#and she was murdered before she got the chance to see him again

[im-up-to-shenanigans]

tumblr really is getting me in my hookfire feels today. just made a (slightly incoherent) post about this very thing a couple hours ago only to find this on my dash?????

and like... everyone in the tags are so right but kazzy is literally killing me dead. she put into words things i have thought for YEARS

guys go read her tags (they are everything)

i'm crying rn

[missdynamighttt]

↳ ❝ HONEY.. COME BACK TO ME. PLEASE. ❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ synopsis: in which, you and your ex-boyfriend katsuki bakugou can't seem to resist each other no matter what. even if you're only supposed to be friendly at the class reunion party.

starring: pro hero! katsuki bakugou x ex-girlfriend! reader ⍣ ೋ

disclaimers!: mentions of handjobs and oral sex in 3rd year at ua, oral sex (f! receiving), tits fixation, penetrative / p in v sex, car sex / semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie 🤭

note: spoilers for chapter 431 (a little different in some parts), usage of "brat", "honey", "sweets", "woman", fem reader, mentions of izuocha, second chance romance trope, porn with plot, microscopic angst, credits to gsony for center pic in my banner, i love them sm^^hope i did our husband justice 💜💜

╰┈➤ ❝ [why is he here?] you murmur quietly, discreetly watching katsuki from a distance, seeing him quiet and grumpy, drinking with a few of his friends alongside izuku.

ochako raises an eyebrow with a grin, clearly amused at your turmoil with the pro hero. she nudges your arm, looking at you from the side. "he's a part of the class too, y'know."

"i know that," you huff, sighing as you land your drink down the table, glancing back at him before looking back at ochako with a frown. "just.. its hard."

of course it was hard to see great explosion murder god dynamight. your ex-boyfriend, no matter how hot he looks in his usual black attire, his big biceps straining against the material, his post-war scars framing his muscular, gorgeous physique.

even before the war, you and katsuki were a great couple, despite your constant bickering and petty arguments. it just led up to increasing sexual tension and great makeout sessions. maybe got handsy a few times and did.. oral stuff in your 3rd year together but no more than that.

it all just came crumbling down after graduation, when you two gradually spent less time together as work kept both of you away from each other. you both ended it on good terms only after a year of being pro-heroes, but that doesn't stop you from missing him. from wanting him, needing him.

katsuki felt the exact same way. even if he was nonchalant about it now, he was barely holding himself back from dragging you away from this party and kissing your face off until he made up with the time both of you spent away from each other. which, to him, seemed like forever.

throughout the years, the two of you did see each other frequently during patrols and in joint-cases, made appropriate civilized small talk, but never ever talked about getting back together. it wasn't that both of you didn't want to: it just wasn't the perfect time. unlike this setting, where the two of you could talk properly.

ochako sighs softly, a small sympathetic smile on her face. "he's just a man, sweetie. after this, you'll barely see him again."

you bite you bottom lip and nod, tugging on the skin. you knew she made a good point, its just.. well, it doesn't change the fact that katsuki's in near proximity.

you sigh, smiling softly at her. "yeah, i know," you grin, nudging her arm, gesturing your head to izuku. "enough about me, though. what about you and midoriya, huh?"

ochako widens her eyes a little at the mention of her old highschool crush, shakes her head profusely, clearly flustered as vibrant pink tinting her cheeks. "i-i haven't even talked to deku in awhile! its been so long ago.."

you scoff and roll your eyes, grab her shoulder, and shake them a little. "well, change that. c'mon, i saw him looking at you anyway. maybe the same way he did todoroki but at least he looked at you. that counts for something."

you could still see the reluctance in her eyes to go so you shake her arm again in encouragement. "gooo, i'll be here, drinking my problems away, rooting for you."

ochako shakes her head at you with a soft grin, clearly wanting to but shyness was holding her back.

"i suppose a hello wouldn't hurt," her grin widens, pressing her cheek against yours, mumbling a soft thank you. "wish me luck."

you wave at ochako, mouthing to her good luck, as she approaches izuku, watching their cute interaction from afar. they wave at each other like the young, shy high-schoolers they once were, chatting and laughing softly over something trivial. izuku then offers her to sit beside him.

izuku eyes katsuki with a grin, gesturing his head to leave. katsuki rolls his eyes, but stands up, giving his seat to ochako. like the little bitch fate is, katsuki approaches ochako's empty seat beside you, looking at you with a small grin.

"oh, you sly fucker," your eye twitches. you didn't know who to be mad at, izuku or his insufferable best friend, but you could see ochako looking at you in worry, mouthing a quick sorry before getting enveloped by izuku's conversation again.

you sigh, shaking your head. on the bright side, whats the worst that can happen?

you give katsuki a soft smile, waving weakly at him. your hand feels stiff from how nervous you are, shaking it under the table to shake off the nerves. "hi."

katsuki raises an amused eyebrow at you, wearing his signature snarky smirk. he nods, settling down in ochako's empty seat. "hey, brat."

as you sat next to him, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. a pang of nostalgia, a flutter in your chest at the sight of him, and a hint of sadness at the memory of what could have been.

you took in his spicy cinnamon scent with smoky notes that you missed so much, the way his blonde hair was messily fixed, and his sardonic grin. it was hard to ignore the spark of longing, repeatedly chanting in your head that he was your ex for reason.

katsuki glanced over at you, eyes meeting for a brief moment. his crimson eyes catch the light of the room, making them glow like bloodstone. it made your stomach do backflips, forcing yourself to breathe.

”i’m surprised you actually came,” he says, his voice low and casual.

when he spoke again, the sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. it was the same voice that had whispered sweet nothings in your ear, the same voice that had laughed at your stupid, corny jokes, the same voice you had fallen asleep listening to on countless nights in the past.

you felt your palms begin to sweat but couldn't help but be a little pissed. it reminded you of what you said to ochako earlier, but still. "why wouldn't i? i'm in the class as much as you, aren't i?"

"don’t be a smartass,” he takes a sip of his drink, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. your eyes followed the movement, a wave of memories hitting like a tidal wave.

other classmates fanned out of the room as the night goes on, but katsuki took advantage of this, seperating you from them, keeping you all to himself.

he turned to face you fully, your knees touching with his for a moment as he shifted in his seat. the sudden contact made you inhale sharply, trying your best to keep your expression neutral.

"you look good," he said quietly, eyeing you up and down slowly, his gaze lingering on parts of your body that he clearly remembered well.

the warmth in your cheeks grew a little, clearing your throat, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "thanks. wish i could say the same for you."

he raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. "is that how it’s going to be?”

"well, you look like you need a shave," you lied. he didn't.

"oh? i thought you liked it when i was a little scruffy, sweets," you absolutely fucking did. there was nothing you wanted more than to lean in and feel the stubble on his jaw, to remember the roughness of his cheeks while you made out him. while he spoils your neck with hickies. while his head is in between your thighs, kissing your clit-

"that was years ago," you avert your gaze from him, unable to look at him any longer without crumbling. why was he so fucking attractive? it's been seven goddamn years. don't ex-boyfriends get ugly after a break-up?

"why do i get the feelin' you've missed it, hm?"

"i don't. you're delusional."

"you're a real terrible liar, brat."

"lying about you being delusional?"

"lying about you not missin' this. missin' me," he reached out to you, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. his touch was gentle as his knuckles grazed your cheek briefly. fuck.

"i don't.. i don't miss this. i don't miss you," you chew on the inside of your cheeks, trying to hold on to any semblance of composure you had. all the dignity you had was telling you to pull away but did you listen? fuck no.

"you're not very good at hidin' how much you want someone, sweets."

"quit it, katsuki. i said i don't."

"oh, that's real fuckin' funny. but i'll be clear," he chuckles deeply, a slow victorious smile on his face. you're starting to crack.

his hand slowly sliding towards your thigh, hidden from anyone else's view under the table. fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck. his closeness was already making it harder to think, the sensation of his touch only weakening your resistance.

"i'm done pretendin' i don't want you. so, honey, cut it out, because we both know you want me too."

your gaze widened, quickly biting down on your bottom lip, trying to stop yourself from saying anything stupid.

luckily, before you could even respond, the very man who put you in this situation, izuku approached with kirishima in tow.

"hey kacchan, would it be okay if we leave now? i have an early class tomorrow," izuku asks, not a care in the world that he interrupted something between you two.

katsuki was staring daggers at him though, because he had to pull his hand away from your plush thigh.

"yeah, i gotta hit the sack too, man," kirishima rubs the back of his neck, who knows hes interrupting something between the two of you but doesn't say anything about it.

but.. that doesn't mean he doesn't want to fuck around a little. kirishima looks at you with a friendly grin. "hey, wanna come with?"

you panic a little. another chance for katsuki to wreck your defenses? could you handle that?

"nah, i'd rather not disturb, i'll just wait for a cab-"

"the fuck you're not. you're not takin' a cab, brat. i'm drivin' you home," katsuki spat, his tone leaving no room for argument.

the ride home was pleasantly quiet in a way that wasn't uncomfortable. the atmosphere was a bit tense, but it was manageable.

you found yourself in the passenger seat of his black porsche 911 gt3 rs, not because you wanted to, but because according to katsuki:

"you better sit your ass down here or i swear to god, woman, i'll pin you down this chair myself."

so, it left izuku and kirishima in the backseat that seemed to drown them (comfortably). you didn't utter a single word during the drive, merely listening to their conversation, occasionally cracking a small smile and chuckling at their banter.

the silence thickened again when katsuki dropped kirishima and izuku off, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet car.

okay, you needed a game plan. keep quiet, do not give in, and do not fuck him-

"i missed you, y'know," he murmurs, his eyes still focused on the road.

his words caught you off guard, startled you. you missed him too. so fucking much. but the words got stuck in your throat, pride and fear holding you back. you try to keep your emotions in check, keeping quiet and not giving in according to your game plan-

"too fuckin' much. pisses me off. started to bother kirishima too," he lets out a frustrated sigh, his grip on the steering wheel tightening a little, his knuckles turning white. "plagues the shit out of me. that i think about you almost everyday at the most random fuckin' times, its terrifying."

he glances at you briefly, sighing before focusing his eyes back on to the road, running his free hand through his blond hair. "honey, talk to me."

"...what do you want me to say, katsuki?"

"just.. tell me what you're thinkin', okay? what you're feelin'. the fuckin' truth, goddamn it, don't shut me out."

fucking hell. it was just so easy to give in to your feelings, to tell him how much you missed him. how much you wanted to be with him again. but you were afraid — afraid of having to start the healing process all over again.

but.. that didn't stop you from bearing your heart out.

"you want the truth?" you turn your head to face him. "fine."

"it haunts me that you're the first thing i think of whenever i'm overjoyed with something or whenever i have a bad day. that whenever my friends ask if we could eat something spicy, i think of you. can't tell you the multiple times i had to hold myself back from hitting the send button to your old number."

"i missed you too, katsuki. more than i thought. hell, more than i should. you never left my mind, no matter how many times i tried to tell myself that you did."

katsuki remained silent for a while, his mind obviously occupied with your confession as he watched the road. it made you panic a little. was it too much?

but then, without warning, he makes a quick turn, swerving off the main road and into a nearby parking lot like his life depended on it.

it catches you off guard as the car suddenly lunges forward, making you hold on to the side of the car door. he parks the car in a secluded corner, away from any prying eyes.

"what are you doing?" you asked, still taken aback from what happened as you watch him unbuckle his seatbelt.

"what does it look like i'm doing?" his eyebrow arched, as if the answer should be obvious.

without waiting for a response, he reclines your seat for more space. he unbuckles your seatbelt before climbing over, hovering over you. "gonna get what i fuckin' want. and right now, sweets, that's you."

you swallowed hard, his words and closeness sending a shiver down your spine. you could feel yourself getting hotter with every second that passed, your body aching for his touch.

but you were still reluctant. even with your thighs clenched together, your core felt like a pool of hot, wet need. and he could tell.

katsuki's frustration was evident. he lets out a deep sigh, leaning his head against your neck, inhaling your scent, barely trying to hold himself back from doing anything drastic.

"honey.. come back to me. please."

his voice was thick with pathetic need, a raw desperate desire for you burning in him.

fuck.

you know you should put up a fight, should try and resist him. but your body was aching for him.

and you really, really, couldn't fucking care less.

the moment your palms caress his cheeks, katsuki's eyes flutter shut, and he leans into your touch, sighing. you can feel him shiver under your fingertips, his body burning with longing. as your eyes meet his, a flash of raw desire flickers across his face.

and then, it's as if a dam breaks.

he leans in, his lips crashing into yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. his mouth is hot and eager against yours, his tongue slipping past your lips in a possessive, needy gesture.

katsuki's hands find your waist, strong and sure, pulling you closer as if the space between you is unbearable. you could feel his dick pressed up in between your legs, almost trembling with the intensity of his need.

your fingers slide up into his hair, tangling in the soft, unruly strands as you deepen the kiss. he groans against your mouth, the sound low and guttural, sending a shiver down your spine. his lips move against yours like he’s trying to memorize every curve, every taste.

when he pulls back, just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, his breath comes in ragged gasps, mingling with your own. his crimson eyes, half-lidded and heavy with desire, bore into yours.

“don’t think for a second that im done with you,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. “you're not gettin' outta here until i've had my fill of you, sweets."

he grins, chuckling darkly. "or should i say.. until i've filled you up."

when he grinds his hips harder against yours, you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips. the feeling of his dick pressing against you makes your head spin, desire pooling in your wet cunny. fuck, was he always that big?

"oh, fuck," he inhales, almost hissing. "you feel that, sweets? hm? feel how hard my dick is, just for you?"

your bit you bottom lip, your head nodding slightly in response. your breath hitches when his hand reaches for in between your legs, inching up your skirt, rubbing his thumb against your damp panties.

"look at you, already such a fuckin' wet mess," he coos, a predatory grin on his face, glancing between your clothed, wet cunt and your flushed look. "haven't even started yet. you that eager for me, sweets?"

"stop being such a fucking tease and just.." your cheeks burn, embarassed, turning your head to the side. "fuck me."

"oh, i plan to sweets, don't worry," his voice low and sultry, tugging on the elastic of your panties, pulling them down your thighs. "wanna taste you first. haven't tasted this sweet fuckin' pussy in a long, long time."

"katsuki.. what if someone sees us?"

"honey.. i don't fuckin' care."

katsuki had brought you to the backseat of his car, stripped you off your skirt and panties and had your legs spread out like he needed to taste you or he'd die.

katsuki flicked his tongue at your clit, licking up your sweet, wet slick, feeling you squirm and mewl from under him. your legs were practically begging to be close shut, but he forced your legs open with his big, strong arms, both of his hands holding either side of your thighs.

"fuck, sweets, you taste so good," he groans against your folds, the intoxicating scent of your sweet cunt flooding his thoughts. "so fuckin' wet.."

you could hear the squelching sound of his tongue lap at your pussy, the lewd sound of his saliva and your slick turning you on. you took off your top and unhooked your bra, tossing it somewhere in the car. you played with your tits, pinching your nipples as you watched him ate your pussy like it was his last, delicious meal on earth.

"katsuki," you mewled, breath hitching as he fucks you with his skilled tongue.

"what, too much?" katsuki rasped, enjoying how you responded to his touch.

you nodded, already seeing stars.

he grunts, biting your inner thigh before chasing your orgasm again. "fuck that. missed this tight wet pussy of yours too much. can't believe you kept this sweet thing from me for so long..."

"katsuki," you moan his name, you grip on a handful of his hair, embarassed, almost going cross-eyed. he was eager to give you his all, it was slightly overwhelming. but you needed him. "too much, too much..."

"take it all for me, yeah, sweets?" katsuki grunts, raising the pace of his tongue, earning whimpering noises from you. "i know you can, c'mon. makin' my dick so fuckin' hard just watchin' you, holy shit.."

katsuki continues his delirious advance on your cunt, his perverted appetite for you making him so fucking horny. his cock twitches in his pants from the arousing act, throbbing from all the gluttony he was feeling. he couldn't get enough of it. he acted like a man starved and he needed all of you to quench his craving.

not that he'd ever stop craving you.

"katsuki, 'm about to-" you wail about your climax. your walls tighten around his tongue, your hips squirming from under him. you push your cunt against his face, wanting more friction.

"cum for me, sweets, c'mon," he continued to lap at your wet, sloppy mess. "need to taste you so fuckin' bad."

"fuck, fuck!" you squeal, moaning loudly as you painted his tongue white, shattered breathing as your chest heaved up and down.

katsuki doesn't waste another second, burying his face in between your legs as he glides his tongue across your pussy at a quick pace, savoring it all and riding out your orgasm. your legs shake from the overstimulation he was doing, whimpering from the way his tongue feels. he looks at you greedily, his cock agitated as his carnal desire to fuck you until your legs shaking burns more in him.

"'m so proud of you, sweets. c'mere, come gimme a kiss," he moves closer to you, his touch gentle and affectionate as he caresses your cheek before pressing his lips against yours in a kiss. you could almost taste yourself on his tongue.

his kisses are slow and gentle, his fingers find your nipples, pinching them as your fingers find their way into his hair.

he pulls away from you, panting and sweating, quickly stripping himself of his clothes, tossing them somewhere in the car.

he tugs his boxers down and pulls his cock out, already dripping with pre-cum before pulling you back in for a sloppy, desperate kiss. fuck, you don't remember it being that big.

you could feel his erection, his cock cushioning your wet cunt, his throbbing tip kissing your stimulated clit, just begging to be inside of you.

"you ready for me, right, sweets?" he murmurs, in between your tongues clashing together, waiting for your nod. he dips a finger inside you, making you moan. "look at this fuckin' pussy, could just slip in and bury my dick deep inside of you..."

"please," you plead, your voice soft and trembling, a pout tugging at your lips. you're needy and desperate, the words spilling out in a breathy whine. "i need you... so bad."

"god, you're killin' me here sweets," he took a deep breath, panting for air. "you sure?"

you took a shaky breath, your eyes meeting his. "yes. please... i want this, i want you."

your words broke the last thread of his restraint. in an instant, he closed the distance, his lips crashing onto yours with unrelenting intensity. as if you were his only source of salvation.

katsuki's hands found your waist as he grips on you firmly, guiding you onto his lap and positioning you to straddle him with an effortless, commanding strength. he was desperate, completely consumed by the need for you, his longing obliterating any trace of rational thought.

katsuki positions his dick inside of your pussy, groaning as he watches you mewl, disappearing inside of you and stretching your walls painfully. yet you still felt the raw need for him.

"katsuki," you pant as you sat on his cock, adjusting as you dangle your arms by his shoulders. "fuck me, pl-"

he doesn't even let you finish, carrying you briefly before slamming you down on his cock, feeling your pussy clamp down on him again and again.

"you look so pretty like this, sweets, fuck," he looks up at you in awe. his moves his mouth is on your tits, sucking on your nipple.

you take it all with a wail, closing your eyes in blissful pleasure as the tip of his cock kisses your walls.

"oh my fuckin' god, i love you so fuckin' much, sweets. holy shit. and this fuckin' pussy too. you know that, don't you?" he asks, his crimson eyes gazing into yours, tension filling the small corners of the car.

"yeah," you nod, your skin heating up, stammered breaths as his cock was stretching you, abusing your warmth.

"then say it back."

"no wa-"

you scream as katsuki humps you down on his cock mercilessly, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you struggle to take him. your hips squirm against the girth and length of his cock abusing your hole to its satisfaction.

"katsuki!" his name slips out of your lips, letting out a wanton moan as his deep, hungry thrusts buck inside you out of spite. "sl-slow down..."

"hell fucking no."

"katsuki, please!"

"not until you say it back."

"fucking- fine! i love you, okay?" you mewl at the pain, but at the same time it made you feel so so good.

"say it again, didn't hear it," he taunts, his thrusts still deep and desperate enough capable of making you cream on his cock.

"i said, i love you!" you panted, whimpering from his hips snapping into yours.

"that's my girl," katsuki grins, letting his hand travel to caress your cheek before pulling you in for a messy, sloppy kiss.

you feel your cunny coil of essence, chasing your climax desperately with him at the last few thrusts.

you pull away from him, panting. "katsuki, fuck, gonna cum again..."

"mhm, gonna cum too, sweets," he grunts, thrusting into your cunt sloppily. "cum with me, yeah?"

you pant out of bliss, nodding. his hips snap into yours as he thrusts into your cunt harder, dripping of your shared slicks.

you mewl as shockwaves of pleasure hit you, throwing your head back as your tight, white walls clench around his cock. katsuki groans, his hips stuttering as he cums inside of you, a creamy frothy ring of white wrapped around the base of his cock as it kisses your folds.

both of you lay intertwined together, bodies tangled and panting together, breaths mingling, basking in the quiet warmth of each other's presence.

you pout up at him, delivering a playful slap to his cheek before sinking into his arms with a huff. "you're so mean."

katsuki chuckled deeply, the sound low and teasing. he didn't seem offended by your light hit, he seemed more amused by it.

"oh, please, you love me," he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer against his chest. he nuzzled into your hair.

his body relaxed somewhat as he held you. he couldn't help but marvel at how easily you fit against him, how well your body molded to his.

"i've missed having you in my arms, you know," he admires you, tugging a strand of your hair. "it's been... goddamn painful."

you bite your bottom lip, a deep sense of understanding in the sympathetic smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. you hold his gaze, knowing intimately the emotions that swirl within him. "i know, hon. me too."

the softness in his eyes is palpable as the pet name you had for him washes over him, a hint of vulnerability there that he rarely shows. he hides his face in the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "honey, i never wanna let go of you again."

you raise an eyebrow, a cheeky grin on your face as you tenderly caress his cheek, your gaze locking with his.

"i'm not going anywhere."

he looks up at you, returning your grin. his lips then gently meets yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

"good. i wouldn't let you even if you tried."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ tags (blogs who requested/ commented / reblogged on teaser): ˚⋆ @pikachuzhc @dragonscribble @obitosdefencelawyer @oladelmars @dietc0ke-stomach @liliththedxmon @junehasnotbeenfound @kaizuzuzu @babylambdietcoke @bri-licious08 @itadoriwife @katsukiglazerrr @secretlilli @trishiepo0 @akitafox @un-limit-edd @kalulakunundrum @krbkswifey @orangeheliophile @kenqki @thisbicc @augustraine @lisbethw @vikizzy @king-dynamight @legendarybatherringmonger @srcyy @moonlightwriter

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ was overwhelmed with how much attention the teaser was getting, EVEN ONE OF MY FAVORITE WRITERS LIKED THE POST @cathnospam ILYSM YOURE MY HERO. feedback/constructive criticism is always welcome!! i was working on my thesis defense (accepted!!) while writing this so i apologize for the delay and if theres any grammatical errors^^ i am beyond grateful to all of you and i hope you enjoyed reading the epitome of me being horny for katsuki🥹🥹

[mocchii-writes]

could you do a thanos x reader fic (squid game), where the reader is dating thanos already but is apart of gi hun's group in the games and is really sweet and kind. so then when thanos approaches her the boys (especially dae ho and jung bae) get all protective ready to fight: only to be absolutely shocked when the reader reveals that's her boyfriend.

I hope nobody catch us (but I kind of hope they catch us)

Paring: Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x fem!reader Summary: Your boyfriend just wants to see you. Unfortunately, your friends aren't in the loop. Words: 750 Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death? lmk if there's something ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

A/n: pleaseeee send requests!! I have writer's block grr. Hope this is alright, anon! ♡

~🍡🍡

This place was terrifying. Obviously. Almost 100 people died. You're lucky, and you know that. Not just because you survived, but because you aren't alone. You met Su Bong, or as people call him, "Thanos" before the games, dating soon after. Neither of you had any idea the other was coming, but here you are. You noticed him easily; it's not like he's very inconspicuous. You didn't think he had seen you, and you were a little too busy at the moment to approach him.

See, the second reason you're so lucky is because of the people around you currently. You would like to call them your friends, but some seem a little friendlier than others. 456, or Gi Hun, seems to be the leader. To nobody's surprise, though, because he's apparently done this whole charade once before. After just barely scraping through Red Light, Green Light, you were approached during the team-making for game 2 by Dae Ho and thus migrated into this odd little family. They all seemed to like you, as you were very kind and lightened the group's mood.

The food didn't look the best, but you didn't have a lot of choices, so here you sat, listening to the light conversations. You had become a close-knit bunch after game 2, and you got along very well with Jung Bae and Dae Ho, joking around after brief introductions. You wanted to check in on Thanos after you saw him lose a fight before game 2, but your two groups seem to have some disputes, you thought it best to wait until you could briefly slip out of the group.

You hear the announcement of lights out soon, and some people in your group rise to clean up the litter around them from dinner. You join Jung Bae and laugh at something he says, walking over to dispose of the trash. You hear a voice behind you as Dae Ho's face unfamiliarly hardens.

"Hey, my flower, why didn't you tell me there was an angel right in this room?" Thanos calls to you. You smile and turn around, but Dae Ho's voice stops you from responding.

"Get out of here, she isn't interested." He calls. You can tell he isn't used to the confrontation, but he's soon backed up by Jung Bae, walking next to you.

"We don't want people like you around us, get lost." He demands, and you feel your confusion pouring out. Dae Ho nods and walks in front of you. Thanos is almost taken aback but is quickly calm again, shooting a response.

"Who do you think you are, bro?" He approaches Dae Ho, challenging him. "Stopping me from seeing my girl? You jealous? You don't stand a chance, man." Dae Ho laughs, but you can tell he's a little scared.

You can see Nam Su walking, at least you think that was his name. He promoted a club you had been to before and was fairly friendly. Unlike now, looking like he wants to murder something. You can also see Gi Hun approaching the situation with the rest of your group, and you finally snap out of your spectating haze, biting your lip.

"Guys, wait! wait!" You say, swerving around Dae Ho to intersect the confrontation, "Don't fight! This is just a misunderstanding." You flash your sweetest smile, and your friends look at you, confused. Dae Ho is still glaring at Thanos, but he's probably listening. "Thanos isn't creeping on me. We're dating."

There's a thick silence that ensues. Lots of glances between you and the boy behind you, until someone finally speaks.

"What...?" Jung Bae says, smiling. "You're dating this guy?" He laughs.

You smile, "That's not the point." You laugh as you look at Thanos, noticing his shoulders relaxing a bit more. "I'm sorry for not telling you guys sooner, I didn't think it would be very good news."

You press your lips together and then stifle a laugh as Dae Ho responds, "It's not. I just- never would have guessed." He smiles at you. You notice others in your group nodding as the tension dies down. You laugh and shrug, feeling a hand on your wrist and walking away with Thanos, mouthing a brief I'll be back! as you talk to Thanos, laughing.

"You could've warned me your friends were such bitches." He teases you, smiling.

"I'm sorry, baby. Don't call them that, at least in front of me." You hear him chuckle as your fingers interlace, him glancing back one more time before moving on.

Hope this works ♡ lmk if I misunderstood or there's any mistakes!

send requests!!

[mullermilkshake]

Baby fever? Baby mana

Part 6 <- Part 7 -> Part 8

It's the last time to take a pregnancy test, the results always the same. But Jinwoo remains hopeful.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Smut, NSFW, Unprotected sex, P in v sex, vaginal sex, breast play, creampie, mentions of pregnancy, pet name, mentions of choking and breed kink/praise kink, breeding

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

A month came and went by in a flash before Jinwoo’s eyes.

Nothing.

The weekly pregnancy tests took a toll, every time they came up negative under the watchful eye of Woo Jin-chu sitting right there with his stop watch, waiting for the results. And each time your heart sank and slouched into the sofa when he announced the negative line.

Desperation. One word to sum it up as you sat there, bouncing on his cock one final time before Jin-chul arrived later for the final test result. Jinwoo willed it to happen and frantically searched for anything to stop the association from taking you away from him that didn’t result in hiding you away where no one could get you and committing mass murder to keep it that way.

If Jinwoo had it his way, he’d get rid of the lot of them. Running out of ideas made his brain hurt and his intrusive thoughts had gotten much darker than before. Killing all of them to keep the status quo, fucking you like this, loving you, living with you and seeing you every morning when his eyes opened.

He never had the chance to take you to meet his mom and sister. Jinwoo wanted that chance and he could have it as soon as you were pregnant, because then the pressure would stop.

But you were right, it could take up to a year or even longer.

While it was never spoken aloud, what made Jinwoo more on the edge was the possibility of Jin-chul suggesting you be paired with Jong-in now that he’d managed to get Hae-In pregnant. It was only a matter of time too before Jong-in started to gravitate towards you in the long run.

Now that Jinwoo hid one of his shadows behind Jong-in, it gave him a better perspective of the relationship. And it wasn’t good. It was bickering at first, behind closed doors whilst Hae-in’s hidden mood swings were like clockwork yet still caused whiplash. Jinwoo’s shadow was a doorway to private conversations and hidden personalities that the public never got to see.

Jong-in was as considerate as he was to everyone, passively arguing with Hae-in about the little things she took issue with. Jinwoo knew she was just scared, or tired, or hungry, and Jong-in took it in his stride. But the two weren’t a couple by any stretch and only doing this for the association. Yet with you, Jong-in mentioned you way more than he should have, yet not saying much at all.

And that kept Jinwoo up at night, thinking of all the moments that man could get his hands on you, the things he’d seen and experienced, shared with Jong-in like you were cattle. If he could help it, Jinwoo would stop it without causing too much of a fuss and backlash.

It was those moments he wanted to keep all to himself.

Jinwoo could never grow tired of that little noise you made, jutting with a rasp in your breath when you were close, the way your fingers tensed on his bare chest in silence when another orgasm ripped through you as you cooed his name.

Just like right now. “Jinwoo-”

“I know.” He rested his hands on your hips, pushing his fingertips in the plush round flesh easing his stress away.

The sun had only started rising, Jin-chul was due at any time. Jinwoo never wanted it to end, but if the front door knocked before he came inside you again and never made it to the door in time, Jin-chul would let himself in. So despite his need to keep going, if he didn’t come inside you now, he might not get another chance for a while until he handled things himself.

You pulled at his hands, pressing them over your breast to massage them, play with your nipples in a way you knew he liked. Not only did Jinwoo find new stuff out about you, it seemed like you were taking things on board too. Even so, you never explicitly said outright that you felt the same way Jinwoo did, but there were some tell-tale signs that you were coming to terms with it.

Like putting his favourite genre of movie on, cuddling up to him over the course of the last two weeks like a fully functional couple. You were suddenly excited to see him come home and more aroused than before, taking more opportunities to get intimate than Jin-chul stated. In the last few weeks, you and Jinwoo weren’t just fucking every night, sometimes it was reaching peaks of three or four times a day depending on your mood. You had somehow changed the entire dynamic and taken the lead ever since the night of the association dinner.

Sex was out of this world, your eagerness elevated the experience and heightened Jinwoo’s senses which thrusted his exploration into the stratosphere. He was finding out new things about himself, about you. His own kinks and lustrous imaginations over you and what you enjoyed.

For instance, one night after Jinwoo gave you two orgasms to make your head spin, you asked him to choke you. He didn’t exactly deliver the first time, surrounded by his worries of hurting you for real instead of pleasuring you. Then, you directed him, patiently telling him what you wanted and it got your legs trembling, body jerking and lips babbling absolute nonsense.

And Jinwoo? Well, he realised early that he had developed a need to breed you and it turned into an obsession rather quickly, so much so that it was all Jinwoo thought about.

“Jinwoo, I can’t hold it-”

“Then come for me, pretty girl.”

Another thing that Jinwoo learned was the power of the right pet name, you took to them well and enjoyed a little praise along with it from time to time.

You stopped and held your breath, Jinwoo kept his hips moving and held you in place. Every ounce of pent up frustration and waiting for one last time. No, it couldn’t be the last time, though why did it feel like it would be?

Jinwoo would have let his darker side emerge had the sensation of your pussy clenching around his cock not made him float. The slapping of your bare ass down on the tops of his thighs, so sweat ridden and warm and he wanted it always.

Always.

Always. 

“Jinwoo- fuck- make me a mommy, just do it- please do it-”

That was a first and no way could it be in the moment when it sounded so raw, so real. Those string of words made the massive load he was about to give you all the more special once Jinwoo got over the shock of your demand. The first time that you had acknowledged your part in this and begged him, surrounded in your own feverish lust for an end result Jinwoo wanted this entire time.

A baby.

A baby with you.

A family.

He came, willing it to take, praying and wishing that this sensation would never end and you and he would be linked together for as long as he lived. A mark over you that he held close to his chest, while a newborn baby laid on yours.

It had to take. It has to.

Everything was pointing to a real relationship just by the way you laid in his arms all tangled up, his body took you in so naturally because you just fit right. Fitting perfectly because you were always supposed to be with him. It couldn’t be over just yet, right?

The ominous front doorbell rang like a warning siren in Jinwoo’s mind, a way to say times up folks, we’re splitting you up now if you can’t get the result we want on a stick that someone pees on.  

It wasn’t fair.

“Why does he come over so early?” You yawned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before you sat up to leave the bed.

Don’t leave just yet. 

But you did, pulling your little silk robe on and trudging out of the room. Jinwoo laid there for a moment and listened to Jin-chul’s low drawl of a voice, thanking you and making himself at home in the kitchen. 

You wandered back through the bedroom with three pregnancy tests in your hand and a disheartened expression. “I won’t be long. You better get dressed.”

Jinwoo hid his pout from you and waited to get out once the bathroom door closed behind you. He wished he could be there with you, taking the pressure off for just a moment, a single second so that you could sit on that sofa with ease while the results came back after an agonising three miniature wait.

You would probably slap him straight in the face if he barged in the bathroom while you were peeing. So he opted to wait right outside, like he was there with you. You were shocked to still see him when you emerged from the bathroom, pausing right there in the doorway.

“Sorry.” He rubbed his neck and looked away in case you decided that it was inappropriate and waited for that slap he probably deserved, but nothing happened. “I just thought I’d wait here for you, y’know, it being the last time, and all.”

Jinwoo hadn’t prepared to see a smile on your lips when he looked back. “Thanks, Jinwoo. I think I really needed that today.”

Sitting down on the sofa just waiting was never a great feeling even without Jin-chul staring at the two of you awaiting the results of the three sticks on the table. The room sat in a horrid silence and sucked all of the air out of the room, even the sunlit daylight of the early morning. 

The three people in the room sat in silence, pure agonising silence.

“Well, it seems that your time is up…” Jin-chul glanced over at the tests and sighed. “They’re negative… shame.”

You said nothing, sat there looking down at your trembling hands. Jinwoo wanted to comfort you and tell you all of the positive things, but how could that fix the main issue that you weren’t pregnant?

He had failed. He’d fucked everything up.

“I've done all I can to delay the Chairman's decision, but he's adamant. There’s some things we’ll need to go over for the transition, we aim to have it done by the end of the day.” Jin-chul addressed you. “You’ll be moving into the apartment next door where you’ll undergo a three month trial with Hunter Choi. Now Hunter Cha is pregnant, we’re offering her accommodation at the new facility.”

Hunter… Choi?

Jinwoo’s fist clenched, practically shaking until his knuckles came over white, his worst nightmare was soon realised. Jong-in was taking you in because he’d already knocked up another woman? Was the scandal of this alone nothing that the association considered?

No. Jinwoo didn’t give a fuck, you weren’t going anywhere. Before you could protest, by the horrified look on your face, Jinwoo stood up, ready to fight anyone who approved of this. And when he did, something stopped you, Jin-chul and himself on the spot. An unmistakable wave of aura, nothing that Jinwoo recognised from any of the other S-Rank hunters, or any other hunter for that matter. It was just different. Unexpected.

“What was that?”

Jin-chul got to his feet and looked around, his expression confused and lingering on the fact that he mustn’t have recognised it either. “I’m… I’m not sure.”

Jinwoo closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind on locating it, placing a shadow on you out of instinct in case it was a magic beast. You were in a robe, naked, and being taken by surprise was a possibility. And when nothing happened, Jinwoo couldn’t place the uneasiness, the drive to find it like a parent looking for their child.

It was a need. A compulsion.

He glanced over at his system’s quest, expecting it to be unchanged, but something had changed. The progress bar had increased from zero, to ten. And then he found what he was looking for, when you moved closer to him and his shadow indicated exactly where that aura had come from.

From you.

Jinwoo blinked and placed his hand on your stomach without giving you warning, you stepped back but he never allowed that distance to gap itself. The aura was coming from you, or more importantly your lower half, your abdomen. Your mana was still there, just below the surface of this secondary aura, a different signature completely but so familiar to your own and Jinwoo’s

“What are you doing?

“Hunter Woo, do you have more pregnancy tests with you?”

Jin-chul was unfazed but complied. “I do.”

You watched Jinwoo and your eyes wandered down to your stomach. “Jinwoo… What-”

“We have to do more tests.”

“The tests were negative, Hunter Sung, there’s no point in doing so again. We’re done here. I have to find the source of that aura, so if you’ll excuse me-”

Jinwoo stopped him in his steps, glaring at him with what was probably the most murderous look he’d ever had access to. That compulsion to find the aura didn’t leave even though he found it, it was still driving him to deal with the issue and advocate before Jin-chul tried to cast him aside.

“Do the test again. Now.” 

After a half hour of Jinwoo second guessing himself and focusing on that mana spike within you, and another three pregnancy tests later after getting you to drink as much water as you could, the results were concluded.

Jin-chul took another look over them, and Jinwoo watched as his eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be damned… the tests are positive.”

And so the beginning of Jinwoo’s quest had begun.

Part 6 <- Part 7 -> Part 8

This is the last part I'm uploading at least until after the 12th may, I'm away for a week and won't have connection, but that doesn't mean I'm not writing, and now that I have sort of a plot for this, I'm going to continue writing so parts will come faster than they have been most probably. Thank you so much for all the support so far, I really appreciate it ❤️ ilysm

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[cutebat]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The First Page

Warning(s): Neglect, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mind break (There are no yandere themes yet, but will be in another chapter)

(This chapter is basically the first part of the prologue and some things fixed)

~~~~~

10 years old.

You were only 10 years old when the Gotham's billionaire, Bruce Wayne, entered through the doors of the orphanage that you lived under of.

You could remember the owner holding your hand as she lead you to the man who is going to be your father.

You remember when he placed his hand on your head as he introduced himself to you and promised that he'll give you a great life.

You remember when you came to the manor as he introduced you to your new family that consists of four new older brothers, one new older sister, and a butler.

You remember when everyone would talk to you and welcome you with loving embraces.

You also remember a few days foward when Bruce gave you a costume that resembled a white dress with pink details, which earned you the title of Batgirl.

And after all of that, it's like it never happened.

~~~~~

You are now being ignored by everyone.

Nobody gave you a glance, made excuses, and basically beat the shit out of you. Well, not exactly.

For example, there was one day when you came up to Bruce with a flyer in your hand.

"Um, hi, Bruce... I know you're busy right now, but... I'm going to have a school play and I got the main role. So... I hope you can stop by and watch."

You tell him in the nicest way possible.

However, Bruce was so focused on his paperwork that he didn't give you a glance. All he said was...

"Hm? Yeah, I'll go check it out if I finish all of this."

And suprise, suprise, he never showed up.

This resulted in you crying in the girl's restroom all alone in your costume.

~~~~~

There was also a time when you felt like you needed to train more, so you did it by going up to Dick who seems to be training with Damian.

"Um, guys? Can I join you two?"

You ask as you smile awkwardly as your two older brothers turned to you.

Which is why you became surprised when Dick smiles.

"Sure! But, do you mind if you wait until me and Damian are done with this sparring session? It won't take too long."

He said with a chuckle as Damian looked like he was glaring at his little sister.

You didn't want to be rude, which is why you just nodded before you went over to the corner and watched your brothers train.

As an hour passed, Dick and Damian stopped, which made you take the chance to finally train with them.

However, you seemed confused when you saw the two turning around and walking out of the batcave.

"He-Hey, Dick? I thought you and Damian were going to train with me."

You speak up in a timid tone, which the two clearly heard.

"Oh, about that. Sorry, (name), but we were already planning to go to the cafe for a break. Maybe tomorrow, okay?"

Dick said with an 'apologetic' expression before he leaves with Damian.

Because of this, you never asked him to train with you again.

~~~~~

These were all easily common, but there were some moments when it scarred you.

One time, Tim was basically forced to bring you to a mission along with his friends.

As the patrol went on, you seemed to get distracted a bit when you spotted Conner having some trouble.

Because of this, you left the scene and quickly dived in and fought alongside the teenage Kryptonian. Thanks to you, everything was handled.

Conner thanked you before someone yelled out your name. This made you jolt as you turned to see an angry Tim storming over to you.

Before you can say anything, he cuts you in.

"What on earth were you doing?! I told you to stay where you are, and you just had to ignore everything I say, don't you?!"

He yells as if someone murdered his close family member.

This made you so shocked as Conner was stunned. When Cassie and Bart came over to the spot, they were both shocked to see their friend, yelling at his little sister.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, Tim. (name) didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who called her over to help me."

Conner defends you, but of course, Tim doesn't listen.

"Don't even try to defend her! She knows what she did! Oh, I am SO going to report this to Batman, so don't even try to cover yourself up!"

Tim said in a frustrated and angry tone towards you before he used his grappling hook and swooped down, leaving you behind with his friends.

"Hey, what the hell, asshole!"

Conner shouts out at his friend as he was shocked to him this angry.

He lets out a sigh before he looks over to see Cassie and Bart, comforting you as you are crying in their arms.

~~~~~

Yelling wasn't the only thing that you had to endure.

You even went through moments when things got a little too... physical.

It all happened when you were just trying to help someone in need.

You were walking down the hallway during the night as you just wanted a cup of water. As you were wandering down the hallway, you noticed some voices from someone's bedroom.

Jason's bedroom.

This made you curious as you got close to the door to hear Jason talking amongst himself as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He kept muttering stuff out of his mouth, which made you worried.

That is when you made a mistake by going inside.

"Jason...? Are you okay?"

You ask in a timid voice.

At that moment, Jason snaps his head towards you before everything starts to go blur. All you remember is him grabbing something like a pole type object before it was brought down towards your head.

And then, you woke up in your own bedroom, except you have a bandage wrapped around your head.

When you sat up, all you saw was Alfred, the family's loyal butler. No sign of your other family around, concerning about you.

Luckily, you recovered, and the wound went away after a month.

And, of course, Jason never apologized for what he did to you.

~~~~~

A few months was in, and no improvement has been made. You were always ignored. They made excuses of not wanting to spend time with you, and some of them actually hit you a few times.

All of that happened to your ten year old self.

But, did you give up on that spot? Nope.

You discovered on the internet what you can do to please your family to gain their attention. There were a lot of results, but the one that kept popping up the most was trying to reach your best achievements, which would result in them showing you more support from them.

And that's what you did.

You started to join in many after-school activities and studied all your might. It was tiring, and you almost passed out from exhaustion, but you kept going because you wanted at least your family to notice you.

The problem is that they never did.

They never congratulated you, celebrated on your accomplishment, and most of all, they didn't even give you a glance when you showed off.

All of that for nothing. Damn.

~~~~~

The breaking point wasn't because of all that. It was when someone else entered the family.

Duke Thomas.

A metahuman teenager whose parents died from the Joker Venom.

You thought that they might treat him the same way that they had treated you.

But, nothing.

Duke was showered with love, attention, and even praise.

The things that you never got when you came here.

Whenever you pass by whatever event that they're holding, you will always see them together. Being all happy, chatting, and laughing with one another.

They never do that when they're around you. Even on your birthdays. Actually, when was the last time they all celebrated your birthday?

At that moment, something inside you just snapped. Like, a loud crack echoes through your head that makes a loud ringing sound, kind of like a wake-up call.

Then, it all clicked.

They never cared about you.

They never even liked you.

The only reason why Bruce adopted you is because nobody wanted to.

~~~~~

The thoughts kept running through your head as you walked into an alleyway with a trash bag in hand.

Earlier today at school, you dropped out the clubs that you absolutely hated and pretty much just purposely laid back in your classes.

You feel empty.

When you finally reach the dumpster, you got on top of some stacked boxes because of your height and open the large lid.

You could only stare inside that had a lot of black colored trash bags. Your eyes were blank as you stared down inside.

That's when you muttered out.

"Why even bother...?"

With that, you tossed the trash bag that you were holding on into the dumpster.

After what it felt like hours, you finally got off of the boxes that you were standing on top of before you walked out of the alleyway.

As you walked away, something fell out of the trash bag that you threw out.

It was a white bat eared helmet.

The accessory that once matched with your costume.

That's right.

You were no longer Batgirl.

You never were, anyway.

•

•

•

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[jamesmcalover]

we did not die that night

Simon Kalivoda x afab!reader

Warnings: (maybe slight angst???) fluff, oral sex

Summary: Reader walks in on Simon wanking in the bathroom that night.

3.7k words - not proofread!

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" I yelled, my hands quickly shielding my eyes from the very naked body of my friend. Not only was he naked, he was clearly enjoying himself before I burst into the boys' bathroom. I was definitely not expecting someone wanking in there, to be fair. Feeling my cheeks flush, I walked back outside, shutting the door and waited until it was safe for me to go in again. A shaky breath escaped my lungs and I found myself pacing a few steps in front of the bathroom. That was weird, I thought, such an interesting time to wank. Was he turned on by that weird chick that tried to murder him with a razor blade? He said she was hot...

I looked into the empty and dark hallway of the school. It made me sick and uncomfortable standing in it all alone. Before I could panick, Simon was shouting for me.

"You can come in now!" His voice sounded muffled through the heavy door. As I pushed it open again – much slower this time – his eyes found mine. He looked embarrassed, which was weird. Simon was never embarrassed about anything. That boy was an open book.

"I'm really sorry," I said, "I should've knocked." He was wearing a blue knitted cardigan now, it probably smelled a bit musty from laying in the lost-and-found box for such a long time, but it looked pretty on him. Much better than the sweaty shirt he was wearing two days in a row that had Sam's blood on it and almost got him killed.

"It's alright. I didn't really pick the best place," he replied with a small grin. There he was again.

"I'd tell you that I haven't seen anything but I kinda did... see everything." My voice became smaller, much quieter, saying the last words. I had embarrassed him again, his big blue eyes were filled with guilt and I was desperate to loosen the uncomfortable tension in the room.

"But we might die tonight, so... you won't have to worry about that," I said. He laughed.

We did not die that night.

Sam died – for a few minutes at least – but she came back to life and all of us were questioned by the police. They didn't believe us, but they never do, do they?

A few days passed before we returned to school, back to the place where we'd tried to kill those monsters. Almost no trace of that night remained. The floors were spotless, no sign of Sam's blood, and the classroom door destroyed by the axe had already been replaced. Only the girls' bathroom was still barricaded. I didn't even want to imagine what it looked like on the inside.

Walking by the bathrooms, I wondered if Simon still thought about me bursting in on him mid-masturbation sometimes. Because I did. I tried forgetting, but the images didn't seem to fade. Everytime I closed my eyes, I saw his hand gripping his thick cock, moving up and down frantically. His head thrown back, his blonde locks slightly bouncing, mouth hanging open, panting.

I wouldn't admit it, but I had caught myself fantasising about it from time to time. I had thought about his cock in class once, it wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either. It was thick, though, and I wondered how it would feel in my hand, or my mouth even, my tongue dancing on his tip until he came on it. I wondered how his cum would taste like, what sounds me might make when he came.

When I snapped back into reality, I was praying to God no one near me was secretly able to read my mind – I wasn't even religious but I shouldn't think like that, Simon is my friend, nothing more.

I hadn't really seen him the past week. He came back to school a few days later because of an a stab wound to his stomach he'd suffered in the store that night, so I hadn't had the chance – or maybe the courage – to talk to him about what happened. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to. Of if he did.

At lunch, I quickly spotted him talking to Deena as they got their food. A band-aid covered the cut on his neck, and his lip was still a bit swollen from when he hit the ground. He probably felt badass walking down the school corridors looking like that, telling people he'd almost been brutally stabbed but managed to escape and survive.

Deena was barely hurt that night, which was unfair given she'd dragged us all into this mess. Maybe it was harsh of me to say, but if it weren't for her, I wouldn’t have been there, nearly sliced in half, all because she crashed that Sunnyvaler's car.

And to top it off, she still managed to pull Sam. I had been avoiding her, though I doubted she'd noticed. It felt as if I was made of air.

I saw Simon looking around, scanning the cafeteria, but his eyes never found mine.

A loud thud from the locker beside me made me jump, my heart leaping into my throat. It didn't take much to scare me anymore – I startled at every little noise. I turned to see Simon grinning, his usual cocky self.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, shit face" I said, now relieved it was only him.

"Sorry." He said, though he wasn't. He loved scaring me. His grin widened. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Not really." I hugged the book tighter, trying not to meet his gaze.

"You sure about that?" His tone was teasing, but there was something else there, just under the surface. When I finally met his eyes, images from that night in the bathroom started flooding my mind again. face went hot, and I was pretty sure my cheeks turned slightly red. I hoped he wouldn't notice.

"Yeah, I've just been... processing?" It sounded more like a question than a real answer.

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Processing what?" I frowned. What did he think I was trying to process?

"You know... almost getting murdered. Watching my friends almost get murdered. All that stuff."

His grin faded, replaced by something softer. For a moment he seemed like he wanted to say something serious, but instead, he leaned against the locker and shurgged. "I guess we didn't die, though."

I let out a small chuckle at his reference to what I said after I caught him. "Guess not." I said. "Do you still think about it?"

I didn't know if I meant the blood and slaughter or me seeing him wank. I was probably thinking about the latter more at this point.

"I try not to but... y'know. It's all in my head." He said. I hummed, not sure which question he gave me an answer to.

Later that night, I tossed around in my bed. It was too early to sleep, but I hated being awake. Sleep was the only escape from reality I had left – everything else made me think about what happened.

After thirty minutes of failed attempts to fall asleep, I gave up. I got up, dressed again, and brushed my hair, which had become tangled from all the tossing and turning. It was just after six, and my parents weren’t even home yet. Simon must still be at work, too, I thought.

Grabbing my keys, I stepped out of the house and wandered slowly along the streets toward the grocery store he worked at. Being alone in the streets still scared me sometimes, but it wasn’t a long walk.

The store also showed no signs of undead zombie killers. It was as if nothing had ever happened there.

As i rounded a corner into the isle, where sam had been lying dead, I came face-to-face with Simon, who looked at me in surprise.

"Y/N, I didn't expect to see you here!" He exclaimed, his voice enthusiastic but slightly higher-pitched than usual.

"I couldn't sleep," I said, my voice sounding flatter than I insisted. "Thought I'd come bother you instead."

Simon smirked, leaning on the cart he'd been pushing. "I'm always down to be bothered." But his eyes showed concern. "Are you okay though?"

I shrugged, running my fingers over the keys in my pocket. "Are any of us?"

He didn't answer right away, and for a second, the hum of fluorescent lights above us felt too loud. Finally, he said, "I get off in half an hour. Do you want me to walk you home?"

I smiled up at him. I never realised how pretty his eyes were and how cute his slightly crooked teeth made him look. "Sure. Thank you," I said.

"Wanna help me stock shelves until i'm off? It's mind-numbing, but at least you won't think about... you know." He handed me one of the cereal boxes from his cart. I hesitated but nodded. Mind-numbing sounded exactly like what I needed.

We quickly went from stocking the shelves in silence to goofing around and avoiding work until his shit ended. For a little while, it felt like things were back to normal—no awkwardness, no heaviness hanging over us. I realized how much I’d missed that.

The walk home was quieter again, but not uncomfortably so. I laughed at his bad jokes and half-hearted attempts to cheer me up.

"Thanks for walking me home," I said as we reached my door. The empty driveway implied that my parents were still at work. They worked late shifts almost every day, so the house would be dark and silent, as always.

Simon smiled. "No problem. It’s what I'm here for, right? Keeping you out of trouble."

I laughed softly, my hand lingering on the doorknob. The thought of going inside alone suddenly felt unbearable.

"Hey," I said before I could second-guess myself. "Do you want to come in? Just for a bit?"

He raised an eyebrow teasingly. "You sure? I thought your whole thing was avoiding me."

I rolled my eyes. "I wasn't avoiding you." His grin told me he didn't believe me, but I pressed on. "Anyway, my parents won't be home for a while, and I'm not ready to sit in there by myself yet."

His expression softened, and he nodded. "Alright. Lead the way, then."

As I pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet house, I realized how much I needed the company.

I led him into my bedroom and sat on my bed, as he stood awkwardly in the middle of my room, unsure of where to sit.

I let out a snort. "You can sit on my bed, Simon. You won't get cooties," I teased as I scooted further back until my back rested against the wall. Simon smirked and plopped down at the foot of my bed, sitting crisscrossed and facing me.

"Aren't you mad?" I finally asked after a few seconds of silence between us. Simon looked at me confused. "At Deena, I mean."

"Not really. Why? Are you?" He asked me and I took a deep breath, not knowing how to answer.

"Yeah."

Simon's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn't say anything right away. He just watched me, waiting for me to explain.

"I mean… none of this would've happened if it weren't for her," I said, my voice low. "She's the one who crashed the car. She's the one who dragged us into all of this. And now…" I trailed off, struggling to put the tangled mess of my feelings into words. "I can’t stop thinking about what happened. What could've happened."

Simon nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "I get that," he said. "But… I don't know. Deena didn't exactly want this to happen, you know? She was just trying to help Sam. I guess if I'm mad at anyone, it's… those things. The witch."

"Yeah, well, you can't yell at undead monsters," I muttered.

Simon gave me a small, lopsided smile. "True. But you can yell at me if it helps."

I couldn’t help but laugh, even as my chest tightened. "I won’t."

"Okay, but seriously," he said, his tone softening. "You've got every right to be mad, but don’t let it eat you up. You survived, Y/N. That’s what matters, right?"

"You're right," I said, picking at the dry skin on my fingers until it peeled off. "I just don't understand why everyone pretends like nothing ever happened."

"People rather forget than face their trauma," Simon replied softly.

I hummed in response and lay down, the side of my face pressing against the cool pillow. Simon stayed seated at the foot of the bed, watching me.

"Can I ask you something?" I heard myself mumble. "You don't have to answer." He nodded.

"Why did you... wank? Why in the middle of all that mess?"

Simon’s eyes locked onto mine, his gaze intense. He didn’t look embarrassed about it anymore. He paused for a moment before speaking.

"I guess it was the adrenaline? I don't know, I think I was trying to feel normal. Everything was so messed up, and I just wanted one thing that made sense, you know?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. I hadn't actually expected him to explain, let alone like this.

"I don't know if that makes sense," he added, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"It does," I said softly.

I patted the empty space next to me, inviting him to lie down beside me. The bed slightly bounced as his back hit the soft mattress. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes darting restlessly as though they were trying to take in everything at once, never still. His hair was falling from his face, soft blonde curls pooling on on my pillow.

I reached my hand out in his direction slowly until it was in his hair. He closed his eyes as I twisted his strands around my fingers. "What are you thinking about?" I asked after a long silence.

Simon’s lips quirked up in a small smile. "Nothing and everything," he said.

His body shifted, turning to face mine. I felt his breath on my face, only inches between us now. My hand was still in his hair, but it didn't move anymore, just rested there. His Eyes roamed across my face, studying me like he was memorizing every little detail.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on my lips before flicking back to meet my eyes. "Looking," he said quietly. "You're hard to read, you know that?"

I swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the way my heart pounded in my chest. "What are you trying to read?"

Simon's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Everything you’re not saying."

I slowly leaned forward, my heart pounding in my chest, until I felt his shaky breath on my lips. I hesitated for a second, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

Closing the small gap between us, my lips brushed against his in a gentle kiss. It was soft, and over before I had the chance to overthink it.

When I pulled back, his eyes fluttered open, searching mine. The corners of his mouth twitched into a big smile before he leaned over to kiss me again. I felt his hand brushing away a strand of hair, then rest on my cheek. He pushed me on my back, slightly hovering over me now. My hands found his neck, buried in his hair once again. The second kiss was heated, fast and left me breathless.

"Fuck," I breathed when Simon pulled away for a second, only to cover my neck in kisses now. I inhaled sharply, as I had not expected that, but I wasn't irritated.

"Simon," I murmured, my voice a mix of surprise and something I couldn't quite name.

His lips paused against my skin, and he lifted his head just enough to meet my gaze. For a second, the intensity in his eyes made it hard to breathe.

"Is this okay?" He asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

I nodded, my hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. "Yeah," I whispered.

A flicker of relief crossed his face before his lips found mine again, in a short, sweet kiss, before they returned to my neck. His hands were roaming over hips, my stomach and my breasts, leaving a squeeze from time to time.

My hands slid down to his torso, gripping him as I pulled him closer. He shifted, his weight pressing against me until he was fully on top, and I could feel his boner on my hip through his pants. The images of him with his cock exposed came back and suddenly, I was hungry.

I pushed him off of my body and climbed on his, kissing him hard while I fiddled with his belt.

"Is this okay?" I asked him in between kisses and he looked at me with his big blue eyes.

"Fuck, yes," he replied. I quickly unbuttoned his pants and pulled them off of him. It was only covered by the thin fabric of his unterwear now. I ignored the urge to touch him for a second, as I pushed his shirt up and motioning for him to take it off. He was now only wearing his socks and underwear, and I was still fully clothed. Simon pulled at the hem of my shirt, so I let him take it off, his eyes found my chest immediately. I was wearing a white bra with tiny cherries on it and usually, I would've been embarrassed, but it was different with Simon. I didn't have to be embarrassed by anything with him.

I let my hands roam over his chest briefly, before they disappeared in his briefs. He threw his head back into the pillows immediately and let out a quiet moan.

He looked like I had remembered, only laying down this time, and with my hand on his dick, instead of his own.

I moved the briefs down a little, pulling him out. His cock looked even better up close, the veins decorating it made my mouth water. I leaned my head down and thickly licked the underside of his shaft. Simon's head basically shot up to look at me.

"Fuck," he whispered, his thumb was rubbing my cheek slightly, before he buried his hand in my hair. I could feel his grip tighten with every up and down, his breath became shorter and shorter, moans and groans louder.

"Fuck, Y/N, I-" He came in my mouth, the thick and salty substance felt weird on my tongue, but not unpleasant. I quickly swallowed it and licked his tip clean before pulling of. Drool was running down my chin. I wiped it on the back of my hand. Simon's breathing was quick, his eyes heavy as he looked at me. He took my hand into his and pulled me forward so I'd lie on him, and planted a short kiss on my lips.

"That was fucking hot," he said and I let out a chuckle at that.

"I'm glad you liked it," I said with a smirk. He put a strand of hair behind my ear gently, looking at me with tender eyes, before pushing me down to lie on the mattress. I looked at the ceiling as I felt his lips and tongue explore my body, his hands gripping everything they possibly could.

He opened my pants and I lifted my hips to help him pull them off together with my panties. I quickly got rid of my bra in that process as well. Simon paused. He looked at my body, taking in every tiny detail, as if he was scared he would forget what I had looked like. I felt pretty under his gaze. His hands found my boobs again, brushing over my hard nipples. They wandered down, his left hand stopping at my hips, his right going further down, stopping at my public bone. He looked up to me, seeing me nod, before scooting his body further down between my legs to be at eye-level with my most private part of my body.

I felt him let out a short breath, as his finger moved between my folds, feeling how wet I was because of him. "Fuck," I heard him whisper. I let my head fall into my pillows. They smelled like his hair now and I tried to inhale that smell while his tongue met my clit and I let out a shaky moan.

"Oh God," I said, his tongue dancing around in the wetness of my cunt. My hands were in his hair – probably their favourite place to be in – pulling his locks, trying to get him closer as I was coming with a loud whine.

The orgasm hit me so intensely that my vision went blurry for a second, and I had to regulate my breathing.

"Was that good?" Simon asked me, now lying next to me with his hands found in my hair, stroking it slightly. I looked at him like he was crazy. My juices still glistened on his chin.

"That was probably the best orgasm I've ever had," I told him truthfully as I wiped his chin with the corner of my blanked that was now covering our naked bodies. Simon grinned proudly at me.

"I'm glad we didn't die that night," I said after a moment of silence. He smiled at me and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

"And I'm glad you caught me masturbating." I let out a loud laugh, slightly shoving his shoulder.

"Idiot."

Simon grinned big at me an laid his head on my chest. "I think we should start going out." He said while his fingers fiddled with a loose thread on my blanket.

I smiled softly. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Not yet, I want to take you on a date first."

"I'd like that," I said, gently caressing his back with one hand and stroking his head with the other.

[aventurineswife]

Hiii! I'm a relatively new reader who has fallen in love with your fics lol, could I request for some crack and funny moments with the astral express crew? (reader is a member of the express btw)

“Welcome Aboard the Disaster Express!”

Summary: Life aboard the Astral Express is full of breathtaking cosmic adventures… and absolute nonsense. As a member of the crew, you’ve long accepted that professionalism is a distant dream, and chaos is the true conductor of this train. Whether it’s March antagonizing Dan Heng, Trailblazer being an unhinged cryptid, or Sunday delivering existential monologues at 9 AM, you’ve learned to just go with the flow. At least it’s never boring.

Tags: Astral Express x Reader, Astral Express Crew Shenanigans, Crack & Humor, Found Family Vibes, Platonic Relationships, Mild Existential Crisis Courtesy (of Sunday), Dan Heng Is So Done, Trailblazer: Chaos Personified, Welt Deserves a Raise, March 7th vs. Dan Heng.

Warnings: Mild swearing, Unhinged behavior from Trailblazer (as expected), Existential rambling from Sunday, Dan Heng contemplating violence (he won’t actually do it… probably), Welt is tired. Just generally.

A/N: Awww thank you!! 🤭💖

The moment you wake up, you already know today is going to be a mess.

For one, Trailblazer is missing. Again. And if past experiences have taught you anything, it’s that their absence usually means trouble.

For two, March is running down the hall at full speed, her camera in one hand and a look of pure chaos in her eyes.

“For the love of Aeons—someone stop them!” Welt’s voice rings out, exasperated yet resigned.

You don’t even get a chance to ask what's happening before March practically tackles you, using your shoulder as a shield while snapping a picture of something—or someone—behind you.

“I got it!” she cheers, pumping a fist in victory.

You glance over your shoulder, half-expecting an eldritch horror, only to find Dan Heng standing there, looking deeply unamused. His spear is in hand, though it’s not aimed at anyone—yet.

“March,” he says in a calm, yet menacing tone, “delete that.”

“Nope,” she chirps.

“March.”

“It’s for science.”

“I will destroy that camera.”

“I have backups,” she grins.

You decide it’s best to take two steps away from the brewing conflict.

Before Dan Heng can contemplate murder, Sunday walks in, radiating his usual composed, otherworldly aura—until he sees the scene before him and sighs. His halo flickers slightly, as if even it is tired.

“Another morning of senseless conflict,” he mutters. “Truly, the cycle of strife knows no end.”

You blink at him. “It’s literally just March annoying Dan Heng again.”

“Yes,” he agrees, “but is this not a reflection of our broader struggles? A reminder that conflict is inherent even in our found families?”

There’s a moment of silence before Trailblazer suddenly emerges from inside a supply cabinet, looking completely unbothered despite the fact that they were very much not supposed to be in there.

“Good morning,” they greet, as if they weren’t just casually hiding in a cupboard like a cryptid.

Welt, who just arrived, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why were you in there?”

“Dunno. Seemed like a good place to take a nap.”

“I—” Welt visibly restrains himself from asking more questions. “You know what? No. I don’t want to know.”

You give Trailblazer a look. “You’re an enigma.”

They smirk. “I try.”

Himeko enters with a steaming cup of coffee, looking far too elegant for someone who has to deal with this daily nonsense. “I see everyone’s already in top form this morning.”

Dan Heng sighs, still eyeing March with suspicion. “If by ‘top form,’ you mean ‘already causing unnecessary chaos,’ then yes.”

Sunday hums, thoughtful. “Perhaps the chaos itself is what keeps us together. Without it, would we still be the same?”

“…No offense,” you say, “but do you ever just say things without making them sound like the intro to an existential crisis?”

Sunday’s eyes glimmer with amusement. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Trailblazer leans over to you. “I think that’s his way of saying no.”

March, still holding her camera hostage, grins. “C’mon, guys, let’s take a group picture! This moment is totally capture-worthy!”

Dan Heng deadpans. “So you can delete photos.”

March winks. “Not happening.”

As Welt sighs, Himeko sips her coffee, Trailblazer plots their next act of mischief, and Sunday ponders the metaphysics of chaos, you realize something:

Maybe the Astral Express is absolute nonsense.

But hey, at least it’s your nonsense.

And that makes all the difference.

[maybejj]

INTRODUCING TWD!OBX AU…

pairing: rafe x maybank!sister!reader

summary: the world as we knew it ended nine months ago. now the dead walk the earth and the living are barely scraping by. but for the maybank siblings? this wasn’t anything new. they were use to living with the bare minimum before the apocalypse started. being on high alert, having no power, no food, no water, was just another tuesday for them. so when shit hits the fan, the maybanks are ready. and they are not going down without a fight. especially when they find out luke is alive and helping ward cameron.

warnings: secret relationship, forbidden relationship, violence, swearing, parental abuse, drugs, murder, kidnapping, alcohol, pregnancy/miscarriages, weapons/knifes/guns literally anything that happens in the walking dead could happen here! it will be dark, it’s the apocalypse 🤷🏼‍♀️ pogues are 19/20, rafe is 22

figure 8… is a gated community with over 100 people. the walls are 12 feet high and guarded constantly. one way in, one way out. the community is led by ward cameron who has an army and an endless supply of weapons. figure 8 promises you food, housing, clothes, and has the only doctor left on the island. it’s paradise on earth.

rafe cameron who… use to admire and look up to his dad, wanting to be just like him. who was forced to get sober once the dead started walking. who nearly got torn apart by the walkers because his dad tripped him so he could get away. who makes the hard decisions when no one else in the group will. who swears he’s taking sarah and leaving the pogues once he gets wheezie back. who swears he doesn’t give a shit about the pogues but everytime maybank!sister!reader leaves camp he paces until she’s back. who tries not to glance at maybank!sister!reader but fails. who always makes sure his sleeping bag is close to maybank!sister!reader’s and sarah’s.

maybank!sister!reader who… grew up with luke maybank so every day felt like the end of the world. who puts herself first because her dad never did. who is strong and independent. who knows how to stitch wounds because of her dad. who use to laugh when jj did something reckless but now gets pissed off because the stakes are too high. who is best friends with cleo. who once got separated from the group for 6 days days because she was hunting a deer and ran into a herd of walkers so she had to take cover in a tree. who secretly likes when she catches rafe looking at her.

jj maybank who… is the oldest by 2 minutes and will never let maybank!sister!reader forget it. who protects his loved ones with everything he has. who was locked inside the hallway closet the day the apocalypse started because luke was tired of hearing his smart mouth. who fought his way out once he heard his sister screaming for help. who dragged his sister away from their house once it was overrun with walkers. who is always up for a challenge. who always volunteers himself to go out on dangerous runs so no one else has to. who goes fishing for the group every chance he gets so he can be close to the water again. who felt like a piece of him was missing when they couldn’t find maybank!sister!reader for those 6 days.

sarah cameron who… left her family a year before the outbreak happened to be with john b. who tried to go back to save wheezie but ended up leaving with rafe instead. who secretly is grateful for the apocalypse because it changed her relationship with rafe for the better. who nearly got kidnapped by her father when he used topper as a distraction. who tries to keep the spirits up around camp. who had a pregnancy scare and only told maybank!sister!reader.

kiara carrera who… had to watch as her dad was ripped to shreds and her mom screamed beside her. who took refuge on figure 8 with her mom for the first month but had to escape after seeing ward torture shoupe for going against his orders. who grows a little garden in the backyard of the pogues shack. who tries to keep the group calm and rational. who misses her mom but refuses to go back to figure 8.

pope heyward who… got separated from his parents while hiding out at the family store the first week of the dead walking. who doesn’t know if his parents made it out when the store got ambushed by ward cameron. who comes up with the rations and how to make supplies last. who drew a map of the town in an old notebook and crosses off every place that the pogues clear. who comes up with their watch schedule. who takes inventory of all their weapons and ammo. who always makes sure his watch shift matches cleo’s.

cleo anderson who… had just moved to outer banks weeks before the apocalypse happened. who met maybank!sister!reader by running into her at an urgent care. who loves scavenging for new supplies and hunting down their next meal. who is always looking for new knifes to try out on the walkers. who finally feels like she has a home. who smirks when rafe asks her where maybank!sister!reader went and why no one went with her. who finds her watch shift boring when she doesn’t have pope or maybank!sister!reader to entertain her.

john b routledge who… watched ward push his dad off a cliff into a herd of walkers 2 months into the apocalypse. who went completely catatonic for weeks afterwards until sarah almost getting kidnapped snapped him out of it. who organizes every run and leads them. who has been fixing the HMS pogue for months with no luck. who swears he’ll get revenge on ward cameron.

now accepting blurbs/headcanons/one shots/requests for this au!

tagging people that were interested 🫶🏻: @haz3lee @rafesbabygirlx @papercranesandinkstains @soangelbaby @oliveorc8 @rafecameronstrash @helovesnora

[frudoo]

hiii sorry ik u write slasher!141 so maybe this could be some random version of that but what if reader is craving physical touch and simon is *refusing* to give it to her and being super mean so she goes to johnny crying and he satisfies her needs and comforts her ?🎀

only if you feel comfortable writing !! 💗🎀

Once again I am SO SORRY it’s taken me so long to get to your ask!!!

This kinda turned into more of a Simon-heavy fic than I thought, I hope that’s okay :(( on this blog, SIMON RILEY GETS A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!!

Hope this holds y’all over while I’m working on the second part of this 🤞

Warnings: Mentions of murder. Mentions of depression (one use of ‘kys’). Hurt/comfort. Entire series is a dark!fic—MDNI.

Sometimes, Simon gets in a foul mood.

Today, it was a victim that got him all twisted up. Slippery little bitch, always managing to weasel her way out of his usually iron-tight grip and immobilize him just long enough to go into hiding. When he finally took a bludgeon to her knees so that she couldn’t run anymore, she resorted to scratching, and when he ripped off her nails, it turned into harsh words. Typically he’s able to drown their bullshit out, but this harlot was absolutely brutal.

Gotta kill bitches because you can’t get any pussy?

Fucking ugly bastard, you remind me of my uncle’s dead dog.

Why don’t you spare your victims and kill yourself instead?

Needless to say, her death was quick and well-deserved. Still, her words got to him. All the depression he’s tried to fight off for most of his sorry life came back roaring like a forest fire. He came barreling inside the house and upon seeing his bad mood, you attempted to hug him.

He shoved you off.

Simon, your sweet baby boy who always makes sure to give you a lingering kiss each morning, night, and every hour in between; the man who pulls you into the shower every chance he gets just so he can take the time to ask about your day while he carefully washes your hair; the one who brutalizes anyone who dares look at you the wrong way—Simon Riley shoved you off. You fell to the ground and all he did was step over you, storming up the stairs to his room. Kyle was first to get off of the couch and run after him. John pressed a short, apologetic kiss to your forehead then followed the younger man. You heard the lock click and then you were alone.

The tears come before you can fight them off. Not once has Simon ever treated you like this. Even when you beg, the man refuses to do anything remotely kinky in the bedroom if it involves you being brought momentary pain. The sudden change in his behavior is jarring, to say the least. You don’t even bother to pull yourself up, curling into a sad little ball on the ground and sobbing.

“Bon’, did ye see wha’s wrong wit’ Simon? Saw ‘im stompin’ in an’- bleedin’ ‘ell, hen, are ye okey?” Johnny bursts through the door covered in dirt and sweat—he had been in the garden pulling weeds for you and must have seen Simon’s demeanor before he went in the house—immediately falling to his knees when he sees the state you’re in.

“He- I- he’s never-” you ramble through tears, unable to look your beloved Scotsman in the eyes even as he lifts you into his arms.

“Och, it’s alreit, lass, le’s ge’ ye tae bed,” Johnny coos, carrying you up the stairs and into his own bedroom.

Johnny cautiously pulls the covers back and lays you down, making sure you’re comfortable. The contrast of his gentleness and Simon’s indifference makes your chest tighten painfully. It hurts being treated so poorly, especially by someone who swore he would never cause you any harm. It makes you feel icky, wrong.

“Talk tae me, hen,” Johnny insists as he strips off his dirty clothes, stealing a glance at you every so often.

When you shake your head, he frowns, flipping his shirt inside out to rub the grime off of his face. He decides he’s clean enough to get under the covers with you, pulling you close and rubbing random circles all over your skin. Johnny’s always been such a reverent lover. In every graze of his fingertips, every touch that causes a shiver throughout your body, you can feel his devotion.

“Please?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your nose, then the corner of your mouth.

“Simon pushed me,” you mumble, suddenly feeling embarrassed by this entire ordeal.

“Oh, bonnie girl,” he coos, pulling back to look at you. “Ah ken he can be a reit arse.”

“I just wanted to hug him because he seemed sad, b-but he just… he pushed me down. He’s never done that before,” you sniffle, tears gathering in your waterline for the umpteenth time.

“M’sorry, hen, ye didnae deserve tha’. Simon jus’... well, sometimes he lets ‘is brain ge’ the best o’im. Doesnae ‘appen tae often bu’ when it does, changes ‘im,” Johnny explains, cupping your face in his big hands.

“I just wanna sleep it off,” you sigh sadly.

“Ah promise, when ye wake up, it’ll all be back tae normal,” Johnny carefully tucks your face into the crook of his neck and wraps an arm around your soft waist.

It takes no time for you to fall asleep in his arms, your soft snores making him smile to himself. Your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip puckers out when he presses dozens of kisses to your face. Johnny cracks his neck and settles his body in, about to join you in your nap, when there’s a soft knock at his door. He lifts his head slightly, one eye open to look at whoever just walked in.

“Is she asleep?” Simon asks gruffly, looking undone.

“Aye,” Johnny responds quietly.

“Can- can I come in and ‘old her?”

Johnny’s heart breaks all over again at the tone in his lover’s voice. He waves Simon over, shuffling further in the bed to make room. He adjusts you on his chest as the blond settles in next to him so he could be by the both of you. One huge, scarred hand rests on the small of your back right below the Scot’s.

“Ye feelin’ better?” Johnny questions in a murmur, his free hand wrapping around the back of Simon’s head to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Simon nods but doesn’t elaborate any further. His gaze is focused on your peaceful face and his chest tightens at the knowledge that he hurt you. Johnny doesn’t allow him to spiral, pulling him down into a slow, tender kiss.

“She’s alreit, ye ken,” he whispers against the older man’s lips. “Kno’s ye didnae mean it.”

“I feel awful,” Simon frowns, nuzzling his crooked nose against Johnny’s jaw. “Too good f’me, all o’ya.”

“Si?” Your small, croaky voice startles both men.

“Here, sweet girl,” he responds instantly.

You yawn as he cups one cheek in his palm, leaning into his touch without hesitation.

“Missed you,” you mutter, opening your eyes just long enough to look at him with a lazy smile.

His heart skips a beat, and tears flood his eyes. He leans forward to press his lips to your temple, resting his head on the opposite side of Johnny’s chest to face you. The younger man grins as he gently massages both you and Simon’s shoulders, happy that both of his loves are finally at peace.

“Missed ya, too,” Simon sniffles, intertwining your fingers with his.

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part VIII

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV Trespassing (companion piece) Part V Part VI Slowly We Unfurl (companion piece) Hold on to the Thread (companion piece) But I'll Always Remember (pre-WEA companion piece)

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist GirlDad!Pope Baby AU Masterlist

General Synopsis: Pope's acting up and Hawk is acting out. Word Count: 4.3k Content Warning: typical animal kingdom warnings AN: It's been a hot minute since my last update on this fic. I've been stuck in the baby au because this timeline is the bad place and I have been avoiding it like the plague lmao. As always, thank you to everyone who has reached out in some way or another about this fic and the baby au! please comment & reblog :)

“I don’t care what you have to do, Smurf, but you need to fucking fix this!” Pope demanded through gritted teeth at Smurf, inches from her face, as he held her against the kitchen counter. “Whatever bullshit that caused this, it gets fixed or so help me-”

“So help you what, Andrew?” Smurf sneered. “You watch how you speak to me. You are still my son,” Pope pushed his nose into hers, making Smurf take a step back. “And you forget just what I am trying to hold together here.”

“Three people almost got murdered last night -all for shit that happened twenty years ago that you tried to sweep under the rug. Fix. It.” He spat through gritted teeth. 

“I uh, god this is embarrassing.” Hawk started her false tale of how she got the wounds that covered her from head to toe. 

“You want to tell me what happened?” The doctor at the urgent care Hawk went to the next morning prodded at her brutally bruised rib cage. He kept glancing up at her, trying to gauge the situation as he assessed the extent of her injuries. 

“Got in a fight at a bar last night. I was sober, mind you, and I still lost,” Hawk winced when he poked at a particularly tender spot. 

“You sure did,” He said offhandedly. “You definitely have some fractures here, but we’ll need to take some X-rays to see what we’re working with exactly. And as far as the bruising on your face goes, that should settle down in the next couple of weeks.” He snapped his gloves off, tossing them in the bin before sitting on the rolling stool and sliding it closer to her. “And the nose should heal as is, too. Just try not to jostle it. Or get into anymore bar fights. 

“Believe me, I won’t be stepping foot in a bar again so long as I live.” Hawk could tell he didn’t fully believe her. She wouldn’t believe her, and he probably saw cases of DV coming in and out of here all the time, so when he asked his follow-up question, she wasn’t surprised. 

“I know the nurse asked you this before I came in, but are you safe at home?” 

“Yeah, I’m single and live alone.” She lied. “This isn’t domestic, just the consequences of some bad choices that I’ve definitely learned my lesson from.” 

Hawk was sent on her way after some X-rays that showed four fractured ribs. Nothing was chipped or floating, so that was good, but she was still in a world of pain so the doctor gave her a prescription for some painkillers and a pamphlet about resources for domestic abuse. She took both without a comment, other than a polite ‘thank you’.

Pope was waiting for her diligently outside, fingers tapping on the wheel anxiously, wishing he could be inside with Hawk, but knew the cops would be called expeditiously before he was given a chance to defend himself. Still, it irked him. 

He pulled up to the curb when he saw Hawk walk out of the automatic doors and got out of the SUV to help her get in. Pope opened the passenger door and was about to put his hand on her waist to stabilize her, but Hawk held a hand up to stop him. 

“I got it,” She snapped. It wasn’t his fault, not really, but she had so much pent up bullshit that any little thing was going to set her off. 

“Alright,” Pope breathed out, his hands waiting to catch her if she stumbled. It took her a minute or two, but Hawk got herself situated enough for him to gently close the door. He stared at her from the outside for a moment, watching as she attempted to put her seatbelt on before the belt slipped from her hands and clanged against the door from the inside. Hawk closed her eyes in frustration before trying again, then she sighed and sat back. 

Pope circled around the front of the car, anxiety still gnawing at him. He tried not to take Hawk’s response to him personally, but it was very hard not to -especially when he just wanted to help. He swallowed thickly when he got settled in the driver’s seat, looking over tomahawk, but she kept her eyes closed. 

“I love you.” Pope spoke softly, begging Hawk to open her eyes and look at him. Her hands were clenched into fists on her lap and he saw her nod just as tears broke free from under her lashes. 

Hawk wasn’t cut out for this life, not as a kid and definitely not as an adult. The inherent violence that surrounded the Cody family was part of the reason why she kept herself at a distance for so long, why she didn’t want to know anything about what they did. But now that she had Pope, there was bound to be some overlapping -she just never guessed that this is what it would result in. 

Pope never felt as selfish as he did in that moment, watching Hawk’s inevitable breakdown in the car and still wanting to hold onto her for as long as she’d let him. Hawk swallowed a sob, nodding almost frantically in acknowledgment. Her eyes still hadn’t opened but she unclenched her left fist and held her hand between them as an offering to Pope to show she wasn’t mad at him, just at the situation as a whole. 

“I love you, too, Pope.” Hawk whispered, finally opening her eyes to look at him. Pope placed his hand in hers, squeezing it to keep her grounded, as he pulled out of the parking lot. A heaviness settled between them on the ride home, neither knowing what to say, just that something needed to be said. 

It took until Pope pulled into their driveway before Hawk spoke up. 

“He would’ve killed her if she was there.” Pope glanced over to her as she huddled herself against the door, finding comfort in the solidity of the door against her back. “I don’t know what Smurf did to him, but the hatred he had, Andy…you don’t feel that without getting burned by someone. And as much as I hate to say it because she’s your mother, J and I both got burned by her because of this. I’m beyond angry. I’m beyond hurt. I’m never forgiving Smurf for this.” 

“You shouldn’t. What happened to you and J…” 

“I am.” She stressed. “Smurf can’t keep getting away with this, Andy. How many more people does she need to hurt? How many of us need to die before she gets put down?”

“We’ll deal with Javi, and then we’ll deal with Smurf. They’ll both pay for this, I promise you.” 

“I know you want to go after him. Believe me, I want that piece of shit and his cronies dead, but I can’t lose you if this goes sideways, Pope. Lena can’t lose you.” 

“J wants to go after them.”

“He can’t. You need to make sure he doesn’t.” Pope nodded slowly. “This is Smurf’s bullshit that she started. She deals with it or they deal with her. Either way, I never want to so much as look at her again, Pope. I mean it. I won’t hold myself back.” 

“You don’t gotta tell me twice.”

“Javi’ll get what’s coming to him, I know that much, but I’m not stupid enough to go back to prison on murder charges. Not when I have you and Lena to think about.”

Hawk spent the next week locked inside the house. She explained the situation to Jane, not the whole story, but enough to let her know she wasn’t going to be in the shop for the next week or two. She’d have Pope stop by if she needed anything, but Hawk was going to lay low for the time being. 

Pope had been distancing himself mentally from Hawk since the incident with Javi and she couldn’t put her finger on why exactly. He took care of her, nursing her back to health for the first two weeks until she was able to go back to work on light duty. He kept Lena out of the house at Hawk’s request for that first week -Hawk didn’t want to freak the poor girl out with how she looked, so Pope took Lena out and about, but she always ended up back at Baz’s. 

“You can’t hide from her forever.” Pope was becoming irritable with the fact that he had to keep Lena from the house. Did Auntie Hawk leave like mommy? Nearly threw Pope headfirst into the mental spiral he was trying to avoid. “She’s worried about you. She misses you.”

“I know,” Hawk sighed. The bruising had gone down and she was just dealing with soreness in her healing ribs and the remnants of a scab that was giving way to a scar on her upper lip that glared at her every time she had the courage to look at herself in the mirror. “I’m just…I’m struggling.” Hawk’s voice broke. “Mentally, I’m still under the water, fighting my way up but I don’t know where up is.” Pope tilted Hawk’s face up to look at him. His eyes were troubled and his shoulders sagged like he carried the weight of the world on them. 

“It’s handled.” Pope reassured Hawk, his thumbs ghosting over her cheeks affectionately. “He’s gone.”

“Doesn't make this any easier to deal with.” He nodded. 

Pope was sleeping less and staying out until all hours of the night. Hawk was usually awake when he crawled into bed with her, kept awake by nightmares of being held under, the phantom sloshing of water shooting her straight up in the bed when she did close her eyes. She never let on that she was awake, that she didn’t contemplate why he was out and where he was going just so she wouldn’t fall asleep again. 

Pope’s thumbs moved to the circles that weighed her under eyes down. Both of them were hanging on by a thread, each of them attached to one fraying end and eventually, one would drop. 

“Bring her tonight.” Hawk nuzzled her cheek against Pope’s palm. “She’s probably losing her mind with Baz.” 

Recovery was slow, but Hawk seemed to push through the worst of it. Lena was back at the house for most of the time now, and everything seemed to settle back into the way it was before the Javi debacle.

As promised, Hawk did not see or speak to Smurf. Her number was blocked and she didn’t answer the door anytime she stopped by. Hawk wasn’t sure what Pope told Smurf the last time she tried to brush her way past him into the house, but Smurf didn’t try coming over again. 

Tonight, Hawk had the house to herself. Lena was with Baz and Pope had been MIA for the better part of ten hours. To say she was on edge was putting it lightly. Pope started getting up earlier than he usually did and was gone by the time Hawk even cracked her eyes open. He didn’t answer her calls, and would respond with one or two words when she texted him, so she knew he was alive. 

Hawk’s nails were chewed down to the quick. They were sore, but that didn’t stop her from continuously gnawing on them nervously before she yanked them away, shaking her hands in irritation. 

It had been a week of this and Hawk was absolutely sick of it. Sick of the silence. Sick of the secrecy. Sick of not knowing. He’d usually turn up at two or three in the morning without a single word, would undress, then crawl into bed for a few hours before he’d get up and do it all over again. 

Something was very wrong with Pope. 

Hawk was startled awake by her ringtone as it blasted next to her ear. She was sprawled out on the sofa, her hand holding her cell near her face where she had fallen asleep. She sat up, rubbing her squinting eyes as she looked at the right screen before answering. 

“What?” Hawk sighed into the phone. 

“Is Pope with you?” Baz’s voice sounded front the other end. Hawk rolled her eyes as she stood from the sofa to go grab something to drink from the kitchen. 

“No he’s not, but if you hear from him, tell him he can stay at Smurf’s tonight.” She hung up the phone, eyeing a bottle of wine in the wine chiller before ultimately going for a glass of water. If Pope did drinks his way home that night, the last thing Hawk needed to be was drunk. 

For the second time that night, Hawk was awoken by a phone call. Her arm swung to the other side of the bed and was met with cold, undisturbed blankets. 

“Hawk?” J’s voice shouted over what sounded like a party. “Hawk, can you hear me?”

“J? Where the hell are you?” She pulled her phone away from her face and saw that it was nearing one in the morning. 

“Smurf’s! Listen, I have no idea where Baz is and Lena’s here-” at the mention of Lena, Hawk was up and moving through the house to the front door to grab her keys, her purse, and slip on a pair of shoes. Her pajamas left little to the imagination, but that was the last thing on her mind. 

“What do you mean Lena’s there? What the hell is going on, J? Is there a party at the house? Is Pope there?” Hawk knew the odds were probably that he was not, if the noise on J’s end was any indication, but she still hadn’t heard from him. 

“Baz threw a party. I don’t know why, but now he’s missing and Lena had a little accident. She’s fine!” He stressed. “Can you please come get her, though? I’d drive her to your place, but I’ve already been drinking and I think I’m the most sober person here which is troubling.” Hawk did not doubt that. 

“Yeah,” She sighed, trying to push away the headache that was already brewing as she locked her front door. “I’m on my way now. Keep her away from any crazy shit, please?” Hawk hung up and stared down at her phone. She still hadn’t gotten a response to any of the texts or calls she sent him since his last text at 1:47 that afternoon and it was worrying her more than she cared to admit. 

Hawk got angrier and angrier the further she got into Smurf’s house. The house had been turned into a palace of debauchery and every sweaty, inebriated body that bumped into her was one more inch she was pushed to losing it on the next person who touched her. 

“J!” Hawk shouted when she saw him passing through the kitchen back outside with Lena in tow, but her voice wasn’t loud enough to reach him before he was gone in the crowd. 

“Hawk?” She spun around to see Deran looking at her like she was a goddamn unicorn. “What are you doing here?”

“What the hell is this, Deran?” He winced at her tone, but tried to shove his beer into her hand. Hawk gently pushed it away. Her relationship with Deran wasn’t as cut and dry as it was with Baz, or even with Craig. Deran was jaded in a way only the youngest sibling could be, and while he had his hang ups, they generally got along -especially now that he had also cut (most) ties with Smurf to branch out and do his own thing. Now that he was a business owner, they now had one major thing in common. They weren’t close by any means, but they understood each other in a way that Baz and Craig didn’t. 

“Baz threw a party,” He said with a shrug, bringing the bottle back up to his lips. “If you're looking for Pope, he’s not here.”

“Lena’s here.” Hawk stated, anger brushing her expression. “Where’s Baz?” 

“He’s around here somewhere,” Deran did a glance around. 

“And Smurf?” He shrugged again. 

“Out of town. Didn’t say why, but Baz took it upon himself to do this. Stay for a while. Have a drink. Relax,” Deran drew out the last word before patting her on the shoulder. 

“I gotta get the kid out of here, Deran.” Hawk brushed past the youngest Cody brother, irritation permeating off of her. Moans caught Hawk’s attention and her head snapped to the left. Her feet took her down the hall and stopped in the doorway to the den. She couldn’t count how many naked bodies were gyrating and thrusting, moaning and screaming as the orgy before her very eyes took place. 

Hawk needed to grab Lena and get out now. She pushed her way out to the backyard, the sounds of screams and splashing water made her spine go rigid and her pulse quicken. Hawk’s breathing came out sporadically and she twitched every time someone jumped into the pool. 

Hawk pulled out her phone and called J as she continued to push past drunk party goers, praying he could feel or hear his phone in this mess. Something that sounded like ceramic shattered from inside the kitchen and Hawk closed her eyes, counting to five before heading outside before she started knocking heads together. 

“Hey!” J answered. 

“I’m in the backyard. Where are you? Is Lena alright?” 

“We’re in the driveway. She’s got a few scrapes, but she’s fine.” Hawk didn’t answer him as she stormed through the side gate and jogged back to the front of the house. 

Get to the driveway

Get to the driveway

Get to the driveway

Nicky and Lena were sitting on the brick wall that lined the driveway while J was checking out the scrapes on Lena’s leg. 

“Lena,” Hawk called out, her hands shaking as she reached for the young girl. Lena hopped down to the ground and sprinted towards Hawk. She wrapped her hands around Hawk’s hips and buried her face in her stomach. “Are you alright?” Lena looked up at Hawk as she brushed Lena’s hair out of her face with her fingers. 

“He tackled me,” Hawk’s eyes widened. 

“Who tackled you?”

“The man,” Hawk looked at J with fire dancing in her eyes. 

“What is she talking about, J?” 

“There was a car.” Lena answered before J could. “A man tackled me so I wouldn’t get hit.” Every single one of the adults in this house was going to be in for a very rude awakening when this all cleared up. 

“I’m just very happy you’re okay, sweetpea.” Hawk kissed the top of Lena’s head, holding to her stomach as Lena’s grip tightened around her.. 

“Why is she here?” J winced at the tone. “And where the fuck is Baz?”

“I don’t know, but Pope is on his way. I told him you were coming for Lena, but he said to stay here until he got back.” Hawk bristled at the mention of Pope. J saw the pinched look on Hawk’s face and knew she was beyond pissed. Her presence sobered him up instantly and he made the wise choice to be helpful instead of a hindrance. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll make sure a room’s clear for her and she can lay down, alright?” Hawk took a deep breath, looking between him and a guilty looking Nicky, before nodding. 

Hawk sat at the edge of the spare bed as Lena slept. How the kid slept soundly through the chaos outside of the door was beyond her, but it was best she wasn’t awake for the reckoning her father was going to get if he showed back up. 

The door burst open and Pope came through like a raging bull, making Hawk jump up in reaction. 

“Is she alright?” He kept his voice low, as if that would be the thing to wake her up. Hawk nodded. “Stay in here.” She didn’t question it, just nodded once more. Within moments, Hawk heard people stampeding through the house and when it finally quieted down, she stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

The house was completely trashed. Food and alcohol covered every surface, anything breakable was broken, and it looked like a bomb had gone off in inside. Smurf was going to have every single one of their asses when she came back. 

Hawk wandered out to the backyard with purpose. She came across Baz as he was coming through the open gate that led to the pool area before Pope did and she laid into him without a second thought. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Pope appeared behind Hawk and grabbed her arm before she threw herself into a full falcon punch at Baz. She wasn’t the type to get physically violent, but he didn’t trust what her body language was saying at that current moment to put it past her.

“Coming in hot, Hawk.” Baz put his hands up, taking a step back.

“You left Lena by herself in the middle of all this shit?” Pope asked, looking around at the destruction left in the party’s wake.

“She was not by herself,” Baz motioned to J and Nicky. J shook his head, silently warning Baz. 

“Where were you?” Pope demanded, shotgun hanging in his free hand. 

“I was out looking for you.” Baz pointed to Pope. 

“Lena almost got hit by a fucking car, Baz! She’s scraped up and it could’ve been so much worse! What if someone tried to hurt her? There were a hundred people here, all of them strangers to her. There was an orgy in the den! What kind of fucked up Father of the Year award are you trying to go for here?” Hawk spat at him.

“Save it, Hawk. I don’t need parenting advice from you of all people.” Hawk huffed out a laugh, and Pope tightened his hold on her. 

“I’ve only raised kids whose parents couldn’t do their fucking job to begin with, Baz, yours included in case you’re forgetting that bit. I know a thing or two about the right and wrong way to do this. She had no business being here.” 

“Enough! I don’t need to listen to this shit from you, alright?” Baz raised his voice, trying to intimidate her into backing down -just like he used to do with Cath when he didn't want to talk about things. But what Baz failed to realize was that Hawk wasn't Cath, and she backed down from no one -Baz least of all. 

“Then be a fucking father, Berry.” Hawk ground out. Everyone that remained at the house watched the back and forth that finally came to a head between the two. “These are the traumatic memories that’ll be seared into her brain for the rest of her life. You don’t get a do over when you realize how much you’ve damaged your kid!”

“Are you speaking from experience with your star pupil over there?” He nodded to J, who narrowed his eyes at Baz. Nicky put her hand on his arm to stop him from advancing and making the situation worse. 

“No, Baz, I’m not. I can say, without a shred of a fucking doubt, that I did a stellar job raising J because I was present. I didn't drop him off to go run off with my boyfriends, or mistresses in your case. The absolute disrespect you have for your own fucking child for bringing her," Hawk pointed directly at Lucy, who was standing back from the group, watching intently with her arms crossed over her chest. "-around while Lena still cries herself to sleep wishing her mom was still here. It’s you and Smurf who’ve undone a decade and a half of work that I’ve put in, so let's not get that fucking twisted.” Hawk was fuming, seething, as she let out every bit of frustration she had been feeling. The look Baz gave her was lethal, deadly, and she knew that he knew she was right.

“Pope fall into that category? If I remember right, he’s the one who got J tied up in all of this so I hope you’re holding him to the same standard as the rest of us.” Hawk wanted to wipe the smug look right off of his face, and if Pope wasn't holding her back, she would've.

“Don’t go there, Baz.” J spoke up, keeping his anger in check. Hawk pulled her arm away from Pope’s hold.

"Enough." Pope's voice boomed with authority. He brought his attention back to Baz. "Where's Smurf?"

“Smurf’s in jail.” Baz finally admitted. Everyone stared at him like he just grew three heads. 

“What?” Pope questioned, not believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah, jail.” Baz repeated it like he couldn’t believe his own words. 

“I’m taking Lena for the night.” Hawk said, not leaving any room for argument from Baz. “Pick her up when you’ve figured your shit out.” With that, she stormed back into the house. J ushered Nicky to follow her and she did without question.

please comment & reblog :)

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.˚𓆝ℋℴ𝓂ℯ𝒸ℴ𝓂𝒾��𝑔 𓆉

Finnick Odair x Victor!Reader

You come home to District 4 after winning the Hunger Games more than a little damaged. Luckily, when you reunite with Finnick, he knows just what you’re going through— and knows just how to comfort you.

The victor of the 68th annual hunger games. Your face plastered on capitol billboards. Your name on every Capitolite’s unusually plastic-surgered lips. Your eyelids engraved with the faces of all the tributes— all the children— you killed to get your head above the water.

You hold it together on the train ride home. Zipping across the barren desert twixt the Capitol and the shoreline of District 4, you picked at your newly manicured nails (they wouldn’t let a victor go on for her post-game interview with dried blood on her hands,) and tried not to recount the events of the past week.

You were only sixteen. Still a kid, though you weren’t sure you could ever go back and find the youth in you that there once was.

At the train station, your mother welcomed you home with wide open arms and wet cheeks. Her fishhook bitten fingertips traced your features, laughing with relief. Once you were securely wrapped up in her embrace, she muttered her pride in you— you definitely didn’t feel proud. When you stooped to your knees to scoop your little brother into your own arms, you certainly didn’t feel like the rock his eyes mirrored when he looked at you.

There was a small crowd, mostly people from your hometown— you held a strained smile. Searching for one face in particular.

He wasn’t there, your sweetheart.

When you moved into the victors village, the windows of his house on the coastal lane were dimmed. For days, actually. You worked up the guts to ask your mother where he’d gone, she shrugged.

“He left a few days before all the publicity,” your mother hummed, her eyes on the rag she dragged across the new kitchen counter. It wasn’t as cozy as your old home, a quaint cabin further north on the shore. There, sand was perpetually scattered across the floorboards, and wind chimes twinkled on the porch. You hadn’t had a chance to put up those chimes yet, on your new and only technically improved porch.

But you supposed the house was nice enough— it smelled of the same sea-salt, and it was large enough that you didn’t have to share a room with your brother. Still, you asked him to lay in bed with you most nights since you got home— he was one of those kids who couldn’t shut up. Maybe that used to annoy you; now, you let him rattle into the latest hours of the night, just grateful to have his little back rising and falling under your palm as he laid on his belly. Girolamo made surviving the games feel a little more meaningful. You’d clawed your way through for him, for your mother, for Finnick.

You were almost frustrated with Finnick, though conjuring up the image of the sun-kissed blonde tended to soothe your nerves. You made him promise to take care of your mother and Giro if you didn’t make it out— and you were sure you wouldn’t. And yet, where was he? What if you hadn’t won the games? Where would your family be?

All the bitter questioning was dispelled when one night, the lights in the soft-blue paneled house across the lane clicked on. You resisted the feeling to go and knock at his door, pound your open palm until he had to let you in. You thought you were allowed to be a little desperate, seeing as you just survived a government-run murder-machine.

But you didn’t. No, you tucked your knees to your chest, and stared out the window as if waiting for Finnick to come outside, wave his hands and jump up and down on the front steps. Eventually the lights clicked off again. He always was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise type of boy.

The next morning, you stepped barefoot through the sun-warmed sand downhill from your new house, a rolled beach towel tucked under your armpit and a small cooler in your other hand. You watch Girolamo as he sprints to the shore, his tan and wiry back gaining some distance on you. With a nervous bite out of your inner cheek you keep your eyes on him.

Even as you’re laying the towel down, tucking the corners under the sand against the whipping sea breeze, you think of Finnick. Where could he possibly be for two weeks? Why hadn’t you heard even a whisper from him, much less a letter?

You’re settling down on the rough, colorful material that felt nothing like the smooth, handwoven mat your mother had to trade to scrounge up some money (along with the rest of your hometown) to send you some fresh bread in the arena. To be fair, the pick-me-up paid off. Internally you hold yourself to weaving a new one later, but the promise is interrupted by a familiar voice calling out for you in a tone that makes you wonder if the boy it belonged to knew no other names besides yours.

Tossing your head over your shoulder and pushing yourself from your elbows onto your palms, your eyes settle on the source. Finnick. Your Finnick.

You’re practically scrambling to your feet, clawing at the sand around your towel to spring up. “Finnick!” You call back to him, wishing your voice wasn’t so raspy with desperation. Maybe he repeats your name, a songbird returning your notes in reply and recognition, but you can hardly hear over the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Finnick was bounding downhill, kicking up sand, casting a grainy veil between you and himself as it blew with the salt in the wind. He stumbles, and you almost find it in you to laugh at the notion that he’s falling over trying to get to you. Maybe it is silly, maybe you are just stupid teenagers sick with love. But it really just manifests in watery eyes as you run towards him with the same adrenaline that’s been blowing a whistle down your veins, nonstop since you’ve been reaped.

It’s not until you throw yourself at Finnick and he grabs you into his arms like you’re lighter than seafoam, that you remember this isn’t life or death.

Your fingers are pushing through his golden curls, his are smoothing over your dark tresses, his nose in your collar as he lifts you off the ground. A sound of surprise gets past your lips, but now you feel light enough that it delves into a real laugh.

“Sweetheart— baby— God, I knew you could do it,” Finnick praises as he finally lets your feet hit the sand, setting you down like you’re made of sea glass. His hands rove over your cheeks, your neck, shoulders, astonished laughter punctuating his words. “I knew you were strong, I knew you were.”

You know what he’s trying to say, yes, but God, you feel anything but strong. You don’t even realize tears were trickling down your cheeks until Finnick thumbs them away, and draws you back into his arms with a soft sound. A sob peals like a bell as it comes from your lips and directly into his shoulder. You clutch at his back, your fingertips threatening to tear into his loose navy shirt. His own hands, steadfast and fishhook-bitten, rub up and down your upper back.

“I know,” Finnick mutters, filling the silence and giving you something else to listen to besides your crying and the breaking waves. And, for the first time since you’ve been in District 4 since the games, you know it’s the truth. He does know. He’s one of the few who do.

“Finn,” you breathe, wiping your eyes on the fabric of his shirt. He hums as if he hears you, but you know he’s beckoning you to speak. He squeezes you tighter at the sound of your voice, smoothing over your hair again and looking out at your brother as he wades in the ocean to his knees. Looking out for him, as an extension of looking out for you. “Finn, it’s been terrible,” you manage to sob.

“I know, I know,” Finnick assures again. He wants to admit that it doesn’t get easier, not at all, but that’s not what you need to hear in the least.

“I can’t.. How do— D’you handle it? How?” You’re babbling, you know it. You sniffle, pulling away just enough to make eye contact with him. Oh, how you missed him. His eyes were even greener than you recalled, than you pictured at night in the games to soothe your jaunting nerves. The creases in his cheeks as his lips pulled taught, the light shock of hair on his forehead and the sunspots freckling his cheeks.. he was undeniable handsome. But it was more than this— he was your rock when the undertow came to drag, he was the saltwater lapping at your feet while you laid in the sun.

Finnick smatters kisses over your wet cheeks, your brow, your jaw, his hand holding you strong by the back of your head. You sniffle, but your hands squeeze his arms and the heaviness in your chest is lightened just a bit. “I don’t know.”

There’s a finality, in the way he presses forward for your lips. You sigh through your nose, which presses into his cheek as he kisses you like you’re all he’s been thinking of. It takes some effort for Finnick to part from you, he can’t resist a quick peck to the corner of your mouth as you wipe your eyes. “I don’t know, but misery loves company.”

You laugh bitterly, out of the unfairness of it all. Finnick slides his hand down your arm, clasping your hand and gently tugging you towards the towel you’d laid down. “C’mon.”

Maybe you could learn to handle it, you think, as you turn and the sea breeze gently brushes your hair behind your shoulders, some kind of welcome home.

The wind breathed and whistled past the shell of your ear, this and the rolling blue at your back would’ve been music enough even if Finnick wasn’t humming into the crown of your hair.

His hands are still woven tight with yours, though you’re certain he had fallen asleep for a bit somewhere in the two hours you’ve been sitting on your back porch. His fingers had become limp twixt your own, but at your slightest shift, squeezed as if you were going to slip through like sand.

You’d told him everything. It’s just slipped from you, water crashing down a cliff side, and you can’t take any of it back, whether your vulnerability has become embarrassing or not in hindsight.

Your tribute partner’s death. Your first kill. Real, evolutionary adrenaline that had made your head spin. The sound of a wrist bone crunching under your boot, of an ally crying when he thought you had fallen asleep (as if you could, in that arena.)

The bitterness had subsided, you’d been too relieved to just see Finnick to bring up anything prickly. Pouring your guts about the arena’s stain on you felt like enough of a damper on the reunion. But it still weighed heavily on you, balancing out the featherlight feeling of being back in his arms.

“Finn?” You find it in you to lift your face, prop your chin on his shoulder. You can feel the timbre of his acknowledging hum through his ribs. Steeling yourself, though you aren’t sure why, you mumble lamely, “Where were you?”

Finnick’s brows draw together and etch a small crease twixt them. “What?” His free hand moves from your shoulder to brush against a lock of your hair, but you shake your head to try and ward off the distraction.

“Where were you, when I came home? I heard you left while I was in the Capitol. Why?”

There’s something in the shift of his shoulder beneath you, in the brief flutter of his lashes, that tells you it’s not something you want to hear, nor something he wants to say. But he can’t deny you a thing, can he? He’s never been able to, not since you were children wading in the tide pools. Not now either, as he clears his throat and glances to the shoreline, as if the ocean could lend him a hand, for once, and sweep him out to open waters.

“I’m… Signed into an… agreement. With Snow.” Finnick speaks quietly, his eyes downcast with a kind of solemnity. He lifts his brows and you get the idea that he can’t believe it himself when he murmurs, “I couldn’t say no.”

Saying you weren’t curious, that you needed no explanation— it’d be a lie. You watch Finnick wave a splayed hand over his body in gesture, his lips pulling in an expression that cracks your heart and sends whistles down your nerves. “I, uh. To the highest bidder.”

He stops himself before his voice fails on its own, no sooner than it clicks together in your head. His body didn’t belong to him. Leaving an infinite and stretching silence that felt less like there was nothing to say, and more like leaving it unsaid was easier.

In a blink you see nothing but a little boy; with a sun-kissed face unmarred and green eyes shining from a type of fear that expels all hints of forced maturity you used to see. Just a little boy, shedding all the age the Capitol has shot into him.

You find space in the quiet to squeeze Finnicks hand. Neither of your grips loosen, not for a while, and not even when he could really use a free hand to brush away the saltwater rolling down his cheeks, because as long as you’re next to him he might as well have an extra free hand. You don’t let your own tears leave the barrier of your lash line.

“What a homecoming, huh?” Finnick mumbles after a long, long time spent in that blue. You aren’t sure how he finds it in him to smile at you.“What a homecoming,” you echo, hoping your agreement will make him happy.

You knew, deep inside, your home was changing. The ground was shifting under your bare feet and kicking up the once-sun-warm sand and doesn’t everybody know it’s silly to try and place each wind-blown grain back where it used to sit?

You couldn’t go back to before. The normalcy you were hoping might breathe warm on your skin again, it wouldn’t. You weren’t the girl you were before your name was plucked from that basket and you couldn’t consult her anymore. But you figure, maybe, this was your home anyway. This is what you have to come home to, and things could be worse, they’re already well down there, but Lord, atleast you have this.

You let Finnick dry the teardrop rushing down your face with a tender sweep of his thumb, a reminder that you aren’t crying alone.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐮𝐭, 𝐁𝐨𝐲, 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐔𝐩

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous ─ next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: After your stepmother's ahem accident, and now brimming with confidence, you decide it's about time to make Eddie whole again and lend him a hand in doing so, while Eddie regains new and old sensations along with some feelings. An excruciatingly heavy dose of jealousy, included. And you confirm that Eddie Munson is hot. Eddie is so very hot.

Chapter Warnings: he's not super stinky anymore but his feet still are, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing. oh yeah, and murder. again. so there will be descriptions of violence and blood but its a creep getting what's coming. includes references to SA which occurred in a previous chapter.

a/n: surprise, bitch. bet you thought you'd seen the last of me. anyways, got a new macbook so here we are. this chapter was a lot longer but i actually forgot to add crucial details for my plot, so, I'm going to split it into more chapters. hope you enjoy this one! and yes, we are pretending certain songs existed during the year this is set.

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“I mean—I haven’t stared at his hands or anything, he’s just got to be dexterous with all the books he handles. It’s perfect.” You’d decided on the next unwitting donor for Eddie. A suitable hand to replace the one he lost.

  Of course, with the hand meant there’d be another body to dispose of. You’d planned it out carefully and quickly. You only had about a week until Laura was due back from her conference, or whatever the fuck it was. Regardless, you knew she wouldn’t be making another appearance, alive that is. You were sure her photos would assault you on news channels when she was discovered missing and you were relatively fine with that. It’d be the last of your abusive step-mother you’d ever have to see. You really were finally free of her, and it surprised you how relieved that made you feel.

  From the moment she came into your life, she’d made it almost unbearable for you to exist in your own skin, in your own life—in any space or capacity. The months spent enduring her verbal, emotional and mental abuse had eventually made you grow used to it, not that it ever became tolerable or normal to you. You just…stopped realizing you weren’t yourself anymore; always hunched over, eyes staring at the ground, walking on eggshells every minute you weren’t locked in the safety of your room. You’d become meek, doing anything you could to seem small so she’d leave you alone. Always holding your breath.

  You could finally breathe.

  There was a bit of guilt present, only because you knew regardless of how horrible Laura was to you and how she’d been to Chrissy before your step-sister had graduated high school (she’d told you all about it when you’d first moved in), she was still Chrissy’s mother, and Chrissy would no doubt feel the loss.

  She’d get over it.

  Eddie slowly made his way into your bedroom after you, and you took the chance to really look him over. He certainly did look more lively. Still dead as fuck, but not so much a corpse rotting for years. Maybe just a few months.

  “I’ll see him tomorrow, so we’ve got to do it then.” You kicked off your boots, letting them land wherever they wanted as you padded over to your bathroom with Eddie trailing behind you. 

  The bathroom light flicked on and you quickly got to work, pulling out your makeup removing balm and skincare products. You got started, making sure your hair was out of your face before you were massaging products into your skin, “You know, my dad said this move would be a new start for us—really, I didn’t have a choice unless I wanted to be homeless—and I thought that was a huge load of crap.”

  You stopped the motion of rubbing the balm to pry your eyes open, blinking past the product coating your eyelashes as you stared at Eddie’s reflection in the mirror. He was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, staring intently at your reflection and not at all bothered with the state of your severe raccoon eyes, “I still think it’s crap. But maybe this happened for a reason, maybe I was meant to tend to your grave until lightning brought you back to life kinda. Maybe Laura only ever existed so she’d be around to give you another ear when you’d need it. I mean she always gave me an earful so, I think it’s poetic justice. Now, she’s the one who only has a singular ear. Ear-y, if you will.”

  You quickly rinsed off your face and patted it dry with a towel, pausing to contemplate.

  ”And she’s dead now, too, so it’s like you guys just traded places. Freaky Friday and all that—did you ever see that movie? Jodie Foster?”

  Eddie nodded his head.

  “Did you like it?”

  “Mm.” He shrugged, sticking his hand out and letting it teeter. 

  You pursed your lips as you applied your moisturizer, “I mean it’s got its moments, some real nice mother-daughter understanding but I thought it was just okay, too.” 

  You were expecting him to make some sort of zombie sound of acknowledgement, so when he remained silent, your eyes drifted once more to his reflection, finding him now staring intently at the shower curtain, fingers of his good (the other one wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t there) hand twisting it this way and that. The shower curtain was bright pink, holographic and shifted to reveal a bunch of kittens when angled correctly.

  Eddie looked perplexed and you had to bite your lip to keep your grin from taking up your entire face at such a blatant display of boyish ignorance.

  Slowly, as you watched Eddie continue to fuck around with the curtain, the grin twisted into a small frown. 

  Sure, Eddie looked a little rough around the edges, had apparently been in the drug dealing business while he’d been alive—but you couldn’t imagine someone wanting a guy fascinated with shower curtains designed for late 40 something year-old women with no taste (Laura had picked out the curtain), dead. 

  You wondered if they’d been behind his missing appendages, too. Glancing down at his wrist to take in the wound—bone still visible, a heavy feeling settled in your stomach, one similar to the feeling you’d get when you’d watch Carrie; see her smiling on that stage, overwhelmed with joy at finally feeling accepted, but you couldn’t be happy for her. As a reader and viewer, you knew about the bucket.

  With your night routine finished, you turned to face Eddie, clapping your hands twice to get his attention. He reminded you of a puppy the way his head tilted in confusion at you.

  “Back to my room.” You swept your arms out in front of you, gesturing for him to leave first and when Eddie stood up he tried to do the same thing, only his arms weren’t as loose as yours, so it just looked like he was doing the robot.

  You smiled, turning to walk out the doorway when you stopped short, eyes honing in on the dark, red stain on your carpet.

  Fuck, you had to clean the crime scene still. Panic filled your chest while your brain tried to recall your dad and Chrissy’s schedules for the day. Chrissy had said she’d be out with friends so she probably wouldn’t return until well past the time your father went to bed, and he’d probably be home by dinner time. Even if he did return early, he rarely—and by rarely you meant never—went into your room. Not to lecture you, not to say goodnight, not to check if you were still alive.

  You were in the clear.

  Moving to stand directly in front of the stain, your sock covered foot tapped rapidly as you fidgeted. There was no way you’d be able to get all that out, Laura had bled harder than you did when you sneezed on your period. You could soak up most of the blood, scrub out the rest but the stain would always be present, no hiding the dull red amongst the pink fibers. 

  But maybe…

  Your eyes trailed over to the rug placed deliberately under your bed. It was a piece you brought from your room back home, a nifty find from the estate sales you and your mother would frequent with a shared love for antiques and the unique.

  You could pull it out a little, have Eddie lift the bed and then you’d be able to cover the stain left behind after you cleaned the carpet. Your lower lip became the victim of nervous chewing as you wondered if Chrissy would notice the difference in placement. Did she even pay that close attention to you? Could you risk it?

  Well, it’s not like you had any other option. With the clean up plan in mind, you turned to your doorway and jumped when you nearly collided with Eddie’s chest.

  “JESUS! Fuck, sorry dude—I forget you’re so quiet.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, and you were almost taken aback with the amusement you could see in his eyes. Eddie had found some amusement in having freaked you out by doing literally nothing—and his eyes kind of…sparkled with it. They hadn’t done that before you electrocuted him. While big, they hadn’t been all that expressive.

  Interesting.

  Whatever—you’d have to look into that later, right now you had something to cover up. And you needed to keep Eddie busy while you did.

  “C’mere.” Rather than just have him follow after you, you grabbed his hand—tugging him over to your bed. When Eddie was in front of you, you pushed on his shoulders to get him to sit down and then grabbed your beat up Walkman, your headphones, and rummaged through your bedside drawer for a certain tape. 

  No luck. You scowled, slamming the drawer shut as you scrutinized your room. You eyed your school bag, on the ground by your door and scrambled over to it, arm reaching in to search around before dumping the contents out. Damn, still no tape and your irritation was beginning to fester. 

  Sure, you had more but you needed Eddie to listen to that one. It was important for a reason you didn’t care to delve into. So, you handled your lapse in memory with grace.

  “WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?” You shoved everything carelessly back into your bag, practically throwing it back down as you rushed over to your dresser, moving all your crap aside in search of the plastic rectangle.

  Not there either.

  There was absolutely no way you’d ever misplace your tapes in the drawers of your dresser but you ransacked those, too, slamming them each when they proved futile. Your blood was practically boiling.

  “Eddie, cover your new ear because I am about to LOSE MY FUCKING SHI-oh, there it is!”

  It had been on your dresser, hidden under an open copy of Frankenstein, with the corner sticking out.

  You hummed, annoyance fleeing your person as you held the cassette case up between your fingers to show off to Eddie. During your little bitch fit, he’d made himself comfortable on your bed, laying back and popped up on his forearm. The lower half of his face was cinched up and you had the sneaking suspicion he was smirking at having witnessed you lose your cool, but he was a dead guy so who was he to judge?

  “This is gonna change your freaking life, I swear.” And then, as a guilty afterthought, “Uhm. In a good way.” You tucked his hair behind his ears, fingers gentle, and placed the headphones over them before you were pulling The Lion and the Cobra out of its case. “It’s one of my favorite albums and—honestly, I bought it because she’s bald. Well, I guess not bald bald, she’s got a buzzcut. This is Sinead O’Connor. I told you a little bit about her last night.”

  After slipping the tape into place and closing it in, you offered the case to Eddie so he could see Sinead on the cover of it, wrists crossed over her chest, and her normally soulful stare avoiding all those gazing upon her.

  When Eddie stared down at it a little too long for your liking, you snatched it out of his hands, an unpleasant feeling in your belly, heart clenching a little. It was a simple cover, he didn’t need to scrutinize her, didn’t need to admire her for that long. 

  You knew his eyebrows would be raised—if he could, but the most you’d seen them do is twitch—with the look he was giving you.

  “Shut up. Just—listen, okay? Every single track is a work of art, but some feel a little more…personal than others. Tell me your favorite afterwards, ‘kay?”

  Eddie stared at you for a couple of beats and when he nodded, you pressed the play button, giving him a smile.

  You could feel his eyes on you as you walked out of your room to retrieve a sponge, some hot soapy water and the carpet shampoo mix Laura concocted and always drenched the floors in.

  While you worked on making sure no one would ever know Laura took her last evil, foul wench breathes in your bedroom, Eddie had managed to shift into a different position, lying on his back with his head dangling off your bed, the ends of his curls pooling on the rug below.

  Now Eddie had always considered himself a music connoisseur, loved discovering new artists—but he was a little unfair in his practice. As in, he didn’t give a shit what other people told him to listen to. 

  Well, people he didn’t care about. Eddie cared about you. 

  Eddie cared about you a lot. 

  He’d been rediscovering his body the longer he remained alive, still marveling over his ability to reanimate from the grave. With his apparent deceased status, came the sensation of knowing where every organ in his body was.

  Eddie had been tempted to cut himself open, confirm with his sight what was going on in there, but he had a feeling you would have yelled at him so he settled for taking mental notes. He could think, so his brain was clearly working, maybe jump started by that lightning strike. He could tell the exact location of his stomach, feel things moving around in there and he’d spent a great deal of time hacking the creepy crawlers up after he’d spat one up in Laura’s lunch—he didn’t want to gross you out by accidentally coughing one up on you or something since he’d already puked on you.

  After making sure he didn’t feel any more bugs roaming around in his organs (and he was extremely grateful they’d yet to make his way to his lower intestine because there was no way you’d be normal about him shitting out bugs—if he even could shit), he realized he had a couple of broken rib bones. 

  Eddie couldn’t remember much about the night he was murdered, couldn’t recall too many images—mostly just experienced an intense wave of fear that clawed its way out of some crevice in his chest and up his throat, desperate to break through with a scream, so he tried not to think about it much. They must have broken his ribs in the attack, if he pressed just below his left pec, that particular rib bone would move inwards with a popping sensation. 

  Definitely hadn’t done that before he was dead, would have been a sick party trick, though.

  And then came the matters of the heart…it’s the one thing he couldn’t really feel, couldn’t locate, unlike his other organs. Eddie had briefly assumed that shit was still dead or dust but then you’d returned home, radiating with jubilation—a far cry from the miserable girl he’d observed that first night, so beautiful and marred with self deprecation.

  You’d said it was because of him, of the dress he’d seen hanging in your closet and then fantasized about seeing you wear all night while you’d slept. 

  Eddie swore he felt the heart he thought had given up, clench. It had been a fleeting sensation, but he’d felt it nonetheless. He had no idea what it was doing, had no idea if was actually beating or just responding. All he knew was that it belonged solely to you.

  And then you had to go and mention Steve fucking Harrington. 

  He wasn’t exactly fond of the self proclaimed King of Hawkins, had sold him some really shitty weed because the blockhead didn’t know the difference. He was an asshole, even worse than Eddie. 

  And for some fucking reason, the love of Eddie’s life—who read him poetry, talked about all her interests, shared her secrets with him along with the very same loneliness that had plagued him all his life and followed him to his grave, and who was far out of Steve’s league—wanted him. Not Eddie.

  No, because this is Eddie’s second life, he still can’t be happy. You wanted Blane and your movie Pretty in Pink ending. Eddie was just Duckie and he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the novelization ending. 

  When the fourth track began to play, Eddie’s despair was calmed by the sound of a guitar strumming, and he was able to yank himself out of his head. No point in dwelling. This wasn’t about him anyways. 

  Yes, he’d come back from the dead. The circumstances of his return were still unclear, but he knew it was somehow your doing, somehow because of you. And he’d spend the rest of his life (he had no idea if he was gonna age or not, he’d only been alive for like a day) expressing his gratitude and protecting you.

  Besides…

  Ah when you close my eyes, babe, I can see most everything, Sinead sang.

  And Eddie understood it. 

  His gaze bore into the side of your face, admiring the tick between your brows as you scrubbed at the stain, the pout of your lips and Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to get up without his limbs literally creaking, saunter over to you with the confidence he knew would make you swoon over him, pull you up into his arms and kiss you until you forgot Steve Harrington even existed.

  He closed his eyes and let the scenario play out, changing a few details in the scene.

  The two of you weren’t in your room. Pink carpet switched out for his dingy, stained bedroom carpet. Generic in color, you didn’t seem to mind it at all as you rifled through his vinyl collection, greedy fingers flicking through the covers at an impressive rate. 

  Sinead’s voice was still comforting Eddie, just not through a pair of headphones. Her voice crooned out from the turntable on his dresser. 

  He’d been passively engaged in a sketch of the main villain for one of his favorite DND campaigns, still needed a ton of details that wouldn’t be hitting the page tonight. Not with you present, not with you sitting there engrossed in your own world and oblivious to his appreciative stare.

  Eddie didn’t like to consider himself particularly vain, and truthfully it hadn’t mattered to him what you’d look like the entire time he was—whatever. He didn’t care. But oh did someone up there have to favor him just a little bit, because when he saw you for the first time with his soil embedded dry eyes, he was sure it was love at first sight. Would have popped a woody if he had any sort of blood flow and if you hadn’t freaked out at having a dead guy crash through your window.

  Oh, fuck, he was ruining his own fantasy by remembering the circumstances of his existence. Back to it.

  While he could envision you in that black dress, as hot as you were in it, it was the pajamas he first ever saw you in that covered your skin. Hair ready for bed as the two of you winded down in a show of domestication. 

  Thump, thump.

  There it was again. Not always lively but always coming to life when you were around, even in just his daydreams, ready to beat for you. And since this was his fantasy…

  Eddie tossed aside the sketchbook and pencil, not caring where they bounced to on his bed in his haste to stand. He padded the short distance to you, snatching the vinyl you’d been checking out right from your hands.

   “Hey!” You cried out, any semblance of protest disappearing the moment you turned to look up at him and caught that mischievous Munson Smirk on his face as he dangled the album in front of you. He was teasing you.

  Your eyes narrowed up at him playfully and for a moment you were still until your arm darted out in an attempt to snatch the album back—a move Eddie was already anticipating.

  The album was quickly held just out of your reach and your grin was sheepish as you moved to get up from the ground. Clearly, your boyfriend (yes, he was your boyfriend in this fantasy, sue him) was feeling playful, and honestly, he just really liked it when you threw yourself at him just as you did right then.

  Eddie still held his ground, arm sticking straight up in the air to try to keep the album out of your grabby hands. 

  Teasing would always get a little physical, since he’d known what it was like to be without another’s touch for so long, he was keen on forever feeling yours.

   “You’re such an asshole!” You laughed as you did this pathetic little jump to try to reach it and Eddie snickered, the arm not clutching the album snaking around your side to bring you impossibly closer to him. Keep you there. Preferably forever.

  “Mm, but I’m your asshole,” Eddie cooed down at you, angling his head down so the tips of your noses bumped. The gentle curve of your lips had his heart thumping again as you settled against him, one hand stroking up his chest to rest on his shoulder. He could feel your breasts against him but it didn’t excite him as it should have (okay—it did, he just wasn’t paying attention to his dick in the fantasy), what he really cared about in that moment was how he was able to hold you so close, he could feel your heartbeat. And it wasn’t beating for Steve Harrington. It was Eddie who made your heart flutter and race, “and you can do whatever you want with me.”

   “Gross,” you whispered, breath ghosting over his lips.

   “You say that and yet you still let me─” The rest of Eddie’s sentence was lost against your mouth, soft, and a little tacky from your lip balm but oh so sweet. He let out a pleased hum, flicking the album onto his bed so he could cup the back of your head as your tongue parted his lips. The two of you stood there, holding each other, kissing each other with no ulterior motives. Just the burning desire to ensure the other knew exactly how wanted their very presence, very existence was. Sinead echoed her own statement over and over again in the background, making it the perfect soundtracked moment.

  God, there was nothing more he could ever possibly want.

  Actually—there was one thing he wanted more, he realized as his eyes opened once more, and your profile came into focus with a couple of lazy blinks. 

  Eddie wanted you to want all of that. 

  Wanted you to want him back, because you deserved more than what Steve Harrington could give you. Materialistically, sure okay—the rich douche could give you more considering Eddie was technically homeless without a penny to his name, but you didn’t care about material things. Not like that. It hadn’t been objects or devices you’d told him you longed for at his grave.

  You longed for something Eddie was positive he could give you. He just needed his body to be up to par, needed what he was missing so you could see the whole—Eddie as a whole—was greater than the sum of his parts. He could make you happy. He could make you so happy.

  If only he wasn’t a fucking zombie—and really, c’mon, that’s the main thing Steve’s got over him. He’s…y’know…more alive.

  You must have felt Eddie’s heavy and romantic, not creepy, stare because your head snapped up and you gave him that gorgeous smile again. Then you were knee crawling over and Eddie wanted to bite a chunk of your mattress out—you were so damn cute.

  When you were in front of Eddie, and still very much so upside down to him though you were actually right side up, you lifted the headphones off his ears, “How you liking it so far? You good over here?”

  Oh, you know just, yearning over a love we’ll never share because I know I could be everything you’ve ever wanted and anything you need, whatever you want, if I weren’t a corpse and I have to listen to you talk about another, much less cool guy when I’m right here and I’m missing a hand, so I could be better.

  Eddie held up (down, technically) his thumb and you leaned your body over so you were kind of upside down too, grinning brilliantly at him. Eddie had never wanted an upside down kiss so badly.

  “I don’t know if I’ve told you this yet, Eddie. I really like hanging out with you.”

  Eddie let out a groan, rolling his eyes and gently pushing your face away from him after your terrible pun while you cackled. 

  After you finished cleaning the stain to the best of your ability (so not well), you enacted the rest of your solution and had Eddie lift your bed frame so you could pull your rug a little more out and successfully cover the stain.

  Before bed, you asked him what his favorite track of the tape was. When Eddie pointed at Just Like U Said It Would B, you nearly jumped up and down on your bed before revealing that was your favorite song, too.

  Eddie wasn’t even remotely surprised. Yuuuuup. You were definitely his soulmate.

  When you woke up the following morning, squinting like an elderly chihuahua as you once more fumbled out of bed to pry your closet doors open, Eddie had another outfit waiting for you. Unlike yesterday, Eddie wasn’t awake.

  He was sitting against the wall of the closet, head resting against the bottom of various dresses and long skirts as a makeshift pillow. His eyes were closed and he was unnaturally still. 

  Alarms started to blare off in your head and you nearly shit your heart out of your asshole because you thought Eddie had somehow died again. Your reaction was instant, eyes filling with tears as you got on your knees and crowded into his space, hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him with a strength you didn’t know you possessed, “Eddie?! Eddie, c’mon, don’t do this to me—don’t leave me, I just got you, c’mon get up.”

  When he stirred, chest rising as he inhaled, you nearly dropped dead from the relief, allowing yourself to fall back on the carpet and partially on the rug sticking out from under your bed.

  “Oh my god.” You breathed out, lifting two fingers to check your own pulse. You still had one so you were kicking, and Eddie was still very much alive or whatever he was, “Okay, new rule, you gotta tell me what your body can and can’t do anymore—I thought you were DEAD, Eddie!” 

  You pushed up on your hands before you launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his upper half. In that position, his hairs rubbed at your nose and the scent of your own shampoo filled your nostrils and he felt very hard overall, but his arms wrapped around you too. He was fine. Except for y’know, his current state of existence—but at least he still existed.

  When you pulled away to look at him, you noticed his eyes looked kind of hazy, bleary. Tired. He was full alert yesterday morning, and you were pretty sure he hadn’t slept that night, nor had he been tired when you got home. 

  “Are you okay?” You asked, fingers raking through his bangs to settle them against his forehead. 

  Eddie nodded slowly with a grunt, and grabbed the items that had been resting on his lap when he fell asleep, pushing them into your arms.

  A sheer black mesh long sleeve, a red corset to go over that and keep you from getting arrested for the public indecency, and a sleek midi black skirt that was sure to hug your hips and flow the rest of the way down to stop a little past your knees. 

  “So, yesterday it was Madonna and today it’s Cyndi Lauper?”

  Eddie pushed you out of the closet but before he could shut the doors, you wedged your way between them to prevent him from doing so.

  “Wait—okay, you win again. Are you tired?” You pried the doors all the way open again so you could see Eddie more clear with the light, his head nodding slowly.

  ”I didn’t know you could sleep,” You mumbled and the look Eddie gave you made you think he hadn’t known either. You were beginning to suspect your little Dr. Frankenstein moment did more than simply bring Eddie’s ear to life, “Well get up. You can sleep in my bed, I’ve got a couple of classes today. Chrissy likes to carpool on Tuesdays and my dad’s gonna head to work, not that he’d ever venture to this corner of the house anyways. Get some rest and I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”

  He looked a little unsure of himself so you had to pull him out. And once you remembered he was in the same pair of clothes, you gave him another band shirt and some plaid pajama pants you’d received on some birthday in the wrong size, to wear to bed.

  By the time you’d finished getting ready and doing your makeup, Eddie was asleep again. You found him lying on his stomach, head nuzzled into your pillow with his feet hanging off your bed.

  You walked over, grabbing your comforter from where you’d bunched it up on the other side of the bed after you’d thrown it off you and pulled it over him. Whether or not his blood circulation was working wasn’t even a thought, the action of tucking Eddie in was more so an affectionate one than rational. 

  It’d been years since he’d slept in a bed, having been wrongfully sentenced to spend eternity with worms and everything beneath the earth’s surface. You hated that, something hot simmering in your belly. Laura’s much deserved murder aside, Eddie hadn’t done anything wrong! Yeah, okay, you didn’t exactly know him—but you knew him. The dead dude, currently sleeping (?) in your bed, had acted earlier only and solely to protect you. You hadn’t been in Hawkins when he was alive so the odds of him running around with a sewing machine to bash people’s heads in for you were pretty slim.

  Impulsively, your hand reached out to run through his hair with ease, fingers twisting into the curls. His tresses were still surprisingly soft and there were no tangles. Part of you wanted to lean forward and smell him but you didn’t because it’d be creepy and he’d just smell like your shampoo, probably. 

  With a sigh, you retracted your hand and silently gaped when some of his hair came out with it. 

  Oh, shit.

  Rolling your lips together and with no alternative, you rolled the hair into a little ball and tucked it into your bra to dispose of later. The last thing you needed was for him to be nosey and bored enough to go through your bathroom trash and find his hair in it, without him having put it there.

  You were just about to head out when you remembered his shoes and how uncomfortable going to bed wearing them must have been so before you could USE YOUR FUCKING HEAD you were carefully pulling one off (it would be just your luck to accidentally pull his foot off or something) and once his foot was free—you realized immediately why he’d kept them on.

  The stench hit your eyes first, tears filling them faster than you’d ever experienced before and stinging them something fierce. When the smell breached your nostrils, it triggered your gag reflex and you did everything you could to keep your dry heaving relatively quiet. 

  After you threw up in your mouth a little, you managed to put his shoe back on and ran for the bathroom. Once your stomach was settled, you held your breath and braved your room, lunging for your body spray to aggressively mist over Eddie’s sleeping figure before hurrying out, gasping for air once you were in the hall leaning against the bedroom door. 

  God, your wallpaper was fucked. No way it wasn’t curling in on itself.

  You were still in a state of shock and recovery when you ventured downstairs, almost snapping to attention when you heard Chrissy gasp and your head lulled towards the dining room where she sat at the table across from your father. He had his head buried in some magazine while she stared at you in awe, hands covering her mouth.

  “My goodness, Sissy! You look like you could have walked straight out of that witch movie that Cher was in! You know, the one with the three witches?”

  “I’m familiar, let's hope men in real life are easier to knock dead.” You commented, leaning against the entryway with your arms crossed and the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

  Chrissy laughed, the sound ringing out like the most annoyingly pleasant wind chimes as she explained to your father who wasn’t really listening, “Because in the film, daddy, there’s this awful man and they’re trying to get rid of him and really all the men in the film aren’t the greatest.”

  Your dad just grunted, still thoroughly engrossed in his magazine, “Uh-huh, I’m sure your sister’s a regular maneater.”

  The sarcasm was evident and unappreciated by both you and Chrissy. The brief glare you spared the oblivious sack of meat was lethal before your steely gaze was back on the strawberry blonde.

  “You ready?” You usually carpooled with Chrissy on Tuesdays since your last classes lined up.

  “Ohhhhh, here she comes. Watch out, boys, she’ll chew you up.” Chrissy teased, popping the last of her eggs into her mouth. You noted, with great satisfaction, specks of pepper peeking out from her gums and between her teeth, “You know, sissy—you seem a lot more confident without mom around.”

  Your dumb bitch of a mom, you internally corrected her, lips curling into a smile as you recalled exactly where that woman was. Probably arguing with Satan about which ring of hell she’d be damned to for the rest of eternity. It had to be one of her choosing or she wasn’t going to budge an inch, you could imagine her telling the fallen angel. 

  “I do have to admit,” Chrissy continued, “It’s pretty peaceful without her here. I’ll have to convince her to go out more often.”

  This next part pained you, and you could actively feel your stomach clenching as you forced the words out, “Not too often. I kind of miss having her here.”

  Oh, you were so gonna throw up, “I mean—everyone needs a Debbie Downer to put life into perspective.” 

  Or make you want to kill yourself. The sole reason you were even voicing these lies was because you needed to establish a somewhat ‘healthy’ relationship with your stepmother, for investigative purposes. 

  Sure, you argued a lot; she hated you, you wanted her dead and now she was, but if you went around saying you missed her, you likely wouldn’t be number one on the suspect roster once she was determined to be missing. 

  That caught your dad’s attention and he finally looked up in confusion, “Really?”

  “Of course! I know we fight sometimes but she’s a good example for me.” You had to put your all into this performance, forcing your expression to appear somewhat genuine even if you were really mocking her, “Because of her, I now know it’s possible for you to be a bitch your whole entire life if you don’t fix your attitude and outlook while you’re young, and that if you don’t start caring for your skin sooner rather than later, you’ll have wrinkles the size of California. I know she doesn’t want that same bitter existence she goes through, sunup to sundown, for me. That’s why she’s so tough on me.” 

  Chrissy looked touched, a dainty little hand over her chest as she blinked back tears, “You are so right. I know she’s hard on you but I’m glad you’re starting to see she can’t help it. She’d probably rather die than not be a little judgmental.”

  You scratched the back of your neck and cleared your throat, “Mhm. So, school?”

  “My, aren't you eager to just snap the neck of every boy at school today?” Chrissy gathered her utensils after she’d cleared her plate.

  “Just certain ones.” Your nose crinkled with your smile. Chrissy briefly disappeared into the kitchen, and when she emerged, she was tightening the ponytail she’d sectioned the top half of her hair in, allowing you to see a faint bruise just below her jaw.

  “Hey—you good?” You reached up to rub a knuckle over the same area on your skin and her eyes widened as her fingertips flew to her jaw, pressing at the skin until she seemed to feel the tender spot.

  “Oh, yeah. I must have got myself with my straightener this morning.” She laughed, nervously and your eyes narrowed as you followed her into the foyer. 

  “I thought you valued not ever using heat on your hair.” You reminded her, having had to often listen to her brag about how her hair was sooooooo healthy and sooooooo long because she never used heat on it. She only slept with curlers on, and judging by the bump to her ends—that had been exactly the case. 

  Chrissy’s eyes darted away and you knew she was lying, “I-I—I do! I mean I don’t! We were just doing each other’s hair at the sleepover yesterday, and I let them─”

  “Sleepover? I thought you just went out for some bowling and a kickback. Did you not sleep here last night?” You quirked your head, mouth setting in a frown. There was nothing more you hated than being lied to. Except maybe getting the shit slapped out of you by Cruella de Vil yesterday.

  Chrissy’s eyes widened and she began to stammer, “No, no! I-I did! It was, you know, it was supposed to be a sleepover but I didn’t stay all that long. S-School night and-and all.”

  “Huh.” Was all you said, deciding to let it go after making her a little more nervous with your stare. It was powerful when lined with kohl. Chrissy looked like she was about to start shaking in her white princess Reebok’s and you started to feel bad for her. It had been over a year since her boyfriend had broken up with her and she still always felt guilty about being with other guys. You had a feeling she was still holding out for him. That, coupled with the fact that you were feeling sorry for Chrissy—and not the other way around—made you feel good about yourself so you’d happily look the other way while she tried to find affection she probably craved.

  Oh, how the turn tables.

  The ride to school was filled with chatter, Chrissy’s way of trying to make sure the subject didn’t return to her escapades from the previous night, no doubt.

  You let her chatter away as you pulled a piece of paper from one of your notebooks to jot down a quick note. Much flirtier than you had originally planned to write it, but after spotting Chrissy’s hickie, you were inspired. 

  Once you were done, you folded the pink lined paper up and pressed a kiss to it, leaving your lipstick stain on it. The paper was rubbed discretely against your neck as well, an effort to get some of your perfume on it. 

  I’m tired of playing games. No more interruptions. Meet me at the old bench in the woods behind the high school at 4pm?

  Yes /  No

  Leave your response on the windshield of the white miata

  Xoxo

  When Chrissy pulled into the parking lot and the two of you parted ways, you scanned the area for a certain car and placed the note under one of the windshield wipers before making your way to your first class. Luckily, your seat was right next to the window that overlooked the parking lot. You spent the entire class nervously fidgeting until you saw him making his way towards his car. 

  You watched, with bated breath, as he paused in his approach when he noticed the note. Your asshole clenched when he pulled it from its secure spot and unfolded the note to read its contents.

  He was too far for you to make out the expression on his face but he dug around in his pocket until he produced a pen and scribbled his response before jogging over to Chrissy’s car to leave the note exactly where you instructed and you wanted to stomp your feet against the ground in victory but no.

  No. You couldn’t, not in front of all these people and certainly not in class. You were just beginning to garner a cool reputation and you weren’t about to let a guy ruin it.

  You did, however, maintain a constant smirk throughout the day and it briefly morphed into a genuine smile when you’d intentionally wandered in front of the library, catching Steve’s eye. He’d traded you a secretive smile, fingers waving in your direction and you returned the sentiment before carrying on your way to beat Chrissy back to her car.

  You were in such a rush to make it to the parking lot before her, you didn’t stop to think someone could be coming around the corner and crashed right into a broad chest, dropping your back in the shuffle.

   “Shit. Sorry,” You mumbled, dropping down to your knees to grab your bag and the subsequent items that had fallen out of it. The mystery person bent down in time to grab the tube of your mascara before you could, the last item you needed, and held it out to you and you glanced up, body freezing as Tommy Hagan stood before you.

  “No harm done.” He shrugged, appearing nonchalant as he smiled down at you, “You really should take those corners slow. They’ll get you.”

  Tommy Hagan was…something. You didn’t really like him. 

  He hadn’t given you much of a reason to not like him, since you never interacted with him, it was just…something about him. He was a wildcard. You’d seen Tommy in many different states; cool, calm, collected, goofing off. Then, with a snap of a finger, it was like he was a completely different person. 

  You’d witnessed him lose his shit on someone before, crowding some poor guy up against his car as he threatened to bash his face in with the door. 

  He wasn’t much of a bully to you, Carol seemed to target the girls and while you’d heard Tommy used to be a big bully in high school, you hadn’t seen him pick on people continuously. Just those he actually seemed to have friction with, so you assumed he’d grown out of the bullying. 

  That being said, up until recently, he was still involved with Carol and anyone that could willingly want to deal with her in a romantic situation had to be bad news, and that’s why you stayed away.

  How he could go from Carol, to appreciatively eyeing you up in the middle of the corridor, you had no idea. 

  You didn’t like it.

   “Uh, yeah.” Was all you could say when you realized you hadn’t responded to him. “I-uhm-I was in a hurry.”

  He nodded, brown eyes sweeping over you once more, sending a bad shiver down your spine. You definitely did not like it and you couldn’t even explain why because there had been nothing inherently crude about the way he looked at you. It wasn’t anything like with Fred the other night, Tommy wasn’t looking at you like he was about to have his way with you…you couldn’t explain it. There was just something so ominous about his presence. Something dark attached to his freckled, ‘friendly’ face. 

  “Do I know you? From somewhere? We have a class together or something?” He asked, apparently keen on making small talk with you.

   “No, I don’t think so.”

  ”You’re Chrissy’s sister!” He supplied, eyes lighting up and you weren’t fond of being linked with him any sort of way.

   “Yeah. She’s-Chrissy. My step-sister.”

  How the fuck can I end this conversation?

  Tommy smirked, and you could feel your stomach drop as the ominous aura came over him, his face somehow darkening. Not in color, in nature. “Is she the evil one, or are you? Hmn?”

  You didn’t know what that meant, didn’t know if he was cruising around for his next cruel girlfriend, but it wouldn’t be you.

   Instead of answering his question, you laughed nervously. The sound wasn’t pretty, nor was it modest. You laughed loud, and you laughed obnoxiously. It’s not like you could help it!

   “I gotta, I gotta go.” You managed to get out between rounds of your laughter as you backed away.

  He watched you with something akin to interest, as you whirled around and made a dash for the parking lot.

  You could hear him call out a see you around and since you didn’t want to see him around, you just lifted a hand in acknowledgment without turning back.

  Good god, that was unpleasant. That was extremely uncomfortable and it made you feel the need to panic poop. The urge faded, when you saw Chrissy’s car. A white square was under her wipers.

  You snatched the note up, quickly unfolded it and the smirk made its way back onto your face, mimicking that of the Grinch’s when he’d come up with his plan to ruin Christmas for The Whos.

  Yes was circled, several times, so it looked like you had a date with destiny after school.

  “What are you so happy about?” Chrissy asked on the drive back home, a smile on her own face as bright eyes darted from the road to you and back again. The maniacal smile remained firmly in place on your face. You couldn’t help it. Everything really was falling into place for you.

  “We watched Bill Nye in a segment of Almost Live in my Lab class today.”

  “I love that guy, they really should give him his own show. He is kind of cute, isn’t he?”

  You gave Chrissy some side-eye, “Uuuuuhhhuuuh.”

  When she pulled up along the curb outside your house, you noticed she only put the car in park and made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt.

  When you raised a questioning brow, she supplied, “I’m gonna run into town for a little bit. You need anything?”

  Immediately, you were suspicious and if it weren’t for your plans, you might have pushed at the lame excuse. This worked for you, she’d be gone for a while and out of your business, “Nope.”

  You made sure to wait until her car had disappeared around the corner before you entered your house, jumping when you saw Eddie trying to yank his good hand out of one of the vases Laura had placed near the fireplace. It had been one you made in art class back at your old high school, so naturally, she deemed it hideous, and hid it behind an even bigger vase. 

  It was also where you stashed your weed.

  Eddie turned to you, his hand still stuck in the vase, and somehow managed to look sheepish.

  You glared, shoulder sagging enough to have the strap of your back rushing down it, “Seriously?” 

  He shrugged his shoulders, grunt sounding small.

   “Can you even smoke weed?” You asked, abandoning your backpack on the floor as you bounded over. 

  Eddie’s grunt in response sounded more like a scoff. Can he even smoke weed…

  You took hold of the bottom of the vase, holding it still to allow Eddie to pull his hand from it, still intact—thank god. In his grip, was a brightly colored Lisa Frank pouch, meant for holding your school supplies. 

  It obviously did not hold your school supplies.

   “Alright, bloodhound. We’ll give it a shot. Later. Right now, we’ve got big plans.” You gestured for him to follow you upstairs and he did, after stopping by the front door to retrieve your bag for you.

  You shoved your bedroom door open to find the bed fully made, and Eddie’s pajamas haphazardly folded on top of your duvet. 

  Sparing a glance at his approaching figure, you made a mental note to stop at one of the stores in town to get him some more threads. He couldn’t wear the same thing everyday. Actually, he could but you didn’t want him to. That was gross when guys did it, especially dead ones. 

  Your bag was tossed to the side, and you began rummaging around in your closet in search of spare sheets, “Did you get everything else ready?”

  Eddie grunted in confirmation. After he’d woken up, he’d put the items you’d requested in your van and discovered a discarded filter in there, which resulted in him searching your house for the stash you had to have.

  When you emerged from the closet, arms around balled up sheets which you soon transferred to Eddie’s waiting arms, you gave him a determined look. 

  “Let’s do this.”

  The van ride had been a quick one, and it was parked somewhere in the woods away from the roads and any foot traffic once you made it.

  A quick detour was made at the cemetery before you walked over to the area behind the high school, not too much of a walk away from the cemetery. How appropriate. 

  You assumed it was once a family location back in the glory days of Hawkins, but you had no idea why there was only a singular picnic table there.

  Come to think of it, you didn’t see any sort of grills or anything else that would make this area a popular destination, so why the hell was there a random picnic table in the middle of the woods???

  Before you could give it much more thought, you heard the sound of leaves crunching and turned your head to see Eddie’s latest donor walk right through the treeline.

   “Hey,” Fred grinned, a surprisingly thick finger reaching up to push his glasses further up his nose. His hair was wet, and you tried to keep your lip from curling at the knowledge that it was sweat and not just water. You had a sneaking suspicion the walk had been a challenge to him.

  Show time.

   “You got my note,” you breathed out, making sure the statement sounded airy and affectionate despite how the hairs on your arms were rising at the sight of the guy who’d touched you so brazenly without your consent. 

  “I did,” Fred confirmed, nearing you and you stood up to stop his approach, “I was really hoping you’d come around. And-And don’t worry, you don’t have to be embarrassed about the other night or anything.”

  You don’t have to be embarrassed about the other night.

  You.

  Fred had tried to take advantage of you while you were under the influence of a drug you hadn’t known you’d taken, had whisked you away to an empty room where something sinister could have taken place had you not saved yourself—and you didn’t have to be embarrassed about what he’d done to you.

  Something in you snapped, blood boiling so hot you could feel yourself sweat a little.

  You didn’t even like Fred as a person, and yet you could feel something lodged in your throat, heart pumping heavy in your chest and loud in your ears. It wasn’t fear, wasn’t the anxiety that overtook you more often than not. 

  Rage coursed through your entire being.

  You had no pity for him, Fred was going to get exactly what people like him deserved.

  “I was just so nervous,” you lied, tips of your fingernails dancing over the wood of the table top as you slowly moved to the other end, “And you were so kind to look after me.”

  A glance was spared in his direction, your gaze heated through your lashes.

  His cheeks flushed, splotchy face gaining more color to it.

   “It was nothing, really. We freaks gotta stick together, right?”

  You scoffed, the sound playful though you held nothing but malice for the guy across from you.

  Fred was no freak. He was a monster disguised as a nerd. You’d gone through Chrissy’s yearbook before, had seen how small he used to be. He’d evidently gained a bit of muscle since high school, swapped out a wardrobe for something slightly better, but all the physical change could do nothing to hide the little man he really was. A self-titled nice guy who wondered why girls never went for him while trying to take advantage of ones that could barely stand up on their own two feet. 

  At least the creeps made their nefarious intentions obvious. Fred was dangerous; someone calculating who hid his intentions behind a pair of frames and a somewhat friendly approach.

  “You’re right. You’re so right, and I feel really guilty about the way I ran out on you. I was hoping…” You fiddled with your fingers, feigning a coy demeanor, “Would you let me make it up to you?”

  If Fred really was worthy of some sort of stupid fucking redemption, of living, he’d say no. He’d realize how fucked up in the head he was, this whole situation was, and go get help or put himself on some sort of registry if not just disappear from the face of the earth altogether. In an ideal world, those would be possibilities. 

  This wasn’t that world, so Fred only nodded his head frantically as his knees began to shake. 

  As you led him through the woods, you briefly wondered what was going through his head. What exactly did he think you were going to do to him? Not like it really mattered, since he’d proven to be the type to try and force people to do whatever he wanted.

  You felt something swipe against the side of your pinky and pulled your hand to your chest just in time to prevent Fred from taking hold of it.

  At his questioning look, you just gave him a demure smile, “That’s for later.”

  He just shrugged his shoulders, not at all upset about being unable to hold your hand just yet because he’d get to do other things to you.

   “Where’d you say you parked your car, again?” Fred asked as the two of you approached the back of the cemetery. It was eery in this section, the area even creepier after the lightning strike. You could feel Fred’s nerves.

  “Just outside of the cemetery, it’s quicker if we cut through it. Although, I have to say, I quite enjoy strolling through it. Really puts life in perspective, don’t you think?”

  Fred gave a nervous chuckle, hair dampening again, “Uh-huh. I don’t have many dead relatives, so, no-uh, real reason to come on by this place.”

   “What’s the matter, Freddie? You scared?” 

  “No way, just not one to take romantic strolls through a cemetery. I’m not scared though.” He huffed out.

  You should be, you thought.

   A chuckle was the only response you gave him as you neared Eddie’s grave.

   “That one’s my favorite,” A polished finger was pointed in its direction and you could hear Fred’s intake of breath. Eddie’s gravesite was particularly fear inducing, the stone cracked and blackened. Patches of the grass around it had also been charred, with black arms seemingly reaching out from it. Patterns from the lightning strikes.

  Fred’s steps slowed significantly, tension building until it all came to a head when he finally noticed the mounds of dirt pushed aside, a large hole in the ground just in front of his tombstone.

  “We—We should really be g-getting out of here,” He stammered in fear.

  “Nonsense. What? Does it creep you out? Relax, Fred. It’s just from that shit weather that night, remember? Lightning, is all. Not like the dead can just climb right out.”

  Your tone was reassuring but if the noob couldn’t see the marks Eddie had made when he’d clawed his way out, couldn’t see the footprints of his shoes embedded in the mud—well, that was on him.

  But Freddy boy had had enough, walking right up to you to grab hold of your wrist so he could drag you away, “Let’s just go to your van already, this place is evil as shit and his grave is not a welcome place for anyone, let alone me.”

  Fred pulled you to his chest, which sent you into a panic. You hadn’t been expecting him to get physical with you so soon. Your body went into fight mode, squirming to get away from him which seemed to only annoy him as he fought to subdue you.

  Before you could even voice your protest, demand he let you go or kick him in the balls, Fred yelped. His grip on your wrist disappeared and you jumped back in time to avoid his body colliding with yours as he went crashing down to the ground.

  Your breathing was labored, relief morphing into the best kind of elation when you spotted the hand, coming from the hole in the grave, wrapped around Fred’s now twisted ankle.

  Fred turned to stare down at it, too. His mouth dropped in horror, body shaking like a leaf as the two of you watched Eddie Munson rise from the grave.

  The shriek Fred let out was decidedly girlish in nature, high pitched and almost impressive. You couldn’t have anyone hearing him though, so you dealt a swift kick to his mouth.

  You didn’t use much of your strength, but the kick still sent him onto his back. He groaned, reaching a hand up to his mouth and you noticed his teeth were staining a shade of red, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

  “Feeling ambushed, Freddie? Violated, perhaps?” You hissed down at him, mind flashing back to that night, feeling so disoriented and lost and wrong as he’d cupped your breast, felt you up while you could barely string a coherent sentence together and still said no.

  Fred groaned again, hunching over to spit out some blood, “What the fuck?” He asked, voice sounding dazed. 

  You didn’t notice your kick had also knocked his glasses off his face until he was shakily reaching for them. One of the lenses was cracked. It didn’t impair his vision too much, though, because he started screaming again when he caught sight of Eddie again, who’d climbed completely out of the grave and stood just over your shoulder, glaring menacingly down at him.

   “Stop screaming, you banshee.” You quickly squatted down, scooped up some dirt and shoved it into his mouth. He fought against your palm, but the idea had the desired effect; Fred was too busy coughing the dirt out to scream.

  “Please,” he croaked out, tongue sticking out of his mouth, “Stop! Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t know what I was doing!”

  The chuckle you let out was void of humor. Of course, when a man has to answer for his evil ass actions, suddenly he’s capable of admitting what he did wasn’t in the right. Too fucking bad for him. You were about to tell Fred it was far too late for pleas, until his next round of statements made you realize his begging wasn’t directed at you.

   “It was Chance! An-And Andy! It was their idea, I had nothing to do with it! I mean—I mean, I was just the lookout! How was I supposed to know what they would do?”

  Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you looked over your shoulder at Eddie who appeared just as perplexed as you.

  His brown eyes bore into yours, searching for the question in them before he shook his head.

  You turned your attention back to the weasel cowering on the ground, “You know him?”

  Fred’s gaze darted frantically from you to Eddie as he kept stuttering. He’d clearly caught on to you being unaware, and possibly Eddie. You couldn’t have him keeping secrets, though, so you reached for the ax Eddie had pulled out of the grave where’d he’d hidden it and Fred let out an inhuman line of gibberish.

   “Yes! Yes, okay, yes, I know him!”

  You weighed the ax in your hand, glaring down at Fred. You just needed this fuckers hand for Eddie. That’s it, just needed his hand and you couldn’t let him live after that. 

  It’s not like he’d just let Eddie have it, go about his life pretending like he didn’t know there was a deadman walking around with his hand after the two of you cut it off.

  That’s all you needed of Fred, and now he was mentioning having known Eddie. Implying something was done to Eddie, and you had a sickly feeling you knew exactly what.

  Did Eddie want to know? Would it do more good than bad?

  You turned your attention to Eddie once more, and found that he was already watching you. There was nothing expectant in his gaze. Despite the circumstances, and the guy shaking like a leaf on the ground with broken teeth and a broken wrist, Eddie didn’t appear menacing to you at all. 

  Just looked like he was waiting to follow your cue. And you remembered how he’d come to your rescue so many times already. It was high time you started showing up for him.

   “Explain.” You demanded of Fred, handing the ax back to Eddie.

  Fred looked hesitant, only speaking when you turned to Eddie as if to deliver the instruction to kill Fred, “It was…It was after graduation. Look, I don’t know everything, okay? Chance and Andy told me I had to meet them at the Quarry and just make sure no one else came by but Eddie. I wasn’t thinking, I was just scared as hell about someone else showing up, like what was I supposed to do to stop them? I was a twig! And then—And then, everyone came running out and yelling to scram and run for it! So…I did.”

   You watched as Fred seemed to shrink before your eyes, back to that scrawny boy you’d seen in the yearbooks.

   “I…I didn’t find out until my mom turned on the news later that night…I didn’t know Eddie was dead until then.”

  You couldn’t do anything to stop the shaky croak, a hot tear trailing quickly down your cheek as Fred confirmed Eddie had been murdered.

  Your Eddie, the sassy guy with long curly hair, a mischievous and playful nature, so far from hostile unless someone was a direct threat to you.

  He’d been harmed, his life stolen. The rage you’d felt earlier was nothing compared to the craze you were spiraling into.

  “They killed him,” You whispered out, nearly shaking. When Fred gave a slow nod of confirmation, you just about shrieked, “And you didn’t tell anyone?! You didn’t go to the police!?”

  Fred looked at you like you were out of your mind to even suggest that of him, “And tell them what? That I was the one making sure no one interrupted? I would have gone to prison.”

  Your mouth dropped open. 

  Okay. 

  Yes, you were fucked up. Your emotionally, mentally, and apparently physically abusive mother was dead and you’d played a role in that. But she was only dead because she meant to seriously harm you, and Eddie had stepped in to protect you. If it had been someone innocent, someone like Chrissy, you would have taken the blame and the prison time. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself.

  But this motherfucker knew Eddie had been murdered that night, had not been too far away when it happened, and hadn’t told a soul because he was afraid of possibly being held responsible. Always only thinking of saving his fucking skin.

  “You selfish son of a bitch!” You spat out, “Eddie died that night, you knew he was murdered and you let them get away with it! If you weren’t an accessory then, you sure are now!”

  “Does it look like I was meant to be in a cell!? Admonish me all you want, I did what was best for myself! I can’t take it back, what’s done is done. Besides, you didn’t know him. Eddie–he was a burnout. He wasn’t gonna do anything worthwhile anyways.”

  You couldn’t believe someone so pathetic EXISTED!

  It made you want to scream, but you held it in, physically having to close your eyes and take deep breaths before you made the last demand that would determine what would happen next.

  “Go to the police. Tell them everything. You can even tell them about me, and you can try telling them about Eddie,” You jabbed a finger into your zombie boy’s direction, “They’ll never believe you about that, though.”

  Fred blinked at you, incredulous. 

  “I’m not telling anyone anything. I’m not going to jail. I’m not.”

  You nodded your head a couple of times, running a hand over your hair. “Yeah, okay, you’re right.”

  Then, you grabbed the ax from Eddie’s grasp, swinging it down onto Fred’s propped up wrist. It was a clean cut, hand perfectly severed and Fred let out a scream.

  “You’re not going to jail.”

  Blood spurted from the wound and you cringed back a little, wishing he’d aim it away or something. Gross.

   “Why’d you do that—oh my GOD, my HAND!”

  Fred was in hysterics, clutching his arm, and really you couldn’t blame him. It probably sucked to lose your hand this way but he wouldn’t have to suffer for long.

  You picked up the appendage, waving it around triumphantly.

  “Why are you bitching? What’s done is done. I’m holding your hand like you wanted.”

  Eddie made a sound behind you and turned to hand him the…hand.

  “Here, this is yours now.” 

  Fred whimpered as you positioned yourself over him, ax in hand and poised near your head.

   “The hand is Eddie’s, but chopping it off was for me. You’re never gonna touch another girl, never gonna cause harm with it. Never again. This, however,” you adjusted your grip on the ax, making sure you had a good handle on it, “Is for Eddie. It’s nothing personal, it's just that I hate you and you shouldn’t have been too much of a bitch to report a murder.”

  With that, the ax came down. Fred didn’t make any more noise.

“So, you really don’t remember much about dying?” You asked for the third time, perched on Eddie’s headstone as he shoveled dirt over the grave to seal it once more. 

  “Uhn, uhn.” 

   “Can’t remember faces?”

   “Uhn, uhn.”

   “…Did it hurt?”

  Eddie paused in his ministrations, stabbing the shovel into the ground as he leaned against it and seemed to ponder your question. You wondered if he was trying to recall the answer, or if he was debating on whether or not he should answer. 

  You got your answer a few moments later when Eddie slowly nodded his head, shoes smoothing over the surface of the dirt before he pulled the shovel out and gestured for you to follow him back to the van.

  Eddie was quiet, something had changed. Aside from, you know, your body count.

  You had an inkling it bothered Eddie to not know what happened to him. Not a whole lot of your thought went into it, but Eddie had to have been mourned by someone. He had that tombstone, the inscription. Those weren’t cheap and someone had to have cared for him enough to make sure he had it. Did he have a mom and dad? A guardian? Family?

  He’d left people behind, against his will and probably had no idea where they were now.

  You hoped he didn’t feel alone in the world. 

  It wasn’t impulsive, it was an action that came from a great deal of caring… you reached out for the hand still attached to his body. It wasn’t warm, and it wasn’t cold, either. What it was, was comforting.

  From your peripheral vision, you could see his head turn to you in surprise and you met his gaze, offering a smile and a squeeze to his hand you were sure he couldn’t feel.

  Until he squeezed yours back.

  “We didn’t even need the sheets.” You realized out loud. Originally, you were gonna wrap Fred up, weigh him down with some rocks and throw him in Lover’s Lake. It had been Eddie’s idea to bury him. By that, you meant he just dug out the rest of his grave (impressive with one hand) and rolled Fred into it.

  RIP FrEddie Munson.

After a quick trip into town to get some things for Eddie (he had to lay down in the back), and pick up some more thread, the two of you made it home to find no one else had which worked in your favor. 

  You didn’t bother changing out of your bloody clothes just yet. You still had some Frankenstein work to do with a live-ish appendage, so you found yourself on Eddie’s lap, sewing his new hand into place.

  It would have been quicker if you could focus but Eddie’s face was just a few inches away from yours and he would not look away. The side of your face his gaze was boring into felt hotter than the other side and it was making you nervous for some reason. Not a bad nervous, just…nervous.

  You decided to break the tension.

   “Oh, shit, this is the wrong hand.”

  That did the trick, you felt him tense up underneath you and Eddie’s head darted down to make sure he didn’t have two of the same hand, body relaxing when he realized you were joking.

   “Got’cha.” You grinned, eyes scanning over his features. You felt your heartbeat stutter when you noticed the twitch at the corner of his lips. Eddie was smiling at you.

  Swallowing hard, you cleared your throat, gave him a tight smile, and went back to work. 

  He groaned on one particular tug of the thread, and you paused with a wince, “Did that hurt?”

  He shook his head, but he was also making a bit of a face.

   “Feel unpleasant?” 

  “Mm.”

   “Sorry,” You were a little more gentle in your actions, trying to carefully weave the needle through his wrist, and his new hand, making sure your tugs were extra gentle which he appeared to appreciate, nuzzling his head against yours for a brief moment.

  You nearly convulsed.

  Once the hand was on, the thread had been snipped and neatly secured, it was to the tanning bed!!!

  You got him all situated, made sure he didn’t hit his head and then watched him light up.

  The smell of burnt hair filled the mini garage, and you made a mental note to pick up some hair products later. Eddie’s curls were gonna need it if they wanted to stay attached to his scalp, though you supposed you could probably scalp someone should he need a replacement.

  Argyle, a guy who worked at one of the local pizza places, had long luxurious locks of hair, but you couldn’t do that to him. He was a nice dude, stuck in a permanent trip for sure, and so always pleasant to you. He was also your dealer and you were pretty sure his girlfriend was a witch. The last thing you needed was to be cursed or hexed. Or turned into a goat.

  Settling in for what you expected to be a long wait while Eddie tanned, you were surprised when just a few moments later, all sparking stopped. Figuring you didn't set the right temperature to bake him at, you moved to mess with the dial only for a hand to curl out and push the lid of the bed up.

  Eddie’s time in the tanning bed, while somewhat briefer this time, still seemed to have cooked him. Smoke dripped out, flowing almost syrup-like down to the floor where it all seemed to pool and twist around your ankles as the bright blue lights of the bed’s panels cast the room in a euphoric glow. 

  You stared wordlessly, mouth parted in complete enchantment–and you swore you could hear the intro to Ozzy Osbourne’s No More Tears in the background like some godly music video on MTV–as Eddie’s figure emerged from the smoke still gathered in the bed.

  And in seemingly slow motion to your captivated self, Eddie pulled the goggles over his head, hair tousling just the right amount. His movements were fluid, not a stiff limb in sight. In fact, he even stretched out, shirt riding up to expose his pale—no longer a completely sickly shade—stomach and a smattering of dark hair that made up his happy trail. 

  Uh oh. Something was going on in your body.

  It was only when that happy tail was covered again, Eddie hunching forward, that you realized you were staring at his crotch region. Your eyes drifted up to find Eddie staring at you, more life in those warm, gorgeous eyes of his, framed by attractive dark circles as he smirked at you. No twitching of his lips, no maybe smiles. It was a full on smirk. Eddie was in complete control of his face (and you noticed his cheeks dimpled when he smiled).

  He lifted his new hand and wiggled his fingers at you in greeting. That’s when you lost it, jumping up and down in elation. 

  “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”

  Eddie was fast, pushing himself off the tanning bed to dart forward and sweep you right out of the garage, spinning you around and around.

  You clung to him, laughing and filled with so much joy at the knowledge that Eddie was coming back to life. When he decided you’d been spun enough, and your head was a whirlwind, he released you and you stumbled a little, finding your balance with the hand Eddie offered to you for stabilization.

   “Look at you.” You breathed out in amazement. It was more of a whisper but Eddie heard. He looked pleased, gesturing to himself with a sweep of his wrists, Look at me.

  You were correct in your scrutinization of him when you’d first played dress-up.

  Eddie Munson was very much so hot when he was alive. There was no doubt in your mind. You hadn’t seen a whole lot of his movements, what with him finally being able to move freely occurring just a few moments ago, but you were inclined to believe he was extremely theatrical in them. Probably in everything he did. 

  And confident.

  Eddie seemed to have had enough of the small distance between the two of you, twirling you back in his grasp so you were pressed right up to him, his hands on your sides to hold you. He was grinning like an idiot and you were positive your face was no better. Your cheeks were beginning to hurt from your smile.

  “So. You’re the infamous Eddie Munson.”

  He rolled his eyes and you laughed, something inside of you warming up at the smile he gave you in response to it.

   “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. I’ve been wanting to for a while now.”

[sweetromanova]

Off The Record🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Criminal Defense Lawyer!Original Female Character

Summary: She’s built a career on keeping secrets and defending the worst with nothing to lose. That changed when Natasha Romanoff showed up on the other side of the courtroom.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, psychological manipulation, implied child abuse and trauma, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, human and sex trafficking, war crimes and murder, implied coercion, legal corruption, gun violence, secondary character deaths, power imbalance, blood and injury depiction

Chapters: Two,

A/N: i tried in so many different ways to write this as reader/second person point of view but it just didn’t click so i did have to do original character! please be honest if the legal stuff is a little boring and too much, i feel it’s very dialogue and law-jargon heavy and can change it up if needed! enjoy🤍

Chapter One

Avengers Secondary Holding Facility, Upstate New York March 12, 2022

The quinjet cut through the clouds, the breeze stirring mild turbulence as it glided down toward the landing strip outside the Avengers’ secondary holding facility, the one for when Avengers didn’t want or need the world watching.

Natasha Romanoff stood at the rear hatch, face unreadable and gaze locked on to the man seated across from her. The same man that has just taken her a two month long gruelling mission to finally bring in. 

Maksim Vasiliev. Hands shackled, eyes full of cold amusement as he stares right back. Even bound, he looks like the one with all the power in the room. Natasha fought the use to put her fist through his face, again. Once had been enough, for now.

“Time to face the music.” She quipped, allowing two shield operatives to take him by the arm each as the ramp fully lowered to the floor.

Vasiliev turned to her, that same smile on his face that’s made her skin crawl for years. “You’re still so dramatic, Natalia.”

With his head held high, he sauntered down the ramp like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he wasn’t looking at lifetime of the same concrete walls staring at him.

Inside the facility, the Avengers were already assembled. Natasha entered just seconds before Maksim was seated in the interrogation room, all of them watching the sick man through the two sided mirror. Tension clung in the air until Tony decided to break it, in true Stark style.

“Well, that’s only ugly son of a b-“

“Always something useful to say.” Maria murmured, overseeing his transfer. The two guards that flanked Vasiliev disappeared from view, leaving the criminal alone in the room. “Any ideas on the first move, Natasha?”

“He’s in this for the long run so I think it won’t matter in what order we exhaust our options.”

“I could go in, maybe I can tell if he’s lying.” Wanda supplies helpfully, the pupils of her eyes already sparkling with red as she read what she could from his subconscious. “He’s still smug, like he’s got a way out of here.”

“That’s assuming he talks. He’s had 30 years hiding in the shadows to prepare for this.” Steve sighs. “Did he saying anything on the flight, Natasha?”

“Not much useful. Pointless stuff we already knew.”

“We’ve dealt with guys like him before, sociopaths with god complexes. Best thing we can do is break the pattern and get Wanda in his head to figure out what he knows.” Tony comments, already sounding bored. “It’s our best play.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re bored.” Sam drawls. “How this guy is alive is beyond me? I thought he went up in flames with the rest of HYDRA.”

“He hid, like a coward. Also those scars on his face? Plastic surgery. Fake passports and too many favours from people that owed him.” Natasha’s voice was low. “He slipped once and got caught. Think about how many more are out there, slipping away and disappearing forever.”

“Then let’s not give him the chance.” Tony stands, heading towards the door. “Let’s get Wanda in there, see what he’s coming up with.”

Wanda was already halfway across the room, when the door slammed open.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

All heads turned.

Sienna Blake strode in the place like she belonged, like she’s built the place brick by brick. A sleek black suit framed her figure, pointed heels skimming the floor and dark eyes sharp with precision and defiance. Behind her, Clint followed looking distinctly unamused but also not stopping her.

Wanda blinked. “Who the hell-“

“Who the hell are you?!” Natasha snapped, stepping forward before anyone else could. Her voice low and her tone lethal. “This is a secure facility.”

“I’m aware.” Sienna responded, coldly. “You’re holding my client-“

“Your client?!”

“-MY client illegally. Interrogation without counsel is a violation of the Geneva Convention, not to mention domestic law. You’ve had him in custody, including time of arrest, for six hours without a formal change or notifying legal representation.”

She threw a folder on to the briefing table. “That’s over now. He will not be questioned, touched, read, scanned or even looked at funny until I’ve met with him and confirmed he’s fit to speak.”

“Damn.” Sam muttered.

Tony leaned over to Steve, eyes never leaving Sienna. “Did we get sued and no one told me?”

Natasha’s jaw clenched as she stepped up closer to the woman. “Your client is a war criminal.”

“He’s also a person, WITH rights.” Sienna shot back. “And the law doesn’t care about how much you hate him. Rights are rights. If you’re going to act like a court of executioners, at least be honest about it.”

“She’s a bitch but damn, this is the hottest thing I’ve seen all year.” Sam fails to hide his grin, leaning into Tony as he watches in admiration. “Seriously, who are you?”

“I’m Sienna Blake, you’ll get to know me.” She turns back to Natasha. “If you want justice Agent Romanoff, follow the law. Otherwise you’re just another assassin with a badge.” 

The room went silent. Natasha didn’t flinch as her eyes locked with Sienna’s, almost challenging. “File your charges then we’ll talk.” 

Maria nodded her head to Sienna, watching as she struts out of the room and straight into the holding cell. Not a tremble in her step or a slip of a mask as she walks up to Maksim like he’s a coffee shop barista and not a man accused of genocide and terrorism.

“Sweet Jesus.” Clint scoffs, his tone almost impressed. “She’s something.”

“She is Sienna Blake. The best criminal defense lawyer the country has seen in the last decade. Came from no where and hasn’t lost a case since. She’s defended serial killers, war criminals, terrorists, you name it. Not one has seen the death penalty or life imprisonment yet. Only last week, she got a serial killer with a kill count higher than Tony can count, a ten-year insanity plea.”

“Only ten?!” Steve echoes, eyebrows raised.

“She’s that good.” Maria shrugs. “Pain in the ass but she’s good.”

Natasha glared at her. “You knew she was coming?”

“I didn’t invite her.” Maria laughs, defensively. “But the second we logged that initial paperwork, her firm sent in the paperwork. This case was bought and paid for before the quinjet was in park.”

Tony folded his arms, sighing tiredly. “Fantastic. So Hydra’s hiring the A-Team.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The Avengers Compound, Upstate New York

March 12, 2022

Later that evening, Natasha’s boots had yet to stop stomping through the compound, her tracks almost wearing a hole in the floor. She didn’t speak, she didn’t need too. Her entire body radiated pure, unfiltered fury. 

“So that could have gone better…” Wanda unhelpfully comments, exchanging a look with Sam.

Natasha didn’t reply, just continued to pace. 

“It was dramatic, sure.” Tony saunters over to the bar, playing bartender for the room of tense heroes. “Vodka anyone?”

“I should have just put the bullet in his head when I had the chance.” Natasha mutters, letting the anger seep through.

“Understandable.” Maria mutters, appearing at the doorway. “But also a war crime.”

Natasha turned sharply. “So is everything he has ever done. He doesn’t deserve the right to a fair trial, he doesn’t deserve the right to defend what he’s done. Or should I say get that pretentious idiot in a suit to defend his actions. He deserves a cage. Or a hole in the ground and even then, that’s still too nice.”

“Yeah, well…” Tony shoves a glass into her hand. “Welcome to the modern world. Apparently even Bond villains get legal representation now.” 

With a few taps on the tablet in his left hand, he flips it round to show the team. On there was Sienna’s profile, or what little there was of it. A few heavily redacted articles, a couple of courtroom photos and a list of high-profile cases, most of them deeply controversial. White collar monsters, terrorists with a side of trafficking, sadistic’s with a passion for genocide and even some of HYDRA’s nearest and dearest walking away with plea deals and community service. It was impressive.

“She represented him?!” Steve frowns, pointing to just one of her clients.

“She’s represented worse.” Tony adds. “She’s carved a niche for defending people the rest of the world would rather see set on fire. Yet she’s winning.”

“But there’s barely anything here.” Sam comments, scrolling. “No interviews, no press quotes, no personal information, it doesn’t even say what law school she attended. All of these criminals and cases and not one public acknowledgement, how is that possible?”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “Intentional maybe?”

“Absolutely.” Maria confirms. “She keeps herself off the grid better than some of you. Everything about her is curated, down to the colour of nail polish on her toes. She’s quite the mystery.”

Natasha crossed her arms, jaw clenched. “She’s a shield.”

“And ironically, the most effective one Vasiliev’s got.” 

“She’s not just defending him. She’s enabling him.” Natasha exclaims, getting more hysterical. “She’s giving them all a chance. She’s giving them all hope! Most wanted on Interpol? No problem because legally blonde here will get you picking trash on a highway for 6 months before you can go and steal another kid off the street to turn into the next doped up Captain America.”

Silence followed, nobody quite sure what move to make next. “So, what do we do?” Sam questions. “Let her play lawyer and him walk free?”

“No.” Maria said, firm. “We play this by the book. Yes, it will be hard but we cannot let him walk. Let’s keep our ground clean but efficient. He’ll slip up, they always do.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Natasha’s question is pointedly ignored. “How does she do this? She doesn’t even flinch. How do you sleep at night when you’re defending these monsters?”

Wanda’s voice was quiet, almost empathetic. “Maybe she doesn’t.”

Tony, meanwhile, kept scrolling the tablet. “Huh?”

Steve looked over, already advancing on Tony. “What is it?”

“Check this out. Federal database says she clerked for a Supreme Court justice but the file is sealed. Then nothing for years. There’s no trace of her. It’s like she didn’t exist.”

“That’s not standard, especially for government work.” Maria frowns.

“Exactly.” Tony said. “She’s hiding something.”

“They always are.” 

“But someone with the rep that she has would be smarter. Fake papers and silly narratives would be all over this. She’s just happy to be a question mark to anyone who looks a little deeper.”

“That’s confidence…”

Sam couldn’t help the smirk on his face. “Damn right she’s confident, did you see her in that suit?!”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Avengers Secondary Holding Facility, Upstate New York

March 12, 2022

The sterile white walls of the interrogation wing gleamed cold under harsh fluorescent lights. Sienna stood there, armed crossed, head held high and impeccably composed. Her slate grey suit was pressed sharp but her presence was sharper. Maria approached her, a thick folder in her arms and flanked by none other than Natasha.

“Commander Hill, Agent Romanoff.” Sienna nods, respectfully.

“Ms. Blake.” Maria acknowledges back formally, handing over the file. “This contains the formal charges filed against Maksim Vasiliev earlier this morning.”

Sienna’s ringed fingers skimmed through the pages, scanning quickly. 

“Let me be clear.” Maria continued. “These charges include human experimentation, torture, unlawful detainment, numerous violations of interaction treaties post-HYDRA and human-trafficking. The United Nations tribunal expects this to proceed swiftly.”

Sienna looks up, voice cool and calm. “I’m aware of the charges.”

Natasha’s posture shifted, rigid with anger.

“Interrogation is scheduled to begin within the hour.” Maria supplies, exchanging a glance with Natasha.

“No interrogation will be taking place until I’ve had the chance to go through the charges with my client.” Sienna almost commands. “I have requested a full psychiatric evaluation also. He will be evaluated for mental competency before any questioning.” Natasha’s jaw twitches. “I do hope you’ve received my motion filing.”

Maria nods. “We have received your motion to suppress any interrogation conducted prior to your arrival.”

Sienna smiled, not politely but professionally. “Correct, that motion still stands. Any statements obtained before my involvement will be considered inadmissible. That includes any comments made by Agent Romanoff or my client during travel to the holding facility.” Her eyes shifted to Natasha, who was glaring right through her

Natasha can’t help herself as her speaks, her voice low and venomous. “You’re protecting a monster.”

“I’m protecting the integrity of this process.” Sienna’s voice was too rehearsed, like she’d argued this one hundred times over. “If you want justice, you follow the law. You don’t get to rewrite the rules because it’s convenient to you.”

“Convenient?” The agent clenched her fists. “He’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. You really think he deserves the benefit of the doubt?”

“It’s not what about they deserve, it’s about the right.” Sienna’s tone was absolute, unyielding. “Because if we allow these exceptions, then what separates us from the monsters we fight?”

Natasha took a breath, trying to keep herself in control. “I didn’t become who I am by giving monsters fair trials.”

“And yet here we are.” Sienna replies, still frustratingly calm. “If you’re so eager to condemn him then I suggest you prove it in court and wait for the verdict. Until then, I’d appreciate you respecting what’s right and following the law.”

“You don’t scare me.”

“No, I don’t expect too. I do, however, expect to win.”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about keeping the world safe from these kinds of people.”

“I would agree but what protects the world from injustice? The ‘Avengers’?”

Maria finally interjects, tone businesslike. “The tribunal respects your legal rights, Ms Blake but time is against us. When the evaluation is complete, we expect cooperation.”

Sienna nodded once. “I’ll cooperate, within the bounds of the law.”

Natasha couldn’t hear anymore, muttering in Russian as she stormed from the room. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Sienna.” Maria speaks, watching Natasha go. “A very dangerous one.”

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |11|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of injuries, talks of killing, talks of attack

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You sat on a bed in the ambulance as you got stitched up, again. For the second time, in one day, you had to have your wound from the previous day restitched, then on top of that you needed the wound on your leg stitched. For once you got lucky and the cut on your arm didn’t go deep enough for stitches, the medic just cleaned it and wrapped it.

Much to Sam’s displeasure you refused to go to the hospital, again. You were fine though, you had a slight limp at the moment but once you got used to the pain, you’d be fine, you just needed to walk it off. Besides, you couldn’t waste time going to the hospital, it would take too long and two attacks in a day meant Ghostface could do it again. You weren’t about to leave Sam and her friends alone just to get properly patched up.

You hopped out of the ambulance with a groan, clenching your jaw as you tried not to focus on the pain that radiated throughout your leg. You walked off, trying not to flinch with each step. You looked down, pulling at your shirt as you took in the new blood stain from your torn stitches, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the blood on your pants from that stab wound. If people didn’t know you had literally just been attacked, they’d probably assumed you committed a murder.

“Survived to tell the tale again,” Kirby said, approaching you just like last time. “Seems Ghostface got some hits in,” she tilted her head, gesturing at the bandage on your arm.

You held up your arm, giving the bandage a look, then scoffed. “Cheap shots,” you said with an eye roll.

Kirby gave a knowing hum. “That’s how he does things.”

“I’m learning that,” you mumbled.

You would be prepared next time. The first time, you didn’t have anything, but you caught him off guard, until the second one appeared. The second time you were caught off guard, forced to run into a territory filled with civilians, you won that one, but you didn’t finish the job. And now the third time, you were once again caught off guard, without weapons, your only priority had been to make sure the others got away, taking Ghostface out was your second priority. The fourth time would be different, you would make sure of it. The next time you went up against Ghostface would be the last, for every single one of them.

“You got everyone out,” Kirby said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not everyone,” you whispered. You looked across the way where you saw the coroner wheeling Quinn’s body out on the stretcher. A sheet was covering her face, but you knew she was under there. Bailey looked distraught as they stopped next to him, allowing him to say goodbye one last time.

You narrowed your eyes, Bailey was crying over his dead daughter, there was nothing out of the ordinary, it was the reaction anyone would expect from a father. Bailey had been the first on the scene this time, by several minutes before anyone else, as if he was already on his way there. There was a chance that was the case, he could have been coming by to see his daughter or update everyone on the case. There was something tugging at the back of your mind though, telling you not to take it at face value, Bailey was the last to arrive after the bodega attack, but the first on the scene to the apartment, which happened to be when his daughter was murdered.

You furrowed your brow; you and the girls had gone back to the apartment right after the attack. The only person who had left the apartment was Ethan, you knew the twins wouldn’t let some random stranger into the apartment, besides Quinn’s hookup, who was found dead in the bathtub. That meant Ghostface had to either have been in the apartment the whole time, which was improbable, there was no way he could have stayed hidden for so long. The other option was that he got in another way, possibly through one of the windows, which meant he had to climb up the fire escape. Your eyes tracked the fire escape from the ground up to where you knew Sam’s apartment was. The ladder wasn’t pushed down but the dumpster was close enough that if Ghostface jumped up on it he could have pulled himself up onto the ladder. It still should have made enough noise for someone to notice, but no one did, not until the phone call came in.

“I should get to work,” Kirby said. You nodded and watched her walk off towards the crime scene.

You looked around the area, seeing Chad with Mindy as she got patched up in the back of another ambulance. A medic checked out Anika right outside the ambulance, but you knew the worst Anika probably had was a concussion from being slammed into the wall. Sam and Tara weren’t too far from the ambulance as they talked to an officer. You noticed Danny standing off to the side by the gate and decided to walk over to him.

“Hey,” you said, giving him a nod.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, nodding at your arm.

“It’s nothing,” you waved it off.

“Almost bleeding out it my apartment doesn’t seem like nothing.”

You chuckled, you couldn’t help but nod. The cut on your arm and the tearing of your stitches really was nothing. The real issue was the stab wound on your leg, the knife had gone deep and was bleeding quite a bit before the medics got to you. Honestly, if you didn’t get help when you did you would have most definitely bled out, not that you were going to mention that to Sam or anyone else, but it was definitely something you should have gone to the hospital for.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you said. “That ladder stunt was crazy,” you smiled, shaking your head. “But it was fucking brilliant man.”

Danny chuckled and scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “Me? What about you?” he gestured at you. “Jumping from the middle of the ladder? Now, that,” he pointed at you. “That is fucking insane.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. That was one of the craziest stunts you had ever done, and you had jumped out of planes and helicopters before, though you always had a parachute. You were bleeding out, the ladder was unstable, if you had missed, if you didn’t fall to your death, you probably would have broken most of the bones in your body.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Danny’s question caught you off guard. “I got some you could borrow since you look…” he gestured at all of you. You looked down at your bloody self, you wouldn’t be able to go back to your house and change again.

“Thanks,” you said. “But I got some in my car,” you pointed to your vehicle down the street. “But can I change in your apartment?” Danny nodded.

You made your way over to your car, fighting through the pain that shot through your leg at every step. You opened the back door and unzipped the duffle bag you kept back there; you made sure to always have a change of clothes and anything else you would need in your car. You grabbed your spare plain black t-shirt and black cargo pants. You were sure you’d look rather intimidating walking around in all black, but you needed to be ready for a fight.

You followed Danny up to his apartment, grimacing at the pool of blood on his hard wood floor. You would have to make sure to pay to get that cleaned up, you knew how hard blood was to get out of things. The cops had walked the apartment when they first arrived but because the attack didn’t happen there, they finished up after a few minutes and made their way over to the actual crime scene.

You made your way into Danny’s bathroom to quickly changed. You pulled off your bloodied shirt and had to do a double take when you caught site of yourself in the mirror. You were in great shape, spending most of your time training, when you weren’t deployed, but your body had been through a lot. The stab wound on your side and the cut down your arm was nothing compared to the rest of you. Even the wound on your leg didn’t seem like much. Your body was litter with scars from knife and gun shot wounds, all the times you almost died. You subconsciously brought a hand to the tattoo over your heart, it was the insignia of army special forces, with the initials of your teammates throughout. As your finger brushed over the tattoo you could feel the scar underneath, the bullet that should have killed you.

You shook your head, pushing the memories down as far as they would go. You couldn’t be thinking about that, Sam needed you at your best, you couldn’t let your own trauma get in the way of that. You gripped the sink until your knuckles turned white and kept your eyes pinched shut until you had completely pushed everything away. When you looked up again, you recognized the soldier in the mirror, the one that would do whatever it took to make sure the mission succeeded and right now the mission was saving Sam and her friends. You quickly threw on the clean clothes and made your way back down to the others.

“You fuck with my family, you die,” Bailey said just as you walked out of the apartment.

You furrowed your brow as he talked to Sam. You knew he was upset; it was natural for a father to want revenge on his daughter. However, it hadn’t even been an hour since Quinn was killed, it didn’t make sense for him to be so cold and logically already.

You made your way over to Sam and Tara’s side just as Gale Weathers walked up. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Gale said.

“Don’t even start,” Sam snapped.

“I’m not here for that.” Her gaze flicked to you; you could tell she still wanted to ask you questions but she didn’t.

“Bullshit.”

“Truly,” Gale tried again. “Off the record,” she rolled her eyes. “I found something you’ll all want to see.”

Gale didn’t say what she wanted to show everyone, she just said it was connected to Ghostface. Sam and Tara began gathering the others, you couldn’t help but furrow your brow when Ethan appeared. Chad kept flicking a glare at him, you weren’t sure what happened while you were changing but if Chad was suspicious of Ethan, then whatever happened certainly couldn’t have been bad. Once everyone was gathered you all made your way to the location Gale sent.

You stood close to Sam as everyone gathered at the front of an alleyway, as Gale explained the two kids from Tara’s class who were killed rented the building. It was broad daylight, making an attack unlikely but not impossible. Attacking someone during the day was a risk, higher probability of being seen, but it was unexpected, it was a way to catch the target off guard.

Gale and Kirby argued over how Gale found the place. You knew Gale was a good reporter and reporters had the habit of finding things they shouldn’t, but the fact that Kirby didn’t know the place existed was concerning, considering she was in the FBI and specialized in Ghostface cases. You glanced over everyone else, Chad stood next to Ethan, who had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking uncomfortable and out of place as usual. Mindy had her arm wrapped around Anika, whispering something in her ear. Anika hadn’t said a word since the attack, she just had a distant look in her eyes as her entire body shook. You had seen that look plenty of times, in soldiers after their first fight, in survivors after an attack, it wasn’t easy to get past, but everyone did eventually, with time.

You followed the group down the alley, with Gale leading the way. Gale swiped a card, unlocking a large metal door at the end of the alley. The door led down a dimly lit hallway, the dated red wallpaper was peeling, revealing the stained drywall underneath. You looked down, there was a thin dark red carpet to match the wall, though you could feel how sticky it was every time you lifted your foot. You came to a stop, furrowing your brow as Gale swung open a door and stepped into a metal cage of some sort, before swiping the card again and opening another metal door.

“What is this place?” Mindy asked.

“Just wait,” Gale said, before disappearing. She walked off to the side, a second later there was a loud click that echoed throughout the room, and then all the lights came on.

You couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open, it was some sort of old movie theater. “It’s a shrine,” Gale said as she rejoined the group. You looked around, seeing she had flipped the breaker.

“Holy shit,” Mindy whispered.

The theater was filled with display cases, all of them full of stuff you assumed was from previous Ghostface attacks. It even seemed that whoever created the shrine dressed up mannequins in the actual clothes from the killers and victims, at least that’s what you gathered from the bloodstains on the clothes in question. All the displays led straight to the stage, and in center stage was a set of nine Ghostface costumes, each of them in their own special display case.

You walked through the displays, your eyes scanning over all the information. You had heard bits and pieces from the news over the years, but you never knew it was anything like this. Whoever these new people were, they clearly had done their research, they seemed to have planned everything quite thoroughly. Everything from all previous Ghostface attacks was in one room, that definitely wasn’t a coincidence, you knew something bigger was at play, everything was too easy.

Kirby said she had been investigating the two college kids, they were stupid enough to get on Kirby’s radar before they ever even killed someone. Yet, this place was apparently theirs and hidden so well even Kirby couldn’t find it. On top of that, even if they were rich kids, there seemed to be too much evidence, there was no way they got everything by simply bribing cops.

You stopped at one of the displays, there were sketches of Sam and Tara. You figured it must have been from the attack last year. In the display was also crime scene photos, and photos of Tara. You flicked your eyes to Tara as she made her way up the stage towards her sister, just based on the photos she had endured one hell of an attack. Your eyes then fell on a picture of some guy, smiling at the camera, the nameplate at the bottom read ‘Richie Kirsch’ Sam’s ex-boyfriend. You wrinkled your nose at the picture, you didn’t know the full story, didn’t know anything about the guy, but you didn’t like him from a simple photo.

“So, what,” Chad said. “Someone killed these guys and took over?” you made your way up to the center of the stage where everyone else had already gathered.

“If this were a normal Stab movie,” Mindy said. “This would be the killers lair.”

“But this isn’t a normal Stab movie,” Kirby said.

This wasn’t a movie at all. You might not have been used to this whole thing, but you didn’t get all the movie references. This wasn’t a movie, even if some psycho was inspired by a movie, this was real life, real people died, and Ghostface was just a normal guy behind a mask. You wouldn’t deny that the place certainly looked like a lair, they were definitely right about that part. The idea that two kids created the whole space, only to end up dead and have someone else take up the Ghostface mantle and know about this room just didn’t seem plausible. All your senses were telling you to take nothing at face value, that there was something deeper going on.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler

[hearts4mica]

Can’t we be seventeen?

JD! Tim Drake x Reader

Heathers inspired cause i love heathers.

Masterlist!

_________________________________________

“I’ll stay if i’m what you choose.”

_________________________________________

You had been dating your boyfriend Tim since he moved school’s it was a really good relationship.

When you met his family… it was something?

They acted like the version of the Wayne’s you see everywhere. But something was… weirdly off?

Your friendgroup didn’t like Tim at all!

They all said that “Tim was weird” and that “he was creep.”

Some popular boys invented some disgusting rumors about you. Your reputation fell lower than it already was before. Safe to say you felt horrible about yourself.

Oh Tim… He came to your aid. Telling you he could help you if you wanted to. Of course you wanted his help! You wanted your boyfriend to- i don’t know! But he had connections! He could surely do something about this disgusting rumors-

He… killed them.

“Tim what the fuck! You told me you would help me with them but not murdering them!” That was the first strike.

The second one was when he indirectly made you murder your bestfriend! She got angry at you at a party and treathened you that the next Monday you would be a nobody a friendless weirdo once again.

And the last one was when he asked you to murder another one of your bestfriends.

_________________________________________

“It’s over Tim. I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?… Haha. Hahahah you are breaking up with me?! Oh sweetheart what a funny prank! C’mon let’s go i’m taking you out tonight-“

“I’m serious! I feel like i don’t even know you anymore! And i- i’m done with this i murdered people i should go to jail for this- we should go to jail!”

“I have connections-“ he said weirdly calm which made you feel uneasy.

“So what you can just pay to not go to jail?!- I mean i know we live in fucking Gotham but-!”

“They will never know we did this! For fucks sake [name] we can blame it on another random friendless loser! They can’t defend themselves!” He started smiling a maniac smile he looked like he was about to start laughing.

“I was once a friendless loser! Your behaviour disgusts me! You-!… You’re a killer.” His smile faded. He didn’t like this.

…

“I’ll make sure you go to jail if you break up with me.”

Now he was threathening you?!

“I’ll drag you down with me if you even try to.” And with that you started packing your stuff to leave.

He grabbed your wrist.

“This is your last chance [name]” he looked into your eyes. He did this many times before when he wanted to make you feel small and powerless

He didn’t have that power on you any longer.

“Fuck off” his grip loosens and you move your hand leaving the place leaving him by himself.

“This isn’t over [name] you said we would get married. You promised. It’s bad luck when you break promises you made to me.

_________________________________________

“You promised we would die together.”

_________________________________________

A few years later after succesfully surviving highschool you had saved enough money to leave Gotham.

You could finally leave this horrible place.

You turn your head up to stare at a small poster of the Gotham Academy

“Our honor roll student Tim Drake!”

Of course. You raise your middle finger towards that ugly poster and take one final look to that man. He never stoped stalking you after your breakup.

Everyday you saw him everywhere.

This was the last of those times.

Unkowingly that someone in the shadows was staring at you.

Click

A small noise not loud enough for you to hear.

Tim takes out the photo he just took of you.

Another one for his collection. You were his muse afterall.

The only thing missing was you. Not your pictures, not your stolen clothes. You.

And oh boy you didn’t knew it yet but he made sure your flight was cancelled. You were now a criminal in each of the 50 states, he didn’t ban you in every country since he knew you couldn’t afford to leave the country, so why even bother? And in the impossible case of you affording a ticket he’ll have you in the criminal list in no time!

_________________________________________

You had sold everything. You wanted to start fresh. It was just you and your luggage. It was early in the morning since you planned to leave to the furthest state from here.

Red Robin was there. You saw him. He let him show himself. Maybe he was taking care of you? It was always good to have someone with you in Gotham.

You started walking towards a taxi and looked back to where Red Robin was suposed to be but he was gone. Well heroes have busy lives.

You get into the taxi when and Tim suddenly also gets in backseat besides you.

“Hello darling.” How did he even know where you were?! Why was he here?-

“Tim what the fuck are you-!”

“It’s to early to ask questions am i right? Haha just relax darling.” And with that a gas comes out from inside the car while Tim puts on his mask. “Rest well Darling.”

And with that he went into the drivers seat which was empty and started driving towards the Wayne Manor. Your new home.

_________________________________________

Masterlist!

Requests are open! Thanks for reading!

_________________________________________

[allfortheslay25]

Sorry to that one person who asked about more Milo in my inbox. The ask disappeared and has yet to come back after the draft refused to post so I’ll be posting it just like this.

Hopefully you see it🙏

I should probably mention I wrote this chapter years ago but only adjusted some things at the beginning of the year before January

Milo Future Spoilers

There was nothing like the humidity of South Carolina; damp, sweltering, and mouth drying.

Neil smacked his lips and wiped sweat off the back of his neck. No, nothing like it.

The press of something freezing was soothing for a split second before it was alerting. Neil flinched away from the cold glass bottle Andrew pushed against his neck before taking it.

"Thanks."

Andrew squatted next to him, picking under his armbands to collect the sweat building up under them. Neil stared because Neil liked this pair. A shade of white with the thinnest pair of double orange stripes down the inner forearm. Andrew didn't wear them for much. It didn't go with the silver and gold tone of his uniform nor the black of his wardrobe. He hadn't really put them on since Allison gifted them to him back in 2012.

Andrew took Neil's soda from him after watching the man do little to open the damn thing. He popped off the cap, licking the back before pressing it to Neil's forehead.

Neil quirked up a smile. "It's fresh."

Andrew just turned away with his own drink half done.

"Where the fuck is Nicky? It's boiling out here!" Allison shouted from where she was handing out drinks.

Aaron flicked cooler water at Matt when the man attempted to steal the last lemonade. "Probably got sidetracked talking about Germany again. He acts as if we haven't been caught up with him in the last week."

Kevin rattled the doors like a madman. "Let me in.

We're right here, let me in!"

It would have been hilarious, enough to bring smiles and teasing from the old Foxes. But recently, with Kevin's publicized relapse and his alleged divorce from Thea, well, no one was laughing at Kevin these days.

The outer court walls had seen better days too.

The orange paint had faded to a yellow hue, chipped and dusty with tagging unwashed at the corners. Neil knew the Palmetto Foxes had been on a fortunate rise and he knew sometime after his leave did it begin to fall apart. Wymack bit off more than he could chew, they said. Too many scandals, too many suicides and murders, too many delinquents being allowed on a court. But Neil supposes they did well enough to keep those doors open another year.

Neil's drink was promptly swiped from his hands, the culprit? His son, Milo.

"If you're not gonna drink it at least don't let it go hot."

Neil squinted up at the boy. He did that standing too. Milo had hit puberty and outgrew Neil sometime between 12 and 13, but then the growing never stopped. He stood now, at an even 6ft with no chance of finishing his growth spurt.

Lanky and awkward teenage limbs, freckled and messy haired, Milo somehow stopped looking like Neil. Everyone always says his baby face is nostalgic to first year Neil Josten, but if you put the pictures side by side, Milo always had something Neil didn't. There was a sharpness to him, something he couldn't hide better than Neil.

"Kevin, stop playing with the doors, you'll break them." Renee chastised. It was a miracle to have her here with them in the flesh at all. She spent most of their reunions on video chat with low internet. "I'm sure Coach will be here soon with the keys."

Milo, soda long finished, turned to Kevin with an otter pop between his teeth. "Does it bother you that much?" He mumbled.

Kevin let go of the doors with reluctance. "No... I just... I want to see it already."

Milo hummed around his treat before standing and marching over to the doors. He hip checked Kevin—an eerie sight as they stood head to head in height—and pulled something from his pocket.

Milo fiddled with the fence and it sprung open.

The Old Foxes stared in disbelief.

"You had the keys the whole time? Milo!" Dan said.

Milo shrugged, displaying a paperclip and a hairpin. He shoved the fence out the way and marched on to the doors he'd need a code for. As Milo fooled around with it, the Foxes all turned to Neil with faces of amusement and exasperation.

"He's your son alright." They said.

"Little Josten."

"Little Monster." They all cooed.

"That's 'Little Minyard-Josten' to you." Milo announced before punching a button on the door.

It beeped and clicked and Milo turned the handle to allow everyone inside.

"How did you know the code!?" Kevin wondered.

"They just had a baby, no?" Milo pointed out. "It's always been someone's birthday."

The foyer was almost the same as they'd all last seen it. Orange benches were set here and there, and the floor was white tile with orange paw prints. Orange cones were stacked in a corner, three deep and six high. A white door was on the wall to their right, and an orange door was opposite them. Only difference was there was a crack in the wall no one patched up, and the white tiles had muddled down to a moppy grey.

Milo moved past it to the gear closet. As the Old Foxes looked around and chatted about memories a decade old, Milo had suited up and stolen a racquet.

"Should we let him keep doing that?" Allison muttered to the rest.

"Leave him be, this is the most excited we've seen him since before the B R E A K U P call." Dan whispered.

"You know he can spell faster than us, right?"

Aaron whispered back.

"And you know you're a bad whisperer, right?"

Matt countered.

"Cousins!" Anything Aaron was about to say was cut off by Nicky's loud arrival. He raced towards Aaron and Andrew, bringing them into tight squeezes despite the twos wriggling.

Neil smiled because it'd been three years since Andrew had told Nicky he could hug him without asking. Andrew sometimes snapped that he was sick of it, but Andrew had also told Neil years ago that he didn't do regret.

Nicky let out a sharp gasp from his position in hugging Neil. He all but shoved the man into Matt before springing himself onto Milo. "My baby nephew! You've gotten so big! Last time I saw you you were definitely a head shorter! What are they feeding you? Is it Kevin's diet?"

Milo smiled and hugged Nicky as hard as he could despite the pads. "A mix of junk food and Kevin's dietary plan I only follow when I'm bored."

Kevin sent him a glare for that but went back to finding proper gear without a word.

"How did any of you get inside?" Wymack wondered gruffly. Standing in the flesh, was their beloved coach who hadn't seemed to age a day in their eyes. The only thing new was the baby attached to his chest.

Everyone flooded his space in an instant, cooing and awing at the little infant with orange bows in her curly hair. It was a shame Kevin had to be the one to tell them Wymack and Abby were having a baby. He was too excited to remember they wanted to surprise everyone. Sarah was adopted by them as soon as she'd been born, the baby of a previous Fox who didn't want children. None of them knew her from anything other than the tabloids that printed her face everywhere on Exy news the week after her discharge from the hospital. She dropped out of Palmetto soon after and was in the wind before Wymack and Abby could say goodbye.

"Okay you animals, get your diseased faces out of my baby's face. And Kevin, get your face out that closet and hug me dammit."

Kevin paused from where he was pulling a pair of gloves out of the gear closet to sheepishly shuffle over to his father.

"Where's Abby?" Kevin asked as he smiled at

Sarah's squinty face.

"Napping. She wanted to come by but I told her we'd be here all day and she can stop by when she's had at least an hour of sleep." Wymack said.

He tossed the court keys at Neil who used them to unlock all of the doors inside.

Before anyone finished dressing, Jeremy Knox and Jean Moreau knocked on the locker room doors. This reunion was special, a chance for Jean to see Renee, and Jeremy to see Kevin in an act of support in these dire times.

Having so many professional exy stars in one room felt charged in a way. Kevin seemed ready to cream his pants, or so Andrew commented.

Jeremy looked good in orange and Jean looked like he'd rather do the scrimmage naked. But Neil only had eyes for Andrew whose old uniform stretched on him like a wet dream.

"Can you even play like that?" Aaron smirked, silently laughing at Andrew's predicament. Aaron hadn't been on his college grind in so long, he'd lost muscle mass but gained a healthy weight that his uniform fit almost perfectly.

Andrew silently knocked Aaron on the shoulder with his racquet and clicked his tongue at the weight of it. Neil understood the feeling. Their old racquets were like feathers, Neil wasn't sure he could play with something so lightweight.

Milo was setting up cones and baskets of exy balls with cheerfulness. He was running around the court with a giddiness that rubbed off onto everyone else.

"Don't forget to stretch," Kevin reminded him.

Milo turned and threw his body into a bridge position before resting into a handstand.

"Show off." Kevin grumbled as Jeremy laughed.

Milo properly stretched afterward, first to finish as he picked up the basket of exy balls.

"I wanna show you something. Miss Renee, may you take the goal for me?" Milo asked.

“My pleasure,” Renee said with a smile. She gave Andrew a friendly pat on the shoulder and took her place in the goal.

“We don’t have all day, Milo.” Kevin complained.

“Let him do what he wants, it’s his first game playing with us.” Dan said.

“My first game playing with you guys was actually in the morning of July 14th, 2006. It was my ‘Unbirthday’ as uncle Nicky put it and Matt knocked me onto my back.” Milo said as he got into position.

“You can’t count that as a real game.” Kevin said.

Milo smiled over his shoulder, one of the ones that made the Foxes refer to him as ‘Little Monster’ at times. “Shut up, Day, and watch this.”

He looked back at Renee who nodded at him and got into position. The stance was loose but almost as sturdy as it’d been all those years ago. Milo took up a ball and tossed it to her lightly, allowing her to hit it back far enough he’d have to chase it down the court. And Milo did. He didn’t want to see where it was headed. With bullet-like speed he took off, throwing himself from the wall, flying down the court before anyone could do much as turn their heads. The ball hit a far wall and came back. Milo jumped, snatching it from the air and landing on his left foot before propelling himself forward. He made light work of the cones and within 10 steps, scored on Renee. Neil didn’t know why but when Milo had taken the ball, he waited for a pass to someone who wasn’t there. It itched at his brain in a familiarity he couldn’t place.

Andrew narrowed his eyes before his mouth quirked into one of his amused expressions.

“What?” Neil wondered a little too loud.

“He’s just doing the most for no reason.” Kevin interrupted.

“He just mimicked Neil’s exact play his first time at a Fox match.” Andrew corrected.

Everyone turned to him in confusion.

Neil looked back, running it through his head but that game had been so long ago he didn’t remember.

Dan's eyes lit up, though. “He passed to me. Neil, you did that same jump thing your first game—back when Seth was taken off and you made your debut. You passed to me because someone was on your ass.”

“There’s no way. We can’t even remember it clearly. No one can say for sure.” Allison said.

Andrew tapped his temple. “I can. Memory like a steel trap, I never took my eyes off him. I’m the one who passed the ball to Neil.”

“It’s a fluke.” Kevin said.

Milo whistled at them to get everyone’s attention. “I’m not finished.” He tossed another ball to Renee. “I’ll call it for you this time; Seth Gordon 2006.” Milo changed the grip on his racquet, hands lower as his fingers gesture higher. He straightened his back and ran a few seconds after the ball flew, watching it with his eyes and racing at a slower yet more desperate pace. Once he’d caught it, he whipped it over his shoulder with such speed and strength, it nearly clipped Renee on the shoulder.

“There’s no way to guarantee that.” Kevin hissed.

Milo tossed another ball and cocked his head at Kevin. “Really? Let’s get more famous. Let’s see…” Milo tapped the button of his racquet against the floor and passed his stick to his left hand and the movement was so specific, Jean and the Foxes straightened in disbelief. “Kevin Day, 2007.” Milo called, once again changing his posture. The ball went and Milo moved, catching it and weaving around cones with such single mindedness it was breathtaking. Renee was serious now as she waited, eager to stop Milo but incapable of accomplishing it. The ball whistled past her ear and the Foxes roared in incredulous excitement.

“Join me, will you, Mister Knox?” Milo asked.

Jeremy smirked and followed onto the court. He attempted to take up a backliner position but Milo moved him into the striker mark. He passed a ball to Jeremy and motioned for him to continue. The Foxes readied for whatever trick Milo held up his sleeve next. He moved his racquet back to his right and hunched his shoulders a bit in a way that left him open for injury. Jeremy moved to get past him and Milo hooked his foot around his and sent him stumbling. Milo then yanked his stick out of his unassuming hands with a simple twist, stealing the ball and sending it across the court to be slammed into the goal wall.

“Jean Moreau, 2005.” Milo said. Jeremy was on his ass behind him, clutching his wrist in surprise.

“That was a dirty move. I had so much faith in you.”

Milo gave him his racquet, using it to pull Jeremy to his feet. “You were expecting Jean-Yvves Moreau, 2009. But I like surprises.”

Jean frowned from his place by the Foxes. “That move is long dead. You can hurt someone with it.”

Milo held up Jeremy’s arm by the elbow, waving it at Jean. “He’s all in one piece. Now I’ve got something special for you all. Get on the court, Miss Renee, Drew, you may wait for my last demonstration off to the side.

As they all took their marks, not for a scrimmage but for shooting on the goal, Milo sauntered onto Renee’s place, tossing his racquet for hers. He spun it around and moved his hands before crouching and staring them down the court. Even with the helmet over his eyes, there was an intensity that boiled the cool air into something claustrophobic to the group. No one had to guess who Milo was mimicking now, but he still called out to them.

“Andrew Minyard, 2016.”

Neil got first dibs as he was the first to line up. He moved past Nicky and shot at the goal with a ferocity he saved for real matches. The deafening crack that boomed through the space as Milo’s racquet connected with the ball made everyone flinch in their spots. The ball sailed through the air like a jet before smacking into the other goal.

“There’s no way you did that!” Nicky screamed.

“That’s Andrew’s move. Do you know how many goalies have attempted to replicate that and succeeded?” Kevin shouted. “Eight! Only six have accomplished it in all exy history!”

“Seven, counting me.” Milo said, tossing the racquet over his shoulder. “But if I’m truly honest, I wouldn’t be able to do it again as accurately. Especially during an intense game. I’ve practiced your moves since I could hold a racquet and I've mastered your techniques in less years than you’ve all been playing. But Drew’s moves are special.”

Kevin was still staring at the ball across the court. “We need that tape. Get us that tape. You’ll need to show it to recruiters—”

“Slow down, Kevin.” Jeremy said.

“You’re turning red.” Jean said.

Kevin seemed close to fainting. When he’d had some water and Wymack promised to send him the security tape, they all got their chance to shoot on Milo who didn’t allow a single one through. After the showboating, they played a real scrimmage. Whoever won got to play with Milo next and even as Kevin lost thrice in a row, he never stopped his giddy chatter about the places Milo would go and the changes he’d bring to the sport.