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

[piritos03]

2024 vs 2022

[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.

[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. 

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“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. 

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“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. 

[etherealhozier]

Tainted tree line.

NSFW!! Hozier smut!

My amazing bsf @teag-writes inspired me to write this. Go read some of her stuff it’s so good!! Thanks for the idea pookie 🤭

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CW: Praise, degrading, public sex, M4F, fingering, orgasm permission. (Let me know if I missed any!)

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You’ve always enjoyed going for walks in the forest, listening to the birds sing, learning new species of plants. Nature has always been calming for you. But with Andrew, he makes it a thousand times better. He says he comes with you to ‘enjoy the surroundings’, when he’s really just watching in awe as you stroll around in that pretty little sundress of yours.

“C’mon, honey, there’s a little stream! I want to see if there’s any fish!” You say with excitement practically dripping off of your tongue as you tug on Andrew’s hand, trying to get him to walk faster.

Andrew chuckles at your obvious overwhelming happiness, shaking his head in mock disappointment as he looks at you as if he’s in awe of your existence.

“Love, look at the sky for me.” He says gently, nodding his head towards the sky, gesturing for you to look up. When you comply, you see that the sky is all cloudy and grey.

Andrew presses a few soft kisses to your jaw as your head is tilted up. You can feel his stubble brush against your neck in the process, making you have to suppress a shudder.

“It’s going to start raining any second now. We should start heading back to the house.” He explains softly, knowing that you’re going to be upset like a child being told it’s time to leave the playground. Before you can even attempt to answer back, you feel the water droplets start to hit your skin.

You both start to make your way back out of the woods, knowing you’re going to be absolutely drenched before you even get close to leaving the tree line.

Then you remember that you made the fatal mistake of not wearing a bra. In your defense, you’re wearing an strapless dress, you didn’t want your bra straps to show. So with you being braless, and wearing white, your dress is going to be practically see through as soon as it gets wet, and that’s exactly what happened.

Andrew notices almost immediately how your wet dress clings to your form like a bodysuit. Not to mention your breasts being pressed flush against the fabric, your nipples hardened into stiff peaks from the cold wind and water, leaving very little to the imagination.

Andrew lets out a soft grunt at the sight before grabbing your arm and pulling you over to a tree, pressing your back up against it. He places one hand above your head on the tree trunk to support himself, using the other to grip your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. You immediately feel your panties dampen from something other than the rain.

“Andrew, I-“

You’re about to protest before he cuts you off.

“If you think we’re going to walk any farther without me ruining that pretty pussy first. Then you better think again Y/N.” He growled, his voice rougher than it was just minutes ago.

Without any hesitation he clashes his lips against your own, kissing you like he’s man starved and you’re his only source of food. It’s almost enough to distract you from his hand slipping between your thighs. He pushes the crotch of your panties to the side, sliding his index finger through your slick.

“God, you’re fucking soaked, darlin’. Does it really get you off knowing I’m about to fuck you senseless in the middle of these woods where anyone could walk by and see us?”

Andrew doesn’t even need an answer. The way you grind your core against his fingers is all the answer he needs.

“Such a greedy whore. Aren’t you Y/N?”

He grunts, slipping two digits inside your heat without warning, feeling your walls tighten at the contact.

“God, honey, please…”

You moan out, gasping as you feel him hit that sweet spot inside you. That familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build, spreading through the rest of your body. Andrew smirks condescendingly as he feels your legs start to tremble, you’re visibly struggling to hold yourself up.

Your head falls back against the tree as your desperate moans fill the forest air. Andrew takes notice of your climax building. He gasps mockingly.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl? Go ahead, I wanna watch you come on my fingers, honey. That’s a good girl.”

He says with a smirk, hitting your g-spot consistently in a back arching rhythm. He watches your reactions with an awestruck look in his eyes.

That’s all it took for you to crumble completely. You come undone with a pathetically desperate cry, squeezing your eyes shut as the rush echoes throughout your body. Your legs start to give out so Andrew wraps his free hand around your waist, holding you up against the tree as he works you through your orgasm.

Andrew collects your arousal on his fingers before pulling them away from your throbbing heat. He removes his hand from your waist to gently grab your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes are glazed over with exhaustion and lust.

“Open your mouth for me, my love.”

He says gently before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You comply almost immediately, lazily opening your mouth for him. Without warning, Andrew slips his arousal covered fingers into your mouth, watching as you lick it off his digits. You can’t help but hum in approval as you taste the sweetness of your own liquid.

“I love you.”

You mutter exhaustedly as you stare up at him with those love-filled doe eyes.

“I love you too. Now let’s get you home so I can clean you up, my goddess.”

He presses gentle kisses across your forehead to your cheeks. He picks you up bridal style, knowing you won’t be able to walk for at least an hour after this.

Andrew carries you home while you ramble about how much you adore him, occasionally trailing kisses up and down his neck. You can’t wait to get home and spend the rest of the day cuddling.

This was the first, but definitely not the last time you do this. And you can’t wait to do it again.

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Writers note:

Hiiii! Thank you for reading my work! This is the first smut/fanfic I’ve ever written, so it may not be perfect but I think it’s decent. I hope you think so too! Again, thank you for reading! <3

[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.

[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.”

[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 ❤❤🌸🥀🥀

[blankiebloo]

I AM SO EMBARRASSED IN MYSELFFF- So the person who asked for that Scaramouche fanfic this is for you because I accidentally posted it without it being done<3 So here's your Scaramouche angst<33

Scaramouche x Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warning(s): Yelling, fighting, cursing.

Note: You and Scara have separate rooms because yeah<3

It's been tough this entire week for both you and your partner; but it seems that Scaramouche has had the tougher situation out the two of you, with his annoying coworkers to his incompetent subordinates who seem to never do anything right in his eyes. He's just been having a hard time, but he finally has a week off and a little while ago he promised you that the next time he has free time he'll spend it with you, and that time is now!

-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-

"Scara?" You ask as you knock on his bedroom door.

You could hear a small groan from the opposite side as he got up and opened the door only to snap back a, "What do you want."

"Are you not happy to see me?" You asked, a slight joking pout on your lips as you poke his cheek.

You know how he gets, but you also know that he can't resist your pouting face for long, well, at least that’s how it normally was. Instead of his normal sigh and moving your hand to his lips and looking away, he grabbed your wrist tightly and gave you the sharpest gaze that you haven't seen in years.

"I'm not in the mood for your games, [Name]. Now, what. Do. You. Want." His tone was cold, and sharp as a knife, but he made a promise and he should keep it.

"Scaraaa, you promised me that you'd spend time with me once you weren't so busy," you playfully whined, putting the pout back on in hopes of it lightning his mood.

But instead it had the opposite effect, his grip on your wrist was tightening and the look of anger on his face only seemed to get worse.

"Ow! Scara, that hurts!" You say as you start to pull your arm back, he let's go and chooses to try and relieve the headache that is slowly forming as he brings his hand up to the bridge of his nose and rubs it.

"Look, [Name], I'm not in the mood right now. We can talk and spend time later."

"But-"

"[Name], what the fuck did I just say?!" He snaps, his eyes looking at you like he's about to stab you. "You are so fucking clingy! I'm telling you that I'm not in the mood for this and what do you do? Continue to pester me!" He shouts as he comes closer to you and closes his door behind him.

"I'm sorry Scara-" You choke out, starting to feel tears forming at your lash line.

"No, I'm done with this! You decide to be super fucking clingy and think you can just do whatever you want! You honestly need to control your damn emo...tions..." He cut himself off when he heard a small sniffle coming from you, opening his eyes he only sees you with tears streaming down your face.

"[Name], I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, it's fine. I'm gonna go, I just remembered my friends wanted to go out with me today. I'll see you later, alright Scara?"

"[Name], wait-"

You turned around and started walking out to the front door, wiping at your tears along the way. He wanted to reach out for you and hold you closer to him and tell you he's sorry but, does he even deserve the chance to talk right now? He just stands there until you leave his view and he heads back into his room for his, "well deserved nap".

-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-◇-

You came back in the middle of the night hoping that Scaramouche was already asleep so you could just sneak into your room and go to sleep without him noticing. Luckily, you did! You got to your room without waking him up, so you quickly changed into your night clothes and hopped into bed and got comfortable underneath the covers.

You honestly felt so relaxed right now, that walk around the city earlier really helped you clear your mind and forget about what happened, but what did happen again? You're trying to remember, what made you so sad in the first place- Oh, right. The fight. You started to recall everything, the anger in his face and voice, the way he grabbed onto your wrist so tight.

It came crashing into your memories all at once, making you cry once again. But maybe your crying distracted you because the next thing you know Scara is next to you in bed and you've been flipped over to where your face is in his chest as he strokes your hair.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay, it's okay. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, [Name]." He whispered to you, pulling your body closer to him if that was even possible.

"S-scara?" Your voice was small, but bold. You let out a sigh, and nuzzled your head into his chest. "I'm, I'm sorry-"

"No. There's no need to say sorry, not right now. I'm the one who yelled at you because you reminded me of a promise I made, there's no need to apologize."

You chuckled, "You really know how to confuse me"

"Do you want my apology or would you rather continue to just lay here in sorrow?"

"Hm, I guess I would rather have your apology"

"Good."

A/N: I FINISHED THIS!!! And thank you @plasmasimagination for the request!! I don't know if this lived up to your standards but here this is! And if any of you would like to request something for me to write, here is my request form! Thank you for reading my fic!

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader City Girls Part 8/8

I've put you through it with this fic. Cheers to the last part!

There will be an Epilogue.

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

+18

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

You were on the floor in the guestroom, packing your suitcase.

"What are you doing?"

Ruben had returned to the apartment after you since the two of you obviously didn't go home together.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

You packed your bag with haste, throwing your clothes in without folding them. Ruben's presence behind you did not disturb, it only fueld your anger.

"Are you leaving?"

A shadow was casted over your shoulder as he approached.

"Y/N, talk to me. Why are you packing your things?"

"Because, Ruben..."

You stood and made the attempt to shove him. But Ruben barley swayed as your palms hit his chest. However, his expression faltered as he was quite suprised to see tears streaming down your face.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"You're wrong Ruben. You've ruined my life, and don't even think about lying to me, Ester told me everything."

Ruben sighed, a hand running down his face before he folded his biceps in front of him. "I did it for us Y/N, you're friend was gonna tell the club officials, threatening to end both mine and your career with the club."

"So you threw mine under the bus by lying to the coaches on the first team, getting them to replace me with Ester. Ruben, there is no us in this, you did this for yourself, not caring what happened to me."

"Y/N." Ruben's sudden step forward made your heart clench. "You are to good to ignore." He said, eyes burning passionately for you. "I mean look at how you played today, there is no way the first team won't realize their mistake and let you back in. Yes, it might have been a gamble from my side but trust me, it's gonna pay off." Ruben's hand wighed heavily on your right shoulder, his thumb stroking gently across your collarbone. The touch was alluring, but you gather all strength to shrugged his hand away. "Ruben, not now or ever will I trust you again. I'm moving out."

"Come on Y/N, don't leave?"

You returned to your suitcase, snapping it shut. Turing back around, bag in your hand, you sighed seeing Ruben practically block the doorway. "Where are you gonna go huh? Back to Ester?" There was a hint of concern in his voice. "You can't leave in the middle of the night. I won't let that happened."

"Ruben, get out of my way."

"Y/N, I can't let you leave like this. At least let me make things right between us."

"Ruben, there is no us. You literally brought your girlfriend to fucking Cityzens Day."

"But I want to be with you."

He neither denied or confirmed the fact that the woman was his girlfriend. Maybe that's what hurt you the most.

"Welp....my feelings aren't mutual Ruben. Now get out of my way."

His hand stopped you as you made the attempt to leave. It made you lightheaded, his touch, among other things.

"Y/N." His voice was low. "I know how much you want me. I could see it today....on the pitch. You wanted me so bad."

"Yes, I wanted you Ruben. I wanted to beat you."

That was a lie, you wanted more. How did he know that you wanted more?

"Stop lying to yourself Y/N. You want me, just as much as I want you."

"I don't."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not."

He smiled. "Then why are you shaking?"

You were standing so close. Ruben's hand moved down to grab the suitcase from you, feeling how your body trembled against him. It wasn't because of the rage, but something more. You trembled because you held back from throwing yourself into his arms.

Ruben caught you with slight urgency, dropping the suitcase in the process. "You played so good today, so fucking good." He said.

"Yes, I was better than you."

He laughed into your mouth. "Don't push it."

There was nothing sensual about the way you devoured each other. In the process of kissing it look like the two of you tried to wrestle each other to the floor. Ruben grabbed your ass, lifting you up in the process. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms clinging onto the back of his neck, pressing his lips against yours. It was bruising kisses, sloppy and unprecise. You bounced in his arms as Ruben carried you down the hall, his mouth leaving hickies on your neck.

"I want to show you something." He mumbled.

"Yes, show me something, anything."

You threw your head back, offering Ruben to bury his face between your breast. He did so, teeth nipping your shirt in attempt to rip the fabric.

"Wait."

"Ruben, what is this?"

You draped your shirt over your head. Ruben's eyes glowed at the sight of your bra. "You're so perfect." He sighed and to your dissatisfaction he put you back down on the ground. Only now did you notice where he had taken you. "I've been wanting to show you this for a while...." Ruben fiddled for something in his pocket, a key. You stood in front of a door, THE door. He unlocked it, guiding you inside. It looked to be a spare chamber. It was poorly lit, however, you could outline a large bed in the corner and a fuzzy mat on the floor. There was also something hanging from the ceiling. Leather ropes.

He bent down, pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear, whispering the words. "My playroom."

You gasped, but not out of suprise. Standing behind you, Ruben had gone to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. The cold sensation over your chest errect your nipples, making them hard like pebbles.

"Sit. On you knees."

"So that's it then." You asked, not even suprise that Ruben found these sort of things exciting.

Ruben pointed to a spot on the floor. The fuzzy mat. You felt compelled to do as he said. You then watched Ruben cross the room, retrieving somthing from a drawer, a pice of fabric. A tie. "I'm gonna tie this over your eyes so that you can't see me. Then I'm gonna tie your hands to your back so that you can't touch me. And then your gonna let me fuck your mouth until you gag."

"I'm your mistress. I've been so all along."

"What?" He stretched out the tie between his hands.

"My what?" He chuckled.

"Your toy Ruben." It was so obvious. How hadn't you seen it earlier. The lies, the favors, and him practically keeping you here at his apartment. You were just a tool to him. "I'm your toy Ruben. Something you can play around with when you get board of your life, which seems to be very often. That's why you've kept me here in this apartment like some dog waiting to be walked. It can't be your only home. Where do you really live?"

He smiled, bringing the tie to your eyes. "You know....I really care for you Y/N. I still don't understand why you won't let me take care of you? There were others before you, not as desperate, but equally as naive. They wanted me to help them and so I did. It was a fare trade, nothing too complicated. But with you..." He tied the fabric behind your head, cutting off your view of his smug appearance. "I just can seem to figure you out. Is it just the football that drives you? In that case we are more alike than you think."

"I'm nothing like you."

"No."

"No?"

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by his zipper.

"Who are you like then, Neymar?"

It was evil, his laugh. So evil. You felt so small, curled up on your knees. Ruben hadn't gone to tie your hands behind your back so if you wanted to you could remove the blindfold and just get up and walk out. However you didn't, you were that attached to him.

"Y/N?" You heard him sigh.

Thinks we're quiet around you. No movement and no efforts for Ruben to have his way with you.

"Fuck." He cursed.

Suddenly you could see again. Ruben had gone to remove the blind fold. He was standing before you, shirtless and a rock hard dick hidden beneath his unbuckled belt. "I won't fuck you if you're crying." He said, standing back, observing you disapprovingly.

"You let me leave, forget this ever happened."

"Gee thanks." You wiped your tears. Your legs were too numb for you to stand, but Ruben saw you make the effort and bent down to scoop you up in his arms, plotting you down on the bed.

"Now what?" He said.

"What if I don't want to forget you?"

You looked up at him and saw the slight conflict that was happening inside, how he really didn't want you to go. Perhaps apart of him did want you?

"Kiss me." You said, to which his eyes widened in suprise. Nevertheless, you did not have to tell him twice. "Not there." You flinched as Ruben leaned forward attempting peck your lips.

"Where?"

"Good boy."

Like a lost puppy he was pouting his lips. You fell back on your elbows, shifting one leg to the side to spread your thighs before him. "There." You smirked. "Kiss me there." Ruben's breathing rose with his excitement. You were letting him have you, but he was completely under your control.

He peeled down your jeans and got on his knees before the bed. Your hands tugged his hair with the first lick. He was rough, even with his tounge.

"Not like that." You whined. Ruben lifted his head from between your legs, his gaze foggy. "You don't like what I'm doing to you baby?"

"No, go slower."

He went down on you again, taking his time. The dimmed lights in the room fuled the pleasure running down your spine. You arched your back and hooked a thigh over Ruben's shoulder. He hymned in satisfaction, tasting the splurging pool between your legs.

You sat up, biting down on your lip. You could see the hunger in his eyes, how he could barley focus on anything but your aching breasts.

"Yes, right there Ruben. I'm gonna...I'm gonna." You melted into the bed, loosing all senses of yourself. Ruben got up from the floor, observing what had become of you.

"What now?" He asked, anticipating your answer.

"You want to suck them don't you?"

His head nodded slowly.

"Come here."

You perked up on the bed, arching your chest towards him. Ruben crawled towards you cautiously, like a lion, about to kill his pray.

"Sit." You ordered.

Ruben did just that, pausing all efforts to get to you. It turned him on, you could tell. You were challenging him, just like you had done on the football field.

"I won't let you suck them, I changed my mind."

He frowned, but did not move a muscles.

"Your gonna watch me." You said, resting your head against the pillows. "Watch me enjoy myself."

"Come here."

You couldn't help but to feel for Ruben as you tortured him by pleasing yourself.

"No." You hissed as his hand disappeared down his pants in effort to stop the throbbing twitch of his cock. "Not until I'm done." He watched you grind against your hand, pumping two fingers deep. Ruben lowered his head as if ashamed, as if defeated. You felt sorry for him. You stopped touching yourself.

He raised his chin, but did not look to believe you. Maybe you would deny him again.

"I want you, come."

He got closer to you on the bed but just as he could stretched out and touch you, you rolled over, giggling to yourself.

"That was fun. But yeah, I'm leaving."

You jumped down from the bed but got snatched back by the throat.

"Don't fucking play with me."

"Fuck me." You said. "As if it was the last time."

"Ruben." You cried. He held a thigt grip around your throat, pinning you down against the matress, with the help of his body weight. Pathetic, you thought. He could have you, but it would be the last time. Your hand went to caress the side of his face, scratching his bearded. Ruben's grip around your throat loosened but did not let go.

He caught your leg under his arm, folding it against your stomach as you opened up before him. His hands trembled pulling himself out of his pants. It would be quick, he was so hard. A sigh of satisfaction when he entered you. Two sloppy strokes and he was already moaning your name.

"I love you."

"You don't." You smiled. "But keep going. That feels good."

His hips thrusted against you with force, hitching your breath with every stroke.

He didn't, you thought. You were just two people. Two bodies. Tearing each other down.

Por favor Y/N, fique comigo, eu te amo. (Please Y/N, stay with me, I love you.)

Ruben collapsed on top of you with a loud groan. He fell asleep right after. Your bags were already packed and so you got up and left the apartment. Where you would go next you had no idea, but you were not giving up. You were not giving up on your dreams.

The End

[delusionally-loveless-by-choice]

Lost in a Cornfield..? Pt. 3

Scarecrow!Phillip Graves x Lost!Reader

summary: Terror fills you as you wonder what's next.. what is he going to do?

warnings: descriptions of like skin stuff (not too bad imo?? still warning), he lowkey a freak as in a sadist, screaming crying and general fear concepts, he dark but no super overall descriptions of it, nothin really happens sorry lol

w/c; 1k

Part 1, Part 2

Author's note: Midterms were ass, anyway here's part 3 hope it isn't a total flop. it's short but I hope to make part 4 soon the final part and a bit longer than this (hopefully).

The foul stench hung in the room. 

It was a salty, iron-like pungent odor. 

Much like sweat and blood. 

But there was no blood here, it was all long dried.

You inhale a large breath of the warm air. 

The oxygen hits your brain and--What the actual fuck--your head is reeling with the sudden reality. 

You feel the tears start to drop and they fall steadily as the feeling of dread fills your senses.

The room. The skin. Him. The Scarecrow

It’s almost like he can hear your thoughts, but it’s more likely he’s seen the same reaction you're countless times. 

He’s seen it on the poor souls that were unlucky enough to see the very room you were seeing now. 

However, they were soon added to the collection in the room.

“Don’t ya like it, darlin’?” he asks mockingly.

He hasn’t moved from his spot at the door. Instead he’s relishing in the moment. 

Drinking up your reaction; every breath, every hitch in your throat, every cry, every tear that seeps from you.

But you stand rooted to your spot in the middle of the room. Too scared to move. Too scared to speak.

Finally words don’t fail you, and something coherent is able to form out of your quivering lips, “What’s going on…” a sob interrupts you, and stupidly you continue in order to ask, “what is this..”

The only response he gives you is an amused drag of his white teeth on his bottom lip before he gives you that same charming and alluring grin.

“Scarecrow.. Please…” you sobbed out.

Hot tears streamed down your face. 

Almost seeming never ending; a beautiful river that showcases your fear and desperation. 

He loved every second of it. 

His grin never falters, you aren’t even sure if he can feel any human feeling but if he could, you’re sure he’d feel something akin to a wild childish glee. His glowing eyes burning in the low light being proof of how much he was enjoying this.

"‘What's going on’, hmm?" He echos your question, his tone was almost playful. 

“Oh, c’mon, sugar. Ya don’t really need me to spell it out for ya’, right?” He chuckles out dripping with condescension. 

His words make a loud cry escape from you.

A sob wracks through you as you slowly start to back up, the implication of his response makes your worst fears come true. 

You bump into something and stumble backwards, your hand instinctively reaching out to keep you from falling, all without looking away from the scarecrow. 

But upon touching the object, you rip your eyes away from him and to where your grip is. 

It’s a couch made of human skin. 

You can see the details of someone, what was them, probably what was their hand stitched with another unidentifiable pieces of skin that probably wasn’t theirs due to the different colors the patches were. Pieces of hair poked out from the inside. It was used for cushioning.

Shock makes your reaction delayed. But it doesn’t take a second longer for your scream to erupt. 

Tearing your hand and eyes from the couch, and back to the Scarecrow, you drop to the floor and crawl until your head and back harshly hit the wall.

You didn’t even want to think about how the wallpaper was also the remnants of people sewn together.

The only thing that spills from your lips are cries and begs, “No, no, no, no, no.. please.. don’t do this..”

He still stands at the threshold drinking up your delightful screams, sobs, and begs. With a deep breath he finally starts to walk toward you.

Every thump of his worn boots on the floor makes your heart jump and await the worse.

The fear makes you want to look away from his yellow eyes, but you can’t, and in return you see how his eyes never leave you. 

He slowly stalks closer, his beautiful smile gleaming horrifically. The corners of his smile making boyish dimples show and his eyes crinkle prettily. 

"What's the matter, doll?" His tone is the same sweet and southern honeyed voice he had first spoken to you with. 

The same voice that made you believe he was safe, the same voice that made you believe he was going to help you, the same one that made you trust him.

Finally he stands before you.

He kneels down to your level, his head tilting as he watches your horrified fearful face. 

You sit there paralyzed and you believe he's going to hurt you. 

When his hand reaches out to you, you shut your eyes and flinch, waiting for the worse. 

But instead, he wipes a tear away from your cheek. 

His touch is gentle. 

Still paralyzed with fear, your eyes open wide and though you feel fearful, you look at him.

“You look beautiful with tears runnin’ down your face.” He whispers just loud enough.

“Such a pretty lil’ thin’.'' His grin melts into a smile, it looks kind and sincere but the glint in his eyes warned you that there was still danger.

“Please don’t kill me..” you croaked out, “I thought you were going to help me.. please I didn’t.. i..” you sobbed harder.

“I’m scared..” you mustered between sobs as his hand wiped the rest of your tears.

“You should be,” he finally says and his warm breath fans on your face, “but I’m not gonna kill ya..”

“Pretty lil’ thin’ like you dead would be such a waste to put in ‘ere, plus ya aren’t a pest like the rest of ‘em.” His hand moves from your cheek to your head, running it through your hair, his fingers tangling between the strands.

“No… no, ya aren’t like them pests..” he mutters as he looks you over. 

You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do other than watch him with your terrified wide eyes.

His breathing seemed almost strained and he looked like he was restraining himself.

“No, you’re mine, sweetheart.” he shakily breathed out.

Author note: also i have the ending done.. I just have to tie it in with this. (fun fact; I originally didn't plan to keep the darktwist, I had him as actually really sweet and very wizard of oz esque. but this dark scarecrow graves grew on me bec yes he spooky :')

taglist; @itsyellow (added them cus they asked to b tagged also ily)

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

hope. ~ morpheus x reader

summary: you don't expect to run into the lord of dreams in the middle of a rainstorm - and neither of you expect to fall for each other so quickly. II fluff & a little angst

requested: yes

a/n: my first morpheus fic, i hope you'll like it words: 4.1k warnings: none except that the readers name is "hope" in this story

I am a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal hunter.

Hope could never be confined to a single being, a single existence. It was too vast of a concept, too abstract for mortals, too powerful for the ethereal – even for the Endless. And so it broke and its million fragments spread across universes, across worlds, and finally rested inside specimens of every creation.

In the Waking World, Hope – or rather the embodiment of it – had travelled on from one person to another for as long as the human race existed. When Death came to reap that human, a new baby was born with a smile so bright it could break down the highest walls and the most bitter hearts. And it just so happened that this time around, Hope found its place inside of you.

I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing.

You met him in the middle of the night – but not in the Dreaming. You were taking a walk, trying to calm yourself after a break up so monumental, you weren’t quite sure yet how you would ever recover from it. It was raining and you didn’t have an umbrella with you but frankly you didn’t care. You walked the streets with your head down, tears streaming down your face, hot and devastating. Music blasted in your eyes, the same music you had already listened to when that boy whose name you didn’t even remember stood you up in middle school. Well, some things stayed the same.

You didn’t hear and didn’t see him. You felt him instead when you ran face first into his chest.

“Shit!”, you cursed as you stumbled back, earplugs flying out of your ears, pulling your phone down with them. It crashed down onto the wet stones. You bent down and reached for them but someone was faster. When you lifted your head, his eyes met yours and for a second, time stopped.

You had never seen such eyes. They looked like you imagined the night sky would look without the pollution and light from the cities. Like an ocean after a storm, like a forgotten lake in a fairytale.

“Hope.”

I am a serpent. Horse-biting, poison-toothed.

His voice was deep and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Then you blinked. You stood up straight, hesitant, unsure if you should get more distance between yourself and him. “How do you know my name?”, you asked. He was a stranger to you, you were certain of that. You would have remembered a man like him – with his black coat and the dark hair, looking at you as if he could stare right into your soul.

He ignored your question. “You are not meant to cry.” And then something else happened – he raised his hand, crossed the distance between you two and … wiped away a tear with his thumb.

And to your surprise it didn’t scare you. Maybe your ex had just fucked so brutally with your head that you considered it okay to be touched in the face by a stranger who stood on a dimly lit street in the rain with no umbrella. But his touch felt … soothing. Like you could trust him. His fingers lingered on your cheek for another moment and suddenly you felt tired. You wanted to rest your head in his hand and close your eyes and … he lowered his arm and the feeling vanished.

What. The. Hell.

Now you definitely took a step back … and another one … and a another one. And before you knew it, you were running in full-speed in the opposite direction. You had listened to too many True Crime Podcasts to be able to stop and talk to a good-looking stranger in the middle of the night during a storm.

At home, you fell asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow. Normally, your nights were almost always dreamless but this time you found yourself in your favorite bookshop. It was empty. Well, almost empty. At the end of the room, leaning against a shelf, looking right at you, stood the stranger.

I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons-ripping.

The next day was hectic. So hectic that you almost forgot the dream, the stranger and most importantly: the break-up. It was only after you left the hospital and headed to your favorite café for a much needed break when you remembered all of it. Mainly because the café was right in front of the very same bookshop you dreamed of. You felt the familiar sting in your eyes. Tears were near – and all because your ex-boyfriend decided to sleep with his colleague. Asshole.

“May I sit here?” The voice was so familiar, you flinched.

There he was – standing right next to the table, in his long black coat as the autumn sun shone down on him.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Stalking?” He tilted his head, just a little. “I came to return something of yours.” He removed his hand from his pocket and carefully put your phone on the table. Your phone! You had almost forgotten about it.

“Thank you”, you mumbled.

The man remained quiet. He simply stood in front of the table as if he was still waiting for your answer. It was probably a bad idea to invite him to sit with you but … but it was the middle of the afternoon and lots of people were around you. He couldn’t murder you here, right?

God, these podcasts were really starting to get to you.

“Sit, please”, you finally said and he did just that. “How did you find me here? Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe we had the pleasure of meeting in this lifetime.” His voice was low, just like last night. And just like last night, it send shivers down your spine.

Still, you frowned at his words. “In this lifetime? Who talks like that? Isn’t it still a bit early to be drunk?”

A smile tugged on his lips and god, was he beautiful. Yesterday, you barely had the time to take all of him in but now he sat in front of you and you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. You didn’t quite comprehend what it was – there was something about him. It wasn’t his lean body, the perfect face or the messy hair that practically screamed at you to run your fingers through it. It was his aura. The way he carried himself, sat in front of you as if you were the one having an audience with a royal instead of him disturbing you during your break.

“Who made you cry?”, he asked, breaking the silence.

“How do you know it’s a who?”

“Mortals rarely cry like you did unless someone hurt them. Who dared to hurt you?”

Dared. The frown on your face got replaced by a lifted eyebrow. “You talk like you’re from a video game or something.”

No reply.

You sighed. “My boyfriend was the reason. Well, ex-boyfriend.” You paused. “He cheated on me.”

“I’m sorry.” Two simple words but for some reason you knew deep inside of you that he truly meant them. “You must have strong feelings for him.”

“I …” What was there to say? That for the first time you believed you actually had a future with a man? It was pathetic. There it was again – the sting in your eyes, the numb feeling in your stomach. You blinked, chasing away the oncoming tears. Not now, you thought. Later, in bed, maybe in a nightmare where no one could see you. “You didn’t answer my question. How did you know where to find me?”

The man leaned back, watching you. You could swear that in this light, the blue of his eyes seemed even more intense. “From your dreams.” He nodded towards the other side of the street where the small bookshop was.

You shifted in your chair. What? This didn’t make any sense. He didn’t make any sense. “Who are you?”

Now it was him who hesitated. “Morpheus,” he said then as if he was unsure of what his name truly was. “Call me Morpheus.”

I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying.

On that day, Morpheus sat with you for almost an hour. He seemed interested in you, asking you all sorts of questions about your life while dodging all those you directed at him. He seemed to be fascinated by the fact that you worked as a therapist, wanted to hear all about your reasonings for why you chose this job.

“I don’t know”, you had said and shrugged. “I guess, I always liked helping people with their problems. Showing them ways, reasons, to go on.”

He had mumbled something along the lines of this making perfect sense for this century. Ironically, nothing he said made any sense. Nothing helped you understand him more … and yet you didn’t mind.

You kept meeting in that café after work. Almost every day for weeks, you sat together and talked. Well, mostly you talked. He was more of a listener. He watched you, the spark of curiosity never leaving his eyes. Soon, you started to look forward to these meetings. Even sooner, your ex-boyfriend was forgotten. Instead you kept thinking about a certain man with the bluest eyes and the most gorgeous smile – even though he seldom showed it. In fact, you thought about him so much that he even started appearing in your dreams more and more.

You were falling for him, you realized one morning when you woke up, your heart still fluttering. You were falling for someone and still practically knew nothing about him.

I am a world. Space-floating, life-nurturing.

The leaves on the trees had changed colors and fallen to the ground. The nights grew longer, the days shorter, the temperature dropped and soon snow began to fall while the people put up their fairy lights and Christmas decorations.

After your meeting, Morpheus had offered to bring you home. This was a first. Together, you walked through the snow in comfortable silence and while you wore a warm scarf wrapped around your neck and gloves to protect your skin from the freezing cold, he seemed perfectly comfortable in the same coat he always wore. The snow landing softly on his shoulders stood in sharp contrast to the black fabric. You watched him from the corner of your eyes and saw how snowflakes tangled in his hair. Suddenly, you had to resist the urge to lift your hand and reach for his hair, for the snowflakes within it.

“What is on your mind, Hope?”

You still weren’t used to how your name rolled off his tongue.

You cleared your throat. “Nothing.”

He smiled – softly, barely visible, the way he always smiled as if he was scared to do so. “You are a terrible liar.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you quickly avert your gaze. For the past two weeks you had been meaning to ask him out. Not on another coffee date but a real date. But then again, does someone like Morpheus even go on dates? And shouldn’t you at least get to know his last name before you asked him?

“Tell me”, he said and this time, it sounded more like a demand. A lightly amused demand.

You stopped dead in your tracks at his words. He turned to you, curious again. Curious like he always was when it came to you. Now or never.

“Hope?” The demand was gone, left was a question.

“It’s not necessarily something I want to say”, you begin and take a step towards him. You raised your head to still be able to look him in the eyes. The two of you had never been this close to one another. It was electrifying. The feeling you always had in his presence began to creep up. Something about him felt … ancient. Terrifying. And yet, it didn’t stop you.

Morpheus watched you, every twitch of your muscles, every change in your expression, unmoving, hands still buried in his pockets. Now or never. You had to. Before he was able to say anything, you leaned forward ever so slight and … pressed your lips to his.

His lips were soft, just like you had imagined. They were soft and warm and after a second, they began to move against yours. Careful at first, cautious, a little bit confused, but with every passing second the kiss changed and suddenly you felt his hands on your hips. They burned through the fabric of your coat as he pulled you close against his own body. Electricity shot through your veins, through every cell of your being. Forgotten was the cold, the nervousness. You drowned in his kiss, in the way his lips claimed yours, demanding, wanting, needing.

When he let go of you, an eternity could have passed and you wouldn’t have noticed. Out of breath you stared at each other, his eyes an even darker shade of blue.

“I …”, he began but stopped. Morpheus was speechless? Well, that was another first today.

“Sorry, I had to do this first. Before I ask you on a date, y’know.” The words came out quickly.

“Date”, he repeated and blinked as if he had to process that word first. Your stomach plummeted to your feet. Shit. Did he not want to? After that kiss?

“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, obviously, I just … we’ve seen each other so much lately I thought … I don’t know …”

He watched you stumble over your own words but this time there was no smile tugging on the corners of his lips. He was serious. More serious than usual. This couldn’t mean anything good, could it?

“Hope, there is something you need to know.”

I am a nova. All-exploding, planet-cremating.

You didn’t believe him at first. You were convinced, he was making fun of you but when the smile never came that would have told you it was all a joke, you believed that simply managed to fall for a mad man. Not a word Morpheus said made sense until he turned up in your dreams again and told you the same story. And then you woke up and he stood sat in the chair across the room.

Truth be told, you almost called the cops.

But after that, something changed. You eventually did believe him. He slowly began to talk. Dream was apparently one of his other names. Dream of the Endless. King of Dreams and Nightmares. God, this sounded insane. Yet he showed you it wasn’t. He took you to the Dreaming and showed you his palace. And in the Waking World, he even introduced you to Matthew – a crow. A talking crow.

And here you thought, you had simply met a nice men after the terrible end of the relationship. But no, you had to meet a god instead. Or something more than a god as he liked to remind you.

It took you a few weeks to adjust to this world. Morpheus gave you the space you needed and you were thankful for that. And then, finally, you grew closer again. But no kiss was shared, no date happened. Obviously – you didn’t think that a King even dated. And honestly, you were a little too intimated to ask again.

Something that never left your mind however, was why someone like him was interested in someone like you. A human. Not even a very special one, just a normal one. You asked him that once and he replied with one of his beautiful smiles and left you none the wiser.

I am a universe. All things encompassing, all life embracing.

Once every thousand years, Morpheus would meet someone who fundamentally made him … feel. Contrary to popular belief, he cared deeply about humanity and held a great interest in them. But sometimes he’d meet a human that especially sparked his interest.

Lucienne had once asked him how he chose those humans. He had been short of an answer. If he could truly choose them, would he have chosen a random crying woman who bumped into him on a street? Probably not.

Yes, he admitted that you weren’t just any random woman. You were the embodiment of hope and at first he simply wanted to see what hope would manifest as in these times. But something about you kept forcing him to come back to you. In the Dreaming, in the Waking World. He wanted to be around you. Maybe it was the fragment of hope sewn into your soul, Morpheus didn’t know. But when you mumbled to yourself in one of your dreams that you started to fall, he began to tumble. And when you pressed your lips to his, he fell too. Hard.

It annoyed him when you didn’t believe him at first but he had learned from previous mistakes and gave you time and space. Yet, every night when you visited him in the Dreaming it physically hurt him not to be able to pull you into his arms.

You did not understand why Morpheus chose to be around you. Why he found such interest in your mundane life. Morpheus was once again short of an answer when you asked that very question one night.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you, Dream Lord?”, you asked him when he remained silent.

Both you were resting against a blossoming apple tree in Fiddler’s Green. You had turned his face to him and were so close that he could smell you. It was intoxicating. Morpheus smiled at you. Something he had done a lot more often in recent times.

“I have another question”, you continued.

“Anything”, Morpheus replied and also turned his head. Only inches separated his lips from yours.

You swallowed and Morpheus wondered if you felt the same in this very moment. Then you began to speak again. “When we met … you said I wasn’t meant to cry. What did you mean by that?”

His eyes travelled up from your lips to your eyes. He was certain he had never seen a mortal with such beautiful eyes before.

He had hoped that you had forgotten this moment already. You weren’t meant to cry. Hope didn’t cry. Couldn’t. But you weren’t just hope as hope was just a fragment within you. It took him a while to answer, to find the right words.

In the end, he didn’t tell you what you were. It was not meant for you to know. But to him, it still felt like a lie. And while the King of Nightmares, in his thousands of years of existence, was no stranger to lies, he hated the feeling that began to form in his stomach while his mouth formed words that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I am anti-life. The beast of judgement. The dark at the end of everything.

“Hope.”

He didn’t raise his voice but it still overpowered the traffic noise and rang deep inside of you. Morpheus stood a few feet apart on the sidewalk. It was late and cold and the snow fell down on you relentlessly. You needed to get home, to prepare for a New Year’s Eve dinner with your friends. You didn’t have time for him – and you were still too mad.

“You stood me up.” Your voice cut through the silence between you, colder than the wind pressing against your own coat. Something flickered in his eyes. Hurt? He came closer, slowly.

“For a whole week you stood me up. In the Dreaming, in our café.” Our café. As if you could share anything with one of the Endless.

“Do you not believe that I have more responsibilities than drinking … coffee with you?”

Outch. You lowered your gaze not wanting to show him that his words hurt. Of course he had other responsibilities. You were confused as to why he kept you around so long anyways. “You could have told me, y’know”, you mumbled, unsure if he heard you. “I understand if you’re finally tired of me but … a word would have been nice.”

He stopped, directly in front of you. “Tired of you?”, he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded.

“That is so far from the truth”, he continued. “I don’t think I will ever grow weary of you.”

His words made you look up and when you met his gaze, you drew in a sharp breath of air. He was close, so close, there was only him left in this world. The night sky looked down on you, a mere mortal, with more love and affection than this universe held. It took you by surprise and with so much force that your knees weakened.

“Then why didn’t you come?”, you whispered.

He leaned in. “Because I am no longer able to be around you without … without doing this.”

His lips on your yours were merely a brush, a fleeting moment of worlds colliding. The Dreaming and the Waking. Nightmares and Hope. When you parted, his eyes darkened. You reached for his collar and pulled him down again, desperate to taste more.

Weeks had passed since that very first kiss. Weeks in which you weren’t sure of Morpheus intentions. Of his thoughts. You thought you had overstepped as he gave no sign that your advances were wanted. All these thoughts died the moment, he wrapped his arms around and pulled you close.

Forgotten was the cold, the snow, the dinner, the doubt.

I …

You laughed when Matthew finished his joke. It was loud and free, head thrown back, and Lucienne and the raven joined in your laughter. The three of you sat in the library of the Dream Lords palace, flicking through books, sharing anecdotes and stories. After your second kiss, Morpheus began to introduce you to more and more of his palace staff and you enjoyed being around them when he was called to work.

“We have a visitor”, Lucienne suddenly changed the topic.

“It seems our boss has returned”, Matthew cawed and pointed with his beak towards the end of the hall. Morpheus stood there, seemingly ingulfed reading the backs of books, but you could tell he had listened in on your conversation. The smile betrayed him. A warm feeling spread inside of you.

“He changed, don’t you – caw – think, Lucienne?”, Matthew asked the librarian. “I don’t think I’ve seen him smile so much.”

The three of you watched the King of this realm tilting his head into your direction. “Well, I always hoped this would eventually happen”, Lucienne admitted. “Hoped …” Her gaze traveled to you.

You shrugged. “How fitting that my name is Hope.”

“Yes, how fitting.”

I am …

“Do you hate me now?”, your question was filled with so much fear, it pained the Dream Lord. You knew of Nada, knew what happened the last time someone rejected him. But what pained him even more was that you believed he could ever hurt you.

You sat across from him in your small apartment on your even smaller couch, legs pulled up against your chest as you nervously watched him.

“Never”, he whispered, eyes fixated on the ticking clock on the wall. “I simply do not understand.”

You didn’t either. When Morpheus came tonight, he had offered you everything. A realm, a king, every dream come true. And still, you said no. You couldn’t leave this world, your family, your friends, your patients. No matter how great the love for him was, no matter how devastating the decision felt, you knew you weren’t meant for this. It wasn’t your purpose.

“I am so sorry, Morpheus …”

His hand twitched when you whispered his name.

“I wish I could but-”

“You can.” The clock ticked on and Morpheus followed the movement of its hands. “I am offering you everything.”

“And I have to decline.” It hurt. It hurt so much. “I can not, Morpheus. I … please, understand. I can’t leave.”

He understood. He knew this day would come. You weren’t a normal human being. Like him, you had a purpose and responsibilities and it didn’t matter if you knew about them or not.

You leaned forward, onto your knees and reached for his hand. You rested your forehead against his head, felt him lean into you, and the fear faded that he would take this rejection badly. In your heart, you didn’t believe he would ever hurt you. But he was an Endless and you didn’t understand them yet. You probably never would.

Morpheus closed his eyes as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you onto his lap.

“We’ll still have a lifetime together. Here and in the Dreaming”, you offered weakly.

“As if that could ever be enough.”

… hope.

thank you for reading <3 if you want to be tagged in future stories, feel free to send me a message!

[anonymous-dentist]

It's been a couple of days since the last QSMP lore stream and merch drop, and there have been two DRASTICALLY different responses from the fandom:

What the fuck oh my god why did they do this what the fuck >:( I'm very angry >:( I'm on twitter btw

Yayyy omg the Lore is back!!! :D :D :D Fuck twitter btw

I've seen SO MANY passive-aggressive posts coming from users on this website that are all saying something along the lines of, "I'm happy that the server is getting back on its feet! The eggs aren't in a coma btw, they're just out of service (looks at angry twitter users who can't get over the fact that things aren't being solved immediately)."

And, really, I think almost everybody on this website has missed the reasons why other fans are upset over the recent lore stream and the merch drop. They think it's all just whining about how things haven't been solved immediately, but it's really actually all about how things don't seem to have been solved at all.

See, the thing with the Egg Lore Stream was that, uh. None of the admins currently on hold know whether or not they have a job, including known egg admin Ryan. You might know them as Sunny's Actor, and they were pretty taken aback when Egg Lore was revealed to be happening last Saturday... without Ryan, or seemingly any other known admins whatsoever, knowing. And Ryan isn't a former employee, they're a current employee. They haven't been let go.

Ryan, and other current employees, have all been stating that communication between the QSMP higher-ups and the other admins hasn't gotten better at all. Nobody knows if they even still have jobs because the only way they find that out? Through livestreams.

Ryan, and any other suspended egg admins sticking around, only found out that they aren't, like, fired because of a goddamn lore stream.

And for former admins? It's interesting how the admin team put Pomme and Dapper in the little coma machine despite Pomme's actor, Lumi, and the French all saying that they'd rather Pomme die than get replaced, and Lumi isn't going back to the server. And Dapper's admin, Shade, isn't going back without Lumi.

So imagine being them and finding out through this stream that, oh, wow, you're just going to be replaced. An entire language group is quite possibly going to be lost, but it's fine! Actors can just be replaced, right?

Just like how Twitter admins can be replaced by a bot after being fired in the middle of the night with no warning.

Oh, and shall we mention how it seems that the whole Money Thing isn't going anywhere? How we had a paid writer admin come out and say that even after the changes were starting to be made internally that the higher-ups changed the writer's description of the Pomme figure to be as soulless as possible, because if there's one thing the QSMP admin team seems to have, it's a grudge against the French. But then, remember? The writer said that, despite being paid for February and being promised to get paid for March, that they haven't been paid? And they don't think they ever will be?

And how they thought they would be fired for speaking to their friends, aka former admins?

I think that quite legitimately every admin that has come out after leaving the company, or who is still part of the company but who still made a statement anyway, has said that they hope that the QSMP can continue because they believe in the project, but they don't know if it will because nothing seems to be changing behind the scenes.

But, yeah, sure, okay, say it's all just people whining about how change hasn't been immediate. It's people just complaining about the lore! They need to grow up, right? They need to touch grass? Right?

But, well. Being critical is absolutely vital. Does that mean people should harass the admins? Absolutely not. But that does mean that people should be like, "Hey, so why is the admin team still being so shady?"

Things can't be fixed immediately, but it's been over a month. The problems with communication are still continuing! They haven't stopped! It's just that nobody on this website is listening to the admins anymore.

Trusting ccs is fine and all, but keep in mind that they didn't know what was going on before, either. With the general lack of transparency still going on behind the scenes, how would they know if it's all been fixed now?

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Friendly Sex - Chapter 4 - The Interrogation

This chapter is pretty dialogue heavy to cover some middle ground. Also my finger slipped and some smut copy and pasted itself onto the end, whoopsie.

On a serious note, there are discussions in this chapter regarding divorce, custody battles etc, and poor relationships with parents and their partners, which I know can be triggering for some people. I was raised solely by my mum who did an incredible job and have no contact with my dad, so it's been interesting to explore the dynamic between reader and her dad.

Chapter warnings: (MDI) 18+ only, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, swearing, consensual use of the word slut.

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

You awake groggy and disoriented, your alarm clock beeping incessantly, slapping the snooze button groaning at the bright sunlight streaming through the window, you burrow back down under the covers. Rolling onto your back you stretch out noticing a heaviness in your limbs not too dissimilar to a pulled muscle after running track, but it was the slight dull ache between your legs that made you smile.

There was something sinful in the way it made you feel, knowing what had caused it, knowing it was going to happen again, assuming Eddie hadn't woken up screaming in regret. And there was the enigma himself; Eddie Munson. On paper Eddie was not your type; metal head, underachiever, drug dealer, troublemaker, potentially needed a good wash, dressed like he'd fallen into the lost property box of an Iron Maiden concert…

Steve Harrington was your type; pretty boy, immaculately groomed, athletic, caring, funny, trendy.

  But, even in your wildest fantasies about Steve you hadn't dreamt about half of the things you actually did with Eddie in the space of 2 hours. No, fantasy Steve was all about making deep and meaningful love to you on feather beds, not fucking you in the middle of the street, or eating you out in the back of a beat up van.

Fantasy Steve called you sweetheart in an adoring way, when Eddie called you sweetheart it went straight to your cunt. 

Warmth blossoms in your belly, remembering the sensation of Eddie suckling at your clit, the way his cock stretched you as he rutted against you. With a deep sigh you put your hand down to your panty covered mound, only for your alarm to start beeping shrilly once again.

"Alright, alright I'm up." You say to no one in particular, turning off the alarm and heading into the bathroom.

"Oh sweet Jesus, no." You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and are horrified, pulling the neck of your sleep tee down for a better look. Hickey's . Hundreds, if not thousands, ok three. Three hickey's proudly adorning your neck and chest, the darkest and largest on the right side of your throat far above where any item of clothing could cover. Mentally cursing Eddie with every fibre of your being, you scramble about for your tube of concealer, you wouldn't ordinarily wear makeup to work but today was definitely going to be an exception.

***

Try as you might, and oh boy were you trying, you couldn't completely make the mark disappear but at least it looked more like a smudge of dirt now as opposed to 'look at me I got attacked by a vampire!' You were going to kill Eddie when you saw him, making another amendment to the pact in your head, no visible hickey's without prior approval .

Your work shirt mercifully covered the remaining two blotches he had sucked into the skin of your chest, and whilst your inner thighs and hip bones had also received the Eddie special, it was still early April and not quite warm enough for shorts season so you could wear pants without suspicion.

Concealing the mega-hickey had taken up most of your time, so it was in a flurry of movement you entered the kitchen, still tugging on socks, waistcoat half on, shucking open a pack of Pop Tarts with your teeth and ramming them in the toaster. 

  "Forget to set your alarm?" Your Dad asks pointedly, making you jump, he was sitting at the kitchen island sipping a cup of coffee and working on a crossword puzzle.

"Uh, I just lost track of time." You answer, hissing as you pull the hot pastries out.

"You seem to be doing that a lot." He says, giving you the same look as last night, like he was x-raying you.

You didn't trust yourself to respond so bit into the scalding Pop Tart instead with a pained shrug.

"Are you wearing makeup?" He asks suddenly, staring at you in confusion, you choke around your mouthful, zooming past him stopping only to plant a crumb covered kiss on his cheek.

"Gotta go Dad, bye!" You call thickly, racing out the door.

Wheeling your push bike out of the garage you cast a longing whine at your Dad's car, you had yet to pass your driving test, but even when you did your Dad had made it clear you would not be using his pride and joy a cherry red 1968 Chevrolet Chevelle, so for now you were stuck using your rusty but trusty pedal bike.

***

Family Video was only a 15 minute ride from your house but it felt like an hour, the tenderness between your legs making itself known from the minute you sat on the broken down seat.

"Fucking Munson." You wince with a groan, locking the bike outside the building.

  Entering the currently empty store you wander over to the Westerns section thinking a Clint Eastwod night with your Dad might be a good way to stop him from taking too much of an interest in your personal life. You pull out the Dollars Trilogy, as a hand grabs your shoulder making you scream.

"Oh good you're not dead." Robin glared at you with a highly pissed expression.

"Jeez Robin you scared the shit out of me!" You complain holding your chest.

"Well now you know how I felt when you disappeared last night, where the hell were you?" She asks, hands on her hips. 

You were cornered, it hadn't even occurred to you to come up with an explanation for your absence from the party and Robin was not the type of person to let something go without a fight, the two weeks you were away visiting your Mom last Summer had her translating Russian and exposing a secret KGB science experiment; so you didn’t have a hope in hells chance.

You hated yourself for doing it but a classic 'Steve pity party’ play was the best way to throw her off the scent, laying it on thick you let your shoulders slump sadly, sighing deeply.

  "I'm sorry Rob, seeing Steve and Nancy it just kinda killed my buzz, you're right though I should have told you I was going home. I'm-"

"OH MY GOD, YOU GOT LAID!" She shrieks, grabbing your shoulders.

"What?! No I didn't!" You hiss, heart hammering wondering if your concealer had melted off, you were going to sue Cover Girl, ‘ all day wear’ my ass.

"Oh you so did!" She laughs loudly, positively vibrating with excitement.

"Robin, would you shut up !" You whisper frantically, Steve could be anywhere and you did not want him to hear.

  You knew the only way to appease her would be to give her some form of the truth, whilst it would mean admitting you had sex, you could just say it was some random guy at the party, she didn't need to know it was Eddie. You shove the videos back onto the shelf, grabbing her hand, pulling her behind the curtain into the adult section, the irony not lost on you.

"Ok, yes, you're right I hooked up with someone but-"

"YES! I KNEW IT!"

"ROBIN!" You chastise, covering her mouth with your palm, which she answers with a lick much to your disgust.

"Ew, you're so gross." You complain, wiping your hand on her waistcoat, undeterred she launched her interrogation. 

"Was he at the party? Does he go to our school? Do I know him? Is he hot? Was it good?" She asks you at a dizzying speed.

“Which one do you want me to answer first?” You query, desperate to keep her volume below foghorn.

“The most important one obviously, was it good?” Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling in spite of your worry about being found out, once again your mind conjures up visions of Eddie, licking, biting, sucking, thrusting.

“Wow…” Robin breathes out staring at you with a slight jealousy.

“I didn’t say anything yet.” You laugh.

“You didn’t have to, the look on your face was enough.”

You both lapse into giggles, the teenager in you wanting nothing more than to gossip with your best friend.

  “So, do I know him?” She asks again, eyes sparkling in curiosity.

“No, you don’t know him, he's just a random guy, friends with the older brother of some of the jocks who were there.” You were impressed with the lie, vague but with enough details to make it sound real.

"Wait, so if he’s older and doesn’t go to our school, is he a college guy?” She grabs your shoulders again. “Holy shit did you hook up with a college guy?"

"Who hooked up with a college guy?" 

This time you both scream in fright, Steve pulling back the privacy curtain.

  "Some girl."

"She did!"

You and Robin answer at the same time; your stomach drops, heart catapulting up into your mouth, you stare at her open mouthed in abject horror.

"You hooked up with a college guy?" Steve asks in surprise, an odd look on his face.

"Uh, yeah." You mumble, scuffing your sneakers against the linoleum, your face burning with embarrassment.

“Well, uh, hey good for you.” He says, the smile seeming forced. “We should probably open up.” 

***

It was an abysmally slow Sunday shift, why Keith insisted on having all three of you in you would never know, there had only been one customer in the last 45 minutes and you were beginning to lose the will to live staring aimlessly out the window from behind the counter.

“Hey.” Steve came up with a boxful of tapes.

“Hi.” You reply leaning back against the countertop trying to act casual, but your heart was already racing, brain steadily filling with a kind of fluffy static, Robin referred to these episodes as ‘having the Harringtons’. “Are these returns for going back out?” You ask rooting about in the box.

“Yeah, I thought it might help kill some time.” He smiles, running a carefree hand through his god-like hair; your heart sputters and you think you might faint so you quickly distract yourself,  pulling out five tapes at a time, checking they’ve been rewound.

  “So, it sounds like you had a good time last night.” He says, coming around the counter to help you with the task, his proximity making your hands shake.

“Uh- yeah, it was fun.” You answer lamely, mind going blank as it so often did around Steve, putting a half rewound copy of Fast Times At Ridgemont High to one side

“Gotta say, I’m surprised, you’re so shy, didn't think you had it in you.” He didn’t say it like it was a bad thing, in fact he almost sounded impressed?

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” You reply with a small smile, leaning across him to grab some more tapes from his pile.

“Evidently not.” He laughs and you feel goosebumps erupt up your arms at the sound.

“So, you gonna see this guy again?” He asks, logging some data onto the computer system.

“Do you think I should see him again?” You don’t know why you ask him, the words tumbling out like vomit before you can stop them.

He turns to look at you fully and you’re trapped under the weight of his gaze, mouth going dry, he stretches a little and you catch a glimpse of his happy trail, you were definitely ‘having the Harringtons’ again.

“It’s not really up to me honey.” He answers kindly, Honey, sweet Jesus, he's trying to kill you. “Do you like him?”

  The question threw you, you had spent so much of the day talking to Robin about the made up mystery man that you had almost disassociated Eddie from the entire situation, but now his face was all you could see.

“I haven’t really thought about it.” You say, while a little voice in your brain whispers 'Liar'

“Yeah I guess you only met him yesterday huh? Well so long as you’re having fun, that’s the main thing.” Steve smiles encouragingly, patting you on the shoulder.

"Yep, fun." You mumble with a nob, grabbing some more tapes.

***

  5pm rolls around like a slug stuck in glue, the three of you desperate to get out of the store. 

Shoving the Dollars trilogy into the basket of your bike, you set off with a wave, Robin calling after you as she clambers into Steve’s BMW.

“See you at school you hussy, I've not finished grilling you!”

“Bye!” You yell back with a laugh.

The ride home was refreshing after being cooped up all day, and you were pleased to note the soreness between your legs had all but disappeared, you whistle as you wheel your bike up the driveway looking forward to a quiet evening with your dad.

  “I’m home and I've brought Mr Eastwood with me.” You call traipsing through the front door VHS’s in hand,  toeing your sneakers off. “Dad?”

“In here Sprout.” Your Dad calls back from the den, you slouch in, flopping onto the couch next to him, leaning into his side. “Good day kiddo?”

“Slow, but looky looky, and I thought we could order pizza?” You say with a smile shaking the tapes at him, he smiles back taking A Fistful of Dollars but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You ask warily, somehow already knowing what his answer would be.

“Your mom called.” And there it was. “She’d like you to go up for a weekend next month.” He says, focusing intensely on the back of the video description like he hadn’t seen the film 100 times before.

“Why?” You snap.

He sighs deeply, putting the tape onto the coffee table.

“Because she’s your mom, and she would like to see you.” He replies in a measured tone.

“But it’s not summer, the agreement was 2 weeks every summer break and every other Christmas.” You know you’re being needlessly difficult, petulant even but you feel the indignation rising.

“That was the minimum, she is well within her rights to see you as often as she wants to.” He reminds you carefully.

“I don’t care, she gave up her rights the minute she walked out on us!” You shout, standing from the couch, gazing furiously at your father. “You’ve already agreed haven’t you?” You ask accusingly.

His shoulders slump, running an exasperated hand over his careworn face.

“Yes Sprout I have.” He murmurs tiredly. “Your flight to Chicago is booked for Memorial Day weekend.”

“Unbelievable.” You huff, storming out of the room, stomping louder than necessary on the stairs.

“Hey, what about the pizza.” He calls after you.

“Eat it yourself, I'm not hungry!” You yell slamming your bedroom door, locking it for good measure.

  You strip off your uniform, pulling on a worn flannel shirt and some sleep shorts all the while cursing under your breath, furious with your dad but even more so with your mom. Maybe you could beg Keith to give you extra shifts that weekend so you wouldn’t have to go, already knowing your dad would put a stop to it, likely calling Keith tomorrow to clue him in.

You slam the play button on your stereo, Fleetwood Mac’s - Storms filling the air from where you had last left off on the cassette, you were feeling guilty now, regretting taking your anger out on your dad, you’re just about to swallow your pride and apologise when your phone rings.

“Robin, I'm really not in the mood to discuss my sexual exploits any further tonight.” You say snapping into the receiver, plopping onto your bed.

"Uhh, hi." Came Eddie's confused voice. You feel your cheeks turn pink, cringing, having completely forgotten that he said he would call.

"Oh! Hi, sorry I thought you were -"

"Robin, yeah I gathered." He chuckles lightly. "Been gossiping about me sweetheart? I wondered why my ears had been burning all day.” 

“What? No! Well sort of…” You ramble. “Robin somehow guessed I'd gotten laid, but I didn’t tell her it was you, just some random guy at the party.”

“Just some random guy huh? Was this random guy any good?” God you can practically hear the smirk.

  You lean back against your headboard, placing the phone more comfortably in your lap so you could play with the cord.

“I’ve had better.” You say nonchalantly with a smile.

“Fucking liar.” Eddie laughs. “So you ok, you sounded pretty pissed when you answered?” He asks.

“Just family stuff.” You shrug, not wanting to go into it, but for the second time today you appeared to have word vomit. “It’s my mom, she wants me to visit next month.”

“And I take it that’s a problem?” He queries.

“You could say that. It’s complicated…” You trail off wondering if you should be going into all of this with Eddie, then you remembered Rule 3 - Communication. “She left when I was 10. She worked for a pharmaceutical company and met this heart surgeon, Phil.” You couldn’t keep the contempt out of your voice.

“Ah.” Eddie says in understanding. “And Phil is a massive dick right?”

You laugh, twirling the cord around your finger.

“The biggest.” You concede. “But he’s only part of the problem. It was a really messy divorce, my dad had a heart attack halfway through from the stress. When it came to custody of me I'd already made up my mind that I was staying with Dad, but my mom didn’t even fight for me; she was already pregnant and living a brand new life with her perfect surgeon. In the end it was settled. I got to live with dad permanently but have to stay with Mom for 2 weeks every summer and spend every other Christmas with her.” You heave a deep sigh, the sting of abandonment resurfacing.

“So, how come she wants to see you next month?” Eddie asks, and you’re honestly surprised that he paid attention to what you had been saying.

“No idea.” You mumble. 

  “My old man writes to me sometimes, asking me to visit him in prison, but I never go, I hate him for what he put my mom through.” He says, you knew from the high school gossip chain that Eddie’s dad was in prison and his mom passed away during his middle school years, so he lives with his uncle in Forest Hills Trailer Park. “Parents huh?” He adds with a wry snort.

You feel bad for bitching about having to see your mom when he probably would do anything to see his, you shift uncomfortably, biting your lip.

“Sorry Eds, I didn’t mean to dump on you.”

“Hey, it’s cool princess, everyone needs to let off steam once in a while.” He soothes. “Anyway, what are you wearing?” He asks, putting on a seedy voice.

“God, you’re such a pervert Munson.” You laugh.

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who came when I called you a slut last night.” He says teasingly and you feel your face flush with colour. “I gotta say baby, I've been thinking about your pussy all day.”

“Eddie.” You warn breathlessly, trying to ignore the spark of arousal in your belly.

“What are you doing right now?” He asks you, his tone lower than before.

“I’m in bed.” You say, fingers wrapping and unwrapping the telephone cord nervously.

“Touch yourself for me.” He says suddenly.

“Eddie I can’t, my dad is downstairs.” You hiss.

“You’ll just have to be quiet then, won’t you sweetheart.” His voice goes straight to your cunt.

  Heart hammering, you get up checking your door is properly locked, creeping back your bed you lay down once more, hand resting on your stomach,  receiver propped up to your ear by your pillows. 

“I’ve never done this before.” You admit shyly.

“I’m guessing you never had sex in public before last night either, but there’s a first time for everytime.” He laughs. “We can stop though, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He adds seriously.

“No, I want to.” You mumble, allowing your fingers to drift downwards slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties.

“Good girl.” He praises. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Uh huh.” You tease your slit softly, surprised at how wet you were already, fingertips coming 

away warm and slick, moving back up to lightly circle your bud.

“Are you wet?” He asks, and you hear the chinking of a belt buckle on his end.

“Yes, i-i’m rubbing my clit.”

“Oh sweetheart.” He coos, his breathing picking up slightly. “I want you to pinch your nipples for me at the same time, can you do that for me princess?”

“Y-yes.” You whisper, your free hand unbuttoning your shirt to your naval, fingers pinching first at your left breast then right. “Feels good.”

“I bet it does.” Eddie groans softly. “What are you thinking about, baby?”

You bite back a low whine, hips rocking a little as you dip a finger back into your tight heat.

“You Ed’s, thinking about how you tongue fucked me.” You gasp, too turned to feel any kind of embarrassment.

“Mm, you tasted so good sweetheart, I can’t wait to get between your thighs again. Jesus baby, you’ve got me so hard.” He moans.

“I wish you were here Eddie, want you to fuck me.” You whimper, sliding a second finger into your cunt, your other hand rubbing more insistently at your swollen clit.

“Fuck-” He chokes out, and you can hear the slick pumping of his cock. “Me too princess, wanna fuck you so badly.”

  “What would you do to me?” You ask barely above a whisper, hips canting up in earnest to meet your fingers. 

“I’d fuck you from behind, on all fours, see that perfect ass bouncing back against my cock.” He groans. “You want me to take you from behind sweetheart?”

You bite back a sob, fresh arousal coating your fingers. “Please Eddie.”

“Such a good girl for me, maybe i’ll come visit you in work soon, fucking bend you over the counter.” He pants, a small whine escaping your throat. “Shit you like that?” He laughs incredulously. “Is that what you want baby, my little slut wanting to get fucked where anyone could see again?”

“Y-yes. Fuck Eddie i’m so close.” You cry softly, fingers strumming faster.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m going fuck your sweet cunt so hard tomorrow.” He sighs. “Gonna fuck you so deep you’ll feel my cock in your belly.”

“You will?” You ask, feeling your orgasm start to crest.

“It’s a fucking promise.” He growls.

  “Fuck, fuck, Eddie i’m gonna cum.” You pant desperately, heat spreading from your toes in an unstoppable wave. 

“Yes, cum for me sweetheart, I wanna hear you cum.” He pleads, your breath catches pleasure shooting up your spine, exhaling on a broken sob. “G-good girl, fuck i’m -” He cuts off,  hearing him working his slick cock for all it’s worth, you whimper along with him teasing aftershocks from your throbbing cunt. 

“Cum for me Eddie, please.” You beg, he groans loudly almost feral in your ear, both of you breathing heavily down the phone.

“You ok?” You ask after a few moments, still listening to him panting. “Eds?”

“Shit, sorry sweetheart, I think I blacked out for a second.” He wheezes and you burst into fits of giggles.

“That good huh?” You ask proudly, sitting up in bed.

“Incredible. You’re incredible” He says softly, you smile a different type of warmth blooming in your chest, before you can respond there’s a soft knock on your door making you jump.

  “Sprout, you awake? Pizza’s here if you’re hungry.” He calls.

“Uh, yeah give me a minute Dad, I'm just on the phone to Robin.” You answer, quickly moving off the bed.

“Ok kiddo, tell Robin I said Hi.” He says, you wait until you can hear him on the stairs before talking again. 

“Eddie, I gotta go.” You say.

“Pizza, yeah I heard.” He responds still sounding out of breath. “See you tomorrow princess, that’s a promise.”

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