jumped wide. His head shook wildly to disclaim what you’ve said.

Hands cupped your cheeks and turned your head to face Vic’tao. “No, treasure! That’s not what he’s saying!” Your features twisted with a mixture of confusion and hurt still. Again, you didn’t understand anything that was happening. “You’re pregnant.”

His mouth continued to move but you didn’t hear a word. If it wasn’t for either of their holds on you, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

Pregnant? But… they’ve told you that was next to impossible. That made sense. Two different species. Both hundreds of thoughts of lightyears away from each other. They surely couldn’t reproduce with each other. It was scientifically impossible to reproduce! But… they just told you, you are pregnant. With their child. Shit, with which one. Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. You were pregnant by them.

Your blurry vision focused onto Vic’tao who was directly in your face. Both of your hands grasped his cheeks and pulled his nose to nose with you. “You’re not lying? I’m pregnant?” You needed to hear it again, to make sure Uihoy or him weren’t lying straight to your face. You had to know.

He grunted with a nod.

Oh my god. You were pregnant. After thinking all this time you would never be with a child – not it bothered you, it was finally happening! You squealed and jumped in place, arms thrusted up into the air. New tears prickled the corner of your eyes. Happy tears.

Then, you tackled Uihoy, nearly taking him down to the floor. Your arms crushed the confused Yautja before he returned the embrace in a soft gesture. You buried your face into his neck and deeply breathed in his scent. How you missed being this close with the two of them.

Next, you wrenched yourself away from him to embrace Vic’tao in the same manner. He didn’t expect the hit and fell onto his back, cradling you in a protective manner. You could care less and breathed in his missed scent as well. You could almost cry from how much you longed for their touch.

After a small miscommunication between the three of you, all was well. They explained to you that female Yautjas are different when pregnant. They didn’t know if it was the same for a human. So, they decided to proceed with caution. Worst of all, both of them thought you knew you were pregnant. A female can sense the change inside of themselves within the first three weeks. Clearly, you didn’t know until they told you.

From that day forward, they were the best to-be-daddies. They waited on foot and hand for you. Whatever you wanted, you didn’t even need to move from the bed or chair. They’ll get it for you. They wanted to show they could not only care for you during a time like this but for the baby as well. Which, you a sit down about.

Besides the cultural differences you already knew existed, you had them explain what happens with a female being pregnant. Females usually were by themselves during the pregnancy unless they had a permanent mate. Since the two of them had never encountered this situation before, they didn’t know how to handle it.

Females would go through the entire pregnancy by themselves. Those more experience would just give birth the same way. First time mothers or those with little under their belt would call upon others for help.

This knowledge made you terrified but amazed at the same time. The fact they could do this all by themselves was phenomenal. Yet, you knew you could never do that. You didn’t want to be alone.

Besides that one miscommunication, life with the boys had been great. Well, for the most part. Of course, with you being pregnant as a human, they didn’t let you go hunting with them anymore. That was the highlight of your days when they would take you out. It was sketchy enough to let you join them but pregnant. They explained to you your scent would draw every predator in. A pregnant creature meant slower prey to those predators.

So, for the rest of the six months or so, you stayed inside the ship. They would take you out during supervised excursions around the ship. But they would never let you leave their sight.

For the pregnancy itself, it wasn’t bad. Your belly grew far quicker than you thought was normal. Both of them wished to take you to a medic to get checked out. Unfortunately, from each other own clans, they heavily disagreed with hybrids. Bringing you into their territory would unfortunately be the death of your child.

It was just the three of you facing the world with a child on the way.

When it came to the birth, the tub was your best friend all the way through. Both of your mates stayed at your sides the entire time. Whatever you needed, they retrieved it within seconds. They allowed for you body to go through its natural course.

Uihoy was the first to scoop up the yellow floating blob in the water. A powerful cry escaped from her tiny lungs. The sound sent relief through all of your veins. Uihoy quickly passes the heavy baby to you and helps you cradle her close. If you didn’t know any better, you would say this was one of the biggest babies you’ve ever seen before.

By the color of her scales, all of you could tell this was Vic’tao’s child. His first one. He likes to say he was a good sport but the first week, he would rub it into Uihoy’s face. The older Yautja would huff and chuckle while shaking his head. He didn’t mind at all. Since it was possible, there was always a chance for the next to be his anyhow.

As for them being dads, you couldn’t ask for anything or anyone else. They stepped up one-hundred and twenty percent to the plate. When you needed a break, one of them would whisk her away. The other, with your consent, would stay at your side and let you sleep for however long you needed.

It was all by trial and error. None of you knew what you were doing. Uihoy has had children before, but the female would go off to do their own thing. Plus, Quir-oe was a hybrid. A mix of both human and Yautja. Figuring out her needs was difficult. Yautjas eat raw meet but humans don’t. Yautjas stomachs are hardier than humans. The last thing you wanted to do was get her sick.

Over time, Quir-oe would grow. Despite your concerns for her to follow the path of a Yautja warrior, you could see that was what she wanted. It was what she needed. She had this drive to hunt.

Both of your mates would switch who would take her out for a hunting trip. Since she could hold up her own head and walk, they would each take her with them. Every time, you were terrified something would happen. You had to accept that fact with your mates that one day they may not come back from a hunt. But this was different, this was your daughter. No, you didn’t love her more than them or vice versa. But it was a different kind of love and need to protect her.

Yet, you couldn’t take her from the hunt.

Like the dads they are, they would take Quir-oe out to teach her.

Despite this being the first time any of you worked as family, it was perfect. You smiled down at the three of them in cuddled together in bed. A filled waterskin in your hand.

Uihoy cracked open an eye and reached out a hand to you. Your family may not be perfect, but it was the best thing you’ve ever hand. You took his hand and let him pull you down. He held your back to his chest and curl around you. All but Quir-oe’s legs were mixed together at the end of the bed. You hummed softly and let your eyes drift shut.

The Yautja behind you buried his face into your neck then stilled. His claws clenched the material of your shirt. You tensed, about to open your mouth to question what was wrong. Uihoy beat you to it.

“You’re pregnant.”

[theereina]

Bad News Pt. 1

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC "Bella"

Wordcount: +3K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, mental health mentioned (anxiety), vomit, *emotional distress*, angst, heartbreak, chronic illnesses mentioned

A/N¹: Remember, I just got back into writing. I'm open to critiques, but I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Since coming home, I had been sitting on the bedroom floor for what seemed like hours. I had done nothing since I had returned home. I had disassociated as soon as I hit the door. Today was only adding to the mess that my life had become. I received the dreaded phone call from my doctor's office early this morning. He said I would need to return immediately for surgery, a surgery that would possibly change my life forever.

My mind was all over the place, and all I wanted was Terry. My Terry. He would know how to help me get through this. I just had to explain everything to him and lay it all on the table. He deserved upfront honesty since this news would affect him, too. It would affect the life we wanted and planned to have.

I had come to the South to spend time with him because I needed to rest. Too much has happened over the last month. I had lost my job because my health was deteriorating rapidly. I was still fighting in court with my mother over the money my aunt left me. After the last storm, my apartment had a severe water leak, so I had to move in with my godmother and godsister on the West Coast. Luckily, we stayed in the same city.

When the doctor called today, I had tried my best to prepare for the news I already knew. The doctor said he found something during the original exam, leading to a biopsy, ultrasound, and MRI. The results from those were even worse.

As I was anxiously waiting, my heart was beating out of my chest again, and I could feel the growing lump in my throat. My body was getting hot, and I wasn't even remembering to breathe. I loathed this feeling. The feeling of anxiety overtaking my body without my permission. Not again. Not now. Not at the one moment where I needed to talk without panicking and rushing through my words. Of course, anxiety had to make an appearance.

I lay on my back in the middle of our bedroom floor and crossed my arms around my body as if I were hugging myself. “Breathe, Bella. Breathe,” I said inhaling and exhaling sharply. Every inhale felt like there were razor blades in my lungs. Oh, no.

I leaned on my elbows and quickly scanned the room for my purse. I needed my phone so that I could at least text Terry. I couldn't breathe right now so talking wasn't an option. The tears in my eyes were begging to be released. I held them in as best as I could. “Don't cry, Bella. Don't. Please, don't,” I said to myself holding my head back forcing the tears to retreat slightly.

My purse was behind me thrown against the master bathroom door. I turned over and crawled towards my handbag. I grabbed the strap of my crossbody and pulled it towards me. Sitting on my knees with the purse in my hands, I flipped it upside down and dumped out all of its contents. My wallet, lip gloss, compact mirror, lip liner, coins, crumpled cash, receipts from today, and phone all thudded onto the floor ahead of me.

I grabbed my phone but instantly dropped it as a sharp pain shot through my chest like lightning. The pain lasted mere seconds but was enough to break me. The tears that I was holding in were now streaming down my face. I was bawling my eyes out through ragged breaths. Fuck. I grabbed the phone from the floor and searched for Terry's number through blurred vision. I used the back of my hand to wipe my eyes. My eyes took painfully long to come back into focus enough for me to make out the letter T at the beginning of a contact. Luckily, I recently messaged him, so I clicked on the thread. I could see the heart I sent Terry earlier as the last message. I quickly tried to calm my breathing a little more and sent Terry a text. It only told him to come home ASAP.

My eyes were beginning to sting, and my sight was blurring again. I waited for at least a few minutes before looking down at the phone again. No response. I was panicking, so I sent a copy of the same text multiple times hoping to alert him to my current state of distress.

“Please, Terry. Save me. I need you,” I thought to myself. I looked up at the ceiling. I needed him to at least call me. Just a call. He would hear my voice and know. That's all I need right now. I waited and still nothing. I decided to call Terry myself. Two rings, then I was sent to voicemail. No way. He didn't just decline and ignore my call. He never does that.

I clutch my hand to my chest and breathe out through my mouth. I call him once again. Same result — voicemail. I sent another text. This one told him I was having an anxiety attack. I put the phone beside me. I repositioned myself in a hunched-over position with my forehead touching the carpet. I was praying that Terry would call.

*3 hours later

I had managed to get on the bed. I didn't even remember moving or falling asleep. I was just so out of touch with reality currently, disassociated and detached. I awoke to my entire body aching. I leaned up on the bed and slid to the bottom edge. My head was pounding, and the feeling was making me nauseous. The room seemed to be spinning. Trying to calm myself again, I sat there for a moment.

I knew I looked like shit. My phone was still on the floor. “Shit!” I yelled. I went into an instant panic. What if Terry called, and I missed it? What if he texted while I was in such a deep sleep? I slid down the edge of the bed letting my butt thud to the floor. I reached for the phone bringing it to my chest. I hoped that I hadn't missed him.

I unlocked my phone to see no missed calls and no new messages. What the fuck? That couldn't be right. I checked that I had service and hadn't accidentally turned on DND or airplane mode. Nope, I hadn't done either. This wasn't right. Terry would have at least texted me back.

I rushed to get up from the floor with the phone still in my hand. I headed out into the hall to see if Terry was inside. “Baby? Terry? Are you here?” I yelled walking into the living room. It was empty and so was the kitchen. I walked towards the large bay window in the living room and peered out. His truck wasn't there either. Where was he?

I tried to call Terry again. Now, it was going straight to voicemail. I left a brief message asking for him to come home and let him know about the panic attack. I hung up, and I sent a message again.

Now, I was starting to worry. This wasn't like him. Was he hurt? Was he in jail? Admittedly, Terry does sometimes have a bit of a temper.

Immediately, I tried calling his father. It rang and rang. He picked up and answered in his usual manner. “Jed speaking,” he said. “Hi, have you seen Terry? I've been trying to reach him for hours,” I said rushing out every word. “Whoa, slow down. I haven't talked to him since this morning, baby girl. Let me ask Linda. Linda! Linda!” he yelled away from the phone. I could hear her answer from the other room. “Ya’ talked to Terry since mornin’?!” he yelled back. I could overhear her respond “No”. “I'm sorry, baby. Neither of us have heard from him. I do know that he went downtown to see if he could get some more help for Mike,” he said. “Mike?” I asked confused. “Yeah,” he started, “Them folks decided to keep him, and Terry is supposed to be going to get him out.”

“I knew about Mike gettin’ locked up, but that's ‘bout it. Terry hasn't said much,” I said putting the pieces together. “Well, that's ‘bout all I know. If we hear from him we'll tell him to call you. M’kay?” he said. “Yes, sir,” I said before ending the call.

I was too afraid to leave the house because I wanted to be there if Terry returned. I sat down on the couch and waited in silence. I was checking my phone every minute for any new calls or messages. Nothing.

I had been waiting for at least an hour in complete silence on the couch when my phone rang. I saw Terry's name on the screen and immediately answered it. “Baby—!” I started to speak. “Bella, can you chill?” Terry barked through the other end. I paused for a second. “Terry, I was worr—,” I tried to speak again. “The hell did you call my parents for? I'm trying to figure out all this shit with Mike. Give me a fucking break. Will you?” he yelled. “I understand that now, but Terry—,” I said before hearing him hang up.

I couldn't believe it. He had yelled at me and hung up on me. What the hell? I wasn't aware of the severity or urgency of Mike's situation. It wasn't like Terry was telling me anything. This was one of the biggest issues in our relationship. Communication between us wasn't always the best or healthiest. In stressful moments, I found it hard to express myself in any capacity, and Terry barely talked at all. I just really needed to talk to him about the call I received from the doctor.

Then again, maybe I was being too overbearing. He needed to focus on Mike, right? You know what? I just needed to relax. Breathe and fucking relax. Terry just needed space. He would come home, we would talk, and everything would be fine. There was no need to make this situation worse than it was.

I waited for another hour. I was lying on the couch and cuddled under my blanket. I had started dozing off when I heard the door open. I jumped up to see Terry walking through the door. His face was filled with anger, and his nostrils were flared. He was pissed.

I sat back down. The worst thing to do was bother Terry when he was this angry. He rushed through the house and stormed to the bedroom. He didn't even acknowledge my presence or notice me sitting there. As much as I wanted to console him, I knew better. If I bothered him right now, he would retreat and leave. That was the worst possible outcome for me.

I went into the kitchen to at least try to find something to cook. I searched the fridge and found thawed steaks. I placed them on the counter beside the stove along with a bell pepper and onion. I searched the cabinets for an appropriate side and settled for boxed mac-and-cheese. I wanted to cook something soon, so we would have a reason to sit and talk.

*1 hour later

The food was done, but Terry was nowhere to be found. I sulked towards the bedroom. I knew this was going to go one of two ways. Either Terry was calmed down, or he was still a raging bull. I stood at the bedroom door. I reluctantly opened it and peered inside. “Terry,” I called out from the doorway. My voice was barely more than a whisper. “Terry,” I said a little louder. “What?!” he barked from the closet.

I jumped at the sound of his voice. He was still pissed. I lightly closed the door trying my hardest not to aggravate him any further. “Food’s ready. I made steak and—,” I said before he rushed out from the closet. “I'm not eating. I got shit to do, Bell!” he yelled walking towards his side of the bed. He leaned over and picked up his backpack and duffel bag from the floor. Panic took over my face.

“Terry, are you leaving to go somewhere?” I asked moving closer to him. “The hell does it look like? I'm leaving tonight,” he said placing clothes into the duffel. “Wait! I need to talk to you,” I said reaching for his arm. “Not now. I got to be there by Thursday afternoon to get Mike,” he said snatching his arm away from me. “Can you leave tomorrow afternoon? Anytime aft—,” I whimpered. Terry's eyes shot upward at me. “Don't fucking start. I already told you Mike was in some shit!” he snapped coming towards me. “But you never said—,” I said backing away.

This wasn't Terry. This wasn't my Terry. This wasn't the Terry who had never yelled at me, who never cursed at me, who even in my fits of anger calmed me down. Who was this?

“I get that you're upset, but I got a call from the doctor's office today. Remember, the tests they ran?” I asked trying my hardest not to cry. Tears were forming, but I refused to let them fall. I needed to stay strong. “Just stop for a second,” I said walking up to Terry and placing my hand on his chest. “What now, huh? What is it that can't possibly wait?” he asked. His face had turned into a scowl and his eyes had narrowed in annoyance. If I didn't think this man still loved me, I would label this a look of pure disgust and hate.

I was trying my hardest to just say it, but I knew it was too delicate of a matter. Terry was too far gone. This wasn't something you blurt out in a fit of rage or frustration. A panicked and rushed speech wouldn't suffice here. This was something so delicate that even the smallest detail needed to be discussed carefully. So, I decided to hold my tongue.

“Nevermind. I'm sorry. I'll talk to you la—” I said removing my hand from his chest. I could feel his heart racing. Maybe, at this moment, he needed me more than I needed him. “So, what's your plan? Are you just going to bail him out and bring him back with you?” I asked earnestly trying to find some sense of familiarity in his eyes, but I couldn't. With that, I buried every emotion I was carrying so that I could give Terry my full attention. “No, I plan on staying for a while. I got other shit to sort out besides just the shit with Mike,” he said turning away from me. “Wait, what? When will you be back?” I asked. “I don't fucking know!” he snapped again. “Terry, I'm only asking,” I said lowering my head. This conversation was quickly going downhill. “How am I supposed to tell you what I don't know, Bell? It may be a few weeks. Hell, it may be a month,” he said continuing to pack his duffel.

“Terry, I need you before then. I need you here tomorrow. The doctor's going to be calling me back. And I—,” I said twiddling my fingers. I hadn't even noticed that I was pacing on my side of the room. I stopped to look at Terry and tried to just say it. “There's something wrong, and he wants me back by—,” I said sniffling. Terry ceased his movements and looked up at me. The look on his face shook me to my core. Hate was inscribed as the only visible emotion. His eyes had darkened, his nostrils were flared, and his jaw was clenched tight enough to accentuate the veins from his temples.

“There's always something wrong with you. All the fuckin' time! It's always about you!” he yelled. His voice thundered through the room. Every word pierced my heart like a bullet. I stood frozen in shock. The man who promised to never hold my health against me had done exactly that.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through my body. There was now a sour taste in my mouth as my saliva grew thick. My hands were now shaking, and my legs felt like they would give out at any moment. I rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. I instantly felt the vomit rising from my belly. I hovered over the toilet. I spewed up nothing but bile due to having an empty stomach. The acid scorched my throat and flooded out of my nostrils. Every breath I took burned my nose and throat. This felt minuscule compared to the words Terry just said to me.

I dropped to my knees and kneeled before the toilet. The vomit wouldn't stop coming. I held myself up by placing my hands on the edge of the toilet. I was bawling silently. My chest was heaving up and down rapidly. The tears began to pour freely and landed on the toilet seat. I snatched a wad of tissue paper from the roll and wiped my face.

I tossed the tissue into the toilet and closed the lid. I flushed it and slumped back onto the side of the tub. The cold porcelain was hard and uncomfortable against my bare skin. My adrenaline was all over the place, so I pulled my knees up to my chest and dropped my head. Hanging low and uneasy, my head felt heavy against my legs.

Calm down, Bella. Calm down.

I was lost. I was hurt. I was angry. I was overwhelmed. I was exhausted. Worst of all, I felt alone. He was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Now, I felt like my life was ending here. He had crushed me without even knowing it. His face and actions showed no sliver of empathy or remorse. How would we ever come back from this? Better yet, could we?

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @slutsareteacherstoo @pocketsizedpanther @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blowmymbackout @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @insidefeelingofanadult @revealingco @keyaho @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh

A/N²: You will learn what the illness is in part 2. Stay tuned!

[ickie]

♡ evergreen \ ln4.

pairing: lando norris x reader summary: lando is a cheater, and has to deal with the consequences of his actions. \ 500+ words. warnings: mild language, nothing bad. not a happy ending, sad fic??? notes: very reminiscent of how me n my boyfriend broke up but we're not gonna talk about that ! feel free to leave any feedback here, and my requests are open !

"you're an asshole."

the words came out before you could stop them, arms crossed over your chest as you stared the brit down. you had seen the picutres, hell you had seen the videos of lando driving some girl around in his mclaren. it wasn't like he tried to be inconspicous about what he was doing... they had gone out in the middle of the day in the broad daylight. there was no hiding even attempted on their part, at least not this time.

"it's not what it looked like, babe... i promise." he stepped forward, a hand coming to reach for your arm. you jerked away, jaw clenching as you shook your head. "it was exactly what it looked like! do i look stupid? do you think i don't see what the fuck goes on? i'm not oblivious. you have people that watch your every fucking move..." you choked on your words as you tried to fight back the knot that had formed in the back of your throat.

"who is she?" you asked the question that had littered your thoughts for the past two hours that lando had been gone, the same question that had been put in the comments of the pictures, of the videos, of the threads that you had seen on twitter... his pictures with this girl were everywhere and it seemed the only person who didn't know was lando himself.

"she's just a friend!" you couldn't help but laugh at the excuse, your mouth opened in disbelief. "if you can't believe me when i say this, you clearly don't fucking trust me. i'm your boyfriend. we've been together for ages. but if me hanging out with another girl is what takes this over the line then so fucking be it." it was almost as if lando didn't even care about the hurt that he had put you through, seemingly only mad that he had been caught.

"i- we're done." you shook your head, lips pursing as you ran a hand down your face. "you're a piece of shit human, and i hope you know that everyone seems to know that except for you. i deserve better, hell, that girl deserves better." you swallowed harshly, lips pursed together.

"you don't mean that," you had only assumed that the gravity of what lando had done had become crushing down on him in those moments, his demeanor had switched from one of annoyance to one of hurt. you shook your head once again.

"i do mean it lando. i can't keep fucking doing this. you don't deserve me. and i sure as hell don't deserve to keep living with whatever the fuck we are. we are done, lando. you can't win me back this time." tears had been streaming down your face as you walked towards the front door of his place. still not having quite processed what had happened between you and the man you had once considered the love of your life as you left.

all you knew was that in that moment you felt numb. you couldn't be mad, you couldn't be sad, all you knew was that you were going to have to get used to a new norm - a life without lando in it.

[wimmipimmi]

Important Things

Pairing: Lara Croft x GN!Reader

Requested By: @innammoratta

Word Count: ???

Summary: You and Lara are best friends in the middle of searching for the box of Ix Chel. When she gets injured and you two stop for the night to take care of her wounds, things come out that you never thought would.

Tags/Warnings: Lara and reader are best friends, based on the jaguar fight scene in the 'Shadow of the Tomb Raider' game, confessions, kissing, talk of Lara fighting the jaguar and skinning it, but nothing graphic or violent

A/N: This has been *checks calendar* over a year in the making 🧍‍♀️I am so sorry to the person that requested this that it took me this long, me and writing are a weird one, but I finally managed to knock this out 🤩 hope it is to your liking, and to all the Lara Croft lovers out there, enjoy! 🫶🏻

-

"Shit, Lara!" You strain to shout, fear buzzing through your body as you feel your heartbeat racing inside your chest.

Your sight of her is somewhat obscured by branches and other flora, but you can see enough to watch her as she struggles against the jaguars grip, its nails and teeth clawing against Lara's skin, and the sound of her in pain does nothing to make you feel more calm.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Hands on your head, you wrack your brain as for how to help, but your brain seems to blank, the only thing it's focusing on is seeing Lara in this dangerous situation. Your heart feels like it's about to explode, and your breathing has now become quickened and shallow. You hit yourself lightly on the head, eyes squeezed tightly shut as you force your brain to think.

If she dies right now, that's on you.

The though seems to kick your brain back to life as before you know it, you've grabbed the flare gun from your left pant leg strap and thrown it under the piece of stone towards a still struggling Lara.

"Lara! Flare gun!" You shout, hoping and praying that she gets it and can shoot the jaguar in time.

Everything seems to slow down as you watch Lara move to grab the gun, just narrowly missing another attack. Eyes becoming blurry as your fear increases, you can't properly make out anything else that seems to happen.

Crack.

Blinking rapidly, your eyes finally focus, noticing little sparks. Then a quick blur passing you makes you realise that you did it. She did it. Lara is back up with her bow drawn, ready to release it.

Hope bubbles up in your stomach, releasing a breath you didn't realise you were holding. Your fingers grip the long and heavy piece of stone, trying to lift it up enough so you can get underneath and help her but to no avail.

"Shit." You whisper to yourself as you pant, most of your energy having been exhausted.

You helplessly watch as Lara skillfuly takes out the jaguar, one well placed shot at a time.

"Lara!" You cry out once you see the animal drop dead, worried about her condition. Her head turns immediately to where you are, and she makes her way over towards you.

Without a word, you both lift up the stone, and you crawl underneath to the other side as quickly as you can. As soon as she drops it, you're quick to envelope her in a hug, tears streaming down your face.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" A hiss makes you immediately release your hold, resting your hands on her upper arms instead.

"I'm so sorry Lara. I wish I could've helped you more, I-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, you helped me more than you know-"

"But it's not okay! I mean you could've-. You could've died Lara!"

She grabs your hands from her arms and holds them in front of you both. Your crying subsides a little, and you subconsciously welcome the warmth her hands bring to yours.

"But I'm not. I'm right here in front of you. And I'm not going anywhere. Understood?" She ressures you, her tone serious but with a sweet tinge.

You sniffle, a wobbly smile rising onto your lips, and one appears on Lara's too when she notices yours. Yours eyes flicker over her form, and that's when you notice just how battered and exhausted she looks.

"Are you okay?" You ask so quietly it's almost a whisper.

She releases her hands from yours and shrugs.

"I'm fine, just a little shaken up."

She turns and walks over to the jaguar to begin skinning it, and your eyes turn into saucers as you notice the huge gash on her back.

"Holy shit, Lara... your back." You exhale out. She stands up and turns to you after she's done. You grab her free hand.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Is all you can say, a million thoughts wracking through your brain.

-

It's nighttime, the both of you having found a place to start a fire and seek shelter for the night so you both can rest up and eat. Much to Lara's protest, you're in the middle of helping her clean up her wounds on her back as she's sewing something you can't exactly make yet out of the jaguar skin she got before.

"Sorry." You whisper out as you hear her hiss again from the pain of you dabbing a part of her back with an antiseptic and cloth.

"I had a dream about my mother recently."

You perk your head up, even though Lara can't see you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It was so vivid." You hear the happiness in her voice. You feel a smile perk up on your lips as you continue to take care of her wounds. It's quiet for a moment.

"I miss her."

You pause what you're doing and look at the back of her head. A pained grin appears on your mouth for a split second, then you continue to finish bandaging up her injury.

"I know you do."

Another moment goes by.

"If you had the box, then power to have any type of world you wished for. Would you do it." Lara asks you.

You ponder for a moment, a few ideas floating around your brain. But when your eyes fall back to her dark hair in front of you, you know your answer.

"No. I don't think I would."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. As much as there are plenty of things I would change in this world, everything I love is already in it." You say gently as you finish the last bandage, smoothing out Lara's back.

She feels that you've finished and turns around to face you, a small smile on her face.

"Like your stupid rock collection, or sushi, or your gaming console, huh?" She quips, an all-knowing smirk appearing on her lips.

You scoff and playfully roll your eyes, them landing back on her lips as you both start laughing.

"Yes, of course there are those, but there are also more important things than that."

"Like what?" She asks, and both of your laughing dies down.

Looking in her eyes, you notice how they're illuminated by the fire. You would walk through the fire in her eyes to truly see into her being and stay there.

Instinctively, you bring your right hand up and cup the side of her face. Her eyes widen. You gently rub your thumb on her cheek back and forth.

An owl hoots in the distance, cutting you out of whatever trance you were in. Blinking a few times, the realisation of what you've done hits you, and you go to pull your hand away.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so-"

You feel something stop you. Looking down, you see Lara's hand around your wrist. Your eyes flicker over to her face, and you notice her becoming a little flustered.

"No... it's okay." Lara whispers out as she slowly brings your palm back to the side of her face, leaning into it a little.

You swallow nervously, senses hightened by her touch. Has she always been this close to you this entire time? You were unsure, but couldn't think any further on it as you both stare into each others' eyes.

It feels so nice, you feel yourself getting warmer, an almost burning sensation in your chest. That's when the thought pops into your head.

You really want to kiss her.

You know you shouldn't. She's been your best friend for how many years? You're one of the only close people she has left. If you do anything stupid now and ruin what you two have, it'd be more devastating. But the urge doesn't leave, it crawling through your veins like an itch you can't scratch.

And then you see it.

Her eyes. Flicker down. To your lips.

You freeze at the realisation. What this could possibly mean.

You really want to kiss her.

Your eyes search hers, looking for something, though you're not sure what. Her eyes lock onto yours.

You really want to kiss her.

You notice her face move slowly towards yours as she moves her hand from your wrist all the way up your arm, around your shoulder, down your back until it sits on your waist.

You really want to kiss her.

Her face stops an inch before yours, so close you can feel her breath on your face. She looks into your eyes again one more time, as if she's waiting for you to pull back in disgust and adamantly say no.

You do nothing of the sort.

You kiss her.

The feeling of her lips is nothing like you've felt before. They're a little chapped, but it doesn't matter because you're kissing her.

You kiss her for what feels like minutes, as if you've been starved of her. Moving closer to each other, your other hand moves to the back of her neck, threading the tops of your fingers through her hair, whilst her other hand rests on your thigh.

When you both stop, you rest your foreheads against each other's, looking into each other's eyes as you both sheepishly smile.

A silence passes.

"You."

Confusion contorts on Lara's face.

"What?"

"I wouldn't change this world because you're in it."

Lara smiles lovingly at you as she rubs her thumb against your thigh.

"I wouldn't either."

~

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all enjoyed! My ask box is open and currently taking any requests! Please check my pinned post for who I write and some rules. Have a great day :)

[granolawriting]

A change in fate ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your toxic ex kicks you out of your place without another word. Only hiring a mover to get your stuff somewhere else. And when Joel finds you in a state of disarray, and stays indifferent, you butt heads until it comes to a head when your paths cross again after that night. That time, much more complicated.

Content warning: age gap, you're 21 and Joel is mid 30s to early 40s. Enemies to lovers.

word count: 4k

A/N: this is the first of a two-part series inspired by an old movie I grew up with. If you can recognize it, I'll like, give you a really big treat. no nsfw this chapter, but the next one will. And as always, let me know if you like my work or if you have any suggestions for anything else I could write :)

Part 2 out now!!: to make you forget

“NO. No. No no no no no no no NO!!!” 

Your fist hits solid wood once more. Every slam that pounds upon its impenetrable front leaves a mark on your hand in the shape of bruises and soreness-- you try the door once more. It's locked, as it had been the last ten times you attempted to open it. Desperation laced in the fruitless fervor that played its sound of metal clanking on metal as the knob refused to turn. 

The thump on the ground follows a fall of your knees. Defeated, hopeless, in a dress that isn't even yours. Tears stream from your face in such passion you can't even feel them anymore as more of you is wet than it is dry. You imagine you look a mess, hair disheveled as you held it as you screamed at him-- makeup once beautiful and elegant streams down and across your face in the motion your hands chose to wipe away your tears. 

A screeching of tires followed by the shutting of a door is what knocks you out of this pathetic display. A man walks over to you and begins to pick up the boxes right beside you, carrying them to the back of his truck that has the title “MOVERS” painted on its side. You clamor to your feet, disorientation doesn't help the heels strapped to your feet as you chase after him;

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going with those? Who the hell are you?”

Rancor coats your tongue as your anger spits out onto him, He stands in the middle of an empty parking lot with only the light emanating from houses and lamps decorating the street are you able to take him in. 

He was tall, perhaps 6ft, an older man. Salt and pepper hair covered just above his forehead and a stern face was complimented by equally gruff facial hair of similar color, and a frown that seemed natural for him. He wore an old jacket-- probably made in the same year you were born with plaid linings on its inside to support a Carhartt branded outside. All the clothes upon his body seemed worn, from the stained jeans and a belt fitted so many times it might as well have been made for the exact curve of his body, to the heavy worker's boots with every scratch telling a story beyond your years. He looks at you. Up and down his eyes register curiously the woman that stood before him. He scoffs, and with a low Texan drawl he replies in kind; 

“Well princess, looks here like someone was kind enough to get yourself a mover for all them boxes outside the house. ‘Supose you know where i'm to drop em off?” 

“They can stay right here.” 

It comes out of you not in a literal sense, but you guess a plea of desperation. You can't imagine that this is actually happening. You can't just leave. After all the years you spent with him, all the hours you poured into his care and the best he can do is call up some old guy to take your shit somewhere else? 

“Now you know I can't do that. I ain't come all the way down here just for’ nothin. Now, I was hired to move, least you can let me do is my job.” 

His palms outstretched to you as he finishes putting the first box in the back of his truck, looking to you with little care for what you’re properly going through, moreso just a plea to let him go home sometime before 1 in the morning. 

your breath grows uneven again, you feel something build up in you again as you just refuse to accept this. Turning your back to him, you storm over to another box untouched by him and kick it, screaming and crying and truly just making a mess of yourself as you collapse once again on the curb of the sidewalk. Folding your arms across your knees, and with a head buried deep in your chest you sit there for a moment as you listen to the crunch of his boots against the loose gravel along the pavement trail back and forth past you as each box is stored into the vehicle. 

“Still haven't given me an address. Or were ya’ thinkin' of just sitting here and lettin' me take yer’ things?” 

Irritation follows his tone as he becomes increasingly impatient about your behavior. 

“I don't have anywhere to go.” 

“Surely you got someplace. Now get a move on, I'm bout damn tired of all this.” 

He drags you up by your upper arms, feeling his calloused hands hold onto the smoothness of your body as he lifts you to your feet. Shocked though, you push him away from you in haste;

“I can get up by myself. Thank you very much.”

You dust yourself off for just a moment before continuing, he looks at you with impatience.

“And I need a ride.” 

He stammers a bit as he begins to speak, 

“A- fucking,? Damn. alright then. Just get the hell on alright? Sure you wouldn't want em’ having to pay me extra.” 

He walks back to his truck as you follow, The two footsteps upon the concrete road are all that can be heard in the neighborhood as your pain slowly wells into your chest, and the outbursts cease. 

------------------------------------

“Now, listen here. We've been drivin' for damn near an hour now, and ain't nothing come of it. Where the hell am I takin you? Or I'm about to leave ya on the side of the damn road. I've got a kid at home.” 

“Just take me to the other side of town.”

“Are you fuckin kidding me? Now, I don't know what you've got goin on and I truly, don't want to. But you're real damn selfish ya know that? Makin me drive all over town like this like I'm some goddamn taxi. This place best got some money to pay me for.” 

His voice is deep, gruff, and when laced with the anger of a despondent woman who seems as if she has all the time in the world he's not keen to hold back judgment anymore. His hand grips the steering wheel firmly and doesn't look at you for a moment as he speaks to you. 

You're taken aback, to say the least. After the pain you've felt, the torment you've faced the only thing to greet you is the unwanted mouth of some old man who doesn't know what he's talking about.

“I'm selfish? You don't know the night I've had. How can you call me selfish? You were hired for a reason so why don't you just do your fucking job okay? As long as you’re getting paid it shouldn't matter a damn to you.” 

You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms in his passenger seat, watching him with disdain as he grips the wheel and drives relatively carelessly through the empty streets just to get you out. 

After a few minutes more, and by a few you mean around 30, you find yourself in front of a home you’d never think to see again truthfully. As you take in the sight of it, a simple house facing an otherwise unimpactful street, but you held memories of all your years within the confines of these blocks. You were home, after so many years away. 

“Get out.” 

He says bluntly. The clock shines a bright 1:47 on its dash, signifying that you definitely didn't meet his “before 1” pleas. But damn, could he have been any nicer about it? 

You watch as he hops out of the car himself, to the sound of a hard opening of the back that held all your belongings. And as you made your way ever so slowly out of his truck, trying to not fall as the step was coated in the darkness of the night that was no longer politely illuminated by street lights. As you made your way to the concrete below you, rounding his truck was he almost done putting your stuff back out, only on a different curb this time. And without a second to spare, he gets back into his truck, and leaves. Not a word said to you, not even an exchange.

What an asshole. 

-------------------------------------------

“So you’re telling me, that the man you were with for how many years, kicked you out for what?” 

The voice of your childhood friend rang once more through the old walls of the house, in the kitchen where you two sat. this was her family home, one that she now inherited, and one that after many years of silence on your part, she gladly opened up to you as well. 

“We were together almost 3 years. And he just, found another girl I guess. But she was in my closet, filled with her clothes. It's as if he’d moved me out overnight. He didn't have a word to say to me, it's like I never even mattered to him. But I've told you this time and time again, what more can I even do at this point?” 

She repositions herself with her legs crossing over one another as she looks for a response, taking a sip of coffee before having it dawn on her. 

“Today. 3 pm. Uncles holding a barbeque. You remember my uncle right? Everyone will be there. Maybe we could find you a good little rebound to bring you down to earth.” 

“Are you- a rebound? Seriously? Is that all you can think of right now?” 

“Listen. The only thing you can do with a broken heart is fix it. And that doesn't happen in a day. Least you can do is get something tasty to chase the pain with. Like hot old guys. You’re only 21! This is the prime time to do whatever you want.” 

You think for a second. Letting this wash over you as you try and figure out the next thing to do. Do you really doll yourself up after the most traumatic evening of your life is not even 24 hours in your past, just to eye all of your friends older relatives, and family friends that you’ve been ogling at since you were 16? 

I mean fuck it, what else are you going to do. 

Following your friend up the stairs, she lets out an excited giggle at the prospect of having you back after so many years. There's so many things to tell, different people to see, and subsequently laugh at, but the best of all her skills with a brush have gotten much better since the last time she helped you look good. Much better, apparently for as you looked at yourself in the mirror you could barely recognize the woman looking back at you-- let alone any trace of the girl sat in a torn dress the night before screaming outside her ex’s house. 

You put on a pretty yellow dress, adorned with flowers It's hemmed all properly frilled to some level, and the flow of the skirt portion barely getting over your back end does the top also treat you well; a low neck cup to shape your chest perfectly as the daintiness of your outfit, paired with little yellow heels, made you look properly irresistible. 

-----------------------------------

“Guess whos backkk!!!”

The excited shrills of your friend beside you make everyone who'd arrived at the party thus far to crane their heads back to look, all of which subsequently smiled with shock as they looked upon you. None of them had seen you since you were 17, about 18 years old. That's when you left, the moment you could. Looking back you missed all of this so much, the community, the story told in every face that looked upon you. But all is lost now and the most you can do is make the best out of the time you have right now-- and as it stands you’re at the center of it all. 

They approach you by the droves, asking every question they can that have undoubtedly had rumored answers to in your absence; detailing from where you've been, what you’re doing, where you go to school, where you work, and most hurtful-- how your ex was doing. You briefly told them all that you and him had since parted, and that you were just getting back on track, spending some time at your friend's house in the meantime. They all looked upon you in sympathy, but as more people entered the party the more they dispersed to greet other guests. 

“Oh my god, is that who I think it is?” 

A low, familiar tone enters the backyard where you stand, and turning around to face you is your friend's father. Who, for most of your life was like a father to you as well. He opens his arms and you follow suit, embracing him in what feels like a much-needed hug, before setting you down again to continue talking to you. 

“Oh, honey if, if I'd known you were coming I'd have brought you something. How long has it been since I last saw you? God, you seem so grown up now. It's like I barely even know you.” 

His head moves to look behind him for a second, and soon he ushers someone forward to join in the conversation. 

“Ah, there's something I'd love for you to meet. This is a good friend of mine, Joel. I haven't had him around any of these much, he just moved back here from Texas a couple weeks back. But he's someone I've known my whole life. Kinda like you and my daughter in a way!” 

Though as the man who emerged behind him reared his head, you couldn't believe your eyes. It was him, of course, it was him. That asshole that drove you home like you were the greatest burden he's ever had to carry. 

“Yer fuckin kidding me.” 

He looks at you in shock. Nothing more. However, you see that to his side is a young girl, no older than 12 who seems to be in awe over you. Her hair was tucked into each side of her face to illuminate it in a crown of curls that came to her shoulder and stretched all the way to her ears in volume. She wore a small shark tooth necklace, and some form of singer on her shirt that you didn't recognize.

He-, Joel, looks down at her; 

“Sarah how bout you go say hi to your friends for me. I'm gonna be busy a moment” 

She runs off, and your friend's dad begins to speak again. 

“Do you, know each other from somewhere? I can't imagine you do.” 

“She's that insane little girl I told you ‘bout. The one kickin n’ screaming all over the place. Reason why Sarah hadta’ stay the night at your place.” 

“The insane little girl?” 

You chime in.

“There's no way- Joel, you’ve probably got the wrong girl” 

“No, he has the right one.” 

You stare directly at him, sending daggers into each of the brown eyes that look back at you. 

“He kicked me out of his car at almost 2 in the morning without a single word. Isn't that right?” 

Though no matter how piercing your gaze it fails to impact him as it should, for with equal level tone he snipes back; 

“Yep, after makin me drive all the way cross’ town just cause she wanted to. Knowin I got someone waitin’ for me. Clearly, something she don't understand all too much anymore.” 

That was unnecessary. 

Something brews inside of you as you glance upon his finger void of a ring, even a tan that would indicate its recent removal. Though as the only sane-minded person seemingly left to observe watches your eyes as you make such a connection, he swiftly puts an end to it. 

“Now, Joel. you know how young girls are they-” 

“I'm not that young.” 

“Alright well, they. Are just passionate, that's all. She was with him for how many was it now? Three years? Left the moment she turned of age. Clearly she just doesn't know how a mans supposed to be. This is all she really knows.” 

This is all she really knows.

That's all that rang through your head as the conversation died and Joel exchanged brief apology. That in a way, he was all you really knew. And now you’re back home, and you don't know what to do with yourself, really. You don't know what you like, or what you don't like. It was all just, him. For so long. You vowed to yourself that day that, no matter what went on you would say yes to anything. To embrace kind of, anything that came your way as some divine fate, or at the very least a fun experience. 

As the night droned on, and you fielded the barrage of squeals, hugs from people you don't remember, and a bit more liquor you could've accounted for, the night came to a slow end. Feeling eyes on you constantly was one thing, but feeling the eyes on the man with who’d you'd had a comfortable reunion was even worse in a way. Although, as you looked upon him in your own moments you saw in him something unveiled after the veil of hatred and sorrow fell off of you. Something, interesting about him. Attractive. Obviously nothing you were going to personally indulge in, but an interesting assertion nonetheless. He stood in the light of the evening, fairy lights covering the backyard as it illuminated his now more time-appropriate outfit; one of marginally better jeans and a plaid shirt, rolled to his elbows to reveal what were impressive forearms, and with the proper fit of his shirt, showed an impressive physique for a single dad.

… … …

 Thats stupid. Anyways, the night drew to a close and as you saw your friend too wrapped up in the conversation of someone relatively older than her, you decided to take the few blocks walk home, especially since you didn't have a car anymore either. Though as you exit the front door to travel down the sidewalk you hear a familiar accent call out to you after only a few feet have been made distance between you and the doorframe; 

“Ya’ walking home this late at night?” 

“Yeah, I am. Not like I've got a car do I?” 

You turn your body to look at him, but only after you've finished your sentence, using the body language of someone unequipped for any more stupid banter to cue him into leaving you alone. 

“How’s about I drive you home. Least I can do after what I’d said today. It wasent quite my place.” 

His voice has an unfamiliar tune of sympathy as he lets out that apology of sorts, so you engage. Though, begrudgingly. 

“Don’t you have a daughter to take care of? That seemed what got you so mad before.” 

He sighs a little, you notice you've hit a bit of a nerve. 

“Well, she’ll be stayin' at a friend's place for a few days, really hit it off. Got nothin but time on my hands now.” 

“Well in that case I'm not gonna say no to a free ride. Obviously.” 

You smile a bit, a first with him. Other than ones of sarcasm, every interaction you've had with him thus far hasn't been all that pleasant. And he smiles back. And, as the light of the moon shines down upon his weathered face, the smirk on his makes your smile grow even more. 

Hopping into his car once more, you take the road to your place with a little more enjoyment than how it transpired the night before. This time, the sound of his music accompanied by a hum through his car is what played to fill the silence of the atmosphere. Something old, country, of course. You’d never heard it, and it sounded well beyond even his years. But despite that, there was a comforting air that was shared in the car-- cool air blowing in from the windows rolled down, watching as his arm held on to the side of the car door from the open window, tapping its side in unison to the beat. 

“This here is it right?” 

Pulling up to your shared home you felt almost a little reluctant to respond with a yes. Though when you do, he steps out of the car as you do as well. You watch as he awaits your circle to the front where he stood, as a means to walk with you to the front of your door. Looking at him curiously as you reach the entrance, he gives response to your motions, though you watch as his fingers fiddle with one another ever so slightly as he poses such a response;

“It ain’t right leaving a lady to walk all by herself after dropping her off. And, I just wanted to say again that it ain't my place makin assumptions about you like that. Wanted to know if I could make it up to ya’. Kinda seems like lifes dealt you a bad hand right now, thought to offer you a drink over it.” 

A drink? 

You thought about that for a second. The man that kicked you out of his car, literally less than 24 hours ago, is now offering to take you out for a drink. Well, it was as a means for apology. So that's something. Nothing more to it, it's a Southern thing. They drink to anything. Especially sorrow. 

“I think I’ll have to take you up on that. You’ll know where I’ll be.” 

You reply with a smile that grows just large enough to show your teeth. He gazed at you for a bit longer, as his eyes grew brighter at the prospect of an invitation accepted. He was a lot less harsh than meets the eye, it seemed. But you still weren't properly convinced. And, there was still much a mystery about him that although intimidated you, enticed you even more. You cock your hip to the side of the doorframe, leaning up against it as he spoke to you as a means to accentuate your figure just a bit as he looked at you. Just to see what would happen. 

“Oh, alright then. 7 alright with you? I’ll come pick you up course’.” 

“Seven’s more than alright with me. I'll see you then, Joel.” 

As you bid farewell to him, you watched as his eyes tracked your movements as you did so. The way your hips have shifted place, the tone at which your voice shifted ever so slightly. He took in your gaze, a small cat eye that sharpened your eyes paired with the sly smile of a woman your age was enough to catch his stare for a moments longer than it should've. You relished in that. 

He leaves you off with a nod and a smile, though you take the time that he walks back to his truck as a means to take in all that he was without interruption. He was handsome, to say the least. There was something to be said about a man with southern hospitality and an ass made from manual labor that reached deeper into a realm of attraction that was often untapped by the men of your age range. And you enjoyed greatly that you’d discovered such a thing. 

Tomorrow, 7pm, Joel. 

[wutheringcaterpillar]

I’ll Be Your Girl

summary: You find yourself at a club, trying to be more out-going and more social than you usually were. Only to see your crush from high school there, still unable to work up the courage to approach her. She takes matters into her own hands, wanting to see the real you, and confessing her mutual feelings.

warnings: Girl!cock, introverted!reader, bathroom sex, smut, unprotected sex, possible breeding kink, friends to lovers

The room was packed with people dancing, and grinding on each other while the music blared extremely loudly, smoke billowing through the crowd.

Some would consider it dangerous for an innocent, attractive woman like yourself to be going to a party in the middle of the city, no friends or significant others to watch over you but that was what you wanted.

All your life you’d been a shut in, an introvert who liked to spend time in her room with your cats, often reading endless romance books and finding yourself fantasizing about a girl you had a crush on in school. Masturbating to the thought of her nude body pressed against yours, her cock pulsating around your lips, imagining every position she could fuck you in. No one would have guessed you thought such inappropriate things. You were very quiet in school, the polar opposite of Kitten as she’d like to be called. That was all the more reason to avoid confessing your long term feelings for her, she wouldn’t want to be with someone so quiet and shy, so you thought. You’d known her in school and had seen her out quite a few times since then, the crush had never gone away but you never worked up the courage to do anything about it. Twenty one years old and still unable to act upon your deep feelings for her.

As the room became to hot for you, the liquor souring your mood, you decided to go step out for a smoke until you stopped abruptly, noticing who was standing by the door, chatting with a couple of strangers looking like she was having the time of her life as she always did.

That was when she turned, nearly taking the breath out of you, eyes connecting in a heated gaze.

Butterflies formed in your stomach as your cheeks began to heat, your mouth dropping open subtly in disbelief that Patricia was here.

You felt like a school girl hiding from her crush that you considered to be way out of your league, causing you to blush and turn away from her, sipping on your drink as if nothing happened hoping she wouldn’t walk over to you.

“Darling! Look at you! You look fabulous!” Her hand settled on your shoulder, goosebumps forming instantly on your delicate, untouched skin.

Her eyes graze down your outfit, the leather crop top holding in your petite cleavage, roaming down your sides to your hips held snuggly in the matching short skit that barely held your ass in.

“My, my I haven’t seen you in so long.. curious, curious, ever so curious. What have you been doing, I haven’t seen you in years! We must catch up! Come!” She was still staring down your body with a lustful gaze not being able to control her own prodding thoughts of what the sight of you without them on would look like, perhaps her head buried between your thighs in your sweet heat. 

You felt as if a cat had caught your tongue. She tugged on your arm forcing you to follow her over to the bar, clearly not taking no for answer. Maybe this was the push you needed along with a bit of liquid courage.

After she had bought you a few rounds of shots, the liquor was really kicking in your blood stream.

In her own way, she was glowing, radiating a sense of natural beauty. Your eyes stared at the way her lashes were curled, how the minimal eyeliner really brought out her blue eyes. Her glossed lips looking plump, and enticing as she glanced over at the crowd.

She looked beautiful, eccentric, and you couldn’t help but think sexy, she didn’t even have to try. Even when she walked it was with confidence, her heels on the leather boots she was wearing clicking against the floor, her hips swaying with each step, as she guided you out onto the dancefloor.

A sexy, rhythmic song began to play and she finally started to see you come out of your enclosed, scared little shell. She watched in amusement, her eyes fixated on every inch of you, the way your flipped your hair so carelessly, smiling and dancing at if there was no one else in the room. She was completely hypnotized by every part of you. She began to regret not spending more time with you in school and came to the conclusion she couldn’t let you get away from her.

Holding out her hand, you worked in his arms, grinding against her crotch when she caught you in his arms. 

“Look at you! How can you lack such confidence! Youre not just cute like a little dove, but you’re hot! You don’t notice all these skeeves staring at you?” Turning around, all the men that were staring whipped their heads around away from you, Kitten rolling her eyes at their stupidity and arrogance. 

Her hand fell behind your thigh, just under your ass cheek as her eyes protruded into yours, her blue eyes that made your heart feel like it was about to explode each time.

Shrugging, you giggled, still dancing not missing a beat as you finally felt like you were having fun for once in your life.

“I guess I always felt like I was holding out for someone that would never want me. I never stood a chance with the woman I was in love with now here I am, dancing with her in a way I’ve only dreamt of. Besides Im not much to look at.” She was almost too stunned to speak, how didn’t she notice? How could she be so oblivious to the fact you were in love with her. Maybe she should’ve known from the stolen glances she’d caught you in, or how your cheeks never failed to heat up when you turned away from her. 

Grabbing both sides of your cheeks, she forced to look deep within her transparent ocean eyes, so you knew she wasn’t lying with what she was about to say.

“Listen to me my oblivious, darling face. I’ve always thought you were cute, adorable, hot, sexy all of those words. Moreso, I just always thought I was out-there for you. That I’d be bad for you, look at me, my life’s a mess.” Her eyes held back tears, her hands shaking slightly on your cheeks, gulping nervously, and feeling awful for not telling you her feelings earlier. 

You wanted to kiss her right then and there, but a part of you needed privacy even the slightest bit.

“Kitten. Let’s get out of here. Right now.”

“I have a better idea.” Her eyes spoke mischievously, pulling your arm, as you willfully followed her like a lost puppy. Within seconds she was pushing you into the bathroom stall, her lips colliding with yours instantly, her tongue exploring every inch, tasting the sweet amaretto liqour.

Your eyes opened like they needed to see her kissing you to know it was really happening. In that moment, all worry, all insecurities just completely washed out of you.

Her lips taking the breath out of you, shock and clarity resting gently within you.

The liquor settling within your veins, causing your vision to become blurry, faintly hearing the sound of other girls coming into the bathroom, yet you didn’t seem to care, too caught up in the moment.

Spreading your thin laced panties to the side, kitten bit down on her plump lips when she felt just how soaked you were from her. You groaned loudly when you felt her fingers enter inside your aching walls, desperately grinding against her touch.

Her digits curled inside of you, knowing she found that sweet spot of yours almost too easily as you nearly crumbled in her arms from thr overwhelming feeling of pleasure. You had never felt like this before, you felt delirious staring down, watching her fingers pump in and out of you agonizingly slow.

“Kitten, more. More kitten please!” She smirked, unbuttoning her pants, her hardened cock popping up against her chest in anticipation. She thought it was adorable how easy she had pushed you over the edge, the way your chest was rising up and down from how needy you were for her.

You lifted your leg, allowing easier access for her before aggressively pulling her back onto your lips, wanting to taste her again and again like your favorite dessert resonating on your tongue.

“Are you sure sweetie?” You nodded, biting down on your lip in anticipation and eagerness.

That was all the reassurance she needed before aligning herself with your succulency that was completely dripping for her, the sight flaring her eyelids.

Your eyes stayed fixated on the length of her cock and how thick it was just as she thrusted up gently into your core. For your first time, the alcohol was subsiding the pain, surely something you’d regret later. She watched your facial expressions intently, wanting to ensure she wasn’t hurting you and you were enjoying it.

“Kitten if you don’t shove that glorious cock in me, I’m going to do it myself, respectfully.” Giggling at your feistiness, she thrusted up all the way, the feeling of your tight walls cushioning her lengthy member causing her eyes to roll back as she gasped at your tightness.

“Holy fuck princess. Feel so good!” Wrapping your arms behind your neck, diving into her lips once more, you began to bounce on her cock, her hands cupping your ass cheeks to hold you up.

Every grind, every movement feeling so melodious, bringing harmony to your veins as your tongues battled for dominance desperately wanting to feel every part of each other.

Her cock slid in and out of you, disappearing every other second with each moment, her balls simultaneously slapping up against your wetness.

Your hands roamed to the top of the stall, leaving your body on complete display for her and her only.

Not being able to resist her lips latched onto your nipple, sucking relentlessly, causing you to squeal in pleasure.

“Kitten!”

“Does my pretty girl like feeling so full?” She batted her eyelashes up at you playfully, knowing full well what she was doing. Pushing yourself off the wall, you sat her down on the toilet curving you hips to the same rhythm she was pumping in and out of you vigorously. 

“Oh!” The sudden change taking her by surprise. Your thighs were trembling, your head nuzzled into her warm neck breathing in her scent. You’d never felt so full in your life, she was fucking the literal breath out of you. Slamming her hips, fucking you like a rabbit, hearing and feeling your muffled, high pitched moans, sounding like music to her ears.

“Do you want me to cum in you baby?” 

“Mhm… please, please, please!” God that sound of your voice cracking from desperation sent Kitten over the edge, much like she was doing to that divine pussy of yours.

Your walls were clenching down on her, she’d be damned if she was going to get off without a handful of your boobs.

She watched as you rode out your high, in a momentus, fucked out haze, your eyes remaining on her as you completely broke down, every point of your body trembling from her cock, feeling that plump head rub over the tainted, sweet spot in the middle of your core, over and over again.

“Kitten I- I’m gonna-“ She herself was also moaning, her eyes rotating up and down between your face and your breasts. What she would do to fall asleep right in between them every night. 

Arching your back, you moaned loudly, your body beginning to shake when an unexplainable, extraordinary orgasm took over every part of your body. 

The sight of your mouth agape, the sweat between your boobs, and how messy your hair was, looking like a fucked out mess had her not being able to hold back any longer, her seed shooting up into you as she held you down, thrusting as deep into your superior pussy as she could.

If it weren’t for the music, the people outside dancing would have definitely heard if not the whole neighborhood.

You collapsed against her chest trying to catch your breath, her hands roamed your back, swiftly rubbing your sensitive skin gently.

Getting off of her after a few moments, you fixed your attire, Kitten helping you of course, only to realize you wanted more than just sex and maybe she did too.

“Give me a call if you ever get lonely. I’m only one ring away, y’know!” Her lips smashed against yours one more time, engulfing her tongue ever so slightly into your mouth. Your thighs trembled, your mind in a whirlwind at what had just taken place. You felt as if you needed to do it again to believe it really happened.

Excusing herself from the stall, you leaned your head back against the door, biting your lip, staring up at the ceiling in a crazed disbelief.

Having no patience, you pulled out your phone finally having an ounce of courage to take the next step, you were done waiting around.

“Would you want to go on a date friday?” 

Feeling her phone vibrating, she opened it impatiently, her hopes and dreams coming true when she saw it was you. She couldn’t stop herself from blushing down at her phone knowing she had possibly found the love of her life. She couldn’t help but think that maybe this would’ve happened sooner if one of you had taken the initiative.

“That sounds lovely my dear. Can’t wait! Xoxo, your dear Kitten.”

[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (1)

summary: reader couldn't stop having deaths in her life ever since the Supersoldier serum came into her life. no matter how hard she tried to stay sane, it seemed that life didn't want to give her a break. until, one afternoon, she learned that one of her old friends was alive… (you guys know im bad at summaries, but please give this one a chance)

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4.5k

warnings: angst, major character deaths, canon deaths¿?, bad words, english is not my first language! thoughts of revenge and death, this is like an introductory chapter, so the buckyxreader interaction is low, but it'll get better, i promise!

note: holy fuck guys. i just spent like five hours writing and editing this and i fucking love it. its been a while since ive been this proud of a work, im actually scare the emotion will disappear, but i really want to rejoice in this one. i wanted to write something a little different from my usuals, maybe a little common in the fanfiction world, but i started and i simply could not stop (or maybe just approach this bucky fic from another perspective). so this is the first part and i'll try with all my heart to keep this going because it was fucking insane, at least for me. i really hope you all like this as much as i do! feel free to leave any comment! thanks always for all the support!! see you next time <3

part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

When you went into the Supersoldier serum project with Steve, you thought you were going to change the world. Of course, at that time when technology was relatively new any invention felt like the beginning of a new era. That's how it was all sold to you and it was how you expected everything to turn out… Until you realized that it was all really a waste of effort and time.

They were just propaganda for war. Not to stop it, to promote it. To motivate it.

You tried, on several occasions, not to think too much about it. You tried to stay out of it as Steve sometimes asked you to, even though even he didn't want to, as Bucky asked you to when you lay on his shoulder to cry in the little time you had free between trips. It was a great burden of guilt and helplessness.

Until you and Steve, with the almost imposed help of Peggy and Howard, rescued Bucky from the evil hands of Johann Schmidt and his nefarious organization, HYDRA, that, unbeknownst to you, would haunt you for a long time to come. It was only after that, after spending several sleepless days on edge thinking about what might be happening to Bucky, that you and Steve were finally able to go out and contribute something. Destroy HYDRA and the Red Skull's plans.

Of course, you realized that not everything could go right when, the one mission you couldn't attend, Bucky didn't return. And then Steve didn't come back either.

“Do you think this will ever end?” you had asked Bucky the day before his last mission.

“Of course it will,” he had answered without hesitation, moonlight illuminating his clear eyes, squeezing your hand as if it was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. “And after that we can begin to live as it should be.”

But there was no after that, because you never recovered from losing him. From losing them both.

“Are you okay?” Peggy approached, in the middle of the afternoon when the sun was streaming through the stained glass windows of the church, illuminating the spot where Steve's empty coffin had been, because they didn't even find his body. They didn't even think there was any of it left.

You barely moved your head to acknowledge her presence, moving the prayer slip they had recited throughout the mass between your hands. Your eyes were crystallized, in tears that no longer even made the effort to flow, because you had already spent too many days and nights crying. Peggy had been on the other side of the church, sitting next to Howard while the priest spoke, because you had refused to be near them in those moments. You didn't want to be near them.

“As well as one can be,” you slurred, finding that it had been a long time since you'd last used your voice for anything other than cursing and crying disconsolately.

The people had already left, probably an hour or more ago. The empty coffin had already been brought out, all the flower arrangements had been picked up, and the priest was preparing for the evening mass. You knew you had to leave, you knew Peggy and Howard were there waiting for you, but you felt stuck at that moment. You didn't want to leave, you didn't want to get ahead, you didn't want that life if it had to be this cruel.

You heard Peggy's sigh, before she took a seat next to you, a short distance away, averting her gaze to look at Christ on the cross.

You didn't know if you were selfish to be so closed off to your friends at this moments, because they must be grieving as much as you were, but you didn't know how to deal with the future possibilities. Bucky and Steve, great men and soldiers, one even with enhanced abilities, had not been able to make it through the punishment of war. What if Peggy and Howard were the same? What if they too had the cruel fate of dying at the hands of injustice? Could you deal with that? With everyone gone?

Maybe you could open up to them a little more because if not, who else? Turning away from them was not going to ensure their survival in this hate-filled society. Maybe you could protect them, like you couldn't protect Steve and Bucky. Maybe you could make a difference, because you had the chance to.

“You know,” Peggy spoke again, rearranging herself on the bench and crossing her legs, “Steve always knew this was how it would end.”

Her wistful, mournful, fragile voice sent a shiver through your body. Peggy didn't consider herself someone to show herself vulnerable in front of others no matter how close they were, even in those things that hurt her the most, in those things that affected her personally and made her eyes water instantly, she always tended to shut down. And at that moment you didn't dare interrupt her because you knew it would probably be the only time she would talk about Steve in a long time.

“Sometimes we'd talk, between tour trips, and he would tell me that wasn't what he wanted to do, even when he had to convince you otherwise,” her clasped hands would occasionally squeeze between words, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He didn't know if he'd made the right decision.”

You could almost picture him, backstage at the foot of the stairs with that notebook he carried everywhere and wouldn't let go, Peggy at his side nostalgic, as helpless as the others. It reminded you of the times you'd had similar conversations with Bucky, desperate to find a purpose, a way through so much fog.

“The first time I saw him so sure of himself was when he asked us to help them look for Bucky,” she mumbled his name, as if trying not to scare you away by saying it too loudly. “Ever since then it seemed like he'd found that spark…”

“Until Bucky died,” you whispered, the words cutting through the cold and silence, Peggy shifting on the bench contritely.

“He lost something of himself from that day on, it wasn't hard to tell. The next time I heard him so sure after spending days lost, it was on that call from the plane.”

Peggy paused, raising her hand to cover her mouth as her voice faltered. You turned to look at her, wishing you could rip the pain from her soul and leave it in yours. She was trying to contain her emotions, breathing deeply, and in that moment you wondered what life might be like from now on, with the specter of grief following you around, waiting for the next time the dead knocked on your doors, unexpectedly, without allowing you to say goodbye.

“He had told me he wouldn't die in peace until he could get it all over with. And he took it all with him. And I hated him so much for it…” Peggy sobbed, her labored breathing standing out between words. She kept looking straight ahead at the stained glass windows, the expression on her face hard and scowling despite having tears rolling down her cheeks, as if she were trying to blame something for what had happened. Her reproachful eyes fixed on the Christ.

Her wails echoed through the walls of the church, the father on the dais sending them a look of sorrow. He had offered you water, thirty minutes after everyone at Steve's wake had left, when they kept walking, and you stood there.

Another empty casket.

“Ladies,” Howard's voice reached your ears amidst all the physical and emotional numbness. You could barely notice Peggy wiping under her eyes with the pocket square that was surely part of Howard's suit, as she took breaths to get up. “We should go now.”

You heard him walk, his slow, careful steps stopping just behind you. There, on his feet with his chest tight, he rested a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze in support. He knew it was the most you would allow him at a time like this, deciding not to pass up the opportunity to let you know he was there. You sighed, feeling a heaviness take over your body as you stood up.

“Yeah, let's go.”

The next few months passed in a blur. Maybe too fast, maybe too slow, you weren't sure anymore.

Peggy continued to work at the Strategic Science Reserve for a couple of years, calling you from time to time to help her with some jobs. You kept a low profile, practically a fugitive from the state, while trying to live a halfway normal life in Europe. A lot of it thanks to Howard really.

Life had become a rather monotonous routine when you stopped getting so many calls from Peggy and Howard several years later. You knew they were fine, but not being able to return to the country filled you with anguish every day. And trying to lead a normal life became too complicated when you looked in the mirror and it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in that capsule of Dr. Erskine's with Steve.

Until Peggy called one day asking you to come back. She told you that it was safe, that there would be no state officials waiting for you at the airport, but even if that had been the situation, you wouldn't have hesitated for a second to buy the first plane ticket and fly to see them again. To Howard and Peggy, to melt into an embrace, longing for the lost years.

You had thought that contributing to the fight in World War II had earned you a ticket to at least be recognized in the military, but all you gained was the government with their mad scientists looking for you to try to recreate the Supersoldier serum. Peggy didn't want to risk you and Howard gave you no choice by giving you a plane ticket to Finland with your bags packed.

You wasted many years not being by their side, unable to keep the promise you had made them in your head to be close by to protect them, to watch over their safety.

But when you left the airport there was only Peggy, and maybe that should've told you everything.

Her hair already looked gray, the effects of gravity and time present on her face. You hated to think that you shouldn't have looked any different from the way she saw you last time when she waved you off at that same airport. Her warm gaze was the same, raising her arms with held back tears to encircle you in a big hug. She tried hard not to sob against your shoulder, you felt the choppy movement of her breath against your chest.

She looked so different and the same at the same time.

You walked to her car a moment later, her trying to carry your suitcase and you telling her you were perfectly fine carrying it on your own. Amidst a smile, she walked into the driver's door and you frowned as you saw the empty passenger seat.

“Where's Howard?” you spoke as you sat down, after stowing the huge suitcase in the trunk of the car. The way you moved to buckle up, you didn't notice the way Peggy froze in place, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her breath hitched from the effort.

“We're going to see him,” was all she said, but she was very good at hiding that something was wrong. Only for a little while.

During the trip, even though you tried to ask things about them, about what they had been doing during this time, you didn't miss the way her shoulders were tense or her eyes very alert. Something bad had happened and Peggy was trying to hide it from you.

When she pulled up in front of a church, you already knew what had happened without her answering a single one of your questions.

Howard had died.

You two had sat next to Howard's son Tony, his spitting image, in complete silence as the prayers went on. At that moment you didn't know what had happened, hoping it had been a quiet and peaceful death, because you didn't know if you would be able to endure another violent death.

Peggy gave you all the details when the mass was over, after the coffin was taken away, and you hadn't felt such fury in so many years. Not since the deaths of Bucky and Steve had that adrenaline rush of anger returned to run through your body as violently as it did at that moment, when Peggy told you that he had been murdered along with his wife. All to steal some prototypes of Dr. Erskine's serum. The damned serums with which everything had started.

This time there was a body in the coffin, but there was also a culprit. Someone to point the finger at and take it out on for years of anguish and pain.

You were at Peggy's house, staying for a few days, when she told you that wasn't all.

Peggy had a suspicion that HYDRA hadn't disappeared when Steve crashed that plane into the ice. Her suspicions generated panic in you, because Bucky and Steve had died for that, now apparently Howard, only for it all to have been for nothing. The feeling of carnage that ran through your whole head made you nauseous, years of helplessness and pain pent up in such a small body had to find its way out somehow.

“It was a man, according to the information I've been able to gather,” Peggy spoke, taking a seat across from you in the dining room of her living room, after pouring you a glass of lemonade. “He didn't die from the crash. He had a concussion. He was hit in the head. His wife died from asphyxiation.”

“Does Tony know?”

“No,” Peggy shook her head quickly, one hand over her heart as if the mere thought caused her physical pain. “It didn't even occur to me to tell him something like that.”

“And he was looking for the serum,” you recalled, a bitter feeling planted in the back of your throat, the memories of the disastrous times during the war coming back into your head like a blinding flash.

“He took them. We don't know who he is or who he works for, but whoever they are, they must have been following us for a long time to know about them.”

“You mean years,” you arched an eyebrow, your fingers touching the cool exterior of the glass seeking some reassurance.

“Possibly. That project isn't recent,” Peggy nodded, drinking her lemonade with a grimace. You stared at the liquid almost finished from her glass, a wrinkle forming between your brows with each passing second and you kept wondering why.

“But what the fuck was going through that asshole's head?” you spat angrily. Rage at already the amount of lives that serum had taken with it and at Howard's recklessness. Rage at the reaper who seemed to be following in their footsteps for some reason, rage at that damn man and whoever his damn boss was.

“It was the only option, Y/N,” Peggy turned her gaze, meeting your eyes with a strange glint.

“What do you mean?” you were almost afraid to ask, your friend's gaze suddenly turning evasive. You watched her run her fingernails over the glass of the tumbler, lost for a moment in thought. The way her shoulders slumped forward in defeat caused a pressure in your chest that made it hard to breathe. Peggy shouldn't be going through these things at this point in life.

“Howard was working with the Pentagon, as a contractor or something. They had found you. Howard felt cornered and they made him sign an agreement.”

With your incredulous look on her face, Peggy didn't dare look back at you for a few seconds. So much had happened since you had left and it seemed that you had only been told about the things you weren't going to care about so much. But if you had known that you wouldn't have cared much about giving some of the state officials their comeuppance. You would've liked Howard to trust you enough to tell you, not live in as much fear behind his back as the last few years must've been. You didn't like the way Peggy's lips curved downward, as if she, too, would've preferred to make another decision had she known this was how it was going to end.

“Howard assured them that he could recreate the serum, and told them he would as long as they left you alone.”

“Fucking asshole…” you closed your eyes, scrubbing your face with your hands. The rough skin of your hands rubbed against the delicate skin of your face, years of combat and mistreatment foreseeing a harshness that reminded you every day of what you'd had to go through to get to that moment.

“I only found out about it after it happened. I didn't see it for like a whole week,” Peggy shook her head slightly, her eyes glistening in the pain of the memories. You shook your head hard, a more violent reaction than you could have anticipated.

“That stupid… stupid asshole! What the fuck made him think I couldn't defend myself?”

“He was trying to do the right thing,” Peggy finally searched your eyes, meeting the red rims that told her you were holding back too hard breaking in front of her, only using that pain mixed with rage to keep you sane.

“And look how that turned out!”

Peggy stretched her hand across the table, with a pleading look asking you to lower your voice, averting her gaze to the hallway. You followed her gaze, for a second forgetting where you were, forgetting that her family was with you behind the doors where you were plunged into darkness. It was past midnight.

You took a second to calm yourself, trying to drown out the uncontrolled emotions and taking deep breaths to calm your fluttering heart.

“And if what you theorize is true…” you regretted the moment those words left your mouth; you didn't even want to finish the sentence.

“Do you think it is?”

“I don't want to,” you shook your head instantly, closing your eyes, the thought sounding illogical inside your head. Your hands on your chest trying to contain the storm of feelings that was making chaos inside your head. “That would mean that everything we did, everything Bucky, Steve and Howard did and sacrificed, was in vain. It will all have been in vain.”

You spent several weeks with that thought in your head, working hand in hand with Peggy, and the organization you barely knew as SHIELD, to track down the whereabouts of the killer of Tony's parents and the one responsible because the Supersoldier's serums were, surely, in the wrong hands.

And yes, it was many years of fruitless missions and dead ends, with you running every field mission and Peggy calling the shots from the New York facility. Every time you felt close to discovering something, it seemed that the enemy rejoiced in your failures and still couldn't understand how they were always three steps ahead.

However, you had to leave the missions when Peggy became ill.

The silent, lethal Alzheimer's.

During the first months in the hospital, she still recognized you. She also recognized her husband and children. But after the first year, she frowned every time her children walked through the door. After a year and a half, her husband had to remind her that they had been married for about forty years.

After two years, she was still only remembering you, Howard, Steve and Bucky. Her whole life during her time in the army was all you talked about, sometimes you would tell her how much more time had passed than she remembered and always, without fail, she would ask you how much you had done in Europe for so long by yourself.

She cried every time she remembered Howard's death. She cried every time she remembered her children. Out of her mouth came a thousand apologies that no one would accept, because there was nothing anyone could do to prevent what had to happen. You wished she had been a serum test subject instead of you.

For several years, missions to find Tony's parents killer were sporadic because you spent more time around Peggy than at the SHIELD facility. She was the only thing you had left of everything you'd ever had, of when you held the world in your hands. She was the last thing keeping you tethered to that reality, keeping madness from flooding your reason. How could you have so many years ahead of you when that was all you had to live for? A life full of the dead, full of pain and suffering. What kind of karma were you paying for?

You were leaving the SHIELD facility, after another failed mission, when Nick Fury stopped you in front of the exit. You almost rolled your eyes right under his watchful gaze, tired of having to meet him anywhere, and exhausted from his comments about this vengeance project or whatever he wanted you to be a part of.

You still didn't know how, being such an exemplary agent, Coulson had fallen into his nets.

“Miss L/N,” the man stopped you with his words, his hands behind his back and a tense stance that caught your attention.

“Fury,” you nodded in his direction, hoping he'd be quick because you were running late for your weekly visit with Peggy. “Do you need anything?”

“I'd like you to come with me somewhere,” Fury approached tentatively, his one eye fixed on your wary expression, which shifted to boredom the moment you thought you knew what he wanted.

“If this is about that project, I've told you a thousand times-”

“No,” he interrupted you, moving forward and removing his hands from behind his back. “It's not related to that. I really want you to come with me.”

“You look agitated, but I need-”

“I'll take you to see Peggy myself after this.”

You didn't like that he knew your routine, even though you weren't doing enough to hide it from the other agents. But Fury looked nervous, even though he was hiding it very well, trying to keep his cool as he looked for ways to convince you.

You figured it wouldn't be a big deal for you to go off the deep end for once. After all, Peggy never remembered you were going to see her.

You set off in Fury's armored vans, not quite sure where you were going, but sure that it was urgent, because he had taken it upon himself to let his driver know that you had to get there as soon as possible.

You took that time on the trip to come up with a new strategy for the next mission because what you were doing up to that point wasn't working and you felt too close to throwing in the towel, figuratively speaking. You could spend years following a ghost, but you wouldn't give up on finding Howard and Maria's killer.

Before the car pulled up to one of SHIELD's secret sections, they passed the giant, imposing Stark Tower. You never saw Tony again after that time at his parents' funeral, not even during his visits to Peggy because you always made it a point not to cross him. You didn't think you'd be able to look him in the eye while you knew his parents had been killed without being able to tell him. You had promised Peggy in her lucid moments that you wouldn't tell him anything until you could find the culprit. You didn't want to initiate that pain if it had to be kept repressed, as yours once was, and probably still is. You had learned, some time after the funeral, that he was living with Edwin Jarvis, and you were glad to know that he would have good companionship to keep him company in such hard times.

Fury, a handful of agents and you entered the vans through the entrance to what appeared to be the parking lot of an old warehouse. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the number of armed agents that seemed to be guarding the place, not at all discreet to how SHIELD used to do things. You weren't sure if Peggy would authorize something like that, but you couldn't question the Director's decisions. It wasn't your place.

“What's going on here?” you frowned, watching as every meter there was another agent and another agent. You got out of the car without waiting for an answer from Fury, moving directly toward the entrance where most of the agents were concentrated. You barely noticed their looks in contradiction, running their eyes over you and then over the man trying to catch up to you, dubious as to whether or not they should move. “Move.”

“Wait,” Fury's voice stopped the command in the agents, who turned back to look at you as you sent Fury a confused look.

“What's all this mystery, Nicholas?” the man startled almost discreetly at your tone of voice, the agents stirring uncomfortably, but kept the serene expression that was getting on your nerves. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We got a call from the Arctic.”

“From the Arctic?”

You tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck instantly stood up, your body alerting you to something your mind still couldn't comprehend. You felt like a deer face to face with a predator, expecting the worst.

“The Colonel informed us of something that might interest us,” Fury's cryptic voice echoed in your ears, drowning out the flicker of uncertainty vibrating from your head to your toes. “They found a plane.”

You didn't even answer him. Your heart began to pound wildly, cornered, ready to have your head bitten off. The tension in your shoulders intensified, with the involuntary movement of your hands as you broke into a cold sweat. The mere implication of his words caused an emptiness in your stomach, a sense of longing and fear you hadn't felt before.

You looked at Fury, trying to find in his gaze the gleam of a lie, but there was nothing there but assurance. There was nothing but recognition and understanding in his gaze, but that didn't make the emptiness in your stomach and the tight chest go away. It didn't make the feeling of being outside your body go away.

You barely remembered to move in the direction of the door, the agents instantly moving out of your way, pushing it so hard that one of them flew out. You moved your eyes around every corner of the room, the cream-colored walls generating a great repulsion in you. And there, in the midst of all the confusion and the storm, a confused and disgruntled face looked back at you. A face you never thought you would see again.

Steve Rogers was standing a few feet away from you, barely comprehending what was happening around him and instantly recognizing you. Your chest compressed once again, the tears you held back for so many years even in your loneliness making their own way into your eyes, endangering to end that mask you wore everywhere you went.

Steve was actually there, looking back at you with his eyes shining in recognition. You didn't know if he was as surprised as you were to react or you looked so bad that he didn't know if he should approach you or not. You just knew it was him, it really was him right there in front of you. He wasn't dead. Steve wasn't dead. He was alive. Ah, he was so alive.

The broken sob that suddenly left you was loud enough to make your friend shed his stupefaction and stride over to where you were. You barely managed to cover your face, between sobs, wails and disbelief, feeling your knees give out, surrendering to the weight of the pain, when his strong arms grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor. Preventing your fall, as you had wished so many times before.

You cried against his shoulder, when feeling him against your body you knew there was no doubt it was true. You moved your hands away from your face, wrapping them around his waist as tightly and lovingly as you hadn't hugged anyone in so long. Surely the last time you hugged someone like that was when you saw Peggy on your way back from Europe.

Steve wasn't far behind, his arms around your shoulders just as tightly, his chin against the crown of your head, moving from side to side trying to hold back the loud sobs that shook your body.

You couldn't believe it, but it was true, he was right in front of you.

Steve was alive. He had come back to your side. You didn't even want to ask why.

And there was nothing else you could think about for the rest of your life.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 4.5k

chapter summary: you and javier get off on a rocky start.

warnings: canon typical violence, arguing, a brief reference to Ellie and the main TLOU plot, no y/n

Deadhead - A railcar or locomotive that is being transported empty, typically to be used for future shipments.

The day was warm, the sun bright. Small petals flew further away from the green grass, colorful flowers moving left and right with the soft caress of the wind. The vest Javier wore dug uncomfortably into his chest, his rifle slung over his back and pistol snug on his hip. The lovely weather mocked him, taunted him. It was a lie. A facade. The color, the white clouds, the green grass— all of it seemed muddled now. If he tried hard enough he could see specks of blood, tainting the visual that could as well be a spitting image of a Van Gough painting. 

But despite it all. Despite knowing it’s a lie, despite knowing the horror, he still wore the letters; F E D R A— Federal Disaster Response Agency. He liked to think that they were doing some good. At least they drove the wretched infected underground, right? They did one good thing, so that made the killing, the rape, and the torture okay. 

Right? 

“Fuck me.” he muttered into the wind, hoping the words, later on, would be carried back to him, reminding him that hey, at least I knew something was wrong. 

He noticed someone walking up to him. He was expecting it, really. Micheal Coghlan. The man who by some goddamn miracle still carried goodness inside of him. The type of goodness that would radiate through the cracks of skin and bone, the type that would bring light to a person’s face. 

Micheal had a limp. 

It was caused by someone Javier knew but didn’t particularly like. He saw it happen. He still heard the bone snapping into two when he closed his eyes at night. The man stood next to him and Javier observed him from the corner of his eye. Once upon a time, he could call his face roguishly handsome. It wasn’t a sharp face, round around the edges, with a bit of stubble; shaved by his sister no doubt. His eyes were kind, a darker shade of brown compared to his own, lips thin and chapped. Thirsty. 

Javier cleared his throat, hand going to his waist, he pulled out his flask and offered it to him. 

“Water?” 

He took it without an answer. Drank it in a way where water droplets would stream from the corner of his lips, his gulps loud. It made Javier feel awkward. Micheal stood a bit straighter when he offered the flask back. It was empty. 

“So what did you want to talk about?” Javier asked. 

Micheal smiled and crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. “The people.” 

It’s a bird violently flying into the window that wakes you. 

Your eyes open fearfully, your heart beating a mile a minute. Your breathing is uneven. Dust clings to both the inside of your throat and skin. Eyes still wide open, you stare at the ceiling of the train. The seats you managed to sprawl yourself upon are uncomfortable, jagged metal sticking into your skin, making ugly marks and dents. When your breathing calms, and body relaxes, you slowly get up. 

The weather is hot, yet gray clouds decorate the sky. The heat of rain, you like to refer to it as. You can barely see the sun, the light of it filtered through the gray, painting the world into a muted color. Fitting. 

You hear a snore and direct your gaze toward the sound. You see the boots that belong to a man that’s sleeping a couple of rows ahead, too big to truly fit and get comfortable. Javier Peña. You heave yourself up by grasping the heads of the seats, your legs aching and stumbling like a newborn doe’s. His shirt is unbuttoned from the top, revealing golden, scarred skin. Your eyes trail further down, and they don’t stop until you see the gun strapped to his waist. You think about how easy it would be to just take it, to shoot him and try to find your people. 

Then you remember. They’re all gone. You have no people. Marlene’s words were clear;

The girl’s gone. No more soldiers, no cure, no nothing. The fireflies are dead; you’re on your own now. 

A chill crawls up every inch of your skin. Why are you even here? Why are you with him of all people? You’re not sure yet. It’s much easier to dislike him when he’s not speaking and his eyes are closed. 

You hate that when they are closed, the only memory of them is him being struck with fear, the flames behind you mirrored in his eyes. Kansas City quickly became a place of destruction and death. It was unexpected and with every fabric of your being, you wished you had never seen it. 

“Why are you watching me?” his voice startles you; it’s deep with sleep. “It’s creepy.” 

“I was thinking about taking your gun and shooting you.” 

“I’ve always loved an honest woman. What stopped you?” 

“I have no place to go.” 

“Neither do I, as you know,” he says. He finally opens his eyes, but only to stare at the ceiling in a similar way you did not moments ago. “So where does that leave us?” 

You don’t understand what he’s asking you. The air is still.  Javier takes a sitting position, his elbows pressed into his knees and hands hanging loosely between his legs. 

“I say we stay here,” he says, voice firm.

“The train?” you ask, confused.

He shrugs. “Why not? It’s covered pretty well, it’s far enough for people to see and close enough if—god forbid—we want to head back into the city.” 

“You want us to live together?” 

“I want us to turn this into a living space. After that leave, if you want,” he rubs his thumb into the corner of his lips. “Though I wouldn’t really advise leaving, and I definitely need your help.” 

“So I should stay because?” 

“Safety. Security.” his smile is bitter. “What else can a person want during the end of times?” 

“Someone they can trust.” 

“You can trust me.” 

You look him over. He must’ve sensed your immediate hostility because his gaze slowly moves to you. He returns your suspicion in like, contemplating what to say. You don’t trust him. He doesn’t trust you. Javier’s fingers twitch and his hand moves to clap over his pocket. He lets out a sigh of relief when he feels the familiar shape of a cigarette box. 

He licks his lips again. 

You gaze out the windows. They’re thick with dust and vines, the outside seems a tad bit brighter now, the gray clouds clearing up a bit. 

“Being addicted must be hard,” you mutter. “What are you going to do when you run out? Sacrifice yourself for a box of Marlboros?” 

He chuckles. “Maybe. Who knows. I’m not out of stock yet.” 

“Not a very comforting thing to hear from a man that’s arguing that I should trust him.” 

“It’s not like I said I’d trade you for a pack of cigarettes.” 

“Who knows. That’s what you said, right?” 

He sighs and gets up. He walks down the narrow hall of the train, hands brushing over the headrests. You follow him outside, and just like you suspected, the weather is grossly warm with no light. The dry weeds crunch under your boots. Javier pulls out the crumpled pack and offers you one; you shake your head. You’re surrounded by trees, with little to see except the sky.

“Wouldn’t want to dry out your stock faster.” 

“That scared of what I’ll do if I run out?” he smiles, placing the butt of the cigarette between his lips. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re paranoid or smart.” 

“Paranoia works.” 

“I guess that’s true.” he mutters, lighting a match. “So what are you going to do? Stay or leave?” 

Javier inhales deeply, his lips not too tight not too loose. A soft groan vibrates from the back of his throat and he lets go of the smoke. Your eyes follow the dance of it, twisting and dissipating like the vapor on the first exhales of winter. He places the cigarette back between his lips and tucks his hands behind as he leans back into the metal surface of the train.  

He waits as you think. It’s ironic really, the fact that you’re actually contemplating staying with him. Needless to say, FEDRA and the fireflies don’t have the best relationship, but you guess that’s all behind you now. There are no organizations at this moment, no rebellions. Just him and you; two people looking for a way to survive. 

You turn to stare at the train. It’s nearly completely intact— there are six cars and the locomotive. If you stare hard enough you can spot the tracks buried under the moss and grass. It would take a lot of work, but indeed it was possible to turn it into a living space. 

“Give me a gun,” you say and he smiles. 

“What makes you think I have more than one?” 

“Then give me the one.” you press. 

“The first thing you said to me this morning was that you wanted to shoot me.” he pushes himself away from the metal surface. Pulling his cigarette away from his lips, he stands an inch away from you and holds your gaze. His smile disappears as smoke fans across your face, making your stomach churn. “Are you going to stay?” he asks. 

“If you give me the gun then sure.” you tilt your chin up. “I don’t trust FEDRA.” 

“I’m not FEDRA anymore and you’re not a firefly.” 

“You were once. I think you can see why I have my reservations. You weren’t just any FEDRA soldier, you were a part of it in Kansas City. I heard horror stories about that place.” you rub your eyes, trying to erase what they had seen. “And I actually witnessed the fables.”  

Javier takes a step back then, admitting defeat. Something horrific seems to cross his face, a series of violent images perhaps, or maybe it was the loss of his “friends” whatever it was you don’t pay much mind to it. Everyone has pain. Even children who are meant to be carefree and happy. You’re surprised when he suddenly hands you the gun, cigarette loose between his lips. You take the weapon. It’s heavy in your hand, cold between your fingers. 

“Satisfied?” 

“Very much so, yes.” you don’t smile, but you pull an expression very similar to it. He exhales another breath of smoke, and you push the gun under your waistband. “Where do we start?” 

“You can’t be serious, Carillo.” 

It was dark and he could barely see the figure of his colleague. Javier had the intention of stepping forward and taking the gun from the other, but he stood there instead, heart beating in his throat. His stomach churned, bile thick on his tongue. Carillo didn’t bother to look at him. There was a man that was on his knees in front of the captain, his head bowed, shaking like a leaf. Carillo aimed his gun at him, his jaw tense. 

“You rather them kill us?” 

“I rather none of us kill each other.” 

Carillo finally turned to him then. Javier would expect the captain’s eyes to soften but they didn’t. 

“You heard what happened in the other QZ’s,” he spat. “Soldiers being killed, murdered. The people rioting. We can’t let weeds grow free Peña, he already killed one of us. You heard the rumors to overthrow FEDRA.” 

Before Javier could say anything a gunshot echoed, a body fell lifelessly to the concrete. He didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch. He just watched. Carillo placed a hand on his shoulder and the skin under Javier’s shirt burned—his stomach trembled then. 

“Ya no vivimos en un mundo de misericordia. Elige un bando.” 

Pick a side. 

Carillo left, Javier followed. Without thinking, his hand went to his empty flask. The cool metal under his fingertips did little to soothe him.

It’s odd being here with him. You feel trapped by nature, by circumstance. Nothing is the same and nothing would ever be the same. You lean over and sweep out the glass into a tattered bag. Javier had decided on burying the glass or anything else you might find and have no use for down into the dirt. You didn’t have any objections to that. When you lean over to pick up a piece of a broken wine bottle, you feel the gun Javier gave you pressing into the skin of your hip. 

You always hated cleaning before the outbreak. Now it was a soothing thing to do. It felt normal. A reminisce of the past. Still, you can’t help but feel sick from being at ease. Change has to happen. But with the immune girl gone, and the fireflies basically disbanded (at least that was what you could tell from Marlene's massage) there is nothing you can do. 

You see Javier approaching, a sheer amount of sweat coats his skin, his shirt clinging to his body. Surprisingly, he’s silent. You had expected him to talk, to pry into your past life. But he seemed to be content with just cleaning for now. 

“We should scout the area,” he says when he catches your gaze. “Look for abandoned houses, supplies. Maybe we can find a fruit bush or something and plant some here for food.” 

“You do know there’s no way this is going to be like…a peaceful suburb residence right?” 

“A man can only dream.” 

He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and your curiosity gets the better of you. 

“I need to ask,” you say and he piques with interest. “Why FEDRA? No offense but you don’t exactly look the type.” 

“I remember you saying that the first time you saw me.” 

“Still surprised you didn’t shoot me then, considering who I was.” 

“No offense but you didn’t exactly look the terrorist type. I didn’t know who, or what, you were.” 

“We weren’t terrorists.” 

“So you guys didn’t plant bombs?”  he asks sounding amused. “You didn’t kill people?” 

You narrow your eyes, heat pooling under your skin. “Only pieces of shit like you.” 

“I thought I didn’t look the type?” he sighs and shakes his head. “Look I’m not going to argue the ethics of it all and you’re definitely right. The things they—we did, FEDRA, It’s inexcusable. But don’t come here and tell me the fireflies were squeaky clean.” he takes the broken bottle from you and throws it into the bag. “I don’t want to fight about this. I don’t want to argue with you all the time. I’m not telling you I’m a good person, I don’t understand why you have to remind me. I know I’m not.” 

Silence follows. Your anger shifts into guilt and you push those feelings down. He gives you one last stern look before turning his back to you. 

“But neither are you so let’s stop bulshitting ourselves. And if you’re going to start interrogating me about my decisions—about my past— I recommend you not cuss me out a minute later.” 

His steps are loud as he leaves. You notice he left the bag behind, meaning that you managed to rile him up enough that he just had to get away from you. You probably deserved that. You don’t understand how he can shove the past aside so carelessly, how he can just forget what he’d done, what you’d done. But he was right, you aren’t a good person. Unlike him, you enjoy believing that you are. Joining the fireflies…it made you believe that you were doing good, that you were better and more noble. The killings you did were for the greater good, the people that ended up under the rubble of explosions were just a sacrifice that needed to be made—you told yourself that, again and again. 

Maybe you aren’t as bad as FEDRA but you aren’t that above it either. 

You contemplate going after him. Apologize without actually apologizing. You remember a time you used to break the tension by making a joke, how did you do that again? You can’t quite remember. 

You shake your head and continue to clear out the debris. He’ll come back. You can think about what to do then. 

Javier does eventually come back, but not before the sun had set. 

The stars appear one by one, and you hate to admit that you’d worried about him. Being alone is worse than being with someone you hate. 

Dirt and dust sit uncomfortably on your skin. After an entire day of work, you managed to clear out the broken glass, rust metals, dead insects, and rodents (you shudder at the memory). Now all of it lays outside, waiting to be taken further away from the train. 

“Where were you?” you ask when he arrives, you notice a bow strapped to his back. “And where did you find that?” 

“Careful, it almost sounds like you were worried about me.” he grins as if he hadn’t stormed away from you when the sun was at the very top. You decide to let it slide. He lifts two rabbits and your eyes go wide. “I went looking around a bit. Found this in an abandoned cabin, then did some hunting. Assuming you’d be hungry.” 

“Thanks. I…actually forgot that we need to eat.” 

“Help me build a fire?” 

You answer. “Sure.” 

The process of building a fire has become as natural as breathing air. If it were a couple of years ago, most people wouldn’t know how to build a fire but that wasn’t the case now. You doubt that anyone who had survived in this world did so by not knowing how to create flames from scraps of wood and dried leaves. Even the children know. That’s just the world they grow up in now. 

Your eyes constantly follow him whenever he moves and you can’t decide if it’s due to old habits or is it because of something else. He has a bizarre aura about him. Something that you can’t quite read. He’s soft. You’ve met a lot of FEDRA soldiers back in the day, have argued and fought against them, but you never met someone like him. He has a bite to his words, but you see the kindness swirling in his eyes, suffocating him from the inside out. It’s an odd contrast and makes you feel uncomfortable. 

He’s a man that has been beaten down by the world and the system. Him asking you to stay here is his way of giving up on everything he wanted for the world. You can see it as vividly as you see the stars. Just glimpses of his backstory winking down at you. 

The flames come alive, roaring and eating the rabbits whole. Javier had taken the job of cooking for himself, patiently watching the fire, he pokes the sizzling meat from time to time. 

“You like cooking?” you ask, and your eyes water when the wind blows the ashes into your face. 

“I did,” he answers without looking. “I wouldn’t really say I particularly enjoy cooking this.”

You cross your legs as Javier hands you a branch, skewered with rabbit meat. You take a moment to examine the branch, noting the rough texture of the wood and the way it's been stripped of any leaves or twigs. The delicate slices of meat have been threaded onto the branch with care and precision, each one spaced perfectly apart.

He takes his own portion and sits across from you, the flames curling into the air in between. He doesn’t say a word as he takes the first bite. You watch him chew. The flames lick his face, the tip of his nose a dusted red. Javier swallows and when he does you bring a piece to your lips and slowly chew. It’s gamey, slightly sweet. Overall, tastes pretty damn good. 

Your lips twitch up to a small smile. Biting into it more eagerly this time, your stomach growls as you swallow. 

“This actually tastes pretty good,” you mutter, feeling the fat from the rabbit coating your lips. 

“Well, don’t go overboard.” 

“It’s the truth.”

When you lower your gaze back down to the meat, you don’t miss the way a smile curls at his lips. The night grows louder and you two finish the rest of your dinner in silence. You hear crickets, the leaves rustling with the wind. A sweet scent touches your nose, something like newly blossomed flowers. You look into the distance and all you can see is darkness. 

Your eyes play games with you, shows you shadows of people, tricks you into thinking that you and Javier might’ve been followed by Katleen’s resistance. 

You blink. 

No. 

There’s no one there. 

Your pulse skyrockets, your heart beating in your throat. Vibrating, you turn back to Javier only to see that he’s already staring at you. His look is one of understanding, his lips relaxed as his eyes flit around your face. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I just thought—” you look back to the silhouette of trees. “I thought I saw something.” 

“The curse of the forest,” he answers, placing a cigarette between his lips. He realizes he doesn’t have his matches with him so he leans forward and lights it from the source. Javier’s face illuminates, and you see splashes of blood, of death. It lingers over his skin, curls around his throat, stains the white of his eyes. “It makes us see things we don’t wanna see.” 

“There was this girl,” you suddenly say, swallowing down the gasp that threatened to slip from your lips. He raises an eyebrow and sits back, listening. “Marlene told us that she was immune. I was supposed to meet up with them in Boston.” 

“Immune?” he scoffs. “Immune to what?” 

“Cordyceps.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“No, it’s true,” you answer with a sudden need to convince him. You’re not sure why. “She got bit and never turned.” 

“Did you actually see it?” he exhales a puff of smoke when you shake your head. He believes he made his point. “So what about this girl? Is there a reason why you’re telling me this or are you just that afraid of the dark?” 

You bite into your bottom lip, the sting offering a fleeting relief. “It’s not that I’m afraid. It’s just too silent. It feels…naked.” 

“Naked?” he asks, grinning, he steals the cigarette from between his lips and evens his gaze with yours. “We’re covered, cariño. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Famous last words,” you tease, ignoring how his tongue rolled as he mumbled cariño. “I guess I’m not used to it yet. There’s always something to fight. Someone is always lurking in the shadows.” 

He voices out the rest of your thoughts, “It’s like all the noise and chaos of the world has disappeared, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts.”

You take a deep breath of the crisp forest air. 

Emotionally, you want to lean into him. There’s a need in your chest that doesn’t go away but it’s tainted with the anger and the hatred of the organizations that tear you away from each other. He might’ve wanted to do good once, but he chose the wrong side. He thought fireflies were terrorists, and maybe to some you were. However, at least you weren’t fascists and tried to help the people. For better or for worse.

“It doesn’t hurt does it?” he says, guiding your attention back to him. Javier looks up to the sky, takes a deep inhale of smoke. It spills from his lips as he continues. “To have someone by your side.” 

No, you think as you get up and head into the train, it doesn’t. 

You don’t know what it is this time that wakes you up. There’s no noise. The only thing that convinces you that you’re not in a soundproof cell is the moonlight filtering through the dirty windows. You watch as the pine leaves move together, you’ve always enjoyed the smell of it. The sound of it comes like an afterthought, slowly gaining and getting louder. 

You get up when you feel the train shake. 

Javier is in the same spot that he always sleeps in, only a couple rows ahead. You move past him and you sneak a glance. His lips twitch and move as he sleeps. 

Stepping outside, you take in the same sight as before. It’s still eerie. 

Interestingly enough since the fire was gone the darkness seemed lighter somehow. A shimmering blackness. The moonlight probably helped. 

Dry earth cracks under your boots. The sound of the trees now mixed with something else, something violent and cruel yet beautiful. You feel the gun on your hip and travel deeper into the forest. The scent of pine and flowers that only bloom during the night stronger. The train is still visible so you don’t worry much about the distance in between. Your fingers brush over the tree trunks, you feel the moss, the sticky resin. 

You hear a click. 

Click. Click. Click. 

Just ahead there’s a clicker, moving with its arms bent and dragging its feet through the soil. Swallowing, you take a slow step back. Then another. And another. 

The chill of the night stings your skin, sticky from sweat and burning. The clicker turns in your direction and you stop moving, your one foot suspended in the air. It gains momentum, head twisting and turning. Very slowly you lower your foot, and your heart beats loud in your chest. Surely the clicker hears it. 

Fuck. 

The sound of the branch snapping underneath you was like a gunshot, reverberating through the stillness of the woods.

You don’t even get the chance to pull out the gun on your hip. 

You’re slammed into the dirt, all air forced out of your lungs. You struggle against it but it’s too heavy, too wild to be pushed off of you. The clicker screams into your face, the stench horrid. Bile builds in your throat and coats your stomach. You’re helpless. 

It makes a move towards your hands and you pull them away, its full weight suffocating you. Killing you. You can’t breathe. 

Tears flood your eyes. You know you’re about to die because you see your life flashing before your eyes, snippets of the past and possible future. You think of the fireflies, of Marlene. You see earth cleansed from the virus. 

You see Javier. He’s smiling, leading you in a dance around the wilting flames. You don’t push the thoughts away. You take them as a blessing in moments of lingering death. 

A gunshot echoes. You hear the bullet cutting through the air, whistling in the night. It sinks into the clicker’s shoulder, you hear another one, this time the bullet strikes its head.  The clicker collapses. Before you can shove the lifeless vessel away, it’s being lifted. 

You can breathe again. 

Javier is standing before you, his brows creased with worry. His lips are parted as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it. You’re still gasping for air when you speak. 

“You had a gun.” 

“Yeah,” he heaves, sweat clinging to his chest and moonlight trickling down his skin. “I had a fucking gun.” 

Oh man, you guys have no idea how excited I am to finally be sharing the first chapter. I hope you guys enjoyed it, I'll probably be posting a new chapter every Saturday (the first 3 chapters will def go up and Saturdays, after that, if everything goes well, I'll continue it the same way)

A few thank you's are in order; @pedrito-friskito , @inklore , @fuckyeahdindjarin and @pedrorascal who listened to me go on and on about this and for their endless moral support ♥︎ and thank you to @laters-gators who beta'd this.

[buryustogether]

fucked

viktor vektor x f!reader

word count: 2k

warnings/tags: pining, age gap, some descriptions of masturbation and sex, blood, street fighting, vik’s down bad

summary: while watching you in a street fight, viktor thinks about what’s holding him back from you.

author’s note: wrote this in class so it sucks

Viktor knew he was fucked the first time he saw you, in tow behind Jackie with a broken arm and a bloody smile that made his stomach clench in the best way possible. He knew he was fucked when you started coming around more often, bringing dinner and gossip from your latest jobs. He knew he was fucked the times you used his gym to train, and he would pretend to work while watching sweat drip down the back of your neck and imagine licking it off with the flat of his tongue.

Yeah, he was fucked.

And it was all on you.

Viktor exhaled a sigh as he locked the clinic door, then tread back down the dim stairwell and back into his cave - at least, that was what you called it. He’d shut up the place early in anticipation of the fight preparing to happen at this moment.

But this wasn’t one of his matches he watched on the network. This was a match taking place in a Kabuki back parking lot, filmed on a cellphone, streamed on an app that forced him to connect his tablet to his television so he could watch it without squinting. This was a winner takes all, loser gets shamed and maybe dies of a brain bleed later kind of fight.

And you were participating in it.

Grabbing the screwdriver he often fiddled with on his mechanical fingers, he dropped into his rolling chair so that he sat backwards and raised his arms to rest on the backrest. Absentmindedly, he began to tinker with his cyber appendages and trained his eyes on the screen.

When you’d come into the clinic last week and told you about this fight, he was wary, to say the least. You would be going up against Simon Shredder - an infamous street fighter known for pulling mantis blades on his opponents when the match wasn’t going his way. You had assured Viktor you’d be fine. You had Jackie there with you.

Viktor had snorted at that. “Like two of you is going to be a match for a half-crazed backstabber and his dozens of fans.”

“You’re always free to come along,” you had told him while you steadied the punching bag. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing at the tops of your sweaty breasts, hidden behind your sports bra. “That is, if you can keep your eyes on the fight.”

Viktor twisted the screwdriver a little too hard and grimaced before shaking his hand out and flexing his fingers.

It was always something with you - wether it was flirtatious comments like that, or giving him a kiss on the cheek in thanks for a repair that lasted a little too long, or making yourself far too comfortable around him to be considered a friend and nothing more. He couldn’t count on his hands the number of times you’d stayed late to watch a fight and propped your feet up in his lap - dangerously close to his crotch, which he’d shifted to try and avoid your foot with. The last thing he needed was you realizing such a simple act could make him hard as granite.

Besides, what would a pretty little thing like you do with an old man like him? You had other young people chasing after you left and right. Like you’d ever think of him like he thought of you.

Shoving tongues down throats until neither of you could breathe. Grinding against hips. Gripping thighs and releasing small, desperate moans…

Fuck, he was a goddamn pervert. He needed to get a serious fucking grip.

Viktor turned his attention back to the screen. An official - more likely the one who arranged the fight and profited from either outcome - was speaking to both you and Shredder in the middle of the lot. Surrounding you pair were a few dozen onlookers, passing bets back and forth and pointing and assessing.

He didn’t focus on any of them. He was staring at you. Flexible trousers and a tank top, low enough to catch glimpses of the tight pink bra wrapped around your torso. Bandages wrapped around your pretty little knuckles, ones he’d wrapped himself time and time again. Eyes that were stern and intelligent, hard and steely and the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

The official wasn’t audible over the excited chatter of the crowd, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was saying. No hits above the waist. No enhancements, cybernetic advancements, or anything of the sort. Fight until mercy or… well, the alternative.

Viktor’s hand had stilled, his attention focused on your opponent. Simon Shredder was a big guy, bigger than Jackie, even. Muscles the width of tires, a height that would trump even the Animals bodyguards, eyes that had been replaced with cheap optical units that made it seem like his pupils were a bloody red. He dwarfed you in every sense of the word.

He could easily kill you if the desire arose within him.

Viktor found a deep, anxious sensation swirling about his belly. He continued with his tinkering. He’d worked with you for hours just for this fight, learning how to use an opponent’s weight and momentum against them. When Jackie was down for it, he’d watch you kids spar, commenting on techniques and offering critique, and it wasn’t uncommon to end the matches with Jackie lying beneath you, arm twisted behind him and tapping for mercy.

Sometimes, after you and Jackie left, he would drag himself to his apartment upstairs and stroke his aching cock to the thought of you pinning him beneath him like you did. He’d think of you rolling your hips against his, knees digging into the floor at his sides, your fingers curled around his jaw to keep his eyes on you while you raised and lowered yourself on him.

Viktor shifted in his seat as, on screen, the official moved to the sidelines. The fight was about to begin. A sense of pride swirled in his chest when you spoke and stuck out your hand for a shake - something he’d taught you himself to do before and after every match.

“To show you’re a good sport,” he had said.

“Good sport?” you’d asked and leaned back against his shoulder. “There’s winners and losers these days, old man. No more participation trophies, I’m afraid.”

And yet, after that piece of advice, you’d began to shake the hand of every opponent you went against.

Viktor snorted with distaste when Shredder glanced at your outstretched hand, then spat at your feet and readied himself into a fighting stance. Rolling your shoulders, you followed suit.

The crowd reared, shouting their praises and insults as you pair readied to fight. Part of him wished he had accepted your invite so he could be there himself to watch as you handed this guy’s ass to him. Or so he could be there to keep you from getting your ribs caved in.

There came the deafening shot of a blank fired into the air - because no one would be able to hear if the official yelled start - and the hollers of excitement multiplied.

You and Shredder slowly circled one another, footwork placed delicately and confidently all at once. You darted forward first. With a small leap to reach his level, you barreled your fist forward - only to miss as he ducked out of your way. You didn’t even have a moment to land before he landed a blow to your upper spine, sending you staggering forward for balance.

Viktor frowned deeply. Strike to the thoracic vertebrae. Discomfort later. Possible seize-ups and pulled muscles.

The crowd reacted with mixed reactions as you spun around, keeping yourself straight. It would take more than that to put you down. Digging your heels into the tarmac, you surged forward and raised your fist -

Only for your hand to be caught just inches from Shredder’s face. People groaned. People cheered. Viktor stilled. Though the feed was rather shaky, he could make out Shredder’s lips moving, his mouth close to your ear as he murmured something to you. Then he twisted your arm, causing you to bend to prevent it from snapping, and delivered a vicious blow to your face.

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat and he leaned forward, lips parted in shock. Your smaller figure collided with the ground hard, and you flailed slightly, struggling to roll onto your hands and knees. The person streaming the fight moved in the crowd to get a better angle. From there, the camera zoomed in on your face.

Blood trickled steadily from your nose. Your left eye was squeezed shut. Scarlet dripped from your lips as you shakily pawed at your mouth.

Viktor’s breath was stuck in his throat. Possible broken nose. Bitten tongue? Black eye? Bad enough he needed to prepare a replacement?

Fuck, he never should have let you do this. Never should have agreed to help you, never should have let you walk out the door this morning and wished you good luck. He should have kept you here, where he could look after you. Keep you safe. Make you feel good. So fucking good you couldn’t stand it.

Shredder stalked across the lot and towered over you, then crouched so that he could be closer to again murmur something to you. The official was already preparing to call it off.

But then it happened - just like it always did.

You pulled through. You surprised them all. Even Viktor, where he sat in his clinic miles away.

As Shredder leaned down to be at your level, you suddenly turned and cracked him across the face with your fist. He fell back onto his ass, stunned by your abrupt blow, and you took the opportunity to straddle his chest and deliver a series of whiplash-inducing strikes to his startled expression. Blood spattered on the tarmac. The crowd erupted.

“That’s it, kid,” Viktor said. “Fuck him up.”

It wasn’t more than thirty seconds of your incessant beating that Shredder tapped the ground blindly - mercy. The official appeared in view, dragged you off the hulking man, and raised your fist to the crowd.

Winner.

They cheered. They booed.

But you stood there, a smug and satisfied smile painted across your bloody expression, basking in the glow. Viktor knew that feeling; when it seemed like the world was at your feet and nothing, fucking nothing, could take it away from you.

He sighed and leaned back slightly, then glanced at the wrought iron doors that led to the stairwell. He was still for a long, long time.

“It’s bad luck to sit on these kinds of things,” Misty had told him one night, when he’d been drunk and let her do an aura cleansing and he’d blurted about his little perverted crush on you. “The fates are going to take this opportunity away from you if you wait too long, you know.”

He’d brushed her off at the time. You’d never go after an old timer like him. But yet… how was he to know if he never asked?

Viktor swore, then brought up his vision screen and called you up. It rang only once before you picked up.

“Hey, Vik!” you greeted on the other end. He watched your face, bloody and bruised, light up with a grin when you saw him. It made his heart melt and his cock ache all at once.

“Hey, kid,” he said and leaned forward. “Great fight tonight. Really. Knew you would pull through.”

“Hah! You don’t have to lie to me, old man. I know it didn’t look good.” Somewhere on the other end, he heard Jackie’s voice. “Sure, Jack. I-“

“Listen, kid.” Viktor paused, took a breath, and let it out. “Feel like swinging by the clinic? I can check out the damage, if you want. And I’ve got a few cold ones with your name on them.”

You smiled. “I’d love to, Vik.”

After you hung up, Viktor caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a mirror.

Oh, yeah.

He was so fucked.

[toms-cherry-trees]

Scraped Heart || Victoria Shelby

Summary: Wounded knees hurt more than just the flesh.

Word Count: 2132

Warnings: Description of minor injuries, post war PTSD, Tommy scaring his sister

Author’s note:  So this is set right after the war is over and everyone has gone home, it could be mere weeks or no more than a couple months since everyone was shoved back into their lives. I’ve always imagined those weeks when they are trying to pretend that nothing happened to be extremely awkward and tense, especially for the younger ones, since four years is basically half of their lives they spent in uncertainty.

Thomas dragged his feet across the dusty boards of the hallway. Many nights had transpired the same way, ever since the return; he wandered around aimlessly, his mind disconnected from his body, until he found himself far away from home without memory of how he got there in the first place. That evening he had snapped back to his senses to find himself in the oldest part of the town’s graveyard, where most tombs dated to the prior century, stained green and the engravings faded by time and the elements. He must have stumbled and fell at some point, for his trousers had mud in the knees and his hands were scraped and bruised. A light drizzle had dampened his clothes and trickled down the bare curve of his neck. Nighttime had fallen already, but Tommy swore it had been daytime still when he left Watery Lane.

As he was about to reach his bedroom, a quiet cry and curse from the nursery caught his attention. Nursery, that word still made him snort. That little wooden sign with said word carved with a knife had arrived at the house with the first baby, and had been moved from door to door to whichever bedroom belonged to the youngest. But it wouldn’t be moved again, since there would be no more babies born under that roof, not at least for the foreseeable future. 

The door stood ajar, and Tommy peeked in curiously, shrouded by the darkness of the hallway. Victoria sat on her bed, knees bent in front of her, both scraped and bruised. Around here laid a mess of pieces of bandages, a rusty pair of scissors, some iodine and oddly enough, a bottle of liquor. A most puzzling scene, especially because Tommy would have never expected his eight year old sister to have the maturity to gather all those supplies and hide in her bedroom while injured, instead of crying it out like a normal child. But again, kids raised in the middle of the war were no normal children.

Vicky had a piece of cloth on her hand and tried to dab at her scrapes, but she hissed every time it came in contact with her injury. Tears streamed down her cheeks, carving lines in the dirt of her skin. Tommy just then realised she was covered in grime from head to toe. 

Vicky again made a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the blood on her knees

“Fuck” She hissed

“Oi, language!” Exclaimed Tommy, entering the bedroom. Vicky nearly jumped from the bed when Tommy marched in; he had the ability to be as silent as a cat, which drove everyone insane since he always startled everyone. The girl looked like she had seen a ghost, but there are worse things than a ghost, like being caught doing things you shouldn’t be by your brother-self-appointed-father.

Tommy sat on the edge of the bed while Vicky watched him cautiously, like a prey being sized up by the predator; Victoria had felt odd around Tommy ever since he came back from France, still struggling to get used to this new self, and desperately trying to find scraps of her old brother in this unknown man. They all had changed, in a way, but Tommy’s switch was most obvious. Sometimes the girl wondered if they had sent her back the right man.

“What happened?” The calmness in his voice was edged by the slightest hint of concern, and a dash of curiosity at the maturity of the littlest Shelby. 

“Street puddles are treacherous places” At her words, Tommy felt a strange pang in his heart. Since when did his little sister use big words like “treacherous”? When they left, she could barely even pronounce her own name correctly, and wanted to be up in someone’s arms all day long. Now she spent most of her days out of the home, either at school or roaming the streets with other rascals. She already knew how to read as well, and clearly used her newfound knowledge to say “big girl words” every time she could. 

Tommy grabbed her leg and pulled her close to inspect the wound, earning a squeak from his sister as she was yanked from a sitting position to be flat on the bed. The scrapes were large, but superficial. Something an adult wouldn’t even notice, but for a child of Victoria’s age it meant the end of the world and certain death. Yet his sister sat before him, teary eyed but otherwise calmly carrying herself. Tommy couldn’t recognise her anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell Aunt Pol to help you?”

For an answer, Victoria pointed to the floor, where her once new white stocks laid in tatters, all ripped up and stained with muddy water. Ada had told Polly that buying Victoria something white and delicate would be a waste of money, but she insisted. She wanted everyone to look their best when they picked the boys at the station, and somehow had stuffed Vicky and Finn in their Sunday best, complete with Finn’s hair slicked back and Victoria with ribbons woven in her plaits.

“Do you want my help?” Tommy felt odd at having to ask his eight year old sister if she needed help with something. In his mind this child had barely left the diapers and had no right to be speaking in full sentences and reading and writing.

“I can do it myself” Victoria sat up and grabbed the cloth again, but her hand shook even before she touched her knees. The sun would freeze over before she was finished.

Tommy snatched the cloth from her hands and dripped some iodine on it “It will not kill you to ask for help” He knew this bravado would crumble soon enough, but he couldn’t quite figure out what she was trying to prove.

“Aunt Polly said we have to fend for ourselves now”

Oh.

Tommy knew Pol didn’t say that. She would never say that directly to a child. But he still recalled the conversation when that phrase had been said. Late at night, the four of them sat before the hearth and passed around a bottle of cheap whiskey. They were due to leave at 9 am sharp the following day. Their hairs cut, their weavings packed and ready. Polly had stuffed their pockets with cigarettes and given them a bit of money in case they needed it. Then she prayed for their lives and commanded the three brothers to return, for they had people who loved them and depended on them. She remarked that even though Arthur and Tommy had no kids of their own they still had their responsibilities, because there were still three children under that roof that would now have to fend for themselves.

He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how Victoria remembered that. Maybe Polly had said those words again to a neighbour, or to Ada who was old enough to understand; and the little rascal had eavesdropped and gotten the wrong idea. A painful coil tightened around Tommy’s throat; the baby of the house had spent all these years under the impression that she only had herself in the world, even if she didn’t quite understand what that implied. 

Tommy didn’t reply. What could he possibly say? How could he erase from her mind that idea that she had to rely only on herself because everything and everyone else around her were not for granted? He couldn’t say that he would be forever with her, because he knew that was a promise he didn’t know if he could keep.

He gently dabbed the cloth on her knee, earning a hiss and quietly muttered curse from his sister, who quickly covered her mouth with her hands.

“Don’t let Pol hear you or she will wash your mouth with soap” Tommy swiftly pulled Victoria into his lap so he could hold her better, and to give her the chance to hold onto him. He got to work on cleaning the scrapes, feeling little fingers dig tightly on the fabric of his coat, and he was pretty sure Vicky bit the arm he was using to hold her. 

Once the grime had been wiped away he began to bandage her knees “What is the liquor for?” Tommy inquired curiously, nodding to the almost empty bottle on the bed. The bottle had some cheap hard liquor that they kept in a cabinet for emergencies, and never for drinking. Not that Thomas believed Vicky to be taking swigs of alcohol behind their backs, but the thought was amusing nonetheless.

“I have seen you and Arthur clean up wounds with that” She shrugged “I don’t think I need it thought” She added quickly

Tommy hummed “You couldn’t open it, right”

“Yep”

The faintest ghost of a smile tugged on Tommy’s lips. A big girl with big words and a big attitude but she still didn’t have the strength to open up a bottle, nor had she figured out how to work the house keys, and still wanted to have her food cut up for her. He finished wrapping the bandages and tied them up neat and nicely “Does it feel okay?”

The girl flexed her legs a few times and nodded “I could do that myself” Victoria could never, ever lose the opportunity to try and up her older brothers. Only when she stepped off Tommy’s lap did she notice the dirt in his trousers and the little scraps of his hands “Did you fall too?”

Tommy’s body immediately tensed up and he put his hands down to hide his reddened palms “Yards are treacherous places”

Victoria immediately tried to pull up Tommy’s trousers to take a look, but Tommy held her wrists to stop her, rather harshly. Both of them stood in absolute silence until Tommy let go of her. He hadn’t intended to be so harsh, but sometimes it happened too fast. His wrecked nerves got the best of him, fueled by the fact that never, ever in his life Tommy had allowed anyone to help him; not before the war and certainly not after. 

But he couldn’t be this way with Victoria, not if he wanted to make up for all the years of her life he lost. And especially not now, when with that little gesture, something as simple as showing concern for him, Tommy caught a glimpse of what his sister had always been before she decided to build up walls, just like everyone around her. War had hardened the Shelby brothers, but it didn’t have to do the same to their little ones. 

Just as Vicky straightened up, slowly as if she feared he would snap again, Tommy released a slow breath and pulled his sister into a bone crushing hug, her arms pinned to her sides as he squeezed her in the way he used to do when she was a baby. In the same way he hugged her when he took the train in 1914, and the way he hadn’t hugged her ever since. He kept her there until Vicky squirmed “Tommy you are squeezing me”

“I know”

“....Can you put me down?”

“No”

In that moment, that hug felt like an anchor to the life he once had and the man he used to be; both things now lost to the war machine. The war life had taken him, chewed him up and spat him back out as something new, something he couldn’t recognise and something that would forever be damaged in a way only those who had been chewed too could understand. But somewhere behind layers of trauma, scars, fears and anger lay a sliver of the pre-war Thomas Shelby, an miniscule sliver of a man who once believed the world could be good and kind. And that sliver belonged to Victoria for as long as she lived, so she could once more see the world through a rose tinted lens and never again had to think that she had to fend for herself. And so he could make up for all those missed hugs, cuddles and tickles.

After minutes of maintaining the hug, Tommy stood up and swung his sister over his shoulder. He suddenly had the vitality and energy he had lacked the last weeks. He marched out the room and down the hallway with Victoria over him like a sack of potatoes.

“Where are you taking me?” Inquired Victoria curiously

“To the bathroom. You are a grime ball and if Pol sees you like this, she will have both of our heads”

Victoria’s protests echoed on the walls as she tried to wiggle out of Tommy’s protective arms, laughing and squeaking as Tommy playfully dug his fingers in her ribs to tickle her.

[ellieslittleburrow]

Requested by anon : i hope this isn’t too dark but could i request joel with a daughter who’s a recovering addict?? and just how he would deal with that

Warnings : ADDICTION recovery, swearing, a clingy father and a ghostly mention of a blackout.

A/N : i hope you like this, anon.❤❤ Also i have a feeling i conveyed Joel a bit weaker than he usual is??? But in my brain it's the Joel that met up with Tommy again. The exact addiction was also not specified so i tried to make it as neutral as possible. Anyway, enjoy yall! 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

------

"Hey" A soft smile phantoms over your dad's face as he enters the room. "How are we feeling this morning?" He attempts enthusiasm but fails. You don't push... At least he tries...That's what you keep saying to yourself.

It's been a few months since your last episode. Call it episode of whatever you want, anger, last straw, the moment you gave yourself another chance...

"We're good..." You awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, timidly swinging your foot forward and backward "Should we...?" You throw your chin forward, motioning towards the door.

"Yeah!"

----

Since that last time, living with Joel has been a blessing and a curse. The heavy silence that sets in the car every time you went somewhere, the weight of knowing what occupied both of your minds and not being able to do anything about it.

There were fights. Like that time he entered your room without knocking, causing you to startle and to to swing your habd behind your back.

He'd ruin the fucking surpr-

"What are you hiding behind your back?" His low tone slaps you like thunder and you realize wht he has in mind.

Your heart stings and you scoff. stupid you for thinking about him, yeah?

You hold out the glass jar, examining its contents one last time. A letter, a pocket watch, a small knife and a monarch butterfly you stupidly taxidermied, thinking it was the thing he loved the most. "Monarch butterflies..creatures guided by an ancient instinct to seek sanctuary in distant lands...Kinda remind me of myself..." He'd always say. So you violently hurl the bottle at the ground, meeting his eyes as the bottle shatters. "Well, it was your gift." You force a smile. "There it goes." And before brushing past him, you make sure to spit on the contents, just in case he ever decided to pick them up after you.

He grips your arm as you walk by. But you yanked it away, throwing him a glare before leaving.

He begs later. More than once, for a few days. "I-I-I'm sorry, I-I" He holds your hand. "I can't imagine how much that hurt..."

There were also other times where tears flowed. Tears being his...least favorite thing.

Like that time your body shut down...Went numb and you found yourself on your knees, hyperventilating as you search for air to breathe. Nothing serious, just pure exhaustion and lack of sleep. On his face of the moon, you fell to the ground and were unable to breathe, your colors washed off and your eyes widened....What's happening to you??? He doesn't know.

He rushes down to the ground and leans close to your face, feeling for..symptoms. "What-w-what is it-what's happening?" He shouts through panicky unsteady breaths. And as you struggle to even utter a word or two, tears stream down his face. "Please tell me what's happening."

Again, nothing serious on your side. Just a bad flashback for him, from back when you blacked out last. When he almost lost you.

That being said, bad moments weren't the only things that shaped your relationship. There were good moments too.

Good moments where words weren't needed for him to show how much he cared for you. He'd -not-so-discreetly watch you eat, from the corner of his eyes. and he'd sometimes lay awake, waiting to comfort you.

he'd also supervise you from time to time (More like spy on you).

You once couldn't deal with it anymore. And your prankster attitude couldn't let it slide easily. So you decided to prank him.

On your stroll through the woods, you stopped in your tracks, whirling around to point your rifle at him.

"Show yourself or i'm shooting your eyeballs off." Stern and threatening, you shout.

He startles, abruptly raising his arms up. "It's me!!!! It's me." Fear laces his voice. "It's just me."

A smirk creeps up on your face. "I know." You snort. "I got ya good." You got him goood.

His shoulders slouch and he breathes out heavily. "You sure did."

"Are you following me?" You ask, still keeping the same distance between the two of you.

"N-no, i'm j-"

"Just following me."

He sighs again. "No, i a-"

"Spying"

"NO! I'm just making sure you're not....Just making sure you're okay."

You debate whether to tell him that's literally spying or to just leave it. So you just shrug. "Okay...sure."

It can be suffocating at times, But you appreciate the effort anyways.

"Go home, dude." You turn on your heels and head away from him.

On your road to full recovery, you find yourself missing things that you promised yourself and the world you'd stay away from. With Joel on your side -and sometimes up your ass- You find yourself wanting to run, but always ending up wanting him back by your side. Because as protective and annoying as he can be, he's also always there whenever you find yourself falling back down, easing the burden of being this new person you're trying to be.

------

"Are you listening?"

You smile at him, thrown off by the sudden come back you had to do. "Yeah. Let's go."

--------

Hiiii! I hope yall enjoyed thiis, even though it's different from the usual style ❤❤🌸🥀🥀

[rafesbby]

By Your Side

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!kook!reader

Warning: language, kissing, barely smut (sorry, swear the next one will have a good amount)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: What happens when your childhood best friend shoots the sheriff, and you vowed to always be by his side?

A/N: When will I be cool on this app? I probably gotta write more for that huh?

--------

You and Rafe first met in middle school when the teacher paired the two of you up for a school project. You guys have been inseparable ever since and are rarely seen without the other close by. You’ve been there for each other through all the ups and downs that have occurred throughout the years. When Rafe’s mom died, when your parents got divorced, when Rafe and his dad started having issues, when your brother got in a car accident, when Rafe started abusing cocaine, when your drinking got out of hand, and more recently when Rafe shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure something out. I promise.” You reassured Rafe. His head was currently resting on your chest, your bodies intertwined under his sheets. You trail your fingers through his messy hair. 

“I did it for my dad, they were gonna send him away. I had to do it. I had no other choice.” Tears stream down Rafe’s cheeks, his eyes red and bloodshot from all the crying.

“I know, Rafe. It’s not your fault. You did what you had to do.” You try and soothe him. You honestly had no clue what was going to end up happening or how he was going to get away with murder. But the one thing you did know was that you were going to do anything and everything you could to save and protect the boy who was crying in your arms. 

“Dad’s blaming John B. That’s good right? It’ll work? People will believe it?” Rafe asks you, fear dripping from his voice. “They won’t think twice of a fatherless pogue shooting the sheriff.”

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” You could feel Rafe’s breathing slow down a little at your agreeance. But it spikes back up when you mention his sister. “Sarah was there, Rafe. What are we going to do when she starts telling people it was you? What will we do then?” 

“We’re gonna tell them that Sarah’s fucking crazy and only trying to save her pogue boyfriend.” Rafe glances up at my face. His beautiful face looks so worried and scared. You wish you could reduce the stress he’s feeling right now. But it’s hard to do that when there’s death and blood involved.

“I don’t like seeing you so tense. I wish you would just relax. Which obviously I know is hard with everything going on right now, but you need to try and act normal. As of right now everyone suspects John B. We have nothing to worry about.” You lean forward and press your lips to his head. 

“Easier said than done, baby.” His hands rest on the side of your waist, his head still comfortably on your chest. 

Even though you and Rafe were just friends, sometimes it felt like you were something more. When you weren’t cuddling, you guys were always touching in some way. Whether it was an arm around your shoulders, a hand on the small of your back, a finger grazing up the length of your arm. It never failed, there was always some sort of contact between you and him. Not that you minded. You really didn’t mind at all. You actually sometimes craved for more. The nickname he gave you didn’t help much either. The occasional “baby” he would slip into the conversation didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“How about you go to the country club tomorrow. Show your handsome face around. Make it seem like you’re not hiding anything.” You suggest. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Will you go with me? I don’t want to go alone. I honestly don’t think I would even be able to survive if you weren’t there.” Rafe repositions his body so that he’s on his side, head propped up on his elbow, looking at you. 

“Of course I’ll go.” You turn on your side and copy the way he’s laying so you can be face to face. “I can just sleep over if you want so we can leave when we wake up tomorrow morning. If that’s okay?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He brings a hand up to the side of your face and strokes his thumb against your cheek. “Thank you, y/n. I don’t know what I would do without you by my side.”

You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be any where else.” You fall asleep in his arms and don’t wake up until the sun peeks itself through the windows. 

Rafe shuffles from underneath you. He yawns which causes you to yawn. 

“What time is it?” Rafe asks you as he leans over your body to grab his phone off the bedside table. “Nine o’clock.” He answers himself.

“Ready to put on your innocent face and go out today?” You sit up and stretch your ams above your head. The blankets fall to your lap. 

“What do you mean? I don’t have to put an innocent face on. I am innocent.” A small smile plays at the corner of Rafe’s mouth. “John B killed Sheriff Peterkin.”

“Oh, yes. Indeed. How could I forget when I was literally there, right by your side, watching the whole thing unfold.” Your grin spreads across your whole face before a laugh escapes your lips. 

“What’s so funny?” Rafe’s brow quirks up and an amused look passes over his beautiful features. 

You gently shake your head, a smirk still present on your face. “Nothing, I promise.” You climb out of Rafe’s bed in plans of going to the bathroom. “Where do you think you’re going?” Rafe reaches an arm out and grabs your wrist before you can get any further. “You never told me good morning, baby.” Having fallen onto him, your bodies are now flushed up against each other. 

“Well I’m so sorry, sweet boy. Good morning, how did you sleep?” You snicker when he slides his hands underneath your top and rests them at your sides. 

“I slept very well considering I had a sexy girl wrapped up in my arms all night.” He pinches his fingers against your skin, making you squeal. 

“Rafe, knock it off. I have to pee.” You attempt your journey to the bathroom once again, and this time he doesn’t stop you.

The goal for today is to hear what everyone is saying. What they think happened and who they believe did it. You don’t know how much time Ward bought Rafe when framing the pogue but hopefully it gave him a while. If Rafe ever got caught for shooting the sheriff not only would he be locked up, but you would be to0. You would kill someone and turn yourself in just to be with him. You don’t know what you would do if there ever came a day when you and Rafe weren’t side by side. You haven’t spent one day without the other since you were kids. 

A knock on the bathroom door pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“You okay in there, baby?”

“Yeah…just thinking.” You finish up and exit the bathroom. Rafe is waiting for you on the other side. He pulls you into a hug.

“Change of plans. We’re not going to the country club.” 

“What, why? Is something wrong?” You step out of his embrace to look up at his face clearly.

“No, nothing like that. I got a text from Topper and apparently John B is on the run.” He places each of his hands on your shoulders. “There’s a search party out looking for him. I thought the least suspicious thing to do would be to go help look for him.”

You mimic him and bring your hands up to his shoulders. “Good idea. It seems like it’s working. Everything is going exactly how it should.”

You and Rafe have been out all day. The both of you hanging around and involving yourselves in the gossip over John B and his “crime”. The sun has set which leaves it completely dark except for the small sliver of moon and the few stars that speckle the sky. You’re sweaty and tired from being out all day and more than ready to go back home with Rafe. But the kook is nowhere close to wanting to head in for the night. He dragged you to this small party Kelce was throwing and is currently on his fifth drink and doesn’t show any signs of stopping soon. In all the time you’ve known the boy, you have seen him drunk and high more than you can count. And each time, you’re there making sure he doesn’t pass out somewhere and that he makes it to bed that night. But this time you are a little tipsy yourself.

“Baby, come here.” Rafe motions you over with a flick of his hand, a smile plastered on his face. 

When intoxicated, Rafe was always more touchy and soft than usual. Everything he said or did towards you was amplified. Especially when at a party or with friends. He was known to get possessive with you even though the two of you weren’t a couple.

“What?” You ask Rafe when you make it beside him. You have to speak a little louder than normal because of the music Kelce has blaring. 

“Are you okay?” Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist and pulls you against him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lean into his touch, tucking your head into his chest. “I’m just ready to leave with you.”

“Yeah?” He kisses the top of your head and starts to rub his hand up and down your back.

“Yeah.” Your eyes begin to close as Rafe slowly starts to sway the two of you back and forth. 

You sigh in content, completely wrapped in Rafe’s arms. In times like this, you can truly imagine what it would be like to be with Rafe. You his girlfriend, him your boyfriend. Together and happier than ever. But you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours. Both trapped behind the title of “best friend”. 

Rafe brings his face down to the side of yours and whispers in your ear. “Let’s get out of here.” 

You nod as Rafe takes your hand in his, fingers intertwined, and leads you guys out of Kelce’s house. He opens the passenger side door for you when you guys make it to his truck and closes it behind you. When he climbs in and starts the truck he looks at you. 

“What’s wrong?” You keep eye contact as he’s looking at you. 

“Nothing, you’re just so beautiful.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m so lucky.”

“Oh, is that so?” You can’t help the giggle that comes out at his words. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” He says again through a laugh. He’s clearly drunk. He seems more confident and bold with his words.

“That’s all?” You raise a brow in question, hoping he continues.

“And you’re amazing.” He’s looking at you with that smirk of his. That sexy grin that does things to you. 

“And…” You urge him on. 

“And you’re sweet to me.” Rafe grabs your hand and begins tracing circles on your palm. You feel yourself blush at his words. 

“Thank you, Rafe.” You lean your head against the head rest and let out a content sigh. 

“You make me so happy, y/n.” The finger tracing patterns on your hand stops and slides into yours to hold it. 

“You make me happy too.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. 

“Come here.” Rafe takes the hand he’s holding and brings it to his chest. 

“What?” Your face slowly turns back to meet Rafe’s stare. His words confusing you and exciting you all at the same time. You weren’t quite sure you completely understood his request.

“Come here.” He says again, grabbing your other hand and helping you up and over the center console, positioning you on his lap. Once you’re settled, his hands leave yours and come to a rest on your hips. “There.”

Your heart is beating faster than it was just a second ago. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what Rafe wanted you to do. What was he doing?

“What are you doing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know. I just wanted you closer.” He answered. His face was so close. You could easily lean forward and connect your lips to his. 

All you do is nod to his reply and you let your gaze wander to the right so that you’re looking out the car window. Your heart is so loud in your ears you’re sure he can hear it too. You feel his lips connect to the side of your neck, kissing and sucking on the skin. Your hands naturally thread through his hair and your head tilts to give him more access. 

When his mouth leaves your neck, you turn your gaze back to him. His eyes are boring straight back into yours. They drift down to your lips and then quickly back up to your eyes. The nerves pulsing throughout your body push you to say something to fill the heavy silence. 

“Rafe, I-” But his lips are on yours before you can even get the words out. 

Things progress quickly as his tongue parts your lips and pushes into your mouth. The taste of him so good and sweet. No matter what you thought he would taste like, what you were tasting right now was better than anything you could have imagined. His mouth continued to work on yours, a groan leaving your lips when he pulled your bottom lip away with his teeth. He let go of your lip and worked his wet mouth down your neck for the second time tonight, but this time he was more rough and persistent, nibbling on the sensitive skin. 

Rafe’s mouth was back on yours before you knew it. The need between your legs quickly growing. You move your core against Rafe’s bulge, moaning at the friction it gave you. 

“Baby, you feel so good.” Rafe’s mouth was back on your neck, planting kisses from behind your ear down to your collarbone. Rafe’s face looked so drunk yet so sexy and content. Your face more than likely looking similar. 

“Kiss me again.” You brought his face back to yours and connected your lips to his once again. You can’t get enough of the feel and taste of his mouth finally on yours. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“I want you so bad, baby.” Rafe’s hands toy with the hem of your shirt, his eyes pleading with yours. When you nod your head he quickly yanks the fabric up and over your head, leaving you in a bra. His fingers reach around and find the clasp to your bra, unhooking it with ease. You help the garment down and off your arms, your top half completely bare to Rafe and his hot stare. He audibly growls as his mouth connects with your hardened nipple. A moan escapes your lips from the feel of Rafe’s warm mouth. 

Your fingers pull at his hair as his mouth moves to the other breast. He brings his hand up to knead the other. 

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.” Rafe kisses between your breasts and travels back to your neck, sucking hard on the flesh.

“You’re gonna leave so many marks.” You push his head away laughing. You see Rafe smile as he goes right back in, disregarding your words. You shake your head, grabbing his face and bringing it up to your lips to kiss him deeply. After a second he pulls away.

“Good, everyone will know you’re mine.” He pecks your lips again. 

“Say that again.” You whisper.

“You’re mine.” Rafe whispers back. “You’ve always been mine, y/n.”

The heat between your thighs was growing at his words and you could still feel Rafe underneath you. Before anything else happened you move your hands to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it off of him. You bring your hands to his chest, slowly making your way down his abs and to the waist of his shorts. You reach your hand down to feel him through his shorts. Rafe lets out a gasp. 

“Baby…” Rafe’s eyes are pleading. You pull his zipper down and reach into his briefs, wrapping your hand around his shaft. “Fuck.” He breathes out. As soon as you begin sliding your hand up and down a loud knock on the tinted window interrupts your actions. You retreat your hand back and quickly reach for your discarded bra. Rafe curses under his breath as he helps you put your top back on. He’s rolling down the window as your climbing back into your seat. Surprisingly, it’s his sister. Sarah. Rafe’s eyes harden and his amused smile from a second ago has disappeared. 

“Sarah? What the fuck are you doing here?” Rafe glares at her, clearly annoyed.

“I saw your truck and wanted to make sure I got the chance to talk to you.” She tells Rafe. She looks from him to you. “Oh, hey, y/n.” She gives you a forced smile partnered with a small wave. You don’t say anything and just nod your head in greeting. 

“Talk to me about what Sarah?” Rafe snarls. “We were kinda in the middle of something.”

Sarah’s face twists into a sneer as she says her next words. “How you’re a lying psychotic bitch, Rafe. You killed Sheriff Peterkin.” Tears begin to fall from her eyes. “John B is innocent and you know it.” 

Even if you did feel bad for her, you would always be there for Rafe. You would alway’s be on his side. There would never come a time where you weren’t. And you knew Rafe felt the same way towards you. He’s said so over a million times. 

“Sarah, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Rafe’s eyes squeeze and his eyebrows scrunch in annoyance. “Get the fuck out of my face before I run you over.”

Before Sarah backs away she looks over at you sitting in the passenger seat. “I don’t understand how you can sit there and look at peace knowing what he’s done. He’s a monster.” And with that, Rafe rolls the window back up and Sarah speed walks off into another direction. What was she even doing outside of Kelce’s house? Did she know where John B was?

After that interaction you can guess and say that the alcohol in both of your systems aren’t affecting either of you anymore. 

Rafe’s eyes are closed and his head is resting on the steering wheel, his chest rising and falling at an extreme pace. He starts slapping his hand against the wheel, getting harder with each strike. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You watch Rafe’s rage unfurl. Comforting Rafe after an argument with his father has become something you do on the daily, so this squabble with Sarah should be no different. But he seems more bothered this time than he usually does. 

“You’re not a monster.” You begin to speak. “You know that right?”

“No, I don’t know that.” Rafe replies hastily. He stopped hitting the steering wheel but his hands were now wrapped around it gripping tight till his knuckles turned white. You reach over and grab the hand closest to you and bring it up to your lips, leaving a small kiss to the back of it. Rafe sits back in his seat and lets out a frustrated sigh. 

How could such an exciting, longing moment turn into such a shitty one so fast? You were finally expressing your feelings and exploring each other. Was this a sign that maybe you shouldn’t go down that road? That maybe you are better as friends and nothing more? You feel like that’s what the universe is telling you right now. After all, you both were pretty intoxicated tonight. Maybe this all was some big mistake. A one time thing, never to happen again. 

Rafe slips his hand out of your grab to start his truck. He doesn’t look over at you at all the entire drive back to his house. 

As soon as he pulls into his driveway and puts the truck in park, he shuts it down and climbs out. You watch him as he storms into his house, slamming the door behind him. You take your time getting out of the vehicle. When you make it inside and up the stairs, you go straight into Rafe’s room. He’s nowhere to be seen but you can hear the shower running. You strip out of your clothes and slip into one of Rafe’s shirts. You climb into his big bed and close your eyes. 

It’s been a long day for you and your emotions and you’re ready to sleep the whole thing off and confront everything in the morning. 

Sleep is quickly overcoming you but you hear the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps getting closer. You keep your eyes closed, knowing it’s only Rafe coming from the shower. You feel the bed shift on the other side and feel Rafe climb under the blankets. 

To your surprise, Rafe sidles up close to you from behind and wraps an arm across your waist. His face nuzzles into the back of your head. Before you completely drift off to sleep you hear Rafe whisper something so quietly you almost miss it.

“I don’t know what to do, baby.”

And it completely broke you hearing the one boy you loved shouldering such a devastating burden. 

[the-hinky-panda]

Yellowstone: Boss Mare Series Part III

Boss Mare: Part III

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Jamie Dutton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Like most people who end up on the Yellowstone, you're running from something. You need to convince them to let you stay and hope that what you're running from, doesn't find you. But things are rarely that easy.

Warnings: Violence, language, sexual situations, mentions of religion, cults, and abuse

Walker can’t believe his eyes. He frequently comes to sit by the small stream that runs to the west of the bunkhouse. It’s quiet, solitary, far away enough for him to practice without anyone hearing him. Tonight, his spot by the stream is occupied by a new, but oddly familiar, face. You’re sitting on a rock, your jeans rolled up to your knees, and your feet are in the cold, mountain water. 

“Well, look who didn’t listen to me and showed up anyway.” 

You’re on your feet immediately, wobbling to find your balance in the middle of the stream. He sets his guitar down against a tree and reaches out to offer you a steadying hand. His intention wasn’t to startle you into a complete submersion in the stream. You grab his elbow and allow him to help you further up on the bank where you collapse on the ground. 

“Sorry, my feet went numb.” 

“Yeah, that happens when you soak them in barely above freezing water.” He looks down at your narrow, almost blue colored feet and realizes why you had them in the water. There’s blisters all over them. “Looks like you did a lot of walking in new boots.” 

“I did.” 

He waits for you to elaborate but when you don’t, it gives him time to put together the pieces as he sits down next to you. “Tell me you didn’t walk from Bozeman to here?” It was over two hundred miles from Bozeman.  

You pull your knees up under your chin. “Maybe not all the way.” 

“Fucking hell, woman.” He shakes his head. “I’d hate to come across whatever it is you’re running from. Shit.” 

“Well, something brought you here. What are you running from?” 

“Bad decisions and even worse luck.” He picks up a stone and skips it across the narrow stream to the other side of the bank. “I’ll tell you again, you should leave this place. It’s evil.” 

You pluck a small blue flower from a small mound next to you and twirl it in between your slender fingers. “I know all about evil places.” You hand him the small flower. “This isn’t one of them.” 

Walker’s written a lot of songs about loneliness, wasted lives, the unfairness of life. He’s never written a love song though. He didn’t believe in soulmates, true love, or even a long-lasting love. All he’s ever known of life has been its sharp edge, the sting of injustice. As he takes that small flower, watches the slow smile creep across your face, he feels a shift that starts in the middle of his chest. He wonders if this meeting awakens a new part in his heart and mind because he feels as if he could write nothing but love songs for the rest of his life.