#and craving domesticity like it's a fucking drug

[toshidou]

can't stop thinking of domestic ghost learning how to crochet after he sees you practicing, large scarred, battle worn hands working away with a crochet hook and wool; not missing the way your eyes go fond as he joins you on the couch to crochet by your side. trying to suppress your giggle at the soft sounds of his frustrated grunts when he tries (and fails) to tie the slip knot for the 5th time in a row before he turns to you with a blank expression, arms extended in your direction.

what starts as slowly mastering little granny squares quickly evolves into working on whole projects; clothes, hats, face masks, stuffed animals. your house slowly fills up with both yours and his creations. although it's something you mostly do together, it wouldn't be uncommon for you to come downstairs as the sun rises only to find Simon hunched over a ball of wool, clearly awoken from a night of terrors and craving comfort from the repetition that crocheting provides.

he'd inevitably have to leave for deployment, but not without laying out a new cardigan he'd made just for you (a way he can keep you warm despite the thousands of miles that might separate you) or a little crocheted plush of himself, fitted with its very own little mask; even giving you the option of dressing it in either combat gear or his go to black hoodie and jeans. it leaves you teary every time, clutching his new creation to your chest and nuzzling the soft wool into your cheek, always knowing that his hands were made for more than just war and death.

and if the day comes you finally bring a child into the world, you better believe he's making them an entire wardrobe that matches the clothes he's already made for the two of you; holding the completed tiny garments up whilst you try your absolute hardest to not burst into tears at how small they look, knowing they're so lucky to have a dad who's going to love them so, so much.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l four

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a few weeks, Joel finally realizes that he can’t stay away from you and he gives into his desires; Ellie and Dina start getting closer; you give Joel a special gift that once belonged to your father.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL AND VERBAL ABUSE. reader gets slapped. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. infidelity, implied infertility (reader), mutual pining and yearning, Ellie and Dina interaction.

Word Count: 7k

July, 2024

About twenty three and a half days.

That’s the longest that Joel Miller can stand to bear without seeing you again, and even then, he’d found that amount of time to be too goddamn fucking long for his liking—each and every single minute of those twenty three and a half days felt like an eternity to him. Joel had lost count of the number of times he had almost caved, almost scratched that overwhelming itch he had to seek you out, to satisfy his craving as if he were a recovering addict going through withdrawals and all he needed was a good fix to feel better again. Hell, the more he thought it over in his mind, the more he’d started to realize that wasn’t all that far off. You actually were something of a drug to him, and even though he’d only had a mere taste of what being with you could be like, he was already hooked on the feeling. One hit of you was all it had taken and now he’s a fiend and he wants more of you—he needs more of you or he’ll surely lose his mind.

Exhaling a labored breath, Joel reaches up as he wipes at his damp brow with the back of his hand. The sun is sweltering, beating down on him hard.

July had arrived, and with it came along the most unbearable and unforgiving heat. Winter had been cruel, but summer had decided she wouldn’t be all that much kinder. While Joel appreciated not having to trudge knee deep through the snow, he wasn’t too sure if he would prefer that over the way his denim shirt stuck to him uncomfortably, clinging to his skin like cellophane. He’d been used to it in his first life, having been born and raised in Texas—twenty one years later, he had discovered that he was no longer accustomed to these kind of blistering temperatures. 

After returning from his early morning patrol shift, Joel had stopped by Main Street, popping into the market to pick up some vegetables to make dinner—he’d also gotten some fruit for Ellie. As it turned out, she had quite the sweet tooth. She had gone through about a week’s worth of apples and berries in just a couple of days, but luckily he had enough food rations left over for the week to pick up some more for her. Once he’d finished and left the market, he found himself walking over towards the horse stables instead of heading back to the house like he should have. He really should have gone home, but after twenty three and a half days of fighting his temptation as best he could, Joel realized it was useless. 

Most, if not all, of his thoughts began and ended with you.

Sure, Ellie would mention you here and there over their shared meals together, and even though she had assured him that you seemed to be doing just fine, it wasn’t enough for Joel. It wasn’t even close to being enough. He had to see you for himself. He needed to talk to you, even if it meant running the risk of Tommy finding out. He wouldn’t be too happy about it, but if anything, Joel could use the excuse that he’d just stopped in to check up on Ellie. She had become something of your little helper, taking on the role of a stable hand after Maria had assigned one of the other hands to work in the mess hall. You’d needed the extra help and Ellie had been willing. She had to contribute and she liked being around you, so it worked out in everyone’s favor.

In reality, Joel trusted you with Ellie and he didn’t need to check up on her knowing she was in safe, capable hands—but the opportunity to use the kid as leverage presented itself and he’d be a fool not to take it.

He walks into the stables and starts making his way down along the open stalls, peeking into each one until he finds you—alone—in the second to last stall with his brother’s horse, Ranger. You’re leaning forward slightly, a look of complete concentration on your face as you firmly press the diaphragm of the stethoscope you’re using to the animal’s side and listen. After a minute, you hum and gently tug the earpieces, draping the instrument around your neck as you stand upright and pull out the wooden clipboard you’re holding underneath your arm. 

Joel’s breath audibly catches in the back of his throat, an intense, fiery blaze burning deep in his belly as he drinks the sight of you in. The heat isn’t being any kinder to you than it is to him—you’re sweating profusely and your pale pink camisole is drenched and clings to your body, accentuating each and every curve. Every inch of exposed skin is beaded with drops of perspiration that you’d all but given up on trying to wipe away. You let it drip freely, allow it to run down the sides of your face, neck—it trickles down your chest and between your soft, supple breasts. 

He swallows dryly, trying painfully to ignore the way his cock twitches against the zipper of his jeans as devilish thoughts begin creeping into his mind. Shoving them away, Joel enters the stall and says your name.

You look up at him, eyebrows raising.

Though you seem oddly surprised to see him, you still offer him a kind smile. “Well, hey there stranger. Long time no see.” You pause briefly, shifting your attention back down to your clipboard. Taking a pencil from the back pocket of your faded blue jeans, you start to scribble down your findings on the piece of paper attached to it. “You know, I was starting to think that maybe you were avoiding me or something, Miller.” Although you’d said it in a joking manner, he detects the hint of seriousness in your tone.

Joel shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a sheepish expression on his face. “M’real sorry ‘bout that, darlin’. I just had a lot goin’ on over the last couple weeks. Got real busy,” he fibs, feeling like nothing short of a complete jackass for lying to you. “I, uh—I had to do a whole lotta fixin’ up around the house, for starters. Between that, workin’ patrol, and takin’ care of Ellie, I had both my hands full for a minute there.”

“Well, if you’re here to check up on her, she’s outside in the paddock with Dina right now. They’re hand walking Luna for me,” you say, jabbing your pencil over towards the open stall window. Squinting, he sees the two teenagers out in the paddock, walking along on either side of a white horse, both girls observing the animal’s movements carefully with every step that she takes. You smile once again, though you keep your eyes fixed on your clipboard as you continue jotting down your notes. “Funny enough, if I weren’t so thrilled those two ended up being such good friends, I would actually feel kind of offended that Ellie’s spending a lot more of her time with Dina than she is with me. I guess I have officially been replaced.” You feign a look of hurt, causing him to chuckle. “She’s doing fine, but you’re more than welcome to go out there and check on her. I’m guessing that’s the reason you’re here.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Actually, I came down here ‘cause I wanted to see you,” Joel blurts without thinking. Heat suddenly prickles at his ears.

You stop writing and your head snaps up in slight shock as you repeat in disbelief, “You wanted to see me?”

He nods in admission. “Yeah. I did. Besides, the stables are on the way to the house from the market. Figured it would be the perfect time to stop in and say hello,” he explains, unable to hide the slight nervous edge to his tone as he steps closer towards you. Joel’s closeness prompts a curious little sniff from Ranger, whom he would borrow for patrol from time to time when Tommy was on a different rotation. His brother wasn’t all too fond of anyone taking his beloved horse, but he’d made an exception for Joel. He pats the stallion on his thick, muscular neck. “Hope that’s alright with you.”

Nibbling on your lower lip, a strange feeling blossoms inside your stomach, a fluttering feeling—as if a kaleidoscope of butterflies had just taken flight inside of you. “Of course that’s alright,” you finally reply. Peering at the canvas tote bag slung over his forearm, you ask, “Did you get anything good at the market today?”

He shrugs. “Just some carrots and potatoes for dinner. Oh, and some fruit for the kid. Apples, berries—even got some peaches for her to try.”

Your mouth falls open slightly and there’s an excited glimmer in your eyes. “They have peaches?”

Wyoming hadn’t really been known for its peaches due to the extreme frigid temperatures during the winter months that would often lead to what you’d learned from Martha was called a spring freeze. It didn’t affect all of the plants and trees in Jackson, but there were a few species that simply could not survive the damage caused by the cold, bitter frost—peach trees happened to be one of them. You had seen a couple of the trees that were planted around the community, but only once had you ever seen them come into fruition. The first and last time you had seen peaches available at the market had been three summers ago.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Martha mentioned a couple of the trees survived the freeze durin’ the bloom period. Pointed me towards the bin and said they were picked fresh earlier this afternoon.” Digging his hand into the bag, he pulls one out to show you. He then offers it to you, holding it out in the palm of his hand. “Here, darlin’.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline. “No, I couldn’t. I know they’re meant for Ellie—”

“Relax, peach.” A small grin tugs at Joel’s lips as he continues holding it out to you. “I got plenty for her. Go on, take it.”

You flash him an appreciative smile. Setting down the clipboard on the two step mounting block behind you, you turn back to him and accept it, your fingers brushing his open palm as you take it from him. You eagerly bite into the fruit, groaning loudly as the sweetness of it coats your tongue and sends your taste buds flying into the clouds. The peach is perfect, right in between being too firm and too ripe. “This is amazing,” you say incredulously through a mouthful, prompting Joel to laugh. “It’s so good.”

You take a second bite and gasp when it pops in your mouth, its sticky juice trickling out of the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin. Before you even have the chance to lift a finger, Joel reaches out and he gingerly wipes the juice away with his thumb.

Freezing momentarily, your eyes widen as he continues to sweep his finger across your bottom lip. 

“Had a little somethin’ there,” Joel murmurs.

Nervously, you finish chewing your mouthful of peach and swallow harshly, as if the fruit had turned into glass. You thought he would withdraw his hand by now, but instead, he moves it and cradles the side of your face in his palm. You can’t help but wince—his touch is gentle, but you haven’t been touched there like this in a long, long time. In fact, any time that a hand met your cheek lately, it was in a rough and painful strike.

“Joel,” you shakily breathe out his name. Your eyes momentarily flutter closed and you tilt your head to the side, sinking right into his large hand.

Push him away, you silently urge yourself. Don’t be stupid. Push him away.

But you can’t bring yourself to do it.

You stand there and continue melting into his touch.

He echoes your thoughts. “Tell me to back off,” Joel whispers, grazing the soft, delicate skin of your cheekbone with his thumb.

Your eyes fly open, lips parting slightly when you meet his gaze. When you speak, you hardly recognize the timid little voice that comes out of you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, darlin’. Tell me to back off.”

He’s standing closer, much too close. So close that you can count every single gray that’s speckled in his beard—so close that you finally notice the small scar on his right temple.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to take an even breath.

He waits, but you say nothing.

Joel leans down, bringing his face closer towards yours. Still cradling your cheek in his hand, he lightly starts skimming the other side of your face with the tip of his nose. He trails it down your jawline, drawing closer and closer to the corner of your mouth—that’s where he pauses. It’s only for a second, but to you, that one second feels like an eternity. He pulls back slightly, giving you one last chance to push him away, to tell him that you’re not okay with this—to tell him to stop. When he’s met with nothing but a small, needy whimper, he moves in to close the remaining gap of space between your bodies. Heart pounding, he takes the final leap and captures your mouth with his in a tentative kiss. 

He tastes the sweetness of the peach on your lips mixed together with the saltiness of sweat and you taste something else too—something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s heavenly. He yearns for more, nearly aches for a chance to explore every inch of that pretty little mouth of yours. He wants something deeper, something more, but when he remembers that you’re in a public space in broad fucking daylight, he has no other choice but to pull himself away from you.

“Joel,” you whisper his name, wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you again. You almost find the guts to ask him when the sound of Ellie and Dina calling out your name startles you both, causing you to jump apart and tear away from each other.

The girls enter the stall just a second later.

They’re both sweating, their faces flushed from the heat. 

“Joel? What are you doing here?” Ellie asks him, confused. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him around the stables.

Joel shrugs, nervously touching a hand to the back of his burning neck.

“Just came in to check on you, kiddo. S’all.”

Ellie glances between the two of you, arching an eyebrow. There’s a strange glint in her brown eyes that tells Joel she knows something had just happened and he’s certain the only reason she isn’t confronting you both about it is because Dina’s standing right beside her, seemingly oblivious to the air of tension in the stall.

“Did you girls need something?” you offer in the steadiest voice you can possibly muster.

“We just came to tell you that Luna is back in her stall. She did really well on her walk. Her back leg doesn’t seem to be bothering her anymore,” Dina informs you. “We also finished with all the grooming for today. All the horses on the list you gave us are all squeaky clean, at least for now.” She smiles. “Is it okay if we call it a day? Ellie wants to come over to my house and hang out for a while.”

“You know Talia likes for you to give her some kind of a heads up when you bring company over,” you remind Dina of her older sister’s house rule.

“Yeah, I know auntie. I asked her permission this morning and she said it was okay.”

You glance at Joel. “As long as it's alright with you.”

“‘Course it is.” He nods and points an index finger at Ellie. “Make sure you’re home in time for dinner, kiddo. That’s my only rule. Understood?”

Before Ellie can respond, Dina beams and takes her arm. “Great! Come on, let’s go!” she exclaims as she all but drags Ellie out of the stall.

Joel waits until he’s sure the girls are gone and turns to you, clearing his throat. “I should—I should probably get on home now.” Pausing, he asks, “I’ll see you around?”

All you can do is give him a tiny nod of your head.

“Okay,” he says, sounding relieved

He turns on the heel of his boot and leaves the stall. 

Joel was playing with fucking fire.

And so were you.

“So tell me, does this town have some kinda weird ass rule that says every teenaged girl’s bedroom has to be fucking pink?” Ellie questions as she takes a glimpse around Dina’s bedroom. Her small nose wrinkles in disgust. The walls are painted a light pink color and it looks similar to her own room—but at the very least the previous owner of her space had thrown some green accents in here and there that made it a little less horrendous.

“What? Is pink not your most favorite color?” Dina teases her with a giggle, shutting her door behind her. She kicks off her boots, setting them next to her closet door.

“Totally,” Ellie deadpans, rolling her eyes at her. She gestures to herself with her hand. “Isn’t it just so obvious?”

Throwing her head back, Dina laughs again.

Ellie’s stomach somersaults. Dina might have been nauseatingly girly, but hell, if she wasn’t one of the prettiest girls Ellie had ever met—smooth golden skin, wide brown eyes, and long black hair that falls all the way down to the small of her back. Ellie had noticed the way several boys around the town would stare at Dina and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had her eye on any of them. Of all the fucking things that Ellie didn’t have the fucking balls for, it was asking her friend if she had a boyfriend or not.

Not that it matters if she does or doesn’t.

Right?

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dina offers, waving a hand around. She grins. “Feel free to snoop.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She turns towards her writing desk, noticing a yellow flower beside a pile of notebooks. “Well, well, well,” she says, picking it up. She gingerly pinches the stem between her fingers. “A flower, huh? Who’s it from?” Ellie inquires, her back still to her.

Sheepishly, Dina replies, “Oh. That. Um—my friend gave it to me the other day. His name is Jesse.”

Ellie feels a twinge of jealousy stir in her belly. “And who’s that? Your boyfriend or something?”

“No. I don’t have a boyfriend.” She briefly pauses before adding, “Or a girlfriend.”

Freezing on the spot, Ellie holds the flower in a deathgrip. “Oh,” is all she can get herself to say. Throat bobbing, Ellie sets the flower back down on the desk and then turns to look at Dina. The girl flashes her a small, shy smile, causing her stomach to flip again. Awkwardly, Ellie tears her gaze away from her and her eyes flit to the bookshelf in the far corner of her bedroom. “Can I check out your stash?”

“Go for it,” Dina encourages her.

Ellie nods in thanks and pads over to the bookshelf, their shoulders lightly brushing up against each other as she does so. She starts looking at all of her books and one title immediately stands out and catches her attention. “No fucking way!” she exclaims loudly as she plucks it from the shelf. “No Pun Intended: Volume Tree. I can’t believe there’s a third one! Are you fucking serious?”

“Ah, so you’re familiar with Will Livingston and his hilariously terrible puns?”

Ellie grins as she walks over and takes a seat at the foot of Dina’s bed. She flips to the first page and runs her index finger down the list of jokes until she finds one she likes best. “What did the grape say when it got crushed?”

“Nothing,” Dina replies with a casual shrug, taking a seat beside her. “It just let out a little wine.”

She cackles and turns to the next page. “I don’t trust stairs.” She pauses for a dramatic effect and then continues with the punchline. “Because they are always up to something.”

The girls lose themselves in a fit of giggles.

As Ellie continues thumbing through the pages of the joke book, her smile fades slightly—memories of everything that had happened to her in the last year, everything she had been through, the people that she’d lost, it all comes flooding back to her in a huge wave that would have drowned her had Dina and her sweet, gentle voice not come to the rescue.

“El? You alright?”

Ellie turns to her. “El?”

“Yeah.” Dina’s face flushes red. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

Riley used to call her that.

When she’d still been alive.

Realizing that she was still waiting for a reply, Ellie carefully nods her head. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

“By the way,” Dina starts to say, scooting to sit a little closer to her. “About what happened back in the mess hall all those months ago when you first got here—I feel bad about it and I just wanted to apologize for staring at you the way I did. I honestly didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m sorry too. You know, for snapping at you. I got an earful from my old man about it afterwards. He gave me a lecture on manners.” Ellie chuckles and shrugs, her shoulder brushing Dina’s again. She had to resist the sudden urge to lean into her, just like the way she would always lean into Riley. “It’s just that I was so fucking sick of everyone looking at me like I came from another planet. Maria told me it was because I wasn’t like the other kids. She said I was different.” She pauses, nervously chewing her lower lip before asking, “Is that why you were staring at me? Because I’m different?”

“Yeah,” Dina admits. She notices the expression on Ellie’s face and quickly adds, “But that’s not a bad thing, El. Sometimes different is good, you know?

“Nice save, but that still doesn’t make me feel any better,” she mutters sourly.

Dina nudges her in her ribs with her elbow. “Well, would it at least make you feel better to know that I was also staring because I thought that you were cute?”

Ellie’s eyes widen as they meet Dina’s. “You did?”

“I did,” she confirms. She then corrects herself, saying, “I do.”

Dina smiles and leans in, softly brushing a kiss against her lips. It’s gentle and it’s quick but still enough to make Ellie’s heart race inside of her chest.

“Sorry,” she murmurs shyly as soon as she pulls away. She clasps her hands together nervously in her lap as she fixes her gaze on the floor.

Ellie reaches out, placing her hand on both of hers, causing the girl to look back up at her. “Don’t be. I’m sure as fuck not sorry about it at all.”

Relieved, Dina smiles again. 

Ellie squeezes her hands and goes in for a second kiss. “I should probably get home before my old man gets too worried and sends out a fucking search and rescue team for me,” she mutters against her lips, causing her to giggle. She pulls back and stands up, handing the book back to Dina who shakes her head.

“Take it. It’s all yours.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “There’s just one catch to it. I expect you to tell me a joke every single day.”

Nodding, Ellie grins and says, “Fuck yeah, I can do that.”

Several hours later into the evening, you can still feel Joel’s lips on yours—his touch lingers on your skin. It had been burned right into you and it didn’t really matter how hard you tried not to think about it because you had crossed a line that there was no coming back from. His touch, his kiss. You would never find the ability to forget how Joel had made you feel. Not that you’d wanted to forget it.

You didn’t have any regrets about what happened back in the stables. There wasn’t a single ounce of guilt or shame in your bones over it. That terrified you. You had so easily and so willingly let a man who wasn’t your husband kiss you, and you found yourself wanting and needing so much more.

You stand in the shower, allowing the ice cold water to beat down against your back and shoulders. You’d normally prefer a scalding hot shower to help ease the soreness that came after a long day of tending to the horses, but after today, what you had found yourself needing was a frigid shower to cool off.

And it had nothing to do with the staggering summer temperatures.

You shut off the water and grab a towel from a steel towel rack mounted on the wall right next to the shower. Wrapping it around yourself, you carefully step out of the shower and then reach for a second towel from the rack. You dry yourself off before padding into the bedroom where you’d laid out your clothes at the foot of the bed. You tug on a cotton gray tank top, dark denim blue jeans that you’d cut off into shorts yourself, and a pair of old, faded black low top sneakers that were extremely worn out, but much too comfortable to throw away. After haphazardly towel drying your hair, you pull it back into a ponytail.

In a futile attempt to take your mind off Joel Miller and the feeling of his lips on yours, you decided to preoccupy yourself with menial tasks around the house until it was time to start cooking dinner. The fact that you always kept the place clean—damn near spotless—made finding chores to distract you from your thoughts a much bigger challenge than you’d anticipated. God forbid that Luke ever found an unwashed dish in the sink or a speck of dust on the counter—his perfect little wife just had to keep the perfect little home. He wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.

After gathering the load of laundry that you’d had drying out on the clothesline in the backyard, you dumped it all into the large, woven hamper basket and carried it inside and upstairs to the bedroom. Within ten minutes, it had all been folded and put away. Looking for the next thing you could do to keep yourself busy, you noticed a big cardboard box sitting over in a corner of the bedroom. It’s packed with the rest of your winter clothes—it had been several weeks since you’d asked Luke to take it down to the basement and he still hadn’t done it for you.

Rolling your eyes, you pick it up, a labored grunt escaping you when you find the box to be much heavier than you’d remembered it being before. It nearly slips out of your grasp a couple of times, but somehow you manage to make it downstairs without dropping it—or falling. You carefully make your way down into the basement, the old wooden staircase creaking underneath your sneakers with each and every step. Once you’d made it down to the bottom, you haul the box over to the corner of the basement where you set it down with about half a dozen others, most of which were filled with your late father’s belongings.

Luke had been nagging you to get rid of everything to clear up space in the basement, but the thought of getting rid of your father’s things made you sick to your stomach. They were all you had left of him, after all.

As you glance around the dimly lit basement, an object nestled against the pile of cardboard boxes catches your attention. It’s a black leather guitar case. Letting out a curious hum, you drop to one knee and lay it flat on the ground, opening it only to find your father’s brown, classical Gibson he’d been gifted the year before he’d died by members of the town. He’d always been fond of music, and before the outbreak happened, he would play his guitar for you and your younger brother almost every single night, right after supper. When word spread that his illness was terminal, the kind folks of Jackson surprised him with the instrument, hoping it would bring him at least a little bit of joy in the time he had left. And it truly had. Even as a woman nearing your thirties, you’d found yourself sitting cross legged on the floor of your dad’s living room staring up at him in wonder as he would play his old favorite songs for you on the acoustic guitar—in those moments, you had felt like a child again.

You’d felt happy. Safe.

You brush the guitar strings lightly with your fingertips.

Suddenly, you remember the night of the party and how Joel had told you he enjoyed singing and playing the guitar in his life before the outbreak.

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over in your mind. The decision comes quickly, and you close the case and pick it up, ascending the basement stairs with it in hand. It’s half past five—you still had some spare time before you needed to get started on dinner. You figure you won’t be too long. Besides, Luke had mentioned to you earlier that morning before heading out that he’d be staying late at the clinic anyway—one of the women in the community had just given birth to a premature baby boy that he’d need to keep a close eye on for the next few days.

Leaving the house, you start down the road towards Joel and Ellie’s place, remembering it was the brown and green unit just a couple doors over from your own place. You make your way up the porch steps and knock lightly on the front door. You try holding the guitar case behind you, but it’s fairly obvious what you have in your hands.

As you wait, you shift nervously from foot to foot. A few more seconds pass by and Joel answers the door. His salt and pepper curls are damp, and the scent of clean soap wafts in the air around him, slowly making its way over to you. He’d traded in his dirty denim shirt from earlier for a navy blue t-shirt that fits snug over his broad chest and wide shoulders.

He says your name in surprise. “What are you doin’ here?” His dark eyes flicker to the guitar case behind your back. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Oh, just a little surprise for you and Ellie.” You toss him a cheeky, mischiveous smile. “Do you mind if I come in for a minute?”

“‘Course not.” Joel steps aside. He shuts the door behind you and beckons for you with his hand to follow him down the hallway and into the living room. For essentially being a single father, he knows how to keep a nice, clean home. Knowing Ellie, she sure as hell isn’t the one who tidied up after eight hours of mucking out horse stalls.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask him.

“Upstairs. She just got in the shower a minute ago, but she shouldn’t be too long,” he tells you. Placing his hands on his hips, he peers curiously at you. “I’d ask what the surprise is, but just by lookin’ at the shape of that case, I think I might already have a hunch.”

“Jeez Joel, you could have at least acted surprised, you know,” you remark with a giggle. You set the case down on the antique coffee table in the middle of his living room and open it, revealing the guitar to him. “Surprise!”

Walking over to the case, Joel delicately picks up the instrument by the neck and pulls it out, giving it a once over. He lets out a long, low whistle as his other hand runs down the smooth, cherrywood body. “This is fuckin’ gorgeous,” he states. A playful look flashes in his eyes as he asks you, “Now, who did you go and steal this from, darlin’?”

“It belonged to my dad,” you reply softly with a smile. “I thought you might like to have it.”

Joel’s jaw drops in shock as he hisses, “What?”

“Hey, I wasn’t lying when I said we’d have to find you a guitar,” you laugh. “I’m a woman of my word, Miller.”

“Darlin’ I can’t accept this, there’s no fuckin’ way—” He tries handing the instrument back to you, but you take a step back and hold your hands behind your back, shaking your head. He tries again. “Listen, I appreciate the thought, but I can’t take this. It was your dad’s and I really don’t think he’d want some stranger to have it.”

“Please take it,” you request, sweetly. “It would mean a lot to me if you would. He really loved this thing and I just know he would be devastated if he knew that it’s been sitting in my basement collecting dust for the last two years.”

Joel’s momentarily rendered speechless.

“Please,” you repeat, adding an innocent bat of your eyelashes to finish winning him over. “Do it as a favor to me, Joel.”

He sighs in defeat. “Jesus, darlin’. Why’s it so fuckin’ hard to say no to you?”

You shrug, trying to mask the look of sheer triumph on your face.

He takes a closer look at the guitar. “Gibson. Y’know, I always wanted one of these back in the day, but I just could never bring myself to drop that kinda cash. I wanted real bad and now here I am with one in my hand.” His gaze meets yours and he smiles softly. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Joel. But don’t you forget that we made a deal,” you remind him as a teasing grin spreads across your lips. “You owe me and Ellie a song.”

“Speakin’ of Ellie, she’s gonna lose her mind when she sees this thing,” Joel realizes, giving it a single test strum. “I’ve really been wantin’ to teach her to play for some time now. Guess now I can.” He shoots you a look of sincere gratitude. “Thanks, peach.”

Peach. 

As you recall what had happened in Ranger’s stall earlier that day, you let out a nervous, breathless laugh. “That my new nickname or what?”

“Only when I feel like it,” Joel replies jokingly as he carefully places the guitar back in its case. “Which might be all the time.” Closing the case, he turns to you. He hesitates for a second, but then takes a careful step closer towards you. He cups your face in his hand, just like before, his eyes flitting to your parted lips. 

Lifting your hand, your fingers curl around his wrist. 

You’d do just about anything for him to kiss you again—but the both of you had almost been caught by Ellie once already and you weren’t trying to make it two for two. It takes all the strength you have inside you to drop your hand away from him and step back.

You lightly clear your throat. “Um, I should probably get home and get dinner started before it gets too late. Will you say hello to Ellie for me?”

Nodding, Joel assures you, “‘Course I will.”

He walks you to the front door. He places a hand on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against the patch of smooth skin peeking from between the waist of your shorts and the lace hem of your tank top. Once he opens the door, Joel withdraws his hand from you to be safe. He doesn’t want anyone who might have been passing by the house to see any kind of physical contact between you and him and get any ideas. “Have a good night, peach.”

You smile at him. “Have a good night, Joel.”

You return home within seconds and head straight to the kitchen. When you walk in and unexpectedly find Luke standing there leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, you stop in your tracks and let out startled little gasp. “Luke,” you say his name, hoping he can’t detect the nervousness in your voice. “You’re home early.”

He stares you down from where he’s standing. 

“Where were you?”

You can tell by the expression on his face that now isn’t the time to even think about lying to him—not unless you wanted things to go a whole lot worse for you. “I, um—I was over at Joel and Ellie’s place,” you admit to him. “I was only there for a couple of minutes, though. That’s why I left the door unlocked.”

“What were you doing over there?”

Luke sounds calm, but you know him better than that.

The clouds are coming in—the storm is brewing.

You swallow, your throat dry. “Just talking.”

“To Ellie?” Pushing away from the counter, he slowly saunters over to you with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Or to Joel?”

“Luke, please. Let’s just talk about this calmly—”

“When I ask you a question, you fucking answer it,” Luke hisses as he grabs your arm, his fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh right above your elbow.

“Luke, stop. You’re hurting me,” you manage to tell him through gritted teeth. As you squirm, his grip only tightens. “Seriously, you’re hurting me. Please, let me go.”

The panic is beginning to creep in, your body ready to go into flight mode, but you will yourself to remain grounded, to stay as calm as possible—dealing with him and his temper is frightening, but becoming emotional and showing him that you’re afraid of him always makes things so much worse in the long run.

“What the hell is going on between you two?”

“What? Nothing! I hardly know him,” you try to tell him. You let out a small, painful yelp as he continues to dig his fingers deeper into your arm. “Luke, I need you to let me go. You’re really hurting me—”

Finally, you lose your nerve and look away from him, trying to avert his furious gaze. 

Letting go of your arm, Luke reaches out and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you honestly think I’m fucking stupid? Or are you just that fucking stupid?” He spits out in a venomous tone that sends an unpleasant chill down the length of your spine. He squeezes your face, hard. “Do you really think that I didn’t notice how the two of you had come from behind the barn that night during the party? How you were out there alone together, with no one else around?” He lets out a loud, bitter laugh. “Do you really think that I didn’t notice how that man fucking looked at you even when you were at my side?”

Luke releases your face, shoving it away harshly.

Taking a moment to catch some wind, you look up at him and sputter out the most coherent explanation you can come up with “We don’t even know each other, Luke! I don’t know Joel—the only reason we talk to each other is because Ellie’s his daughter and she’s gotten really close to me since she started working down at the stables. He only talks to me when it has something to do with Ellie. His kid. That’s it.” You’re now lying straight through your teeth and all you can do is pray he won’t pick up on it. “Today was the first time I’ve talked to or even seen Joel in weeks. The night of the party, he’d told me that he wanted to teach Ellie how to play the guitar so I went over to give him dad’s old Gibson. You’ve been telling me to start getting rid of his stuff, so I started with his guitar. That’s all.”

It’s difficult to be certain whether or not he believes you. 

“Ellie,” he repeats her name with a scoff. “What, you couldn’t bear any of your own so you just go around adopting feral little strays now? Is that it?”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “Screw you, Luke.”

He smirks. “Hit a nerve, sweetheart?”

You know better than to shoot back at him.

Still, you foolishly do it anyway. 

“First of all, don’t talk about Ellie like that. In fact, I don’t ever want to hear you say her name again so keep it out of your mouth,” you warn him, your voice low, seething. “And second, don’t you pin our lack of a family all on me just to make yourself feel like a real fucking man.”

You see it coming before it even happens and brace yourself for the impact. 

The sound of his hand connecting with the side of your face bounces loudly off the kitchen walls.

“Listen and listen good because I won’t repeat myself,” Luke snarls. He backs you against the kitchen table and grabs a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back roughly as his face inches closer to yours. “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again. You are my wife—you honor and you obey me, especially in our own home. The next time you run your fucking mouth like that, you’re going to be picking pieces of your jaw up off the floor. Do you understand me?”

Chest heaving, you nod meekly.

He pulls your head back further—harder. “Say it.”

“I understand,” you squeak, momentarily feeling like he might actually snap your neck. 

“Good.” Luke releases you and stalks out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I expect dinner to be on the table in an hour.”

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 2 - Reflections

Word count: 2,600. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter

Chapter summary: The story of Mina's (Alastor's wife) life and death. Trigger Warnings: Canon typical violence, canon typical language, suicidal ideation, religious trauma if you squint, forced marriage, mention of abortion, mentions of dubcon, terminal illness, drug use, domestic violence, murder.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 2 - Reflections

October 4th, 1917

California coastline, near Sonoma

Mina Gallagher looked out at the Pacific Ocean and wished she was dead.

Fantasized about it, more like.

Growing up in Ireland had given her a enduring love of the ocean. She was in awe of its power; how it could go from calm as a child’s rocking crib to an omnipotent force capable of ripping sea cliffs apart in a matter of hours. Her small, weak body craved that kind of strength, and she would slip her shoes off to stand in the shallow, icy waves, praying to it as devotedly as her parents prayed in mass every Sunday.

As a teenager, she would run away to the shoreline any chance she could and let the ocean be the only witness to her desperate tears. She had thought about swimming out into it then, letting a rip tide carry her away to freedom . . . and certain death. Same thing, really. But she hadn’t the courage then.

When she was married off at 16, she stood through the whole long torturous ceremony, daydreaming not of a groom as most girls did, but of stowing away on a ship and fleeing to America.

A year later, with her husband in pieces in his coffin and her dead baby not yet dispelled from her womb, she got that wish granted. Only she had been no stow away; she had been a proper passenger, with her fare paid for by her new manager.

Her voice, and her body, were his for the time being. They often snuck out on deck late at night and he would fuck her from behind, thinking she enjoyed the thrill of potentially being caught as much as he did, but in reality, it was so she could watch the waves ahead of them and ignore the man grunting from behind her.

Men were such pigs, but they were easy to manipulate. He had thought he was using her, but it was the other way around.

It took her a couple more years to be free of him but eventually she was able to dispose of him. Not as violently satisfying as she had dealt with her husband but with a poison that she was able to frame his assistant for.

There were many downsides to being a woman born around the turn of the 20th century but getting away with murder was one of the rare benefits. No men were comfortable admitting that a quaint little five foot nothing girl was capable of causing them harm, let alone hacking them to bits or slipping arsenic into their drink, so she was never the prime suspect in either of those cases.

The Irish Siren was the nickname the Americans had given her and they loved her scandalous life story and the lyrics that were inspired by it in a way that her conservative Catholic homeland could never.

If she had lived to see the roaring twenties, she really could have come into her own.

Mina coughed into her napkin and it came back bloody.

She had been able to make a living touring the nation, completely reliant on her “God given” talent to sing until the age of 24. Not long after that birthday, the coughing started. By the year’s end, it was clear her singing career was over. She was the Irish Siren no more.

The Atlantic ocean had always felt like home to her, so she had stayed on the east coast for as long as she could. Back home in Ireland, the Atlantic was mercurial and always in motion but here in America, she saw its other face. This Atlantic was calmer, steadier, and more reliable. The fair weather, high humidity, and low elevation of the Carolinas were supposed to be good for those suffering from consumption and she was able to continue making a decent living as a poet. She couldn’t sing anymore but she could still write, though she kept her favorite, darkest pieces to herself.

Eventually the itch to travel one last time consumed her thoughts, a stronger acting force than the disease consuming her body, and she saved up enough money to cross the country by train and buy a house on the west coast. She had always meant to see the Great American West and now that her time was growing short, it was now or never.

The Pacific Ocean was so much more than she expected. Here on the coast it was often overcast and rainy, and tricked her mind into being nostalgic for her lost childhood home. She had loved Ireland’s landscapes, enough to almost make her forget how much she had hated her life there.

It was so big, this new ocean. She purchased a globe so that even in the evenings when it grew too dark to see the water, she could still admire the sheer dominating size of the thing. There could be so many secrets hidden beneath its depths. Lost civilizations or ancient Eldritch style monsters long forgotten by the modern world.

If she had worshipped the Atlantic Ocean, she had well and truly fallen in love with the Pacific.

Mina stared out her window, watching the rain, and accepted she would have to wait for another day.

Her plan was to row out on the next sunny, calm morning, get out as far away from the shore as the tide and her sickly body could take her, swallow the rest of the laudanum, slit her wrists, and jump in the water. Let the ocean and its creatures, depths, and secrets have her body. It was better than a casket and a last devotional ceremony to a God she had turned her back on long ago.

She coughed again, and the wracking overcame her frail form, forcing her to sit down and double over. Afterwards, she breathed in as deep as she could, but it was painful and hardly satisfying to her oxygen starved body.

That perfect day had to be very soon or she wasn’t going to live to see it.

From what seemed like a distance, she heard a knocking, and realized it had been going on for a while but she was so lost in her laudanum she hadn’t noticed.

It was probably just her one and only neighbor, a bizarre middle-aged man with more money than wits, and a rather strange collection of exotic animals that tended to get loose. He came over more often than her physician, asking if she had seen any of his escaped creatures. The conversation always turned into a proper visit, and she didn’t have the energy or the patience for his strangeness today. So she ignored the knocking and continued in her reverie. Maybe the would-be visitor would assume she had finally died and would leave her in peace.

She laughed out loud at that thought and triggered another coughing fit.

The world turned glossy again and several minutes to several hours could have gone by as she watched the ocean waves in her drug induced stupor until a voice from behind her lifted her from the fog.

“Hello, Mina.”

She turned in her seat to face the man in her doorway, unsure of who he was at first. After a heartbeat, her mind registered the face.

“Johnathan,” she said, acknowledging him as if she had any idea of why he was standing in her living room like he had every right to be there.

She thought she had done away with him for good. In no uncertain terms she had made it clear to him that unless she wanted to continue being dissatisfied in the bedroom, there was no point in him staying in California for her. She was too sickly to perform any kind of proper wifely duties for him, too barren to give him any more heirs and frankly he had enough of them already, and she was clearly dying soon anyway. The only reason he had to continue to propose to her was for her money, and she had told him frankly she wasn’t stupid enough to leave her fortune to a man such as himself. That had gotten her slapped and though she hadn’t been physically well enough to fight back, she had born the shiner proudly in the mirror for a couple weeks. At least she had been left in peace because he had stormed out of her house after that argument and not returned. She had hoped either the war or the pandemic would kill him, or that she would be dead herself before he had the opportunity to bother her again.

“More prospecting business dragged you back to town, eh love? Come to try and marry a corpse while you’re at it?”

“You were always such a cold-hearted bitch,” he said, and she noticed he was slurring his words even more than she was. “I’m surprised there’s enough heat in you to keep that cunt warmed up.”

She had her faculties about her enough to know to stand up and begin putting distance and furniture between him and her. He had never spoken to her that way before, not even when he had hit her.

Johnathan was always a short-tempered little shit with those he deemed beneath him but he had been well mannered with her up until his last visit. She was lonely and often drunk or drugged since her diagnosis and had allowed herself to be entertained by him now and then.  But she was realizing too late that she had become arrogant and careless around men in the last couple years of her life and forgotten how dangerous an animal they could be when they didn’t get their way.

And Johnathan looked like he regretted not giving her more than a hard slap all those months ago.

Mina ran, as fast and hard as her tired muscles could carry her, and made it all the way into her rarely used kitchen before he was able to catch up. Not that she had any plan or real means of escape.

But she did have knives.

She was able to grab one out of a drawer but then he was on her, slamming her face into the edge of the counter and she dropped to the floor.

Somehow she managed to roll onto her back and face him, all without dropping the knife. But he saw it and was able to grab her arm before she could drive her weapon into him.

Her arms were as weak as everything else in her body but her grip was still strong enough so that he couldn’t pry her fingers off from the around the hilt, at least not while also trying to hold her legs down as she desperately tried to kick at him.

Johnathan gave up his attempt at removing the knife from her hand and instead turned her wrist so that the deadly point was now facing her stomach.

“Stupid bitch,” he hissed out when she got a good hard kick into his shin. “I don’t want to kill you, stop fighting!”

Oh, he just wants to beat and rape me, how considerate, she thought.

Her face was bleeding badly from where it had made contact with the countertop and she tasted her own blood. Johnathan had strength, size, and health on his side of this battle but she had something he likely hadn’t considered.

She had already come to terms with her death. And she was really, truly, quite insane.

Mina stopped trying to hold him away from her and let the knife plunge into her abdomen. It hurt, but there was little wind to knock out of her lungs anymore and she had so many painkillers in her blood at this point, so she hardly felt more than a deep pressure.

Johnathan’s face was brought suddenly closer to her as he wasn’t expecting the sudden stop in resistance against him so she closed the gap between them by sitting up just a couple inches and bit hard into his cheek.

She clenched her jaw down as tightly as she could and felt the flesh tear and a new taste of blood spurted across her tongue.

He screamed and she laughed.

Mina let go as he pulled away suddenly, clasping a hand over his face and still screaming. She wasted no time in yanking the knife from her own stomach and swinging it up and then down again, burying the blade to the hilt in his neck.

It made a squelching noise as it sank in and Johnathan’s screams were replaced with a wheezing expulsion of air.

She brought the knife out and then right back into his chest.

He fell backward and she stabbed again.

And again.

She didn’t stop until the fatigue in her arms made her stop.

Mina struggled to her feet, using the kitchen counter to pull herself up, and looked down at the body of the man she had just slaughtered with her bare hands. He had not been her first victim. Not even her second. And her only solid thought was it was too bad she couldn’t have done that more often, to more men.

She was so out of breath and getting really, really tired now.

Looking down at herself, she realized most of the blood pouring down her dress was her own and remembered she had been stabbed.

Right. Today would be the day after all.

She stumbled through her house and out the back door.

The rain hadn’t stopped but it was alright because she really couldn’t feel the cold.

Just make it to the water. That’s all I want, to feel it one more time.

But it was so far away.

Her house sat a good 200 yards from shore and she was barely off her back porch before vertigo caused her to stumble to the side. It took almost all her remaining energy reserves to get back up and when she did, her vision was so blurry and her head was spinning to the point that she nearly vomited.

She looked down at the hand that was pressed to her bleeding abdomen, trying to will herself to walk the rest of the way down to the water. It was no good. She was surely going to pass out any second now. If she hadn’t been so out of her mind from lack of blood and opium, she likely would have cried.

When she looked back up, she saw the strangest thing.

A panther was crouched, maybe just ten feet from her, still as a statue and looking right at her. Its coat was shiny and mostly black, but light enough in some places that a dark golden-brown pattern of wide spots could be made out along its sides.

Maybe the knocking had been her strange neighbor after all, at least at first. Come to tell her he was missing a member of his collection and to not venture too far out from her house today.

The panther’s irises were green, with gold around the edges, and her poet’s mind declared it the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen.

But it doesn’t have a panther’s face, she thought, that’s the face of death.

It leapt for her then and she simply sat down. When it landed, she had a moment to feel its weight push her back into the sand beneath her.

She kept her eyes open as its teeth found her neck but she was already too far gone to feel any more pain.

Next Chapter ->

[jscameron]

You

warnings: implied drug use, implied sex, possessive rafe, domestic fighting, rafe x fem reader. maybe that’s it!

Let me know your thoughts! ❤️

you and rafe have been on and off for 2 years. every time he went on a binge, you would leave. he would hate it. you would fight, and then make up immediately.

it was the same, vicious cycle.

you wanted better, needed better, CRAVED better. but you also wanted him, and you knew he needed you.

“baby, i’m going to quit. i know it’s hard, but please don’t give up on me.”, he begs you. “rafe, no. you know i don’t want you to be this way, but it seems like i don’t matter. your drinking and drugs are more important.”, you counter. “that’s not fucking true, y/n!”, he screams, pupils dilating. “i hate you.”, you calmly say back. “no you fucking don’t.”, he says, as he grabs your jaw with his huge hand, forcing you to look in his piercing blue eyes. “you love me. and you know it. you love fucking me, too. that’s why we always fight, it leads to the best sex. and you know i love you sober or not.”, he says, inches away from your face.

your breathing gets heavier and faster. your heart beats in your chest, as if about to rip out of your ribs any second. he’s looking you up and down. “you getting hot and bothered already, baby?”, his breath fanning over you. “n-no.”, you blush and turn away, trying to deny him the satisfaction of turning you on.

“awe, baby.”, he coos, while trying to put his hand against your cunt through your jeans. you feel his fingers run over you through the fabric, and it makes you melt at his touch. “let me get in you. don’t fight it.”, he says as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom.

you start slapping his back playfully, already knowing where this will lead.

he tosses you onto the bed, eyes you up and down. he’s biting his lip. goddamn, he’s so fucking hot. “pants, off.”, he orders as he’s pulling them off of you. he hungrily looks at you in your red, lacy thong — his favorite. “mmm”, he moans. he starts licking you through your panties. “r-rafe, no.”, you try and push him off of you. “no, baby. i’m going to eat you out. and you’re going to take me. i love you.”, he says, as he pulls your panties off. “i’m keeping these, you know.”, he says as he stuffs your thong in his pocket. “yeah, yeah.”, you say annoyed and flustered.

“you’re so important to me. i promise i’m going to get clean. i love you, baby girl. it’s you. it’s always been you.”, he says, lovingly. and you know he means it. “i know, rafey. i know. i love you, now use me already.”, you beg.

“yes, ma’am. happily. you are my drug of choice.”, he smirks as you proceed to have the best night for the both of you.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Is it bad that I crave your writting for Boo's childhood/backstory(including teen years, that shit gets crazy) just pack with layers upon layers upon layers upon layers upon layers of gut wrenching and sole crushing angst?

And Boo is telling Al and Seth all of this horrific tragic story and at the end of it they're just sitting there like:

"Sugerboo, wtaf?!"

lol don't mind me, just need to feel things tonight! And by that I mean pain! 🥲

-🪷 anon

Fucked life.

TW: Drug use, gambling, bad parents, domestic abuse (won't go into it), manipulation, shitty childhood and in all just wow. If I write anything wrong please tell me!

‼️This is just for the ask not giving Boo an actual background.‼️

"My childhood was of drugs, screaming, and fighting behind walls." Sipping the alcohol in the cup they got. Sugarboo leaned back on the chair they were in, nonchalant about what they just said. The boys were silent waiting for them to continue, not to disturb the comfortable flow they got themselves in.

"My dad wasn't and still ISN'T a good man. He would beat my mom, screaming at her why did she give birth to a defect of a kid. One that couldn't even shut the fuck up when he was mad." Hissing out Sugarboo grabbed the cup a bit tight. Seth felt his hands clench, and Alphonse looked ready to kill someone.

"But my mom wasn't a Saint either in this shit. She'd be like 'I took that beating for you and you can't even try to better yourself? What kind of child doesn't try for their mother?' She'd also say that me giving her money for her drug abuse would help her." Looking into the flames of the camp fire Sugarboo got lost in thought. Memories of needles and white powder on the table flashing through their mind.

"I had to lie to cps so, so many fucking times. Saying my mother was just tired because she worked two jobs, which she did. But got fired every time because she kept stealing food from the kitchen and taking alcohol from the gas station she worked at." Chugging the rest of their alcohol they reached over and grabbed a bottle of whatever. Cracking it open they didn't want to look at the stares of pity drilling on the back of their head.

"After my dad finally cracked and left my mom because of her drug addiction he took all the money we had. I was uumm, 16? Had a job at this Cafe in the city we lived in. The owner was this old man that knew what my mom did." Smiling solemnly SB thought back on that man. He was the father figure they needed desperately, he was a short Mexican man in his late 40's.

"Francisco, let me stay at the Cafe if I needed too. Made sure to squirrel away money for me so I can get away from my druggie mom....." Whispering SB wiped some tears that fell. It was hard talking about this shit, how their live was a mess and now they can't really talk about it. Not without the looks of pity.

"My mom found out when Francisco was talking to another coworker of mine. About how it was almost $200 dollars saved up for me. I've told him as soon as I graduated I was skipping to a different town. I wanted to be a baker, but my mom told me I needed a real job." Hissing out the last bit Sugarboo chugged the rest of the second cup. Starting their third as they slurred out more words.

"The bitch tried to hurt him! I never....got so fucking angry before. I grabbed a bottle and smashed it over her head. My mom didn't like that, so she, who was on a withdrawal of two days, began choking me." Moving their collar, flashing the scar they got from her nails. Alphonse remember asking about them before, Boo just shook their head and said 'For another time.' He felt like shit asking about it now.

"Francisco, worried grabbed a gun he had incase of a robber....shot her. There was witnesses and everything, so he wasn't charged. It was ruled as self defense. But I didn't have anywhere to go, as shitty as it was I had to be pit in a foster home." More tears pooled in their eyes as they left them fall. They wanted to stay with Francisco, but the Judge's words were final.

"I still worked there at the Cafe. But I wanted to stay with him! My Foster parents were nice I guess but they didn't get me. Mostly left me alone because I was older." There was older kids there but, SB didn't make friends with them. It was clear they didn't want another teenager with them.

"When it was the summer before or was it after? I turned 18....Francisco, he....he died." Sobbing out Seth and Alphonse got up. Each boy holding a hand as Sugarboo curled into themselves and cried.

"He left me everything. His grandchildren tried to get shit from me but they couldn't. They never tried and connect with him, even though he tried so desperately. I didn't budge or nothing I told them to suck my dick and kept the promise I had with Francisco. To run and live my life. How I wanted it, no shitty dad's, my druggie mom was dead and I was 18 with $24,000 dollars that Francisco left for me." Sitting up proud Sugarboo laughed as they remembered the old man telling them they better do good with he money. How he wanted them to be better than their parents, to use the hate they build up to make it useful.

"And here I am now! My own bakery in a small town that loves my goods. And two amazing men in my life! So yeah I'd think I'm living my life right now." Smiling at the two men who were still silent. Sugarboo got smiles back as all three hugged, this was nice.

"Boo, holy shit." Was the inky words they got as a response. Laughing at that Boo leaned to Alphonse and gave him a kiss. He always did have comedic timing.

"Sugar, I'm glad we got to meet you. And I'm glad you stayed strong through out all of this." The sad eyed man had tears saying those words. Sugarboo started frowning as they wiped his tears softly.

"Awe, don't cry hon..." Whispering as Seth was being held by them. Alphonse started crying too, wishing he meet then sooner to help them. But they can't change the past, it's already done.

"Wanna make stores and drink this night away?" Giving a cheeky grin Sugarboo held up their cup. Seth gave a watery laugh as he sat back up and nodded.

Alphonse cracked open another bottle of the disgusting sugary drink he had. And the three began drinking, telling happy memories they held close to their hearts. Stories made them stronger, helping them better understand where one of the trio was.

Sugarboo, for a moment paused looking at Seth and Alphonse argue over who won the wresting match when younger. And they started giggling like a maniac seeing their boys being so....them. Even after what they told the boys they still wanted them.

[creepswrites]

Mixing Slushies (Stu Macher x Reader)

oof I've been craving to write a solo for this boy for a WHILE so I hope you enjoy!! I feel like this story has a slightly different tone from what I usually write so please let me know if you liked it.

Stu Macher x AMAB!Reader (he/they)

Summary: He'd seen you crying in your bathroom over your parents fighting, seen you high and so out of your mind you had struggled to even talk, and knew you got slushies in both red and blue flavors but always poured red first and you never stirred it up. You let yourself hug him back, trying to avoid smudging the eyeliner you wore all over his shirt. WARNING: 18+, rude language, period-typical homophobia, recreational drug/alcohol use, discussion of murder, knifeplay, fearplay, mild choking

Living in Woodsboro had come with certain... challenges. Your dad being on the police force had been one of those challenges, since being the chief's son and openly gender non-conforming came with a special kind of bullying. Kids your own age and adults your father worked with seemed to almost take turns giving impolite-but-polite comments about how you dressed or just straight up insults on your general person. It was all just a part of growing up for you, something you believed you'd be doomed to accept if you didn't conform.

Your father was certainly of no help, whining to your mother constantly how he didn't want a "sissy" for a son and only shouting at you when you tried to argue with him. So, you resigned yourself to being bullied, believing that to be your fate till you could blow this fucking town. Get out and never look back.

Until you met Stu Macher.

The two of you met properly when you were both freshmen in high school, but you'd known him since your father transferred to Woodsboro the previous year. Though he'd never really caught your attention then. Too-tall and gangly, the class clown sort of guy. You'd only had one class together in eighth grade so it wasn't like you had to deal with him often. You didn't hate him, he just didn't stand out. He'd notice your outfits though and the friends he hung out with at the time would point and laugh, even if he just smiled at you.

Thankfully, by the time high school rolled around, kids generally had better things to do than give a shit if you wore a skirt or eyeliner to school. Besides, it was fun, fuck all of them. First week went by easy but on the second week, some of the seniors were giving you shit, trying to pull on your hair and trip you up. It was quick to stop after Stu Macher punched one so hard he broke his nose. You still fondly remember the sickening crunch, the waterfall of blood, and the bright smile Stu had given you. Like he'd been holding that in for months.

No one ever really bothered you after that. But Stu still did.

He'd always be trailing after you, asking about your new skateboard or trying to steal your headphones to see what music you were listening to on your Walkman. At first it was annoying but you slowly began opening up to him, especially after he'd defended you. Only reason he didn't have detention was because the guys he hit didn't want to be humiliated by losing to a freshman half their size.

So you two started to hang out as friends. You'd drag Stu to some abandoned train tracks and teach him to skateboard or he'd take you to his house to watch movies. Horror movies quickly became your favorite, the two of you spent hours gushing over how the movies were filmed, the stories, everything. Even rewatching movies you'd seen was fun with Stu. He had an interest in becoming a director so he would always try to explain how the scenes were shot but you'd both become overexcited at the blood and gore.

It was common knowledge to most in your neighborhood that your parents fought. They'd have screaming matches well into the night and the cops had even been called to investigate 'domestic disturbances' that your neighbors phoned in. Whenever the screaming started now, you'd just sneak out your window and head to the Macher farmhouse or sneak the lanky boy in through your window.

He never judged you when you sobbed when the fights turned aggressive, shouts and the shattering of plates making their way under your locked bedroom door as they fought. He'd lay against your headboard with you in between his legs against his chest and let you listen to music, tracing idle patterns on his arm as you zoned out. By the time red and blue lights flashed outside, you'd both be asleep.

You remembered one night in particular, the last fight your parents had before the divorce, how he'd come crawling in your window after the shouting had died down and your dad had left for a bar and mom was sobbing in her room. How Stu had lay beside you in you bed for hours, the two of you pressed together on the twin mattress. You'd buried your face in his chest and he rubbed circles in your back, only pausing in his motions when your sobs shook your whole body. He'd whispered reassurances to you, promises that he'd kill them if he could to spare you the pain, and soft little jokes to try and get you to laugh.

You hadn't, but his efforts were appreciated.

You spent most of that school year with the Macher family. Mrs Macher adored you and was relieved her son had a friend like you. You helped out around the house way more than any of her actual kids and she understood what it was like to deal with divorced parents. She and Stu's biological dad had gotten divorced not long after he was born but her new husband was so much better for them. She hoped you'd find the same comforts if your parents remarried.

You didn't tell her how Stu still called his dad some nights. How he'd drag you to pay phones after school to call him all the way in Europe. He missed him, just didn't know how to cope with that. The dial tone you were met with broke his heart a little more every time and you'd take him to get slushies afterwards to cheer him up.

Taking Stu into town to raid convenience stores had been the most fun you'd ever had. He always got blue and you'd get red and blue, scolding him whenever he tried to mix your drink to see if it'd make purple. Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him and he'd drink his own mixed up slushies with you on the side of the road. The summers were warm and it was easy for you two to stay out late, eating low-quality food and bathing in the LED lights outside wearing t-shirts and shorts, and holding hands as you ventured down the dark, empty Woodsboro streets together.

"I never want to go home," you'd told him one night while you sat on the curb outside the little store. "I just want to stay here with you forever."

He'd given you the softest look imaginable, half his face illuminated by the harsh blue lights leaking through the huge windows of the store behind you. "Yeah?" He'd had a particularly soft look in his eye when he spoke, voice all quiet.

You'd nodded, taking a loud slurp of your drink. "Everything's better with you around." You'd said it so plainly, brushing off the feeling of your own heart pounding at the admission.

He'd looked away, cheeks tinted pink, and you'd punched his arm gently for it and smiled when he laughed. The two of you sat drinking slushies alone together on the street. You'd only looked back over when Stu looked over his shoulder. When you followed his gaze, you raised an eyebrow. Why the hell was he staring at the cashier?

You got your answer when he quickly leaned over to kiss your cheek, a chaste thing that had your face heating up so fast that even holding your chilled hand to your face afterwards did nothing to cool you down. "You bastard!" You'd laughed, kicking at him while he stood up, giggling.

"You like me, you like me!" He taunted and you chased after him, the two of you laughing against the darkness, worn shoes hitting hard on the pavement.

It was that summer between freshman and sophomore year when you realized you were in love with him.

It had been an average summer day, lounging in Stu's room in a t-shirt and boxers. He'd gone out to grab snacks for you two and should've been back about half an hour ago. When he finally came home with a black eye, bloody nose, and bloody knuckles, he'd barely sat still long enough for you to bandage him. He wouldn't give you a straight answer about what happened to him or tell you what happened to the other guy.

But it was at that moment you'd wanted to kiss him and you felt so sick after the fact you couldn't even eat dinner, no matter how much Stu's mom pressed you to.

You did your best to keep Stu from finding out. Hanging out with him was still normal enough but it always left you with butterflies in your stomach.

It felt horrible. It felt like lying to him.

By the time sophomore year was in full swing though, Stu was all over Billy Loomis suddenly, leaving you alone most of the time. Which was fine, you told yourself. It was fine. So you made acquaintance with the skater kids, spent time smoking weed, and did whatever possible to avoid spending time at home, your's or Stu's. You ate alone outside the cafeteria and still wore skirts and eyeliner. You convinced yourself you didn't give a shit about Stu Macher. It was fine.

It wasn't.

The last time you saw him was when your mom was loading up her belongings into a small moving truck. The long, drawn-out custody battle had belongings split up appropriately, your dad being left the house while mom got the truck. So she wanted to move to pursue her dreams of becoming a famous Hollywood actress. You'd been helping load up boxes into the truck when you saw Stu watching you from across the street.

Once you'd set the box in the truck, you made your way over to him, frowning at the wistful look on his face. "So you're really going?" He hadn't looked at you as he spoke, just staring longingly at your empty bedroom window.

You crossed your arms over you chest, the fleece jacket you wore suddenly feeling too hot. "Guess so. Mom's found this shitty little apartment in Hollywood she wants to move to. Dad didn't want custody of me so... I'm going with her. Order of the state, I guess." Soft green eyes fell on you, unshed tears lingering.

You looked away from him when he spoke up. "I'm gonna miss you, y'know? Wish you could stay..."

You remember that you both had cried a little but you don't remember who had moved in to the kiss first. What you do know is you definitely kissed Stu Macher outside your shitty house in a shitty, bitterly cold November winter. And for the first time since you'd moved to Woodsboro, you didn't want to leave.

At first, you were incredibly supportive of your mother's dreams, a little happy to be away from your dad in Woodsboro and painful memories of the divorce, the bullying, and your unrequited-maybe-requited love for Stu Macher. Sure, you missed him like hell and it was annoying to change schools halfway through a semester, but the kids at your new school paid you little to no attention. Even when you'd let your hair grow down to your shoulders and cut yourself bangs with safety scissors in the school bathroom with some girls' help. You started selling weed and whatever stuff you could get your hands on to the older kids for cash and you were content for awhile.

You let yourself admire pretty boys in LA and made superficial friends with kids a grade above you that you didn't give a shit about but were fun to pass time with. One of the junior girls, Becky, had even taken you to their prom so you could all hang out. The rest of sophomore year and your entire junior year was mostly uneventful for you, thank god. Your older friends skipped their senior prom and took you out to McDonalds with the sole intent to get high later.

You were happy. As happy as you could be, anyways.

Until your mother stopped coming home. Always off to some rehearsal that was never always a real rehearsal and sometimes just her going off to get shitfaced with friends she'd made. Like mother, like son, perhaps. You rarely had food in the house anymore so you had to get a part time job in order to feed yourself. Most days, dinner was whatever you could steal from the cafeteria at school.

Things got harder when you both got evicted. Mom hadn't been paying rent. So you packed up your things and called your dad.

He had been... hesitant to let you move back home. After all, you only had one more year of school. But with your eighteenth birthday coming up, your dad agreed to let you stay with him for the last year of schooling. Your mothers drinking and drug habits eventually cost her custody of you. Most of the summer was spent packing your room and driving with your dad back upstate when he came to collect you.

If you closed your eyes, you can still hear her haunting wails as she begged you to stay with her.

Moving back to Woodsboro was... well, easy honestly. You settled back into your old room and had a chance to redecorate. Of course, dad tried to set harder limits with you but when you agreed to just pay part of the rent like you were a tenant, he relaxed a little. He didn't have to parent you, he could just be your landlord instead. It was an acceptable arrangement. You got a part time job at a records store nearby that summer, you turned eighteen, and you were surviving. Even if you had to buy your own food, that wasn't new for you. Thanks mom, you had groaned internally to yourself as you ate at Burger King more nights than not.

Senior year was going to be stressful, you knew that. A part of you had kind of assumed Stu wouldn't even remember you, that he'd likely gotten a girlfriend, joined some sports team, or had just plain moved on with his life. You two hadn't even kept up over the past few years, despite the fact you could have called to him or written to him.

You just... didn't.

You'd spend hours staring at the phone trying to will yourself to call him but it was too hard. It would be painful to listen to him gush about a girlfriend at school or talk about how successful he was compared to yourself. Though in hindsight, had you known you'd be coming back after a year and a half, maybe you would have just done it anyways.

Regardless, you showed up to senior year skating. You'd always loved skateboarding and had kept up the hobby while in Hollywood. Plus it made moving around faster. Your hair was still messy and intentionally unkempt, you had an oversized graphic t-shirts, and a worn flannel tied around your waist. The ripped jeans and dingy shoes you wore were the icing on the cake. You bailed off the board when you got close to the steps, carrying it under one arm as you made your way up to the front doors, ignoring the looks the freshmen kids gave you. The staring wasn't exactly new to you.

What was new was how fucking tall Stu Macher had gotten.

Seeing him leaning against a locker chatting with some girl made your stomach feel weird and tight. You'd recognize Casey Becker anywhere and suddenly found yourself wishing you could set her head on fire with your mind. You may have liked Stu when you were fifteen, but surely things were different now, you told yourself. Still... that didn't mean you had to like how goo-goo eyed he got while talking to her. So you looked away. You didn't see how he lit up when he saw you nor how he trailed off talking to Casey fucking Becker because he saw you. You just pressed onwards through the bustling hallways, headphones tight around your head and your eyes on the floor.

Until Stu lifted you up in his arms and spun you around.

"Fuck!" You screamed in shock, headphones falling off your head as he hugged you.

"You're back, you're really back! I heard you were back in town but I thought Randy was bullshitting me!" He was smiling at you with that bright look he always had when he was excited. "Hollywood not work out, superstar?" His snickering made you roll your eyes, mostly out of fondness. Same old annoying ass boy...

"More like mom crashed and burnt. I'm only back so I don't have to live on the streets," you shrugged but Stu's hands didn't leave their spot on your shoulders. "Didn't, uh... didn't think you'd miss me so much."

"Didn't miss you!?" He stared at you like you'd grown two heads. "Dude, I was fucking crushed when you left!" You bit your lip nervously and avoided his gaze. Neither of you were going to talk about the kiss, you knew that much. At least not in public. "I missed you more than anything. Missed you every fucking day." His soft tone had you staring up at him with wide, shocked eyes. He pulled you in for another hug and you immediately deflated, dropping the hard act you always put on for everyone else and wrapping your arms around him.

Stu wasn't like everyone else. He never had been.

He'd seen you crying in your bathroom over your parents fighting, seen you high and so out of your mind you had struggled to even talk, and knew you got slushies in both red and blue flavors but always poured red first and you never stirred it up. You let yourself hug him back, trying to avoid smudging the eyeliner you wore all over his shirt.

"I missed you too..." You mumbled, slowly becoming aware of the feeling of eyes on you. When you pulled back though, it wasn't the students lingering by their lockers or walking past you that were staring. It was Stu's friends, giving confused looks at you and each other. You recognized Billy Loomis and Randy Meeks at least but the two girls that followed them took you a minute to recognize. "They, uh, are they all your friends?" You gestured over his shoulder to where they were, which got Stu to turn and look when they approached you two.

"Oh! Hey guys, when'd you get here?" He grinned at you and you raised an eyebrow.

"Just arrived," Billy smirked and looked between you and Stu. "Tatum was looking for ya, actually." The ginger girl crossed her arms over her chest and was giving you a suspicious look.

"I thought you hated Tatum Riley." You mumbled to Stu's back as he led introduced you to the group: Billy Loomis, Sidney Prescott, Tatum Riley, and Randy Meeks. The latter couldn't seem to help his staring at you in particular.

"Nice, uh, style?" Randy tilted his head curiously at you. "What's the shirt for?" You glanced down at yourself and the shirt you had on. A sharpened candy cane with blood dripping down from it.

Smirking at Randy, you tugged the fabric of your shirt down a bit to let him see better. "It's for Black Christmas. A horror movie about a killer at Christmas who kills a whole sorority of girls."

Stu leaned up against the wall of behind you, peering over your shoulder. "That was always your favorite. We watched that at least, like, a million times." You shrugged lightly at his teasing with a soft smile. Of course he remembered, you made him watch that movie with you at least a dozen times in December alone.

Randy crossed his arms over his chest, looking smug all of a sudden. "Well, did you know that Black Christmas-"

"-was the inspiration for Halloween? Was filmed in Canada but the lead actress was British? Had so many people playing the killer that the director had no idea who did the iconic body-shot?" You cut him off, smirking at the clear surprise on his face. "Yeah, I'm not just pretty." Stu cackled at Randy's blush, obviously trying to hide how impressed he was.

"Ugh, not another boy obsessed with horror movies," Tatum rolled her eyes, nudging Sydney with her hip. "You and Randy will be like peas in a pod if you know trivia like that."

Something flashed over Stu's face briefly when she said that. "Well, sucks for Randy, I got dibs years ago." He said, straightening up.

As the group began chatting, you looked over at Billy Loomis, who had stayed particularly quiet the entire time, and were surprised to find him staring back at you. You raised an eyebrow and he tilted his head with a slight smile. It didn't strike you as strange immediately but you got the feeling Billy was sizing you up somehow. You didn't particularly care one way or another about the guy. He was friends with Stu, sure, but thats where it began and ended with you.

Not to mention you were still a bit jealous and bitter Stu had picked him over you all sophomore year up until you'd moved away.

But you got the impression Stu would be dragging you to group outings more. Maybe it would be better to get along with the rest of his friends.

The sound of rocks at your window was almost nostalgic, you thought, as you made your way to your window and slid it open. Stu was standing down in your front yard, his car parked in the driveway. Your dad had been called out for a night shift so you had been alone at home doing homework. The sticky September heat was getting to your head and you felt agitated and tired.

Seeing Stu boosted your mood a bit. "What brings you here, stranger?" You teased, crossing your arms on the windowsill as you leant against it.

The taller boy grinned up at you. "Wanna get out of here? Like old times?"

You scoffed. "Old times? Like, a year and a half ago?"

"Is that a no?" Stu pouted dramatically and you rolled your eyes fondly.

"Gimme a sec to change." You shut your window and blinds and started rooting around your room. A plain white tank top and high waisted jeans would be cute, you hummed to yourself. But it was too warm for pants, so you settled on a navy blue knee-length skirt you had in your closet. You usually went for darker colors when dressing but Stu wouldn't care how you looked one way or another. As if he knew a thing about fashion, you snorted to yourself as you recalled how he'd go days wearing the same pair of jeans.

Running a brush through your hair, you huffed at yourself. You could do your eyeshadow but with how dark it was, it wouldn't really be worth it. Instead, you put in your various piercings and made your way downstairs. Grabbing your wallet and keys, you made sure to lock the door behind you. Stu stood dressed in his classic jeans and a blue t-shirt, looking you up and down teasingly.

"Some things never change though, huh?" He gestured to your style and smiled wider when you flipped him off.

"You're still a jackass, so maybe you're right, yeah." You shot back, Stu laughing at your snark and watched with amusement as you took shotgun next to him. "Do you still have shitty taste in music?"

Stu balked at your tone as you started checking the radio stations. "I've never had shitty taste! Maybe if you had stayed, it could be to your standards." You knew he was joking but you still picked absently at a loose thread on your skirt, resting your feet up on the dashboard.

"I'm... you know I'm sorry about that, right?" Your voice was quiet as Stu started up the car. "I didn't get a say in the matter, dad didn't fucking want me."

Stu was quiet for a moment before reaching over the center console to squeeze your hand. Neither of you said anything but you let your fingers lace together in your lap and you blushed. Feelings for your friend hadn't really faded, just got put on a back-burner. It was... difficult to tell if Stu felt the same. On one hand, you suspected he was dating Casey Becker but on the other hand he was way too touchy with you to be completely disinterested.

The drive to the 7-11 was mostly silent except for the soft, tinny music leaking from the car's speakers. Some song by Nirvana, you recognized, but it was too quiet to make out the lyrics. Stu squeezed your hand as he pulled into the parking lot and the two of you stepped out.

The bright fluorescent lights felt more like home than your actual house.

"So, what trouble have you gotten into while I was gone?" You teased Stu as you followed him down the chips aisle. "Nothing I'd miss, surely?" It was mostly a jest but a part of you was a little worried he had more fun with you gone.

Stu just laughed, grabbing a few small chip bags and tossing your favorite flavor to catch. "Nah, nothing's as fun as causing trouble with you," he gave you a playful wink and you lightly kicked at his ankle. "Though... I guess something weird happened when you left."

"Oh?" You tilted your head curiously and followed him to the desserts aisle, grabbing Hostess sweets and a cup of mini Oreos. "What happened?"

Stu rubbed the back of his neck, glaring down at a Twinkie in thought. "Well, uh, Sydney's mom got murdered."

Your head snapped around to stare at him, horrified. "...weird isn't the word I'd use to describe that Stu! Christ, what happened?" You pestered him, poking him with a Twinkie.

"No one knows," the taller man shrugged, "got killed by one of her many, many hookups. Police didn't give too many details." You whistled, shaking your head in disbelief. You'd heard of Sydney's moms... history. You didn't really care that much, it wasn't like it was your business. "Killer's been sent to death though! Injection, according to the news." Stu continued as he followed you towards the slushie machine.

"Sounds... really fucking horrible, god," you said almost breathlessly. "Is Syd okay?" You were never very close to Sydney Prescott or her parents but you still felt a pit in your stomach hearing about the horrors she'd experienced only a year ago.

Stu nodded. "Yeah, she and Billy have actually been dating for a few years now! Got together after winter break in sophomore year actually, she's pretty nice." He handed you a slushie, made exactly how you liked it. You gave him a slight smile and followed him to cash out, absentmindedly sipping on the drink and staring out the glass doors.

Once you both were back in Stu's car, he started driving. The cool night lit up by the city lights was pretty. You admired the way the lights got smaller as Stu took you both up a bit into the mountains. "Where are we going?"

"There's a pretty sick spot just up here. Gives you a good view of the town, I think you're gonna love it." He gave you a mischievous look and turned up the music. The soft indie music washed over you for the short drive up the mountainside until you reached a clearing. Tall grasses enveloped a few picnic benches that sat not far from where you parked but Stu didn't move towards them.

The car had AC anyways so the two of you caught up in relative peace while you ate. You told him about your weed habits, going to junior prom in sophmore year, and your inebriated mother that was probably still trying to drink her way into a job. He told you about his relationship with Casey Becker and how she'd dumped him not long before school started to date Steven Orth.

"Steven Orth?!" You gawked, disgusted. "He's, like, a total fucking douchebag!"

"I know!" Stu lamented, burying his face in his hands. "Honestly, all the football players are asshats, you have no idea!"

As was tradition, the two of you had been debating about A Nightmare on Elm Street when you'd felt the energy shift. You'd been in the middle of explaining how the police should have known Rod Lane couldn't have killed Tina Gray because he was absolutely spotless while the rest of the room was a bloodbath when you noticed Stu's looking you over. Closely.

"Do you ever think about it?" He interrupted you quietly.

"Think about... what?" You asked innocently, tilting your head. You both were sitting awkwardly in the backseat, cross-legged and facing each other. Stu lay his head a bit on the headrest of his seat as he stared at you, blinking slowly.

"You know what." He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You did. But you wanted to hear him say it. "Nightmare on Elm Street? I mean, not usually, it's nowhere near my favorite-"

Stu smirked and nudged you lightly with his knee. "Not the movie, dumbass. I mean... the day you left."

You gave him a quick glare. "Say it."

Stu frowned, chewing on his bottom lip. "When we kissed." His voice was barely a whisper.

You folded your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you both avoided looking at each other. "Yeah, sometimes." You felt his eyes on you when you spoke. "Thought about it the entire drive to Hollywood too."

"Do you want to..." Stu trailed off and you gave him a look. "Do you want to do it again?" He was suddenly fascinated by your shoes, staring intensely to avoid looking at you.

The silence felt deafening as you weighed the pros and cons in your mind, of which there were only a few cons you could think of at the moment.

Quietly, you pushed his back up against the seat so he was now facing the front of the car and you straddled his lap, blushing when his hands instinctively moved to hold your hips. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates when you leant in to kiss him, effectively answering his question.

Pulling back and pressing your foreheads together, you were both effectively out of breath and you could feel you both were half hard. The two of you had been making out for the better part of half an hour and you felt your blood singing. Stu had one hand under your skirt, toying with the hem of your underwear, and another hand gripping your hips to help maintain a slow grind with you. Your hands were tight on his shoulders and your head felt heavy. "How," you panted softly, "far are we taking this?"

Stu pressed his forehead to your chest, grinning wildly. "As far as you want, honestly." He huffed before gazing up at you with bright eyes. "Would love to fuck you though." You felt your face heat up and you whined in response, rocking harshly against Stu. "Yeah?" He teased you, running his hands up your left leg and caressing your inner thigh. "You want that?"

"You're a bitch," you whined, tilting your head back. Stu took the opening to kiss your neck, biting down gently. You tightened your legs around his waist and tried to avoid hitting the horn on the steering wheel. He lifted your skirt more to give himself easier access to you, his hands reaching down to cup your ass.

"I'm your bitch," he countered with a giggle. You kissed him, biting on his lower lip to try and gain entry to his mouth. Pressing your tongues together was sultry, made your cock throb with need. When you scraped your nails down Stu's arms, he groaned into your mouth. "Oh god, fuck," he gasped as he pulled away, thrusting his hips up involuntarily as little pink lines popped up on his skin. "Fuck, please say I can fuck you babe, please."

You hummed, nodding enthusiastically. "Okay," you whispered to him, burying your face in his neck. "Just- Just be gentle, okay?" You didn't want to tell Stu you hadn't had sex before, but you hoped he could just tell. He pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the backseat. You kissed him again, tugging on his shirt as well. "Off." You said defiantly and he relented, letting you pull off his shirt.

"So bossy," he teased and kissed you again. "Missed you more than anything." Stu ran his hands up your flanks, hiking your skirt up.

The laugh bubbled in your throat, threatening to escape. "You jus' saying that 'cause you're gonna get laid?" You teased.

Stu pressed kisses to your throat with a thoughtful hum. "Obviously," he smiled, sarcasm oozing from his voice, "been waitin' to do this since we were, fuckin', fifteen or something. Sooo, obviously, once we're done 'm gonna go get a girlfriend or something." He joked, kissing you softly.

You just rolled your eyes when you pulled back. His words took a minute to set in. "Wait, that long?!" Your eyes widened almost comically.

Stu rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking shy. "Yeah, I, uh, I've liked ya for awhile, baby." For some reason, that was what made you blush.

"Gay," you grumbled, kissing him again. "You gonna fuck me or not?"

"Oh, such a romantic!" Stu fanned himself dramatically, fake moaning. You smacked his chest playfully as he shifted you off his lap. "One sec," he huffed, reaching over the center console to open the glove box. He pulled out a bottle of lube and sat back down.

You blinked. "You have a habit of having sex in your car?" Stu blushed and you raised an eyebrow.

"Nah, uh, just a habit of jerking it when I skip class." He shot you a wink and unbuttoned his jeans. You rolled your eyes, moving to pull your skirt down but Stu stilled your hands. "Uhh... can I uh- can I fuck you in the skirt?"

You stared at him. "Yeah, s-sure." You swallowed and tugged your underwear down, setting it aside before climbing back in Stu's lap. He looped his arms around your waist with a content sigh. "What, you got a thing for skirts?" You joked, running a hand through his hair.

Stu looked up at you, resting his chin on your middle. "Just got a thing for you."

The two of you stared at each other for a long moment before you sank onto his lap with a whine, kissing him deeply. He ran his hands up under the back of your tank top and pulled it off over your head. Slowly, he ran his hands slowly up your thighs and you felt yourself jump. "Cold," you mumbled, pressing your face into his neck.

He leant his head against yours with a soft chuckle. "You do this before?" Your deafening silence made Stu still. "Wait, really?"

"Who would I have slept with?" You pulled back to squint at him.

"I dunno!" He pouted. "Maybe I thought you got a boyfriend or somethin' out in Cali!"

Softening, you cupped his face. "No. Just- just you..." His eyes widened and you felt your face heat up. "Wait-"

"I'm your boyfriend?" Stu's voice was soft and you felt his arms tighten around you. You couldn't bear to look at him, face hot and embarrassed tears pricking your eyes. "Hey, don't cry- Baby, look at me."

When you finally looked at him, tears falling down your cheeks and burning your eyes, he was staring up at you like you were the only thing in the world. He brushed his thumb under your eyes and kissed you. "I'll happily be your boyfriend. If ya want, y'know." You giggled wetly at his attempts to be nonchalant about it. Nodding, you sniffled and he kissed along your neck.

Leave it to Stu to make you weepy and then immediately return to wanting to fuck you.

He bit down gently, sucking small hickies into your neck and making you writhe in his hold. "Stu-"

"Look, if I'm your boyfriend, I gotta make sure everyone else knows." He gave you a wink and your blush got worse somehow. His hands ran back up your skirt and you ground your erection against the rough material of his jeans. "Aww, want me that bad?" He taunted you.

You heard the cap of the lube bottle crack open and you tensed instinctively. "Shh," Stu whispered in your ear and let you hide your face in his neck. "It's okay baby, easy." His words soothed you a little bit but you still tensed up a bit. "Lemme love on ya a lil, yeah?"

In hindsight, Stu should have probably held the bottle in his hands a bit before prepping you. In hindsight, had you known the two of you would be having sex in his car, you would have moved to the back in the first place to prevent you accidentally setting off the car alarm when you leant back.

But neither of those things were considered. So, here you two were: in the backseat of his car, both now undressed minus your skirt, with you on your back and him leaning overtop of you, one of your legs hooked over his shoulder and the other pushed aside into the open space behind the driver seat. Stu's face was flushed red and you swung an arm over your eyes to avoid being looked at.

Gently, he brushed your arm away and pinned your arm above your head. You shuddered when he pressed the head of his cock against you - closing your eyes at the phantom feelings his fingers left behind inside you. He was shockingly gentle and thorough during the prep, pulling you apart to a begging mess with his hand alone. Biting and kissing on your neck as you rocked your hips against him, pleading with him for more, faster, anything-

"Lemme look atcha," Stu chuckled once your face was in view again. You whined and rocked against him, wordlessly begging. "Ask me nicely, baby. Tell me whatcha want."

You let out a helpless moan. "Fuck me, please, Stu. Need you so bad-"

"Anything for you," was the only warning you got before he pressed the head of his cock inside you. You threw your head back instinctively with a soft moan at the feeling of being opened like that. Hot and wet and-

"Fuck, please-" You begged, blindly reaching for your boy. He held your hand - because he was good like that - and kissed your knuckles. He gave you what you wanted and slid in deeper. Slowly. Making sure you feel every inch. Quickly, you snapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the loud moan.

Stu put a hand against your throat and squeezed. Not hard enough to choke you properly, but enough to make your body tense instinctively. "Don't do that baby, c'mon, you're doin' so well."

You dropped the hand and let out a moan, biting on your lip. Stu seemed pleased by this but he kept his hand on your neck as he moved his hips slowly. He hadn't bottomed out yet but he'd already begun a slow back and fourth, in and out of you. Working his way inside you, letting your insides get hot and gooey from the lube and from his pre.

When he finally, finally, bottomed out, you were shaking from the sensations of being filled, of being fucked. Stu leant forward and kissed you, squeezing harder at your neck to make you squeak. "That's my pretty boy," he said breathlessly. "Fuck, you're jus' made for me, huh? Made to take my cock, look at you."

You turned your head to the side, feeling yourself burn under his gaze - blue eyes completely eclipsed and making you feel seen. Your eye caught a glimpse of something metal reflecting the moonlight seeping in from the car's window. As soon as you realized what it was, you felt yourself clench down on the cock inside you.

Stu followed your eyes with a slow smile. Gently reaching over under the passenger's door, he pulled out a sharp hunting knife. Clean - too clean, your logical mind tried to scream but you were too focused on being fucked to care - and a mask. A white face that reminded you of Scream painting you'd seen in an art class in Cali.

He turned the knife over in his hand, looking you over almost curiously. "You like it?" His voice was practically taunting. "Just like those horror movies. Wanna be the cute slut who dies first?" His voice had a menacing edge to it, making you whimper. "Nah," he said softly, kissing you again. "You're my final girl, without a doubt."

"Stu-" You choked out, clenching your thighs around his hips.

Slowly, he looked at the mask, then the knife, and then back at you. You writhed under his gaze, wanting him to move. Slowly, he put the mask on over his face. The white mask combined with the black hood completely obscured his face. You could hear his heavy breathing as he turned the knife over in his hand.

You helplessly let out a moan as he snapped his hips forward.

"Please-" you begged, feeling the knife drag up and down your spread thighs. A featherlight touch but a touch nonetheless. It was fucked up. You knew that. You should tell him to stop, that this was insane.

But fuck if you didn't like it anyways.

Stu tilted his head - it reminded you of Michael Myers observing prey - and you rocked back against him. "Is this how my final girl survives?" His voice was lower, muffled by the mask. "Caught by the killer and offers him sex to survive?"

You nodded frantically, letting the fantasy of the words wash over you, and you felt his hand around your throat again.

Overtop of you, Stu barely looked like himself. Hand at your neck, knife at your thigh, and empty eyes of the mask boring into you. He picked up the pace, fucking you faster and tracing the point of the knife up over your abdomen. "God you're gorgeous," you heard Stu say to himself. "I wanna carve you open and keep you all to myself. Rip your heart out so no one else can have it."

Despite how fucked up it was, you only moaned louder.

The wet squelching sounds from the copious amounts of lube as well as Stu's own precum made the sex sound foul. Like you were some helpless final girl, caught and pinned by her own killer. But you liked it. And wasn't that the sick, twisted part of it all.

Because you knew it was Stu. Who would never hurt you really. Who you were pretty sure didn't have a killer bone in his body, much less against you.

"G-gonna- Gonna cum-" You gritted your teeth to hold back another moan.

"Go on princess, cum for me. Show me how good you feel." You felt the point of the knife teasing your cock and the cold shock of the metal was what did you in. You came helplessly, back bowing, and all but gushing over the knife and on your skirt. "Fuck, such a good boy." Stu growled, fucking you through your orgasm and reaching his own.

Cum pooled inside you, hot, sticky, and you fucking loved it. You felt drunk off the feeling, trembling in Stu's hold.

The mask came off then. Stu's hair stuck to his forehead a bit from sweat but his eyes were bright and he was smiling at you like you'd given him the world. You gave him a soft smile back and winced when he pulled out. "Damn, babe, I knew you had it in ya! You'd make a killer final girl." He shot you a wink before reaching for the center console to grab wet wipes.

You scoffed. "Obviously. I'm built for the role. Unless I'm the killer and then you're my final girl."

Stu seemed to light up at that. "Aww, that's the sweetest thing anyone's said to me," he fanned himself dramatically, making you laugh. He was methodical in cleaning you both up, letting you enjoy your afterglow. Once he was done, you snagged his shirt and pulled it on over your head.

That got a reaction. His eyes widened ever so slightly and you beckoned him towards you with a finger. "C'mere," you mumbled, "I wanna cuddle before we have to go back." It was late after all. And you still had school in the morning, as tragic as it was.

Stu held you in his lap, playing absentmindedly with your hair as he stared at the mask and knife he'd returned under the seat in front of him. Maybe he'd tell you. Let you in on his and Billy's plan for later that fall. Maybe you'd help out, join in on being Ghostface. Or, at the very least, know to stay out of their way to avoid being killed. Or maybe he wouldn't tell you.

But the thought of you getting hurt made his stomach hurt.

Later, he'd call Billy and tell him. That either you were completely off the table or you were going to be involved. Billy would listen to his rambles quietly the whole time. Once Stu was done, Billy would tell him they'd talk about it at school tomorrow - face to face. And Stu would recognize that Billy's wasn't that angry tone he sometimes had when Stu frustrated him. And Stu would hope that he could still have you, when everything was said and done.

But right now? Right now, he just closed his eyes and kissed the top of your head. He felt you huff, content, and stared out the foggy car window at the faint lights of Woodsboro below.

It really was a nice view.

[noforkingclue]

Hello I have another idea for slow horses (again I'm unsure if this kinda thing would happen.) The reader is dating this person and someone who she is very close to at m15 tells the reader that their boyfriend is working for their Enemy and is then tasked with bringing their partner in but when the reader gets home their boyfriend is one step ahead and instead drugs the reader rendering them and kidnaps them, taking the reader to the villian.

I hope you have a great day

You should definitely watch Slow Horses. It's amazing! It's on Apple TV but it's well worth the price just to watch the show. It's the perfect mix of tension and humour and Gary Oldman is fucking brilliant in it!

So everyone should go out and watch it.

Title: Mistake

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“No,” you said firmly, “No. You’re fucking with me.”

But one look at your colleague’s faces told you that they weren’t.

“You’re not,” you said as you sunk into a seat.

You ran a hand over your face and looked away. River and Louisa shared a pitying look before River said slowly,

“I thought it was best you heard it from us rather than someone like Lamb or Ho.”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, “Yeah. Oh fuck, he knows everything about me.”

“Does he know you’re Service?” asked Louisa, “Christ,” she said when you nodded, “Why the fuck did you tell him?”

“We were dating for years,” you said, “and Service cleared him. I thought,” you swallowed thickly as you forced yourself not to cry, “no one else knew, not even my parents. I just wanted to talk about it to someone who isn’t Service. Just for someone else to know, y’know?”

And they did. While you were all Slow Horses, desperately clinging onto some semblance of your failing careers, desperate to get back into the action, secretly you all craved some feeling of normality. Someone to go back to in an evening and talk about your day, even if you couldn’t talk about everything.

“He was vetted,” you said weakly, “The Park said it was ok. Or maybe he wasn’t and they just didn’t give a fuck about a Slow Horse to fully care. Either way it’s going to be blamed on me.”

You took a deep breath and stood up.

“Lamb knows?” you asked

“What the fuck do you think?” asked River, “He told us to bring him in.”

“Right. Well you’re not going to do that. I am.”

“Do you really think that’s wise?” asked Louisa, “with your-”

“This is personal,”  you said as you headed towards the door, “so I’m fucking doing it myself.”

As you stormed down the stairs River said to Louisa,

“Do you think that’s a wise idea, letting her go?”

“Fuck no but I didn’t see you trying to stop her.”

*

You closed your eyes as you shut your front door behind you. You heard your boyfriend moving about upstairs and you tried to find the words you were going to say to him.

“Y/n is that you? You’re back early!”

“Yeah,” you ran a hand over your face, “Yeah snuck off early.”

“Won’t anyone notice? Won’t get in trouble will you?”

You walked into the kitchen and almost smiled at the sight you saw. Your boyfriend was cooking, apron tied around his waist and a soft smile on his face. It all looked so blissfully domestic.

All so fake

“Are you ok?” he asked walking towards you and cupping your cheeks

“Rough day.”

“Can you talk about it?”

You broke free and sat down on the sofa. After an increasingly tense pause you said,

“We need to talk.”

“Oh no. Nothing ever good evers comes from that.”

“Have you been using me?”

Another pause.

“What do you mean.”

“You’ve just been fucking using me. Trying to get information from me to tell sell onto the fucking Russians. Tell me- how much did you get out of a Slow Horse? Just sticking with me to see if I would get back to The Park. But no one gets back to The Park. Fucking no one.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe denial or anger but certainly not for him to burst out laughing.

“Oh y/n, you’re so fucking naive it’s almost adorable. Or maybe it’s just vanity? Can’t accept being cast out so you have to make everything about yourself. This was never about you.”

“Then what is it about.”

“And do you really think that I’ll tell you that.”

Then everything went black.

*

“She should’ve been back by now,” hissed River, “Why the fuck isn’t she back?”

“Something’s happened,” said Louisa, “something must’ve happened.

“I fucking know-”

“Know what,” Lamb’s voice, “what the fuck has happened and where the fuck is l/n?”

River and Louisa shared a look and River knew that this was up to him.

“We… told y/n about her boyfriend.”

“And why the fuck would you do that when I fucking told you not to.” said Lamb, his voice dangerously level

River was aware of the other’s coming in. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable argument and more than likely beating.

“And y/n went after him.” he finished

“You let y/n go after a fucking highly trained Russian spy,” yelled Shirely, “what the fuck were you thinking.”

“Clearly he fucking wasn’t,” said Lamb, “and once again we’ve got to clear up his shit.”

“She said she wanted to do it,” said River desperately, “personal.”

“And did you stop to think about how the fucking Park would see it if they both disappear?” said Lamb

“Oh. Shit.” said River

“And now we’ve got to clear up your mess,” said Lamb, “again.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Cartwright

“Weren’t you fucking listening? We’re going to do what you should’ve done in the first place and you,” Lamb jabbed River in the chest, “are going to fucking stay here. Think you can manage that?”

[withlovewriting]

Mixed Drinks and Smoke Rings 25: Hungry Dogs Are Never Loyal

Chapter 25: Hungry Dogs Are Never Loyal

I guess you really did it this time, left yourself in your warpath, Lost your balance on a tightrope, lost your mind trying to get it back, Wasn’t it easier in your lunchbox days? Always a bigger bed to crawl into, Wasn’t it beautiful when you believed in everything, And everybody believed in you

Summary: New to town, you didn’t need a friend, you needed a dealer. Thankfully, a girl from your Narcotics Anonymous meetings knew just the guy.

Characters: Fezco (euphoria) x Non-descriptive Reader

Words: 1,932

Chapter Warnings: Drug withdrawal, Rue being an asshole (but i love her soOoOo), references to domestic/child abuse, this chapter is short but i’m hoping to upload again on sunday properly

Series Warnings: Addiction, sexual themes, cursing, abuse (various), smut, drug use, teenagers being fucking idiots. 18+ only, minors DNI

Previous Chapter:

Next Chapter: 

Masterlist

taglist: @iamasimpingh0e​ @chelseagirl77​ @zeida​ @f8talism​ @alanis-altair​ @purplebtsmagic​ @fuckrigthoff​ @slytherinambitious​ @wand-erer5​​

Hours. Days. Weeks.

The concept of time was lost on you as you remained in a fetal position, your cheek pressed against the cold tile floor. Your muscles cramped, bones aching in a way that you sure would only be assuaged by ripping them out of your skin.

Your body didn't feel like your own. Weak and too warm, and with every exhale, you were pushing down a new wave of nausea.

Fez had only left your side when absolutely necessary, and even then, you remained with Ash, head in his lap as he wiped your brow with a cold face cloth, his words mumbled as he called you a fucking idiot, yet his eyes remained soft as they bore into yours.

Although you craved the sweet, blissful apathy that Heroin provided you with -- even if the pleasure was short-lived -- your body just needed rest. It needed peace. You knew that, yet it didn't cease your begging.

Fez's response, however, remained steadfast. Unwavering despite your painful cries and desperate insults that chipped at his heart, but not his resolve. No matter how much your coiled up, frail body tugged at his heartstrings, he refused to give in. Refused to give up.

Eventually, once your stomach was finally settled and no longer threatening to expel any fluids that dared to enter it, Fez moved you to his room.

"C'mon, baby, just a little more," Fez's voice was smooth as he held you, back pressed to his chest as he leaned against his headboard.

A pitiful sob bubbled up from your chest as you slowly sipped at the water, Fez placed the bottle onto his side table once he deemed your intake was sufficient.

Wrapped up in a pair of Fez's pajama pants and a dark Palace hoody, you sunk into the bed. His fingers soothed the ache the bathroom floor had left on your body as he held you implausibly close as though scared that any moment, you'd dissipate.

"You sure you still wanna go?"

After Fez had declined Maddy's birthday invite on your behalf, she had offered for you to attend a girl's night, a simple hangout that didn't involve alcohol or partying, or anything that sounded remotely fun.

You'd accepted, knowing that Maddy Perez wasn't the type of girl who allowed you to decline her often. Nodding your head, you groaned when you felt Fez detach himself from your back, sitting up and gently guiding you with him, "C'mon then Ma. Let's get you showered."

Reaching out, you accepted the glass of water Lexi had offered you with a timid smile.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, taking a seat next to you and straightening her skirt.

You knew you looked just as bad as you felt, wrapped up in Fez's over-sized jumper and sweats, and you could only be thankful Maddy had said this night was casual. You'd barely been there 15 minutes, yet every moment that passed by felt like a long, grueling hour. Although you were physically doing better, you were still experiencing the psychological effects. So whilst nausea cleared and your aches were slightly dulled, your mood had totally dipped, your anxiety had spiked, and the craving for a high gnawed under the surface of your skin. An itch you weren't allowed to scratch.

You'd gone through withdrawal before, but in a hospital setting, with psychologists, therapists, and nurses galore, all monitoring you carefully, minute by minute. This cold turkey shit felt impossible. So instead, you told Lexi the same lie you'd muttered time and time again,

"I'm fine, thanks."

You both remained quiet, slowly sipping your drink as Lexi's fingers continued to fiddle with the hem of her skirt, a strained smile plastered on her face, yet the uneasiness in her eyes was shining bright.

It gave you some weird kind of reassurance, however, that she felt just as awkward as you did.

When the door knocked, you almost jumped from your seat, and you knew Lexi was glad for the distraction, but when you heard Rue's familiar voice and peered around the corner, you knew damn well she was feeling just as awful as you were.

Pity party for two, you guess.

By the time Rue had finally managed to evade Suze and excuse herself to the bathroom, the rest of the girls had joined you in the living room, voices low as they spoke between themselves. A gentle knock on the door caught your attention. Upon hearing the sound of Rue's mother thanking Suze, you could only hope a black hole would open up in the middle of the Howard's house and swallow you whole.

This wasn't going to end well.

"Ah, fuck. It'll never fuckin' end." Rue sighed, sitting down on the staircase.

Lexi had returned to her seat next to you, Kat and Maddy stood not too far in front as you all peered up at her.

"This can't make you feel good, Rue. Livin' like this. Lying to the people you love, being mean to the people you love. This can't make you feel good about yourself."

"I don't care," Rue's voice was quiet, and you could tell whatever happened between her and Leslie had exhausted them both, "Just fuckin' leave me alone, please."

Leslie continued to try and reason with Rue, praying that she could somehow convince her daughter to get into the car and head back to rehab, but the disinterest in Rue's eyes spoke volumes and it wasn't long before all hell had broken loose, Maddy screaming at Cassie, Kat trying her best to calm her down.

Cassie wasn't very good at lying, and Maddy knew her too damn well to believe it.

"And you?" Rue's eyes remained dazed, but the curl of her lip made your eyes finally rest on her, pulling your attention away from your shoes, "You've got some fuckin' nerve sitting there, like you ain't doing the same shit."

Leslie moved forward, almost blocking you from her daughter's view, "Rue, that's enough. Let me-"

"Oh my god, you don't get it, Mom," Rue ran her hand over her hair, uncaring of how messy it was, a sardonic laugh falling from her lips, "What do you think two addicts do when they hang out together, huh? Cause we definitely weren't braiding each others hair or makin' fuckin' friendship bracelets."

You watched as Leslie tensed, her back ramrod straight. Her head turned slightly, eyeing you over her shoulder as a look of betrayal passed over her features. Returning her attention to her daughter once more, she forced down the lump in her throat,

"And that's on me, baby. But please, come with me and-"

"You know why her dad wasn't at that NA meeting?" Rue sniffed in harshly, a cruel smile etched onto her face as she continued to mock you, "He didn't fuckin' go, 'cause he was too fuckin' wasted. See, mom... I do drugs because my dad died. She does drugs, cause it's... I dunno, in her fuckin' DNA or some shit. So really, I mean, you should be grateful."

"Rue, that's enough," Suze spoke up, her eyes darting between you and the group of girls as Maddy continued her questioning of Cassie. A fight was going to break out at some point, she could sense it, "Listen to your mother and-"

"My father, a good, honest man dies in a fuckin' agonizing, traumatic way, yet her dad, a guy who doesn't deserve the fuckin' air he breathes, gets to live. He pushed her down the fuckin' stairs, and he gets to live? So where's her fuckin' intervention?" Rue laughed to herself as she shook her head, unshed tears in her lash line.

The room fell silent as your breath caught in your throat. Tears were already trailing down your cheeks as your chin wobbled. You knew, deep down, it wasn't you Rue was angry with. She was high and desperate and she needed something, anything to take the heat off her.

That's why she decided to throw both yourself and Cassie under the bus.

Standing, you placed the glass onto the table next to Lexi, the sound so much louder in the silence.

Kat called your name as you made your way toward the front door, tears streaming down your tired face. Stopping as your hand connected with the door handle, you turned toward Rue, voice barely above a whisper,

"I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, go run home to your daddy who doesn't fuckin' love you."

You heard Rue's muffled reply, as you shut the door behind yourself. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to compose yourself before setting back off toward Fez's house, deciding on the longer route in hopes that the cool air would calm you.

By the commotion inside, you could only assume Rue had beaten you to Fez's, and you knew there was only one reason why she was there.

The only drugs Fez kept in the house anymore was his Grandma's medication.

You watched as Fez all but threw Rue on the floor, the girl fighting him with everything she had as she collapsed to the floor.

Fez's attention was quickly on you as you watched helplessly, his sweater almost drowning you. His eyes darted between yourself and the girl, and despite popular belief, Fezco wasn't an idiot. He knew something was going on, something happened, but he just didn't know what.

Rue quickly made her way to her feet, shoving her way through the iron gate, and down the alleyway.

Watching her go, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything, just as she couldn't bring herself to look in your direction.

"C'mon, ma. Let's get you inside."

As Fez's ringed fingers began to rub soothingly up and down your arm, you couldn't hold in the tears that began to fall. Feeling the salty teardrops on the arm your head was resting on, Fez lifted himself slightly, his worried blue eyes glanced over your face, equal parts concern, and confusion.

You weren't a good person. You knew that, deep inside your soul, etched into your bones, you would always carry 50% of your father's DNA. And if Fez thought he was a bad person, then it was only a matter of time before he saw how rotten your core really was. Hell, Rue already had.

Rolling you carefully to your back, his thumb traced under your lashline, wiping away the rogue tears that still fell, "What's wrong, Ma? You in pain? I can get you some more Tylenol, or-"

Shaking your head, you forced a tight-lipped smile on your face, trying to force his features into your memory, despite knowing his face, his body, him... He would be burned there for as long as you breathe.

Lifting your arm, your fingertips tracing along the edges of his cheekbones, over his chin, and down his jaw before resting on the back of his neck, absently playing with his chain before pulling him toward you.

His lips were slow and gentle, his chaste movements almost tentative as if he wasn't entirely sure he should be doing it. But you needed this. You needed him. And as if somehow, your souls were connected, he seemed to at least understand your sudden need for intimacy.

Pulling away slightly, he hovered his lips above you, trying to ignore the pecks you left as you chased his lips, "I'm not sure we should do this. You're not-"

"Please, Fez. Please."

And that was all he needed.

But like a moth to a flame, you knew: eventually, you would burn him one too many times.

[maytheoddshq]

Mahlon McCreary (he/him). District 12 Tribute. 30. Ray Nicholson.

TW: abuse, violence, domestic abuse, alcohol, drugs, addiction, overdose, death, gore, body horror

Everyone knew the McCrearys were cursed – with bad blood, bad tempers, bad endings. Mahlon remembered Pa saying it wasn’t always like that, but it didn’t matter. It was that way now, and there was nothing to be done for it.

The McCrearys were as old as the dogwoods, with bark twice as thick. They used to work in the coal mines, and then the scrap yards, and then nowhere at all. With idle hands, they became the devil’s playthings, and Mahlon grew up against a backdrop of poverty-fueled despair. He wasn’t even a bad kid, in the beginning, but when you’re told you’re something long enough, when it’s beaten into you, it starts to stick – starts to feel like a well-worn jacket, threadbare denim fitting perfectly to form. 

He started smoking young, and drinking younger — and when he did show up to school, he always caused a scene. Mahlon knew he was owed nothing, so he took everything, desperate for the attention. 

He initiated most of the trouble kids in Twelve could manage, and most of the violence too – claiming a back section of the woods as his stomping grounds where Peacekeepers rarely did rounds. Around Twelve, he sometimes cracked jokes, sometimes punches. It all worked, in a way. He polarized the world around him into friends and enemies, with no appreciation or consideration for a gray between. And while this crassness and cruelty earned him plenty of ire, it also afforded him a tight circle – and kept the McCreary name out of people’s mouths, or it at least made them think twice before speaking openly.

After all, there was plenty to talk about.

A family tree of fuck-ups before him, Mahlon McCreary Sr. had been in and out of jail his whole life. When he wasn’t sleeping it off in a cell, he was doing the same shit that would land him back there in a few month’s time. Virginia McCreary bore the brunt of it, and Mahlon swore he could tell how soon Pa was going back to jail by how banged up she looked that day. In Mahlon’s early teens, Virgie once ended up with two broken ribs and a fractured collarbone – and the first vial of morphling appeared. If he’d known then what he knew now, he’d have flushed it outright, but hindsight was always clear. 

He was a child, barely old enough to make sense of the world, when he had to become their sole provider. No one would employ the McCreary’s – they knew better than to let them close – so he lived largely off what little the land could provide. He set traps and hunted for meat, fur, and hide. He tilled barren earth for meager produce, which rarely grew in the ashen soot. He stitched their clothing, and patched their wounds, and stole from others who were even minutely better-off. Sometimes, he thought it would be better if Virgie died. If Pa never came home. Fewer mouths to feed. Fewer humans to bruise. He grew bent and broken, a cruel and seering thing – capable of such harshness that he saw less of himself in the mirror every day, and more of his father. It made him sick.

Mahlon never understood how someone could cause so much harm and still evoke some sense of righteous justice – and then, on the cusp of adulthood, he was Reaped. No one batted an eye at his selection, not even Virgie, who’d been so subdued by morphling that she didn’t realize he’d been called. Mahlon knew it was the curse. It had come for him; there was no sense in fighting it. Twelve was a better place with him gone – safer too. But even the devil craves life, and as the arena approached, Mahlon fashioned himself into a monster capable of the atrocities it would take to emerge alive. In his private training session, he killed, gutted the dummy, and skinned it for its hide, describing in graphic detail how he planned to murder and repurpose each of the 23 tributes in time. It was so disturbing, so detailed and sincere, that he’d watched one Gamemaker turn in disgust, and he knew it was possible: the chance to survive. 

They’d awoken in an arena that was barely 12ft by 12ft. It was a cement room, no windows, a hole in the ground. A platform moved through it, piled high with weapons, food, medicine, supplies. Mahlon had watched it lower down, had stared in confusion at the only other tribute there – his own district partner, as it settled on the ground. They were structured according to district first – One at the top, Twelve at the bottom. By the time it reached the bottom, there were only a few items left: a pocket knife, a roll of gauze, a bruised apple, a bottle of salve. They were instructed to select one item each. Any more, any cheating, and they’d be killed on the spot, thanks to the trackers that had been embedded in the tops of their spines. They’d sat across from each other, backs pressed to parallel walls, the whole night, in a stand-off…until they’d been put to sleep by the arena’s gas. 

Mahlon awoke in what felt like the same room, but the hole was now on the ceiling and floor. He was higher up in the structure, with a new cellmate – the girl from Two. He recognized her as having earned the same training score, and he understood that they were being matched based on some series of metrics, some combination that changed each night until someone won. They preyed on alliances and dynamics, pairing lovers and enemies together until one of them died. Mahlon knew no one had to die each time, but it was better if they did. Fewer future swaps to survive. 

In the finale, there were only two left, but they’d been dropped in separate rooms. They’d been made to find each other, Mahlon understood. But as the platform lowered or rose to each floor, a new horror awaited – the mangled, revived bodies of tributes from before, traps triggered by movement or body heat and sound, and finally each other where they met on the middle floor. Mahlon had kept the pocket knife from that first night, and he did as he promised: gutted and bled the other tribute dry. 

In the end, he embarked on his victory tour. The last stop was Twelve – a grand return home. But no one was waiting, no one was left to. Virgie had overdosed, died the day before he’d won. And his father was gone – maybe to rot in a Capitol prison, maybe into the woods and beyond. Mahlon was the only McCreary left standing, and he wasn’t sure if he’d fulfilled the curse or merely managed to get by this time. For years, he returned to the Capitol each cycle to coach the next batch on how to die. It didn’t matter; he was sure it never would. 

But Mahlon wasn’t born a fighter. That was learned. At his core, cold as it had become, there was something more. Cat Miller used him for drugs. She’d flirt with him to score for cheap, and he knew it, happy to be her strung-along plaything. Somewhere along the way, Cat realized it wasn’t an act anymore, and the two started seeing each other, white-hot passion leaving the earth around them scorched. But they were spiraling further into addiction, fueling a fire that burned beyond control: the drugs were one thing, and the rebellion was another. Cat, who went by the codename Delphi, ran the rebel radio station Vox Machina, and where she went – even into forbidden Eleven – Mahlon followed. When Slate Skylar was arrested, though, the fog of love dissipated, bringing the truth squarely into view. He begged her to give up the fight, to run away with him, but Cat refused. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. All of Mahlon’s fears came true.

The month’s after were a blur. Moonshine kept him numb, and chores on Greer Morgan’s farm kept him busy. Idle hands were the devil’s plaything, which meant he was nothing more than a puppet to enact his bidding. Mahlon fed the chickens. He painted the shutters. He tried to decipher where in him the anger stemmed from: behind the eyes? In the center of his tongue? Somewhere low, in his stomach? Back at the Tower, amid the commotion of Meta Morphic having been reaped, Mahlon laid low. He sold his stash. He muddled through emotion. And in the shadowy moments – beneath the Capitol’s center in a speakeasy, on the grass of the Panem Zoo after-hours, in a dark corner of District Zero – Mahlon learned that many things can be true. He could have loved Cat, and been broken by the loss of her, and fallen in love with Greer too.

But the elation of the discovery was short-lived. Slate won, and Snow dropped bombs upon Twelve, leveling the district, destroying Mahlon’s home. Displaced, he returned to Ten with Greer, taking up arms in Eleven – though this time, of his own accord. The year after was spent in a state of dull fury. Rage at the system that took away the only pieces of his life he had left – places, mere memories – and cold, empty grief. Mahlon went to Twelve to rebuild. He went to Eleven to fight. He went to Ten for Greer, and in the moments of brief reprieve where the world wasn’t too big, and too loud, and too terrible, Mahlon polished Virgie’s wedding ring, wiping the bitter stain of the past out. Eleven was freed, and though the crops dwindled and the war raged on, there was hope again. For the first time in years, Mahlon felt awake, his conviction strong.

But the Reaping twist was a sharp blade on soft flesh, his one protection lost. It was no great surprise when – before the district, or what little remained – Mahlon’s name was called. Admittedly, he was only grateful to not hear Hestia’s, or another of her kids’. And on the train to the Capitol – one he’d have taken anyway – it was the greatest relief to look at the other tributes and not see Cat or Greer’s names. The dull rage returned, pooling shallow on the surface. The Capitol had made him a beast once before. And to live? Mahlon would become it again.

Token: Virgie’s Locket (with Virgie & Greer inside)

PENNED BY LENA

[dystopiandramaqueen]

What’s LDD? 👀

So this is … an interesting discussion.

I was asked - what’s the most unusual fantasy you’ve ever had.

LDD stands for “Loving Domestic Discipline.”

It’s a real life system of power in some Christian marriages where one partner is the “Head of Household” (HOH) and the other “Taken In Hand” (TIH) submits to their guidance in all things.

Blogs from this community contain the dynamics, scenarios, and level of impact play I’ve always fantasized about/ wanted. It’s like “having a reason” for it being a part of your relationship not just an occasional slap on the ass.

It’s like living a d/s (dominant / submissive) dynamic 24/7 in a long term monogamous loving relationship.

They hilight the fact that they don’t do it just for sexual pleasure. They do it for peace and spiritual harmony in their minds, marriage and home. (although it turns them the fuck on and most spankings end in sex.) these ppl fuck ALOT. They love each other. But it’s not a kink thing to them. OR SO THEY SAY 👀

And not stupid “ooh I’ve been naughty, spank me daddy” tropes.

Like- they set systems of accountability for goals and help each other enforce them. It’s kind of d/s relationship we’re dreaming of when we joke “I wish someone would lock me up in their basement so I could be their pet full time.”

Similar to CNC scenarios.

CNC stands for consensual non-consent

There’s a big difference between asking a safe gentle partner to “kidnap and use” you vs being kidnapped and used.

Full stop.

The idea of a thing can be hot. It’s ok to enjoy fantasy - and not want it in real life.

If you showed me the scenarios and told me men were doing that stuff to women for real I’d call it abuse and want it to stop. Not cool. Not into it.

If it was INVOLUNTARY for the victim.

The difference in bdsm is submission is voluntary. Control is surrendered freely.

Submissives ask their dominants to do things to them. For pleasure.

That’s why it’s tricky.

Submissives crave the safety to let go of control and be cared for - that regressed feeling of being safe and protected and important enough for someone to protect, discipline and nurture. It’s a heady drug to imagine having that feeling all the time. Having a partner say “yes, I will do all the leading and thinking, I got you, you’re my helper/assistant, we’re a team.”

It makes me sad when I think of the broken social systems that lead to these cravings.

The modern world is so fucked up. It’s why we’re anxious and exhausted. Humans are social creatures and the modern world fucking sucks.

I know for me- in my house- touch was forbidden especially between siblings- we never hugged- my first boyfriend laughed when I didn’t know what he meant by “cuddle.”

We were never hit or spanked- we were ignored and punished with shame and silence. I only got attention if I was disappointing someone. I could only please them by vanishing.

So the craving to be important enough for someone to notice you, help and guide you- even in the form of “punishment”- it’s fucking sad.

Blogs written by LDD wives- who claim to truly enjoy the lifestyle - overlap alot with bdsm mindsets. I suspect women who seek these pairings out are submissive masochists like me. They may truly benefit from it. Some DDLG (daddy dom / little girl) couples agree to play that dynamic continuously IRL. So it doesn't have to be in a marriage. Some ppl don't want the dynamic to be episodic. They want to stay submissive all the time.

There’s a thing called spanking therapy I recently learned about - some ppl just … benefit from consensual spanking. Even outside marriage, and outside BDSM. Spanking is a physical grounding exercise that leads to an emotional catharsis and re-set. The way some ppl use drugs or confession- the way you feel better after a nap or a good cry- there’s a deep human need to have an ending to guilt and shame. To “pay for” your sins and “be forgiven” after. It’s therapeutic. Some ppl set up spanking sessions like that w/ friends or internet strangers on a regular basis, outside the framework of marriage.

The LDD community debates a lot about two topics that fascinate and horrify me. Boot Camps and Maintenance Spanking. It’s the feeling of wanting to see the monster in a horror movie then wishing you hadn’t. (Discussion below)

Boot camp is you take a weekend and the woman walks around naked and does whatever he says. Like practicing submission. Kneel. Suck my dick. Bend over. Over my knee. etc.

Maintenance spanking is just that- you do it on a schedule not after infractions. Daily, weekly, monthly-

For the record, I think it’s important to say-

I’m adamantly opposed to spanking kids bc it’s NOT VOLUNTARY. The power and size differentials make it abuse. Period. Never ok.

And in real life? If a partner tried to impose LDD on me? I’d laugh in their face.

I’m too fiercely independent, I bend the knee for no one. I’ve been emotionally abused and it’s very triggering for me to feel powerless.

It’s just weird bc the IDEA turns me on for deeply fucked up psychological reasons and helps my trauma recovery.

At the end of the day I like the idea of it. I like playing it. And I simultaneously want to DM all LDD wives like “you ok boo boo?”

And maybe the fact that I can look at that darkness- powerlessness and authoritarianism in the home- and put it down after- is what’s therapeutic. Like walking out of a horror movie back into the sunlight.

So. To be clear. I do NOT like that there are men who want to beat their wives on the regular. (Unless she’s asking for it and it improves her mental health).

As someone who has a hurricane in my mind, and is deeply grounded, calmed and aroused by impact play, I admit reading LDD blogs turns me on.

And it is voluntary I guess, it is consensual… maybe it’s all semantics.

Idk. It’s a weird boundary. Hope that made sense.

In closing, I hope all women in these relationships LOVE it and are getting what they need. Whatever rationale and words they use- if they like it, I’m glad.

If they don’t may they murder the bastards in their sleep and come over to the bdsm community. We spank too, as much as you want and never more. So shall it be, Amen.

[deliciouswastelandgoddess]

I mean, given that it's taken from the source material and that they (the directors) kind of left some plot holes scattered throughout, the animosity comes mainly from the Minor Family being cunts at every turn unprovoked.

Then you have when book Kinn finds out Vegas' been fucking every single one of his partners... and then its revealed that Vegas is the one that sent those men out to hunt them both down in the woods in an attempt on Kinn's life... and then you have Porsche finding out about the attempted r*pe/drugging thing... and then the Tawan shitshow... and then the final showdown/coup... not to mention the general disdain and condescension the Minor Family has for the Major Family unprovoked.

Just 'cause Vegas is a domestic abuse victim and has gone through misery at the hands of his father, doesn't erase the pain he's caused Kinn trying to one up him his entire life.

And even if we only focus on the show content and not the book, Kinn basically forgets Vegas and the Minor Family exists up until they start actively provoking them and acting up so, really, all the hostility is one sided and not personal until the Minor Family starts making it so.

I don't think there's anything Kinn would want to understand or peel back "layers" from Vegas when Kinn's been nearly killed twice by him/them... and then Vegas nearly did the same to Porsche, Kinn's partner, and Chay his partner's nong, even if it wasn't part of Vegas' plan... like I'm sorry, you don't come back from that and there's no layers they both would want to see past when it's become that personal... Kinn due to the Tawan situation and the whole going after Porsche incessantly knowing it's not genuine, that its only to hurt and humiliate him + endangering his and Porsche's life multiple times. Then we have Vegas for having Gun/Kan abuse him seemingly for being incompetent and not being able to destroy and humiliate the Major Family and then having the person you've craved validation and love your whole life from be killed by the same family whomst you hate and also contributed to this toxic rivalry...

They would both have to put their rivalry down and try to see past their fathers' manipulation and gatekeeping but it has become too personal for either of them that I don't see it happening. Unless of course it's for a united cause but never on a personal level. There's just too much pain on either end for Kinn or Vegas to see past each others' (bad) image of one another for that type of emotional depth and understanding and empathy required. Not to mention that the Theerapanyakul family is not too strong on emotional intelligence as it is (thanks Korn and Gun/Kan for the A+ parenting).

I'm sorry, but I just don't see Kinn moving on from that. The same way I don't see Vegas moving on from that either. It's too personal.

Both Vegas and Kinn would have to put down their egos, their rivalry, and their pain and trauma caused by the other down and away, and that will simply not happen in the course of a few months when they've been at this for years since childhood and have been fed lies and manipulation by their respective fathers long before show's happenings. There's just too much pain beneath both of their bravado.

Valid points raised Anon. My post was more a wish fulfillment thing because I like stories where people use the ✨power of friendship✨ to overcome differences ahaha

Like I said, it wasn't a real criticism of the story we actually got. Just a declaration to want something more. And when I say I can't forgive Kinn and Tankhun, what I really mean is, I can't forgive the writers (and that too not really) for not developing their dynamic more. The show ended without any growth or significant change in the dynamic between the cousins.

And when I say 'tried to understand his layers', it doesn't mean I expect them to forgive him for everything he's done. Nor I believe that being abused is an excuse for how shitty Vegas has been, but it definitely is a little bit of an explanation. Relationships are complicated, people are complicated, you can hate someone and still find that you could trust them with somethings (like Porsche trusted Vegas when he asked V to care of Pete). You can resent someone but still vouch for their character (like Vegas did for Kinn when he assured Porsche that Kinn would never Chay). You can be beaten and humiliated by a person your life and still cry when they die (like Vegas does when Gun is killed)

Like for me, it's just so much more interesting to see characters truly majorly fuck up but still somehow find a common ground to stand on with their narrative foils - if anything the whole mutual hatred makes for some really great banter when they are actually forced to work together - it's just so much more fun!!

I feel Kinn, who constantly screwed up things with Porsche, of all people can and would find it in his heart to sympathize with Vegas. Like just imagine the moral conundrums, imagine the guilt mixed in with the very real (well-deserved) hatred he feels for Vegas, mixed in with his constant need to do the right thing, mixed in with his insecurities. Oooohahahaha imagine Vegas having to make peace with the fact that Kinn isn't an asshole afterall and didn't deserve to be at the receiving end of all the snide remarks. I JUST LIKE STORIES WHERE CHARACTERS HEAL THEIR GENERATIONAL TRAUMAS TOGETHER OKAY 😭😭😭

Thank you for the ask anon, this has been really fun, I love myself a Kinn defender. *Kisses you*

[irrelevantwriter]

Embracing Misery

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, funny Rio (he got jokes), secret feelings (bc I love to torture my characters)

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Part 3. Rio returns and you decide to take some initiative. 

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the love and support on these Rio fics! It truly means so much and I am so glad you’re enjoying them. I now bring you part three of a saga that was not at all planned, but has somehow happened anyway. I blame the Rio haze I’m still very much in and my zero chill tendencies. If you guys haven't read parts one and two, then I recommend doing so, for plot purposes. I have some more things planned for this duo so we’ll see what my muse brings. Until then, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

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

It was early.

The house was blessedly quiet while your children stayed at their father’s house for the weekend. You soaked up the stillness of the early morning sun rays and crisp, cool air. They washed over you, as if cleansing what the previous night’s sleep hadn’t. You missed your kids like crazy while they were away, but the mornings alone were priceless. It was a time for you to prepare for the day. A luxury you hadn’t been afforded since before the kids were born. But now...now you got to take it all in. Enjoy the serenity.

Or so you thought.

You tied the sash of your robe as you opened the front door, preparing to grab the morning paper, but as soon as you turned the knob you knew what would be waiting on the other side. Something told you he was there. You didn’t need to look out onto the street to see the familiar sleekness of a dark tinted luxury car. You could feel him. Feel his eyes on you as you bent down to get the paper and turned, leaving the front door wide open.

Rio had been gone for nearly two months. You hadn’t seen or spoken to the man in that long. Not even a text message, though the thought had crossed your mind on more than one occasion. You had no idea where he’d been or what he’d been doing while he was away, but you’d had no choice but to conduct business as usual. Mick had been your contact, times and places for drop-offs exactly as Rio had set them up. It was as if he was still running things from wherever he was. As if he could somehow see you without actually seeing you.

During his time away you’d done nothing but think of when he’d return. You teetered on the edge of worry and longing as your thoughts raced between concern for your boss slash lover to outright arousal. You’d spent more than one night thinking about his hands on your body while yours tried desperately to replicate his touch. It would get the job done, but it was nothing compared to that gentle slide of hand or gravelly voice that sent literal shivers up your spine. Your body had missed him. And you had come to the realization that you did too.

You walked into your kitchen, hearing the click of the front door as he passed through the threshold. You went straight for the humming coffee pot, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

“Coffee?” You asked over your shoulder, not at all surprised to hear the shakiness in your voice.

“Sure.”

Your entire body thrummed to life at that solitary sound. You hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet and already your thighs were clenching together. Your nipples hardened against the thin fabric of your tank top, your black robe barely concealing the reaction. You poured the coffee with unsteady hands, preparing yourself to face him once again.

When you turned around, you were greeted with a familiar smirk and a magnificent throat tattoo. A tattoo that you’d missed. He looked exactly the same. Same dark button-up. Same dark jeans. Same intense eyes. Same addictive swagger. It all came together to seduce you into a trance. A trance you’d fallen victim to in the past. It was a fog of uncertainty and lust. It was powerful. Merciless. And you couldn’t stop it from taking you hostage if you tried. So...you embraced it.

You slid the mug of coffee across the kitchen island towards him, a gesture that had you experiencing déjà vu. He accepted it and the sugar you offered. You watched as he dressed his beverage. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No milk or cream. He stirred it and then sipped, nodding in approval at the taste. The entire display was odd...domestic even.

His eyes trailed over your body before coming to rest on your face.

“Did you miss me, mama?” He asked cheekily, white teeth on display. They bit sensually into his bottom lip, the action making warmth seep deep into your bones.

You laughed. You’d missed the banter. Missed his blatant want for you. It was a cruel punishment to take away someone’s drug of choice. Rio just so happened to be yours. And you’d been experiencing withdrawals for the last two months. You desperately needed a hit. Needed something to take the edge off.

“Hardly.” You quipped, smiling so that he could see the lie clearly written on your face.

He only stared back. The action was still unnerving.

You turned to pour your own cup of coffee, feeling his gaze ghost across your back. You busied yourself with adding cream and sugar, the clang of the spoon against ceramic the only sound reverberating throughout the house. You took a few cursory sips, testing the temperature of the liquid. It was hot. Too hot. But you drank it anyway.

Turning around to face Rio once again, you were surprised to find the spot across the island empty. Your eyes darted around the immediate area, catching a glimpse of him lounging on your sofa. The same sofa he’d fucked you against. Along with the kitchen island.

You left your drink behind, bare feet walking with a purpose across the cold wood floors. You rounded the sofa and took him in. One leg was crossed over the other, his mug resting against his knee as he steadied it with one hand. His free arm extended along the back of the couch, taking up a fair amount of space on the piece of furniture.

He was a picture of comfort and ease. Looking as if he belonged there. You supposed in that moment, he did.

You observed him for a long time. Long enough for his face to grow serious as he stared up at you. A myriad of emotions swirled within you. All of them seemed to be conflicting. They pushed and pulled in various directions, telling you what you should do while others persuaded you to do what you wanted to do. In the end none of it mattered. You’d already sold your soul to the devil long before you got into bed with him. It was time to accept that.

You wordlessly reached for his drink, moving the mug onto the coffee table. He let you, uncrossing his legs and watching you with a sharp eye. You grasped for the knot that held your robe together and pulled the two ends apart, feeling the material start to give way. It fell open to reveal the tank top and shorts you wore underneath. It was a far cry from lingerie, but it sent the same message. You wore no bra, an obvious fact as his eyes hungrily took you in. Your shorts were cut high, practically underwear and exposing more leg than you would’ve normally felt comfortable with. The robe fell from your shoulders and into a heap at your feet.

You swallowed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to take flight. You focused on him. You focused on the way he looked at you. And how he made you feel. You let that be your guide as you pulled your top up and over your head. The garment joined the robe on the floor as you moved on to your shorts, pulling them down and letting them slide along your thighs. You were left in your demure cotton panties. You were only slightly embarrassed by their modesty, but Rio showed no inclination that he was put off. In fact, his mouth twitched, his lower half shifting against the couch.

You looped your fingers into the waistband of the cotton and pushed them down, baring yourself completely. He’d never seen you naked. Your previous trysts had been rushed with clothes shifted aside and out of the way in frenzied yearning. It’d never been thought out before. And now, here you were standing naked in your own living room, seducing the man you were sure wanted to kill you about as much as he wanted to fuck you.

It was exhilarating.

“What’re you doing?” Rio rasped, gaze locked with yours. His voice was low and tinged with desire. He looked equal parts amused and perplexed, and the thought of him trying to be a gentleman in your current state of undress only made your need for him strengthen.

“Sshh...” You soothed, stepping between his spread legs and straddling his lap.

His hands immediately gripped around your waist, the touch of his bare flesh against yours sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You kissed him, hands sliding up his chest and resting on the buttons of his shirt. He reciprocated your eagerness, lips moving with yours. Your tongue reached out to taste him and he accepted, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass in approval. Your lower body writhed in his lap, feeling the firm muscle resting beyond his zipper.

You longed to feel his skin against yours. To feel the proof of life beat against your own chest. To feel close to him in a way you hadn’t thus far. Your fingers moved swiftly to grant you the sensation you craved. You unfastened each button, pulling his shirt apart and gliding your palms over the smooth muscle of his chest. His hips thrust up into yours restlessly as you explored his upper body. Your lips had yet to detach from each other, completely lost in reuniting. Your nails lightly grazed down his chest and abdomen, feeling him reciprocate the action by nibbling your lip.

His touch scorched your skin, roaming freely. He cupped your heaving breasts, mouth moving to your neck as he attacked your skin with kisses. You threw your head back in blessed relief and pleasure, finally feeling as if you could breathe again. You maneuvered your hands between your bodies, aiming for his belt buckle. You were impatient. Unable to wait for him to fill you. You’d waited long enough. The abundance of slickness that slid from your walls could attest to that.

“Mmmm...” He growled against your neck when you finally pulled him free, your palm easily smoothing over the hard length. His hips rutted into your touch, his own impatience showing.

You moaned when his lips attached to a nipple and sucked. He tortured you with sensations, bouncing between gentle and unyielding. His mouth was hot and wet against your flesh, encouraging your arousal to new heights. You craved more.

Again you took the initiative and lifted your hips, angling his length to fit against your weeping slit. He pulled away from your chest and took you in, watching as you slowly impaled yourself on his cock. Your lips parted as you engulfed him, your breathing accelerating with every inch he filled you. It’d been too long and your body was taut, clenching around him in such a way that let him know just how much you’d missed his touch.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you finally bottomed out, your thighs flush with his. His fingers gripped your hips, his body completely still and waiting for you to move. His brow was furrowed, his lips pouted as he took in measured breaths. He almost looked in pain as you sat unmoving atop him. The notion pleased you.

You moaned when he shifted, his cock nudging your womb. You couldn’t prolong the torture anymore and began to swirl your hips, your palms flat against his chest. It was a new dynamic for you both. Being able to control the moment with him was not something you were used to. His demanding nature was something you secretly loved, but having him at your mercy like this was so much better. You could see every pass of ecstasy on his face. Feel it in the way he twitched inside you. It was addicting.

His calloused hands massaged your breasts as you rode him, his dark eyes glazed over with lust but still holding you captive. He slid along your walls, stretching and filling you to capacity. You only got wetter at the feel of him, the slickness so overwhelming that he almost fell from your tight clutches. You used his shoulders for leverage as you moved, your pace increasing, desperate to come undone with him.

“Damn...yeah, just like that.” Rio exhaled, hands encouraging your hips to keep their speed.

He licked his lips as you bounced, flesh slapping as you fucked yourself. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his thumb into his mouth and then attached it to your clit, rubbing the swollen flesh in sensual circles. You arched your back and whimpered, feeling the tendrils of climax begin to latch on.

“I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, feeling your skin slicken with perspiration. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his assault on your clit, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans at bay.

“Do it, mama.” He throatily demanded, leaving no room for argument.

“C-cum...with me.” You pleaded between breaths. He nipped at the underside of your chin and you swore you could feel his smirk against your flesh.

He didn’t waste another second.

You held on as Rio’s hips met yours, his cock hitting your cervix with a brutality that had you seeing stars. Your muscles spasmed from the inside out, your limbs locking as you came. Your walls clamped around him in stuttering patterns, giving him no other option but to feel it all. You held him to you as you shook, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs and his length. He continued to fuck you through it, his control now waning. He buried his face into your chest and neck, holding you just as tightly as he repeatedly thrust up into you.

“Inside me...please.” You found yourself begging, exhausted from your own euphoria but still wanting to feel him release deep within you. It was a sensation you thrived on. It meant he was real. That he wasn’t a figure in the night or a lone man with a gun. He’d been inside you. Painted your walls in him. Claimed you. And you wanted to feel that for as long as you could.

“You want it?” He grunted against your neck, hands digging so hard into your ass that the area would surely be sore afterwards. It was welcomed after his prolonged absence. Just another clue that he’d been there.

“Please…” You whimpered, uncaring that you sounded so desperate.

He said nothing in return. Only thrust harder as he finally came. He held you still against him, ensuring not a drop of his cum left your joined bodies. You reveled in the warmth that suddenly filled you, spreading your thighs wider across his lap. His teeth dragged along your collarbone, eliciting a shiver from you.

It was quiet for a moment, your labored breathing slowly steadying with the beating of your heart. You were pressed against his bare chest, his hands now smoothing across your flesh rather than gripping it. The sensation nearly put you to sleep.

“So you missed me then?” Rio teased, his voice raspier than normal.

You sat up straight, looking down into his eyes that were glinting back at you with boyish arrogance. You cracked a smile and shook your head.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You didn’t have to, darling.” He whispered, face growing serious as he tenderly shifted the few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead.

Laughter bubbled in your throat suddenly, effectively cutting through the moment. His fingers drifted to your lips, tracing them as you broke into a smile.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His own lips quirked up at the sound of your tired giggles, your body shaking above him.

“We haven’t made it to a bed yet.” You said between laughs, pulling his hand from your mouth and resting it on your cheek instead. You held onto his forearm, the sinewy muscle feeling sturdy under your touch.

“There’s still time.” He retorted with a sly smile, his eyes taking in your face in a careful study. The intensity of it was almost enough to make you feel bashful.

You were lost in the moment, ready to let him take you again when a knock at the front door sounded. You scrambled up, hearing a key in the knob.

“Fucking Paul.” You cursed as you grabbed your discarded robe and hastily tied the sash. “Get dressed.” You ordered Rio, that smug smirk still planted firmly on his lips.

You moved past him and through the dining room to the front door, seeing your ex shuffle through the door with a baseball bag thrown over his shoulder. Your son’s bag. He must’ve forgotten something for his game today.

“You mind?” You snapped at him, throwing a quick glance behind you to ensure he couldn’t see Rio through the entryway.

“Well, I called but you didn’t answer. Figured you were still asleep.” Paul supplied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You couldn’t wait until I actually answered the door instead of using a key? A key I was sure I got back from you.”

He rolled his eyes, not making any move to return the item.

Bastard.

“What’re you doing here, Paul?”

“Anthony forgot his mitt. Needs it for the game today.”

You inwardly rolled your eyes, both at your ex and your son. They were mirror images of each other and that extended to their forgetfulness.

You walked to the entryway bench and lifted the pillow, knowing it would be stuck there because that’s where Anthony always left his gear after a game.

“Here.” You said shortly, thrusting the glove over to him. The sooner he got it, the sooner he’d be gone.

The universe was a cruel bitch though.

A shuffling from behind you pulled both yours and Paul’s attention. You tensed as Rio rounded the corner, clothes neatly tucked back into place. He eyed your ex for a long moment, making both you and Paul uncomfortable.

“I-uh...this-,” You stumbled over your words, at a loss for how to proceed. “He was just checking on some things around the house.” You lamely offered.

“What things?” Paul threw back with a raised brow, obviously not buying your answer.

“Just taking a look at her pipes.” Rio quipped, making you cough.

The air was awkward and tense as the two men sized each other up. You could see the suspicion in Paul’s eyes as he took in Rio’s very notable tattoo. Paul’s gaze flicked to yours, attempting to read your face. You opened your mouth to cut through the silence, but Rio beat you to it.

“I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He said, facing you and biting his lip. The action was purposeful. A signal of sorts.

You nodded and crossed your arms, watching with bated breath as he walked past Paul. He stared at the man as if he was a nuisance, giving him a quick once over before chuckling and exiting out the door. You released a sigh of relief once the door latched, your shoulders easing now that he’d left. A wave of disappointment followed. You were hoping to spend more time with him before he ultimately disappeared again. You were sure you’d see him at your next drop off now that he was back, but that was still days away. And you’d be damned if you reached out to the man for anything other than business-related topics.

You’d just have to wait.

“Friend of yours?” Paul interrupted your thoughts, face twisted in disapproval.

“He was here to check the pipes. They were making a weird noise. Wanted to make sure they didn’t freeze over.” You explained, your attitude back in full force.

“Sure.” He replied flatly, eyes belatedly taking in your state of undress. “You should put some decent clothes on when you have strange men in the house.”

The chastising tone of his voice made you see red. It was one of the reasons you’d divorced him. Along with the infidelity. And his tendency to be an egotistical piece of shit. Your reaction was a completely different reaction to Rio’s reprimands. Rio made you feel alive...desired. Paul’s goal was to always control and make you feel less than. He’d lost that fight throughout your marriage, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to do so long after it’d ended.

“You need to go.” You demanded between clenched teeth, opening the door for him and gesturing him out.

He took the hint and walked outside to the porch, shaking his head as he did.

“The kids wanted all of us to go out to dinner. Including Erica.” He said as he turned to face you, hand held to the door that you were ready to slam in his face.

You fought the urge to scoff at the mention of his fiancé and instead nodded, a pleasant smile on your lips and pure hate in your heart.

“Sure. Text me details. I’ve gotta go before this cum running down my leg stains the carpet.”

Paul’s face was priceless. And you had the pleasure of slamming the door in it. You smiled victoriously to yourself. The unexpected visit wasn’t so bad after all.

Your two worlds were getting harder to keep separated. That was apparent after the debacle that just took place. Rio was a significant presence in your life. And it was in more than just a working relationship way. That was obvious now. But were you really ready to let that happen? To let him in? The answer was still no. It would always be no. But sleeping with your boss had to have some benefits. And you were willing to find out exactly what those were. Misery and all.

[ryozoro]

Hades Playlist: EP (side story #1 - Kakucho Hitto)

Now Playing: You’re Mines Still [WITH LYRICS] - Yung Bleu ft. Drake

CW!!; toxic relationship, angst?, fluff, drug mentions, cheating, smut, and mentions of abuse/domestic problems. mention of gun - being used as a threat by sanzu <use of uchiha sasuke because I rewatched naruto and realized how much I ¿love? him , well, more like wish I could have gave him comfort :p>

an; takes place during bonten!future so all characters are aged up. these side stories honestly kind of help with writers block and I might even do a spin off series — but ! don’t hold me to it :,) just a heads up + each side story will have a different character unless stated | 18 + , ryozoro©

italicized with NO bold means flashbacks | bold and italicized are lyrics | bold is just inner thoughts

If I ever.. if I ever make you angry, girl, just know it get better with time (time)

yn was different, she always have been; Kaku had just realized that too late. the last argument he had with her had led to the split he thought would only last for two days. that was four months ago and she was already clinging off the side of some young CEO’s arm . whatever, she’ll realize it was just a phase and she’ll come running back to Kaku the second one thing goes wrong; all it takes is time.

They say time heals; she can’t live no life without me, she’s so blind still. fuck that [playa], you can tell him that your mines still.

it’s been six months; six whole months since he last kissed her, six months since he last held her, and six whole months since ‘I love you’ had made its way out of her lips and against his cheeks when his tears fell. He knew it wasn’t the cash as to why yn was with the man; she was never materialistic. hes probably suppling her with false senses of security and love - kaku hated the very thought of the rich snob even looking at her; he concluded that the man doesn’t even love yn and is probably using her as a publicity stunt. there was just no way that a man the face of a company would pick up a girl from the dumps without trying to improve his image, there was no fucking way. Kaku knows it was his fault though; if only he hadn’t said what he said, yn wouldn’t be blindly mistaking this guys schemes for the love that she craved. the bonten executive is just waiting for the man to overstep one of yn’s walls so she lashes out and tells the rich prick that her heart is still kaku’s.

It started with the car rides that she noticed that sasuke wasn’t as rebellious on the road as kaku; she should be relieved about it, but she wasn’t. sasuke always relied on his car; if she wanted to walk, sasuke would come up with excuses as to why they shouldn’t. ‘This neighborhood is too dangerous.’ ‘I just got new dress shoes, babe.’ ‘I’m in a suit, yn, and you’re dressed too nice.’ Excuses piled on excuses.

It started with the car rides that she noticed that sasuke wasn’t as rebellious on the road as kaku; she should be relieved about it, but she wasn’t. sasuke always relied on his car; if she wanted to walk, sasuke would come up with excuses as to why they shouldn’t. ‘This neighborhood is too dangerous.’ ‘I just got new dress shoes, babe.’ ‘I’m in a suit, yn, and you’re dressed too nice.’ Excuses piled on excuses.

It started with the car rides that she noticed that sasuke wasn’t as rebellious on the road as kaku; she should be relieved about it, but she wasn’t. sasuke always relied on his car; if she wanted to walk, sasuke would come up with excuses as to why they shouldn’t. ‘This neighborhood is too dangerous.’ ‘I just got new dress shoes, babe.’ ‘I’m in a suit, yn, and you’re dressed too nice.’ Excuses piled on excuses.

she hated to think about kaku considering he was the one who broke her heart, but he was also the reason she had one in the first place. if she asked to take a break from the fast cars and busy streets to walk, he’d smirk and ALWAYS reply with ‘speed walking race or just a nice stroll through our crummy streets?’ god she missed those days, walking through the city as if the dirty streets were the red carpet of the kingdom that kaku always swore they would rule together.

she hated that she compared them just in the way they ‘made love.’ after rough hours of countless rounds of sex, kaku would always cater to her - even after their worst fights. he’d always reassure her after fast and hard sex, one that some would call ‘hate fucking,’ he’d clean her off and reassure her that he still loved her. he’d sit there and calmly state what made him angry and ways that he could’ve done better to avoid these things; even when she’d blame herself for everything before, he would always hug her and tell her that ‘it was my fault as well for letting it get that far. don’t blame yourself for a problem when it took two of dumbasses to cause it.’

she noticed that sasuke was nothing like kaku. after arguments, sasuke wouldn’t touch her, hell, he wouldn’t even look at her; sasuke would yell his feelings and take off to go only the gods know where. when he’d get back, he’d say a half assed apology, but he made up for it by letting her vent her issues. it was always her fault, but he always say “I love you” and then they’d go on as if nothing happened. their make up sex was mediocre with no words exchanged in between thrusts or tears; he didn’t want to hear her speak, he’s told her plenty of times. lately, she’s been feeling the same way.

yn started calling quits to the day a lot earlier than what she used to. around 10:00 pm every night, she’ll call it a day and lay in their cold bed and stare at the ceiling in hopes of sasuke walking in and saying, ‘babe, let’s watch a movie or go cruise through the old bridges.,’ but he never comes. he sits in the living room laughing at shows she hated or on the phone flirting talking to his PA. she was fed up with it and she wanted out, but if she left - she would have no where to run. anger and the fear of abandonment clouded her head every night and constantly reminded herself that ‘it sucks now, but here you’re able to live. no ones going to be there for you if you end up on those streets again. so what if he hurts you? he’s giving you a home - just deal with it. just stay until you’re able to get back on your feet by yourself.’ her anger only drove her to sleepless nights and she found that better than feeling comfortable next to a man

I wish that we could change places, don’t want new, new faces. she got my heartbeat racin’.

it’s as if once they broke up for good, kaku sees her so much more now that she isn’t chasing after him. when they first started dating, he used to drive her insane and send her mixed signals just to see if she’ll make every wild goose chase end with him being her final destination; he’d drive her away just to see if she’d come back. he never wanted anyone but yn, and he doesn’t want anyone unless it’s her; no new faces, just yn and him taking up space together. he hates that women throw themselves at his feet, but he’d indulge in their little games if it meant you’d be there to claim his as yours when they went overboard.

he seen the infamous ‘Uchiha Sasuke,’ he only learned his name because of Sanzu, lacing his fingers through your crooked and scarred ones. he bet that sasuke had no idea about how you got your scars. Kaku hated that he never seen the new man by yns side kiss her fingers every five minutes just to silently reassure her that they were beautiful. he hated that sasuke was sitting beside yn and touching the ends of her hair without him thinking about how hard it was to fix just that morning; sasuke probably didn’t even know which specific products you used. most of all, he hates that he’s not the one right beside you. if he had one wish , he hummed, he’d use it to trade places.

he remembered their first date; fuck, that one date - 4 years ago - was when kaku knew that she was the one. he told her to choose what they’d do and she surprised him when she decided what they were gonna do.

—

“let’s go get some food that’s really bad for us and head to the roof of my building, yeah?” yn smiled brightly before grabbing kakus hand and making their way through back ends of city buildings.

“U-uh,” kaku felt his face heating up at the comfort he received through her clammy and dangled fingers, “where are we going to eat?”

“I know this really good food truck at the east corner of shibuya,” she laughed loudly. some teeth were crooked and others were gapped, but Kaku had never seen a smile more beautiful than hers. “oi, don’t stare,” yn squeezed his hand, “gonna make me never laugh again, ya asshole. I’m just kidding, don’t pout ya big baby.”

“‘m not pouting, princess,” kaku smirked once he realized yn was slightly embarrassed, “well, princess, I own these streets and if you play your cards right - we can own em together.”

Once they received their food and arrived at yns rooftop, they began talking away about life and funny moments about growing up the way they did. kaku finally deemed it time to ask the question that usually caused him to cut off any girl; the one line that was an immediate ice breaker that determined whether or not that the girl was worth it.

“uh,” kaku cleared his throat and stared off into the slow traffic below them, “I got a question..”

“shoot it, big man,” yn said through a mouth full of greasy truck food as she tried to swallow it down with water.

“Are you, um,” kaku rubbed his clean hand across his buzzed head, “are you - let me rephrase- have you loss someone who taught you what love and home is?”

“If I’m being honest, I’ve lost people I’ve loved and people have given me a home,” yn leaned over and silently asked for permission to hold kakus hand once again, “but I don’t think i had enough love in someone to call them my home, you know?”

“Oh, no I get ya,” kaku slowly laced their fingers together and scooted close to her, “well then let me ask the actual question, now.. do you - are you okay that someone taught me that? like, fuck, let me think of the way to explain this - I lost the one person who taught me what love and home was; are you okay with me being this fucked up, this scarred, this - this broken?”

“hey, hey - kakucho hitto,” she scanned his face and took note he was on the verge of tears, “you are more than enough. Yer scars are beautiful and if I couldn’t accept em, I wouldn’t be here right now. you’re not broken, ya idiot.” yn chuckled as she held him in a tight yet comforting hug, “you’re just, missing a few pieces! if you let me, I can try and make new and better pieces - hell ! why don’t we try to find your old ones and fix em up?”

“yn,” kaku nuzzled into her shoulder, “why would you go that far for someone you’ve known for like, three weeks?”

“These three weeks were special to me,” she laughed and rubbed slow circles in the middle of his shoulder blades, “plus, why not? You can’t put a time limit on how long it takes to make sure someone is okay, yanno.” Sucking on her front teeth as she attempted to get lettuce out, she turned to Kaku and lightly placed her head atop of his, “I also like starting puzzles from scratch. where’s the fun if you have all the pieces in front of you? I want to get to know every bit of you and help you decide which piece goes where; the real question is if you will let me?”

that was the first time since Izana had passed that Kakucho felt his heart beat race. from that very moment, he deemed yn worth the world and so much more, he only hoped he could give it to her.

“Oh!” Yn lightly shook kaku, “you need to tell me all about the person who made you feel love or whatever you said earlier! They must have meant a lot to you and I intend to make them important to me as well, if ya don’t mind.”

“Heh,” kaku wiped his tears face and brought yns hands to his mouth, kissing each scar and bandage, “his name was Kurokawa Izana…”

—

kaku always knew yn was the one, he just failed to realized that he can only push her so far til she walked out for good.

they say time heals. don’t go build no life without me, ‘cause you mine still. Oh, and I don’t wanna go unless you make me

the argument plays in his head every night before he goes to sleep in his empty king sized bed. it was stupid, really - he doesn’t remember exactly what they were fighting for, but he does recall using everything she told him in confidence against her. he just wanted her to know that no one will love all of her flaws like he does; in the moment, he thought she’d over think everything and realize he was the only one down for her, but he really just showed her he was willing to take her down. he honestly thought that two months was enough time to heal, but she never came knocking back on his door - not once.

watching the love of his life walk down the streets that he promised her was bullet through the middle of his chest; it was as if she pulled the trigger and missed an artery so there would be pain paired with a slow death. he felt tears brimming as he only wished she’d turn around and run to his arms, screaming that she only wanted him and no one else. she was his still, and he didn’t plan on leaving til she makes him.

Pretty face, pretty tempted, but pretty taught me ugly lessons. Pretty had me givin more than I was gettin. So if pretty don’t come with somethin, then I dead it.

yn has never really been picky on looks; after all, she felt as if it wasn’t her place to be. she always felt behind in the looks department, so she wasn’t going to pursue her personal issues onto her partner. once she met kaku, she was confused as to why someone as beautiful as him was going after someone like her. she was insecure for a bit of time until he taught her how to love herself, and then on she was confident. she never stressed about looks or other people when she was with him; he was her safe haven.

however, being with sasuke - she can’t say the same thing. he was beautiful on the outside, but his personality was nothing of the sort. he cared about each of their physical appearances to the point where he forced yn to get a gym membership and professional trainer so she could look sufficient in the public’s eyes. he knew he could get her to do anything as long as he smiled at her gently and told her how much it would make him happy, and she always did as he wished. she learned he hated everything about her and she was to act more like the women he surrounds himself with; to be specific, she needed to be more like his perfect secretary. Yn learned to hate herself and thrive to be like others. ‘gods,’ she thought to herself, ‘kaku would think I’m ugly right now.’

warm home cooked meals and affection was not enough for sasuke. yn had went out of her way several times and racked up two jobs trying to pay for his upcoming birthday gift, a brand new rose gold Rolex with his family crest engraved on the back; she had never felt so proud of herself from working double overtime for each job at least three times a week. alongside the watch, she made sure everything of his was in place when he got home and only offered him the best of comfort. however, sasuke never really cared if she was happy or content with their lifestyle. sure yn got him a brand new watch and provides him a loving home, but that’s expected - isn’t it? after all, sasuke motto was ‘why should I go out of my way to make her happy.’ yn didn’t expect much, but a clean place and cooked meal when she got off from her shift would be nice; she only asks for the bare minimum of him, but that’s still too much. she figured that if she’s giving too much, it’s time for her to receive the same efforts elsewhere.

Ashamed to tell my friends how much I do for you, cause they know that you would never do the same for me.

sanzu was sasukes worst nightmare, besides kaku that is. even after the break up, the pinkette looked after yn and made sure she was doing well; he might not show it, but yn is like a little sister to him and he’d be damned if someone fucked with her feelings. if anything, he’s been subtly hinting at kaku to man the fuck up and chase after yn.

sanzu and yn meet up at least once every week to catch up and make sure the other is doing fine on their own. he wasn’t mad when yn decided to move on, he was fucking pissed when he learned that the prick does nothing for her. he wasn’t expecting materialistic gifts to be thrown her way because yn wasn’t that kind of girl, but he was expecting the same efforts she put in to be reciprocated. she had to physically restrain him when she told him that he changed her whole meal plan and sleep schedule.

“I’m not understanding why you’re protecting the prick? I’ll fucking kill him. Thinks he can just mark you,” he pulls at yns new gold chain with sasukes initials, “and change you to be his ideal Barbie doll? Yn, doll, you’re fucking suffering - let me help you.”

“Sanz, it’s okay,” she laughed to prevent herself from breaking down, “I should have known what I was getting into, it’s not his fault..”

“When was the last time he did something nice for you? Not just cheap dresses or wine tasting dates - when was the last time he made you feel important?”

“Sanz… you wouldn’t understand! that’s just how sasuke is -,” she was cut off by the bonten man cupping her face.

“Does he make you feel as special as Kaku did,” he tilted his head and stared into her eyes, “does he compliment everything you hate about yourself? does he make even the smallest gestures feel meaningful? does he protect you from your nightmares?”

yn felt tears cascade down her cheeks and sucked in her bottom lip as she leaned into sanzu’s callouse hands, “I wanna go home, sanz, but I’m scared to leave..”

“Why is that, princess?”

“Kakus not waiting for me back there..”

I wasnt lookin for your secrets, they just came to me, and they contradicted everything you claimed to be.

Yn knew her new beau had plenty of attractive women at his firm and she knew how much they all wished to pursue him; yet, she never questioned him of disloyalty or got angry when he hanged back behind work hours after his shift ended - he never really bothered to call her about it anyway.

She always speculated there was something going on at the office, but she didn’t bother looking for his secrets; after all, the phrase “don’t look for something you don’t want to find” was her motto all throughout childhood. That’s why when he invited her to his office she had felt worried - it was the place he stood out and everyone idolized him and she didn’t want to risk the chance of ruining his image. The day went smoothly and everyone was very kind, except the man himself, but that wasn’t going to stop her from having a good time. At the end of the day, the couple had left and yn had made a few friends in which she exchanged numbers with and began texting on a daily basis.

everything started out so fun and innocent: the texting back and forth, exchanging jokes/food ideas, telling secrets, and even company issues. yn didn’t really open up to anyone - with the exception of sanzu - after her and kaku broke up, and for the first time in a while, she felt happy that she was with sasuke. of course, whenever there is so much good going on in her life, she always expected a downfall.

she invited the three women, Sakura, Karin, and Ino to her and sasukes home for a “girls night,” since sasuke was out visiting his family for a bit. as the night went on, the girls became more interested in yn and sasukes relationship and the questions kept coming. they were so invested to see what he was like outside of the office and yn felt jealousy and insecurity stab at her heart.

“Oh he is so romantic with you,” Ino pouted, “when we’re together he’s always mean and degrading. Like I know I told him I liked it, but he gets so into it that I don’t know whether it’s just dirty talk or he’s being serious. His stroke game is crazy so I don’t mind.” The blonde giggled as if she hadn’t just said that she used to sleep with yns boyfriend.

“Wait, what…” yn felt goosebumps race across her skin and her stomach drop, “what are you saying-,”

“That’s because he knows you so well,” Karin laughed as she started unbuttoning her pajama top to show fresh bruises and bite marks, “he knows I love being marked and he treats me like a chew toy.” The red head blushed and began staring at the photo of the two of yn and sasuke when they went to go visit her mother’s grave last summer. “I can’t believe you have him so whipped that he travels with you; he hates traveling.”

“O-oh, does he,” yn tried to play everything off as if she didn’t hear and see the evidence of her lover having an affair with the women she had grown close to in such a short span of time. “He loved the plane when we went…” she felt the words die in her throat as she stared at the ground and as tears began rimming her eyes.

“It’s so cool of you to let your boyfriend let some steam out,” Sakura chimes in with a rosy expression, “I’m still recovering from last night, he loves that I always stay so tight. I promise you that if you look on his phone in my album that he probably has - I don’t know - like hundreds of pictures of my , well, his pussy.” The three girls laughed as they began telling more stories of their recent and craziest sex thrills and all yn could do was listen. Looking back onto every time yn had made love with sasuke, he always wanted to play out scenarios of being in his office and suggesting she act certain ways; the same ways of each of the three girls that sat in front of her.

“Baby,” sasuke called out from the front door, “I’m home -,”

“Hey bubba,” yn smiled brokenly at him and stood up to greet him with a hug, “I’ll be in the room, I’m tired. You can always enjoy time with your friends.” Yn kissed him on the cheek and walked towards their room.

“Yn, baby,” sasuke went to grab her but she was already out of reach. He threw his coat down and glared at the three women, “why the hell are you in my home. My rule was this stays in the office; you purposely befriended her didn’t you? You fucking whores, get out.”

“Sasu,” Sakura grabbed his hand and let it hover against her clothed cunt, “but we wanted to see you and see why you treat her so well. She’s so nice, sasu.�� She pressed his fingers against her center as she slowly rutted against them in hopes of seducing him into having a little fun.

“Get the fuck out,” he retracted his hand and wiped it on inos shirt, “all of this is over. You guys fucked up - it’s your fault. Stay away from me and my girlfriend.” He made sure they all left before running to yn in the bedroom and saw her laying down with her back towards the door, “baby, I know you’re still up. Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” yn laughed to prevent herself from crying, “what’s done is done, we can’t fix it.”

“We can fix us,” sasuke chirped out as he went lay behind her, “were two pieces of a puzzle, remember? We were going to be broken together?”

“We are broken together, that’s very true. Let’s just,” yn sighed out and closed her eyes, “let’s just ignore this.”

“I’m done with all of them, I swear.” Sasuke threw his arm over her hip as he pulled her to his chest, “I’m done. I was stupid and still am, but I promise I’m done.”

“Okay, I love you,” she knew he was lying - he was never going to stop having the time of his life with three different girls to settle for a broken one, that’s just not sasuke.

“I love you, too,” he kissed her temple, “the uchiha is big on loyalty; you know… you’d make an excellent addition to the family.” sasuke kissed her shoulder and attempted to rub her arm in a soothing matter but it only made her wish she was somewhere else - with someone else. she just found it hilarious that he could even speak on loyalty as if he didn’t just contradict himself.

I took you to the club and you hugged up on somebody that I know, and I know them type of hugs; same shit I do with women when I know I used to fuck. And I know they with they [man] but they never brought it up.

sasuke knew he fucked up every time he cheated on yn, but he couldn’t help it - she was guarded and independent when it came to her set of mind; he liked when his women put out fast, and he hated that yn never did. she made him work for everything: her attention, her love, and trust. since the incident where she claimed to just forget everything, he was determined to gain back everything she made him work for before. he was going to show her that he deserved all of her and how valuable of an asset she would be to the Uchiha family.

with that being said, sasukes recent win for the corporation - he had decided to take yn out into the world and have a little fun at the same place they met, a small night club that hangs outside of Shibuya. yn seemed a little happy at the fact he remembered the location and even more happy when she came face to face with one of his business partners. for the first time, sasuke knew what it was like to watch from the side as his lover greeted someone with such an emotional connection that it’d be hard not to see that they were involved with each other at one point.

“Oh my gods,” Imaushi squeezed her into a tight hug as his hand rested on her lower back, “you look amazing.” sasuke was in such a state of shock that yn let him touch her so easily, it just was not in her character. He watched them whisper things that had her embarrassed and laughing as if they werent apart of a notorious gang at one point; sasuke knew briefly of his past, but he had no idea about the part where Imaushi shared it with yn.

“You’re terrible,” yn laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed one last time, “I didn’t think I’d meet you again being in this joint. You look so professional, waka, what are you doing here?” she smiled so easy around them. sure, she wasn’t doing anything that would qualify as cheating, but the way sasuke saw that she was so comfortable should be a crime.

“Just meeting a business partner,” he quickly answered before drinking in her appearance once again, “and seeing that kaku isn’t around to try and swing, I take it you aren’t together anymore?”

yns mood faltered as she began feeling each memory flood her brain. sure, her and wakasa used to hook up from time to time, but the second she met kaku she completely dropped the former black dragon. now all she could think of was the scar faced man who left with half of her heart with him.

“Y-yeah,” she attempted to let out a giggle, “we just — anyways, I’m glad to have seen you again.”

“Imaushi-San,” sasuke spoke up from behind - breaking the two out of their trance, “hello, I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” Sasuke placed his hand on yns shoulder and squeezed too hard for comfort. “Surprised she didn’t bring it up, she usually bounces off the walls when someone asks me, heh.”

“Oh - ,” imaushi looked at you with a cocked brow, “you really went from kaku to him? that’s… different.” He bowed and began leading sasuke to the booth where they were to determine their next collaboration. “Crazy how small the world really is, huh?”

He hated every second of the meeting; the glances they made at one another, the small gestures, and the fact he was experiencing every moment in which he put her through when she visited the office.

I’m down these days, down to do better, because I know I’ve done enough. You should lay it down, we’ll talk about it when you up. Now she don’t wanna go to sleep she angry, lately she been noticing he ain’t me. I wish that we could trade places, don’t want no new new faces; she got my heart beat racing.

despite finding ways to continuously fuck up the beautiful love and care yn has presented to him since day one, he always felt he could do better - wanted to be better. after seeing as she was with her old flame, he’d hate to see how she’d react if she reunited with with the soulmate who left her broken; the man who allowed sasuke to accept that he, himself, was broken. sure, he could fire the girls and cut off their advances and belong to yn entirely, but that was for a different time. right now, all he needed was to show yn she was his and his alone.

“hey pretty girl,” sasuke came up behind her as she was cooking their dinner, “smells great in here.”

“mm,” yn hummed as she continued to mix ingredients and make sure they were just the right measurements, “there’s gonna be tomatoes in it, so I expect you to eat it all.” she laughed softly to the young uchiha, something she hadn’t really done since she found out of the various affairs. “just felt like you’d want your favorite after a full week of overtime.”

“I appreciate you, angel face,” he began kissing her neck but stopped when he felt her flinch, “I-um, I wanna talk to you after dinner if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” she turned around and hugged him, “‘m sorry, I just - ‘m still adjusting. Im getting over it, I promise.”

“Completely understandable,” he brought he scarred and crooked knuckles to his lips and laid gentle kisses on each one, “only time can heal and I’ll always be here.”

—

dinner went a lot smoother than either thought; they laughed and shared dumb memories of childhood, and for once, yn smiled when he called her name. they cleaned up the table, went to wash off separately, and met back in bed to discuss whatever the CEO had on his mind. yns heart was racing as she feared that he was going to kick her out back on the streets or asks more about her past; for either option, she wasn’t stable enough to handle it.

“So,” he sat in front of her and smirked as he seemed to snap her out of deep thought, “I’ve been thinking…”

“sasuke,” yn clutched at his shoulder, “I don’t know…”

“No,” he grabbed her hand and kissed against the tips of her fingers, “just close your eyes please. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” yn sighed and let her eyes drift shut as she waited to be given further instructions.

he wouldn’t kick her out now, right? maybe he had already fallen in love one of the other girls and was ready to kick her to the curb. maybe he was going to find out about her past and put her behind bars for several misdemeanors. maybe -

why the hell was he sliding something cold against her finger? why does this feel so familiar?

—

“yn,” kaku looked up at yn on bender knee and teary eyes, “I know we don’t have the funds or time now, but one day.. <<sniff>>.. will you do me the h-honor? will you mar-.”

“YES,” yn tackled her boyfriend of five years to the ground, “A THOUSAND TIMES YES, GODS I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU SO MUCH!” she didn’t care that they landed on the hard concrete at the top of her building, she was just overwhelmed with joy as she was close to becoming officially bond to kaku for the rest of her life. “I AM SO IN LOVE WITH YOU,” she screamed between sobs and sloppy kisses, “YOURE STUCK WITH ME FOREVER.”

—

her eyes shot open in fear and she seen sasuke smiling as he slid a beautiful engagement band up her ring finger. she was about to speak, but all she could do was think of how much she wanted him to be the one of the current bonten executives. She didn’t care about how much the ring costs, the fact that one of the most wealthy CEOs wishes her to be apart of his family, or the fact that he planned to give her all the benefits in the world — he wasn’t who she wanted; she wanted kakucho hitto, she wanted only him.

“You’re gonna make me cry,” he laughed as he mistook her grief for happiness, “we’re two missing pieces of the same puzzle, right? You don’t have to speak okay? Let’s talk about this more in the morning.” He smiled and held her to his chest and fell asleep as she continued to silently sob.

They say time heals; don’t go build no life without me ‘cause you mines still. And I don’t wanna go unless you make me.

Sanzu received the wedding invitation from yn as she had asked him to walk her down the isle the day the ceremony was to take place. Despite the groom being someone that the pinkette would have wasted by now if yn were not involved, he accepted in hopes of pleasing his dearest sister-figure. He had been zoning out a lot at the hideout as he fiddled with the card; only those close to yn would notice that her smile was forced in each photo. the only question he had was why did she say yes?

“Oi, pinky,” Ran - the eldest of the Haitani brothers had called out, “if you cut me short from my phone call, then ima cut you short of your day dream.” The elder man stuck his tongue out playfully as he twirled his baton and went on and on about some younger girl to his brother.

“Shut the hell up,” sanzu threw a wrench in the brothers’ direction, “it’s about yn. We’re all.. well let me just show you.” The others gathered around and stared wide eyed as they noticed their friends former lover was getting married in a western styled wedding to the shitty boy they continuously told her to leave. “I expect each one of us to be there. We hate him, yes, but as you can see - he means something to her.”

“why are you all crowded around the table,” kaku had chimed in as he entered the doorway, “did we have a meeting that I forgot about?” The scar faced man stared at everyone as they gave him a look of pity. “What? Why is everyone looking at me like that?”

“Here,” Rindou held out the invitation to Kaku, “I guess you’re invited, too.”

Kaku felt the world stop; nothing was moving, his heart froze, his lungs fell a breath short, and his brain went numb. tears began to spill over his bottom lid as he recalled the very reason the two of them were fighting in the first place.

—

“Kaku, I understand you’re busy all day, but would it kill you just to text or call me to assure me that yer okay?” Yn looked exhausted; she never could sleep much when kaku wasn’t around. “I just worry about you, okay?”

“Well stop fucking worrying, I’m putting food on the table,” the bonten executive slammed his hands on the counter, “gods, who knew you’d get worse over time?”

“I’m not trying to make you mad, dickwad, I’m just trying to make sure my fiancé is still alive!” Yn shot her hands up to her face and rubbed at her eyes aggressively, “can you please not yell? my head is killing me and if I known you weren’t able to get my medicine on your way home, I wouldn’t have been so irritated to see you in your phone absentmindedly as you walked in the house.”

“And if you were this fucking infuriating,” kaku groaned and felt his blood boil as he held off from blowing up, “nevermind, just get your medicine when you wake up. I’m going to sleep.”

“Fine,” yn felt her heart drop as she realized her fiancé was holding off from saying something he obviously wanted to, “goodnight.”

he stomped to their shared room and slammed the door, not bothering to check if she was behind him or in a state to be by herself. even if she were, he didn’t find a bone in his body that seemed to care. As he showered, kaku realized that he should have at least texted once - hell, Ran manages to even find time to FaceTime some girl he’s been infatuated with - he just needed to go apologize and talk it out so things would go back to normal.

drying off and getting dressed for sleep, kaku made his way to the living room as he noticed their bed was completely unoccupied. once there, he began to panic as he noticed yn was no where to be seen, as well as the fact she left her phone on the small coffee table that they made together with some old wood that was strayed in the bonten hide out. He rushed out of the apartment to check the front desk and confirm that she hadn’t left the building yet; much to his luck, the security said yn hadn’t came downstairs which had meant she was probably hiding up on top of the roof like always.

“What the fuck are you doing up here by yourself,” kaku was out of breath as he raced towards her and she continued to blow bubbles over the edge and into the night sky, “y-you <<inhale>> can’t just leave without warning.” He sensed the hypocrisy in his own phrase of words and was going to retract the statement, but something about her ignoring him and play with the soapy water made something snap inside of his stomach. “I shouldn’t have came to find you.”

I don’t mean that, you had me worried sick. I’d stay by you anytime you wished.

“Then go back inside,” yn said in a nasally tone and blew out of the stick once again.

fuck, you know I hate when I’m the reason you cry - please stop crying.

“If I go back inside,” kaku grabbed the bubbles and poured them onto the floor as yn tried to grab them back from him, “I’m packing my shit and I’m never coming back.”

Why the fuck am I talking like this, I’m supposed to just pull you in for a hug and hold you til I find a way to make it up to you.

“Kaku,” yn looked up and clutched onto his wrist as fresh tears began to fall, “don’t speak like that, I’m sorry.”

Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault! What the fuck am I doing?! Izana would kill me if he seen the way I treat you.

“Stop fucking saying sorry,” he gently pushed her away and grabbed her left hand, “the only thing sorry was asking to be bond to you forever.” Yn tried to clench her fists so he couldn’t take the ring off, but he was just too strong.

What am I doing? I’m hurting her, I don’t want to take the ring off, so why the hell am I trying to? She looks so scared.. what the hell are you doing kakucho hitto? Who are you?

“S-stop hitto,” yn cried as she tried to grab the ring back, “I promise I’ll be better, p-please stop!” no matter how loud she screamed and cried, his body moved on its own. he took off his ring as well and threw them into the distance of Tokyo buildings. “Hitto, w-why? I’m sorry, please, I’ll go find them — don’t leave me..” she clang onto him, but found herself chasing after his figure through blurry eyes.

I’m not leaving you, I’m letting you calm down… I’ll go find the rings so please just sleep and I’ll be right back. I’m so in love with you it hurts. I won’t come back until I find them.

“I found you broken,” kaku gathered his coat and walked toward the front door, “and that’s the way you were meant to be.”

What the hell have I done?

—

“Earth to kaku-kun,” koko snapped in his face, “you going to get her back or what?”

“I, fuck,” kaku grabbed the invitation, “I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re just going to let her go?”

Kaku felt the blood rush back through his body and feelings of sparks dancing alongside his goosebumps. He knows he fucked up, but he’s willing to try just for her.

“No,” kaku stood back up to full height and wiped his crocodile tears away, “I’m sorry sanz, but I refuse to let her build a life without me. She’s mine still.”

Down on my knees hoping you take me. Better tell that [dude] you mine, heard you been trying to tie the knot, girl, tell me you lyin.

“Hey princess,” sanzu made his way to be his soon wedded friend, “you look beautiful.” He pulled her into a quick hug before signaling her to tie his tie.

“You’re hopeless,” she laughed as she folded the cloth, “are you ready?”

“Are you?”

“Mm,” her hands froze as she felt her eyes brim over, “why wouldn’t I b-be? You know..?”

“Maybe you should-,”

“Maybe I should what?” Sanzu hated how she looked relieved as if he was going to tell her to call off the wedding. She was never this sad or prone to cry when she was with kaku, but sasuke had only found ways to make her sad.

“Maybe you should wear flats at the reception,” sanzu laughed, “you know how crabby you are in anything that isn’t your vans or slides.”

“O-oh,” yn forced a small laugh, “of course.. well , we got ten minutes, let’s — let’s do this..”

“Damn you look GOO,” koko started until he seen the death glare on sanzus face, “ahem - you look wonderful, just came to say that sanzus gift has finally arrived.”

“Gift.?”

“Oh,” sanzu smiled, “I was going to wait until the ceremony started, but this makes it so much better. I’ll go get it - just - close your eyes until I say otherwise.”

“Okay..?” Yn sat there praying he didn’t bring a male stripper to her wedding as he failed to order one for her bachelorette party and had Mochi dance for her. She shortly began to hear another set of footsteps paired with who she assumed was sanzu, “Sanz, you there?”

“Open them when you hear the door close, princess. I’ll be outside waiting for you to come.” Sanzu gently closed the door and yn found her eyes adjusting to the figure in front of her.

“I -,” the tears she had been holding back for the past two years had finally poured over, “w-why.?”

“The invitation,” the scar faced man said through a shaky voice as he felt his own set of tears began to fall down his cheeks, “I-, s-saw you were trying to tie the knot — and I just couldn’t let you without seeing you once more.. I needed you to tell me that you were lying about loving him, needed to hear you say you were just mad at me.. wanted to be by your side.” He slowly approached her and waited for permission to grab her left hand, “may I.?”

“No,” kaku looked taken back by her instant response and was about to drop her hand until she pulled his chin towards her own, “y-you may only have my hand if you have found those rings…” Yn smiled brokenly at him as he kissed the corners of her eyes to make the tears go away.

“Y-yn,” he shakily grabbed a small box in his back pocket in which held the same engagement rings he threw out so long ago, “it took me six months to find both, but two and a half years to find you once again.” Kakucho slid her ring on her beautifully imperfect hand and kissed the inside of her palm, “will you run away with me and allow me to stand by your side forever? I can’t promise I won’t make you angry or upset, but I can guarantee that I will never hurt you as bad as I did ever again, so will you -,”

Yn threw her arms around his neck and tackled him to the ground, deja vu slipping by both their minds, but this time it only left happy trails in its wake.

“Let me write a note really fast,” yn began scribbling away on a stray sheet of paper as kaku packed all her things into a bag along with some refreshments, “cmon, let’s go, bubba. You got basically three years to make up for.”

As the couple silently ran out the back of the exit, sanzu got word from the Haitani brothers that they had a runaway bride on their hands. He had to doc what he had to do.

—

“Where the hell is she?” Sasuke rocked back and forth, “she’s not fucking getting cold feet on me, now is she?”

“Relax sasu,” Sakura said from her brides maid position, “just think about it, no more her - three more of us.~”

“She’s gonna get fucking put back into the back room if she is second guessing herself. Making a fool out of me and my image,” he began rubbing at his temple, “guess the bitch didn’t learn the first time I hit her-,”

“Hellooo everyone,” sanzu busted through the two big doors with a smile, “how is everyone?”

“Great,” sasuke gritted out, “where the hell is the woman?”

“Oh, yn?” Sanzu smiled with raised eyebrows, “oh no, buddy, she’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s-,”

“She’s gone, g-o-n-e. Left. Never coming back. Hates your guts. She thinks your hair is stupid,” sanzu laughed as he began kicking the various decorations that yn hated but sasuke insisted to get so they can make the front cover for best celeb weddings, “yeah everyone can leave.”

“Son of a fucking,” sasuke began walking down the isle, “I’m gonna put her in the fucking kennel when get back. Dumb fucking whore-,”

“Awe,” sanzu pulled the gun off from under his blazer and put it in the middle of sasukes forehead - scaring the abusive and toxic asshole, “it’s so cute how you think I won’t waste you right here and right now.~” As if sanzu wasn’t scary as is, him mocking sasuke with a baby voice terrified everyone in the building. “Now be a good widdle boy and step the fuck back,” sanzu giggled as sasuke stepped back and dropped to his knees begging for forgiveness, “I’ll be leaving.”

As soon as everyone decided that the maniac yn called best friend had left the building, sasuke ran to the brides room and found the note she had left before she ran out. He wanted to be angry and break everything in his path, but he was being restrained as Karin read the note aloud.

‘We were two missing pieces of the same puzzle, but when completing the full image - our pieces did not belong together. You were a center piece - elegant and needed. I was a corner - something you constantly backed me into. - yn.

I ain’t got nothing much to say, fuck you - she’s all mine. - kaku.’

Let me beat that pussy up one more time, let me beat that pussy up one more time. I know you fiend for this, I know you will not forget. So don’t go to sleep.

Everything was joyfully overwhelming, from yn reuniting with the love of her life to his face being buried between her thighs and making her feel like a virgin all over again.

“K-ka , ngh fuck, please,” she pulled at his beautifully long black hair, “w-wait a m-min..”

hitto looked up at her through hooded lids only to go back to fucking his tongue into her tight cunt. he forgot how good she tasted and he would be fine if all he had to eat for the rest of his life was her cum.

“H-hitto, want you,” yn threw her head back and cried out, “want you inside.”

The bonten man slowly drug himself up to meet her face to face, watching her drag her tongue against his mouth and chin to collect her juices.

“Cmon, want you,” she quickly kissed the corner of his mouth, “put it in, please.”

“‘M gonna fuck a baby into you,” he said as he went down to connect their lips once more, “want a little me inside of you.”

she remembered how drunk he came off whenever he went down on her, and she found herself just craving more and more of him. All the years of insomnia were worth it if it meant she could have every moment with him.

Sanzu: kaku, I dropped by your place earlier and could hear you guys fucking from the hall. It was 4 am, shut the fuck up.

—

The reunited pair laid in bed under a fresh new pair of sheets and face masks as they talked away in what life was like for the time without each other. they both learned that if they weren’t together, there was no point of trying. Kaku somehow found himself getting babied and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

“so,” yn spoke out as she caressed the top of kakuchos head as he suckled on her bare chest, “mm not to hard you brat, heh, are we - ngh - fuck , are we getting breakfast later or are we ordering in?”

“Want the other side,” kaku said as he pulled off ready to switch, “ynnn, hurryyyy.” He whined and began pawing and squeezing her other breast.

“Let them breath, kaku,” she gently pulled him back up and began sinking down to mimic his actions, “you’ve been alternating for the past hour - it’s my turn.” She giggled as he let out a pleasured yelp as she bit at his bicep.

“Wait,” kaku pulled her chin up and gripped it gently, “don’t go build no life without me ‘cause you mines still. love you too much, please let me have all of you.”

“you always had all of me,” yn kissed his Adam’s apple.

“and you have always had all of me,” he kissed the top of her forehead and ushered her head back to his chest, “gaa gaa, I got your-,” yn brought her fist to his gut.

“Shut the hell up,” she laughed as she laid he cheek against his chest, I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you too, bub.”

Taglist: @richiyo @haitanigigi @chifuyusprincess @legravalice @l-ilysm @katariinasworld

an; yo, I’m sorry if it seemed sloppy at the end, but I had fun doing this :) I’m so sorry it’s late 💀

[imagines-hoarder]

The Older Man (Pt 2) *smut*- Thomas Shelby

Request// Hey! Will you post a part 2 of “The Older Man”? I would be the happiest person alive =)

*After two years of sitting on the sidelines and focusing on school, I decided to use writing as a way to procrastinate from classes instead of the other way around. Family Divided and My Husband’s Brother fans are gonna kill me cause they have DEFINITELY been waiting longer; maybe more to come? I do also wanna give a little warning; I have not written a full work for this blog in two years and the first part of this story was the peak of my passion. I wanted to give y’all the smut you loved but wasn’t in the mood for angst so let me know if you have any storylines you have in mind for these two and we’ll see how long I’m around for? Please be gentle with my heart! xoxox*

Masterlist

(Part 1)

For those who know him, Tommy is predictable.

When you took a moment to finally watch the man who you had craved for years, you had noticed that he had a routine of his own that ran deeper than his calendar could account for. He was always awake before the sun, and you could only rely on him to find stillness for four hours a night; six if he could find peace. He’d spend the mornings at Charlie’s yard with the horses as day broke and would spend the coming hours in one of his factories across Small Heath. You had spent many years visiting him strictly on Wednesdays for your pay, but he now knew that a sultry touch could convince you just enough to have lunch with him before you left. He’d leave far after the last machine had ground to a halt and his final employee had clocked out. If he was lucky, you would stop by on your way home on the days of your choosing, but time had soon taught him to expect you at random. It had become his welcomed reprieve from drinking alone.

After eight months of finding yourself endlessly tangled into this circumstance with Thomas, you had settled into strange domesticity that was only possible with a man as destructive and dangerous as Tommy.

The smell of his cigarettes reached your nose the moment you unlocked your apartment. He was visible to you only in the dark by the embers glowing between his fingertips. 

“While I enjoy your covert visits as much as the next woman, I thought you would know better than sneaking up one armed with iron by now,” you proclaimed as you brought the room into further clarity by turning on the lamps. A cheeky grin was already stuck to your face by the time you could see him sitting in the wingback chair left by the last tenant. “Frankly, I’m surprised you found your way here before midnight.”

Once you had left Tommy’s office following your first fling, it didn’t take much time and even less convincing for you to find your own flat. It was close to your parents but far enough to keep them from ever knowing how the Tommy they doted on for years was defiling their only child in the dead of night. He didn’t live there, but it’s where he could be found most nights for the few hours he did sleep.

“Is it a crime to want to see you? Haven’t stopped thinking about you since you came to the office two days ago.” He looked so settled in a chair that was so beneath him, common man’s furniture that had faced many years of wear on the leather and scars on the legs.

“Well, sorry to keep you waiting, Mr.Shelby. I had a commitment to attend to this evening.” You moved to grab the empty glass resting loosely in his hands. He took a moment to notice you, no doubt arriving home from a local club. 

“A business commitment, I presume,” he called to you as you walked to the bar, pouring a glass of whiskey for yourself before refilling his own. “Can’t think of a man special enough to see you in such a state.”

You look down at your dress, an attractive piece of fabric that fashionably displayed your assets between layers of chiffon and beading. Your unruly hair had been pinned to display your mischievous eyes and the rouge in your cheeks. “Other than the present company, only the one I shot in the chest an hour ago. He was working for the Italians.”

He gave you a mere nod before you journey back to him. “At least he got a pretty view at the end of his life, didn’t he?”

His warm fingers brushed yours as you returned his glass, putting out his cigarette in the nearby dish before finding a reason to settle. His free hand pulled you to rest with him in the rundown chair, feeling the warmth of his lap underneath you and enjoying the feeling on his palm splayed on your lower back.

“I’m sure there are other things he would have preferred to see at death’s door,” you spoke gently, only loud enough for him to hear as you washed down the night with a gulp from your own glass. “Though I can’t tell if you're jealous or excited at the prospects.” He grunted before emptying his glass again.

“I have nothing to worry about. Couldn’t give a fuck about other men; just my best girl.”

“I’d say you’ve gone soft on me, Thomas, but I can feel how hard you are.” You assumed the waiting and outfit had quickly got the best of him as you felt him against you, his rigid facade contradicting the yearning you knew he felt. You slowly rotated on his lap to face him, your legs positioned to relax on either side of him. You slowly pulled the pins from your hair as he watched, letting it fall into its natural state before pushing the wayward strands behind your ear. “You’re the only one who calls me a girl anymore. I’ve been a woman for a while now, Tommy,” your hands trailed down to his trousers, slowly unveiling what you so eagerly pined for. Warm. He was warm all over and his gaze felt light fire on your face, the glasses finding themselves near the smoldering cigarette as your hand grazed deeper into his pants. “and for many, I am what death looks like.”

His lips crushed yours in a manner all but patient, his hands tangled between your hair and the back of your dress, aching to release you from all barriers between you. His lips sunk to your jaw and neck as he revealed your bare torso, leaving behind a trail of lustful caresses. You took the earliest opportunity to find balance on the ground and slipped out of the dress that pooled at your waist, tugging away your undergarments with it. By the time you had finished, Tommy’s chest was bare and you had the pleasure of freeing his member before you reclaimed your throne on top of him, calves rubbing against the firm leather of the chair.

Your weight sunk onto your knees and you felt him fill you. It was as if it were your first time again; so raw and natural as if he didn’t already own a part of you that you only now realized existed. The room brimmed with your sharp moans and Tommy’s heavy pants as you bounced on top of him. You tried to feel every bit of this moment without getting lightheaded; you didn’t know if he was pulling you closer or you were pushing yourself towards him as the coil snapped in your stomach. Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck before you let out a shaky whine in his shoulder.

“No, not yet, love,” he cooed as your soft body began to relax in his grip. It would be a sweet yet peculiar notion, to think the night was over so quickly over. You felt your legs slide from the chair as Tommy pulled you to the ground and you naturally found your position. Your hips were lifted as he reached for them and your shoulders fell to the ground. With your cheek to the floor, you could see him in your periphery, the man with a calloused touch that had reached the most inner parts of your desires. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He pushed himself inside of you, and the cry that left your throat was lewder than you could have expected. As you held onto the legs on the worn chair, Tommy only thrusted deeper between your legs. By the time he was pressed fully against you, he was bucking at a pace of his own. “For fuck’s sake, Tommy!”

He bent against you, and his chest was against your curved back, now roping his arm around your waist so every inch of you was connected to him. “They may see you as a woman out there. But in my office, in your bed...on this bloody fucking chair, you’ll always be my girl,” he gritted out. His breath was hot against your ear as he came deep inside of you, bathing in the thrill of filling you up.

All the noise faded while sweat and slick dried between your bodies. His head rested between your shoulder blades as you laid between his arms on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you laid there, moments or millennia, before you unwound your limbs from his, grabbing your pile of clothes in the process.

“I nearly died in your arms tonight,” he said with a trace of humor on his lips. You tossed him his clothes before you pulled on your bloomers.

“It’s not your time yet, old man.” The glare you received had become a familiar friend in the past year. You knew that behind his scold, he was watching you as if you were art in the making; beauty in the moonlight that he didn’t deserve.

Tommy is predictable. He always had a card up his sleeve, something holding unexpected pleasures or unforeseen schematics. The longer you knew him, the more you were sure that he would always be one step ahead of those who thought they had him pinned. Maybe that's why you kept coming back to him. He was reckless and sometimes detached in order to stay ahead, but he was always calculated and cared for you in a way only a man like him could. He fulfilled a hunger no drug, no fortune, and no other man could ever satiate in you.

He took your hand in his, his rough palms soothing to your senses. “Then we must make all the little moments count until then.” He left hot kisses up your wrist and forearm. “Marry me, Y/N.” You scoffed with a laugh bubbling in your throat, pulling away from him as you walked to your room. You needed a bath more than a joke at the moment. “I’m serious, love. Marry me and I’ll give you a house with endless corridors and new furniture.”

“Maybe I don’t want to marry you, Thomas,” you teased from the other room.

“And maybe I only want to fuck a young woman I’m married to.”

“Then you’ve become quite the prude in the last five minutes!” 

You could retort day and night, but you knew a ring would be on your finger by next week, whether you had blatantly said yes or not. You would never admit it, but you knew that Tommy saw you as predictable too.

Cuties who have asked me to tag them at some point: @buckybarnesisalittleshit @moonlxghtbay @roliepoliegirl  @iamafancygirl @eggingamazinglove @characterobsessed (if you want to be untagged, please message me!)

[maytheoddshq]

Mahlon McCreary (he/him). District Twelve Mentor. 111 Victor. Twenty-eight. Ray Nicholson.

Trigger Warnings: tw abuse, tw violence, tw domestic abuse, tw alcohol, tw drugs, tw addiction, tw overdose, tw death, tw gore, tw body horror

Everyone knew the McCrearys were cursed – with bad blood, bad tempers, bad endings. Mahlon remembered Pa saying it wasn’t always like that, but it didn’t matter. It was that way now, and there was nothing to be done for it.

The McCrearys were as old as the dogwoods, with bark twice as thick. They used to work in the coal mines, and then the Hob, and then nowhere at all. With idle hands, they became the devil’s playthings, and Mahlon grew up against a backdrop of poverty-fueled desperation and despair. He wasn’t even a bad kid, in the beginning, but when you’re told you’re something long enough, when it’s beaten into you, it starts to stick – starts to feel like a well-worn jacket, threadbare denim fitting perfectly to form. 

He started smoking young, and drinking younger — and when he did show up to school, he always caused a scene. Mahlon knew he was owed nothing, so he took everything, desperate for the attention. 

He initiated most of the trouble kids in Twelve could manage, and most of the violence too – claiming a back section of the woods as his stomping grounds where Peacekeepers rarely did rounds. Around Twelve, he sometimes cracked jokes, sometimes punches. It all worked, in a way. He polarized the world around him into friends and enemies, with no appreciation or consideration for a gray between. And while this crassness and cruelty earned him plenty of ire, it also afforded him a tight circle – and kept the McCreary name out of people’s mouths, or it at least made them think twice before speaking openly.

After all, there was plenty to talk about.

A family tree of fuck-ups before him, Mahlon McCreary Sr. had been in and out of jail his whole life. When he wasn’t sleeping it off in a cell, he was doing the same shit that would land him back there in a few month’s time. Virginia McCreary bore the brunt of it, and Mahlon swore he could tell how soon Pa was going back to jail by how banged up she looked that day. In Mahlon’s early teens, Virgie once ended up with two broken ribs and a fractured collarbone – and the first vial of morphling appeared. If he’d known then what he knew now, he’d have dumped it outright, but hindsight was always clear. 

He was a child, barely old enough to make sense of the world, when he had to become their sole provider. No one would employ the McCreary’s – they knew better than to let them close – so he lived largely off what little the land could provide. He set traps and hunted for meat, fur, and hide. He tilled barren earth for meager produce, which rarely grew in the ashen soot. He stitched their clothing, and patched their wounds, and stole from others who were even minutely better-off. Sometimes, he thought it would be better if Virgie died. If Pa never came home. Fewer mouths to feed. Fewer humans to bruise. He grew bent and broken, a cruel and seering thing – capable of such harshness that he saw less of himself in the mirror every day, and more of his father. It made him sick.

Mahlon never understood how someone could cause so much harm and still evoke some sense of righteous justice – and then, on the cusp of adulthood, he was Reaped. No one batted an eye at his selection, not even Virgie, who’d been so subdued by morphling that she didn’t realize he’d been called. Mahlon knew it was the curse. It had come for him; there was no sense in fighting it. Twelve was a better place with him gone – safer too. But even the devil craves life, and as the arena approached, Mahlon fashioned himself into a monster capable of the atrocities it would take to emerge alive. In his private training session, he killed, gutted the dummy, and skinned it for its hide, describing in graphic detail how he planned to murder and repurpose each of the 23 tributes in time. It was so disturbing, so detailed and sincere, that he’d watched one Gamemaker turn in disgust, and he knew it was possible: the chance to survive. 

They’d awoken in an arena that was barely 12ft by 12ft. It was a cement room, no windows, a hole in the ground. A platform moved through it, piled high with weapons, food, medicine, supplies. Mahlon had watched it lower down, had stared in confusion at the only other tribute there – his own district partner, as it settled on the ground. They were structured according to district first – One at the top, Twelve at the bottom. By the time it reached the bottom, there were only a few items left: a pocket knife, a roll of gauze, a bruised apple, a bottle of salve. They were instructed to select one item each. Any more, any cheating, and they’d be killed on the spot, thanks to the trackers that had been embedded in the tops of their spines. They’d sat across from each other, backs pressed to parallel walls, the whole night, in a stand-off…until they’d been put to sleep by the arena’s gas. 

Mahlon awoke in what felt like the same room, but the hole was now on the ceiling and floor. He was higher up in the structure, with a new cellmate – the girl from Two. He recognized her as having earned the same training score, and he understood that they were being matched based on some series of metrics, some combination that changed each night until someone won. They preyed on alliances and dynamics, pairing lovers and enemies together until one of them died. Mahlon knew no one had to die each time, but it was better if they did. Fewer future swaps to survive. 

In the finale, there were only two left, but they’d been dropped in separate rooms. They’d been made to find each other, Mahlon understood. But as the platform lowered or rose to each floor, a new horror awaited – the mangled, revived bodies of tributes from before, traps triggered by movement or body heat and sound, and finally each other where they met on the middle floor. Mahlon had kept the pocket knife from that first night, and he did as he promised: gutted and bled the other tribute dry. 

In the end, he embarked on his victory tour. The last stop was Twelve – a grand return home. But no one was waiting, no one was left to. Virgie had overdosed, died the day before he’d won. And his father was gone – maybe to rot in a Capitol prison, maybe into the woods and beyond. Mahlon was the only McCreary left standing, and he wasn’t sure if he’d fulfilled the curse or merely managed to get by this time. Now, he returns to the Capitol each cycle to coach the next batch on how to die. It doesn’t matter; it never would. He only cares to fuel old fires and to spark new ones. Mahlon wants the world to burn, until it all looks like the hell he’s come to know.

PENNED BY: Lena

[thran-duils]

Lost in Zero Gravity (P.23)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twenty Three) Summary:  Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers.  Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,693 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Twenty Two || Part Twenty Four || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?”

Steve shrugged, “You don’t have to say or do anything yet.”

“’Yet’,” Cecile scoffed, digging her fingernails into the wood of the kitchen table. Steve sat to her right, facing her.

The car ride home had been silent, the tension stifling. As soon as she had walked through the door, she had gone upstairs and left Steve in the foyer of the house. He had called Y/N then.

“Are you still in agreement?” he asked.

“Yes. But—”

“Then I’ll get an appointment set up for you so you can check to see how far along you are. Have Tony reach out to me if you insist on him collecting the contract from me instead of yourself,” Steve cut her off. He paused for a moment before he said softer, “I really wish you would reconsider what you are asking me to do. It doesn’t have to end like that.”

“No. It doesn’t. But it’s going to,” Y/N said, only a slight waver in her voice. “I’ll speak to Tony. Goodbye, Steve.”

She hung up on him.

“Yes. Yet. I’ll give you time to think.”

Cecile was quiet for a few moments before she asked, “You really wouldn’t give me anything substantial if that is what I decided?”

Steve narrowed his eyes and said, “I told you I would give you some.”

“But nothing more?”

“Why the fuck would I?” Steve snapped, giving her an incredulous look. “Having me fund your life away from me? That’s a fucking ridiculous and heartless thing to even suggest.”

“So what are we going to do then, Steve? Cause you’ve made it crystal clear you are not going to claim the child as your own. Does blood really matter that much to you?”

Steve chewed on his cheeks, glowering down at her. “In this instance, yes, yes it does. All I’m gonna see when I look at that child is you loving someone else.”

“We could try again, Steve. After—” Cecile tried to say but he interjected.

“I might have a solution. But it involves adoption for your baby.”

That caught her completely off guard, her mouth falling open before she asked appalled, “Adoption?”

“Mhm,” Steve confirmed, unbothered by her reaction.

“What plan?” Cecile demanded, crossing her arms sternly.

“I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“You might as well lay it all out for me, Steve, so I can make an informed decision.” Steve snorted at her phrasing, and she snapped, “I am serious.”

Steve studied her for an uncomfortable amount of time before he said, “You would give your child up for adoption and mine would take its place.”

“Yours?” Cecile asked confused. Steve stared at her silently, waiting, and realization washed over her, her arms relaxing every so slightly. She looked kicked, shaking her head. Her hurt turned to anger in the blink of an eye though. “Oh, so your infidelity can live underneath the roof but mine can’t?”

Steve’s hand slammed on the table, and she jumped at the sudden movement. Leaning forward he sneered, “It’s not the same. I don’t love her like you love him. And if it is my child, it’s because I knew you were unfaithful, and I went to great lengths to get it.” Cecile’s face screwed up in confusion and Steve ignored her, “And if this other plan doesn’t work out, well, then we are still going to talk about adoption because I am not going to raise a child that isn’t mine. As I’ve made crystal clear, as you said.”

“You won’t even give it a chance?” Cecile asked furious. “What if you grew to love them? They won’t ever have to see him. All they would know would be you as their father. I swear that.”

“Right back at you. She wouldn’t be in the picture.” Cecile’s mouth formed a thin line and Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Hmm, doesn’t sound so appealing to try when the table is turned?”

“If you make me give them up... what? Do you think I’ll just sleep with you again? Try again? That will be right out the window. I will resent you forever, Steve.”

“Go ahead.”

“You can’t keep me trapped here because of money.”

“I’m not,” Steve laughed humorlessly. “You’re doing that yourself because it seems to be what you really care about. If you didn’t, you would have no problem telling me you want a divorce right now and walking away. But you’re not. And you’re showing me your true colors plainly.”

“So, you would be fine living in a loveless marriage?”

“I’m already doing that. It’s very one sided. You played well. On vacation I mean. I felt happy there, lying in bed with you for long mornings. Cuddling you... it felt good. But apparently, it was all an act.”

“It wasn’t. I’m just appalled at you right now and you’re showing your true colors. All you care about is control! You don’t love me, Steve! You want to own me! For me to be miserable!”

Steve was out of the chair in a second, it flying back with the ferocity of his movement. He towered over Cecile, and she cowered under his prowess. Sneering, he told her, “If I could dig out whatever feelings I have for you and be rid of them, I would do it in a second. I’m sick of being desperate for you to reciprocate my affection and knowing it will never happen. I want to be free of you. But since it seems I can’t do that, then yeah, you’re right. I want you to suffer with me.”

Cecile began to shake her head, but Steve did not give her a chance to speak before he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

<><><>

Tony was awake when you walked back inside, catching you off guard. He was looking at you expectantly, suspicious probably that you had closed the door and spoken outside.

“It’s not his,” you told him evenly, walking towards the fridge.

Opening the door, you grabbed out the water pitcher and poured yourself a glass. Tony was quiet behind you as you took a long drink. You felt a little numb as it sunk in that you were going to have to go through with this. But it had to be this way, it was how you were going to get out of owing Steve. That phone call was a blessing; that is how you had to look at it.

“What was it like?” you asked Tony, turning around.

“What was what like?”

“Pregnancy for your wife.”

“Tiresome. Endless cravings and mood swings,” Tony responded surly, sitting on the edge of the couch. He leveled you with a stare and said seriously, “You know I could just pay him, right? What he owes. And then you would not have to worry about any of this.”

“I’ve already told him I would do it; he’s already working to set up an appointment. And I don’t think he’ll take too kindly if I back out. Especially now that he found out that his wife isn’t carrying his kid.”

Tony shook his head, “I wish you hadn’t called him and put that idea in his head at all. You could’ve… never mind. I know I asked you what you wanted and I meant it.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“He wants you to contact him about the document.”

“Right,” Tony muttered, standing up from the couch. He straightened out his clothes and said, “I… I do need to go home. It’s Forest’s birthday in a couple days and I should be around for that.”

Your stomach clenched at that. He had not left you alone for multiple days since Steve had whisked you away from the apartment.

“You’ll be alright?”

Despite what you felt, you nodded, trying to reassure him. He nodded in acknowledgement and walked over, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. He would barely meet your eyes.

“I’ll check in.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he was quick to turn around and search for his keys. He was in a rush to leave now.

“Tony…” He hesitated, keys in hand, looking back over at you. You sighed, “Nothing. Sorry.”

When the door closed behind him, you stared at it. He was upset about the whole ordeal, that was clear. You had a suspicion he wanted to just be rid of Steve entirely but now he would be around for almost another year.

<><><>

Tony pressed the call button on his Bluetooth and settled back into the seat as he drove.

“Funny how you’ll call when she asks you to but not answer me when I’ve tried multiple times,” Steve answered dryly.

Ignoring his clear jab, Tony said, “Y/N said you are working on a document I need to get perused.”

“It’s already done.”

“You are always good about being prepared. Leave it on my desk.”

“You got it. I’ll do it in the morning,” Steve returned just as shortly before hanging up on him.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Fucking prick.”

<><><>

Tony’s hand was at your back as he held the door open for you and you walked past him into the doctor’s office. Steve was waiting in the lobby and you tensed seeing him in person. His eyes fell on you and his lips upturned ever so slightly before he noticed Tony over your shoulder and his smile faltered. He recovered quickly though, standing up to greet you. You stopped a few paces from him, and he gestured for you to sit. You took his seat, keeping an eye on him. But his attention was on Tony.

“A word?” he asked.

Tony shot you a quick look before he nodded, turning and Steve followed. When they were around the corner, Steve let out a small laugh.

“Couldn’t let her come alone?” Steve asked, amusement in his eyes.

“I’m not an idiot, Steve,” Tony said stiffly.

“So, are you gonna be a third wheel every checkup if it happens to be mine?”

“You’re damn right.”

“You’re really going to let this break up the team.”

“I am letting –,” Tony started to snap in disbelief before he shook his head. “No, I’m not doing this here.” He made to walk around Steve, but Steve stepped into his path and Tony’s mouth set into a thin line.

“You’re right. She’s pregnant and sensitive. Zen and all in her environment. Are you doing that? I just can’t be sure because I am not around.”

“She’s perfectly fine.”

Steve ran his eyes over Tony before asking point blank, “Were you looking at her as a replacement from the get-go?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Was this how you wanted it to end up? You and her, living in a place together? And you know you are quite sneaky. You never drive there. At least I haven’t seen it yet. Is there a landing pad? For the suit I mean? Or do you just land outside on the sidewalk?”

Snorting, Tony told him, “Shouldn’t be surprised you’ve been stalking — or asked someone else to. I anticipated that. That’s the thing about us smart guys. We always cover our asses.” He stepped closer to Steve and said in a dangerous tone, “You’re gonna leave her alone after this, Steve.”

Steve smirked, a cruel glint in his eye. “Heard you loud and clear. We can both get what we want.”

Tony did not trust him farther than he could throw him.

<><><>

“It’s legit. I had one of my lawyers look it over,” Tony explained to you, sitting down at the table beside you as you worked on a coloring page. You were finding it really helped calm your nerves to focus on them.

“So, I just sign it?”

“Essentially,” Tony said, straightening out his suit jacket. “I had them take a copy of it to keep on file for me. And I’ll ask Steve for a copy of the final signatures.” His eyes narrowed slightly, looking at you. You stared back, waiting for him to ask whatever it was that was on the tip of his tongue. “You really want to go through with it?”

“Yes. Why are you so against it?” you asked, not accusatively, but curiously.

“He’s been a loose cannon. It makes me nervous,” Tony answered honestly, sighing a little. “And it’s not like him and I are ones who typically follow the law. This document may mean nothing, it may just be a smoke screen. I mean, there is nothing in here about him leaving you alone even when he pays you out. It’s mainly just that you are giving up your parental rights once the baby is born and he becomes legal parent.”

“I don’t think he’ll want anything to do with me after he has the baby,” you told Tony. “That’s what he wants.”

Tony muttered, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

You reached out and grasped his hand, catching his eyes. “Seriously. If he really cared about me, he wouldn’t have done anything that he did. It’ll be fine.”

Tony sucked his teeth, like he wanted to say something else but he just nodded.

<><><>

The first appointment had shown you were six weeks along. Which meant New Years Eve. That still left the door open for Steve to be the father. The next three weeks were nerve wracking; you found yourself pacing more often than not, lost in thought. Elisha had come over a handful of times to distract you – you had not told her you were pregnant, you did not want to have that conversation with her.

Now, you found yourself back in the doctor’s office. You had come back to the room to Dr. Varma with Steve. You had been hesitant, but the procedure would not take long.

“And Mr. Rogers, I’ll contact you. Ten days,” Dr. Varma told him, finishing up.

You opened your mouth and Steve cut you off, seeing you about to protest. “Dr. Varma already has my contact information. We have rapport.” You eyed him curiously. Was this… no. You pushed the thought of your head. That was preposterous. Steve would not take you to the same doctor his wife was going to. Sticking out his hand, Steve shook Dr. Varma’s hand and stood up. He turned, helping you get up and you tensed beneath his touch. If he noticed, he did not show it. “Until next time.”

<><><>

Thankfully, you had not had any morning sickness, a real blessing considering you had been terrified of it. You did not like vomiting. And it looked good that you would not get it considering you were approaching the eleventh week. You were finding yourself tired though. A lot.

Sipping on a smoothie, you flipped through Hulu, just as your phone rang.

You sat up and placed your smoothie on the coffee table, reaching for your phone. Your hand hovered above it for a second, seeing it was Steve. Hand shaking now, you picked up the phone, gulping.

“Hello?”

“Your follow up appointment for a checkup is next month on the 14th. It’s a Tuesday.”

“So…”

“I wouldn’t have made a follow up appointment if it wasn’t mine, Y/N.”

“Right,” you said, your throat dry.

“So. I’ll send you over your meal plan. Like we discussed with Dr. Varma, the nutritionist he recommended already made up a mock one for me.” He was really serious about being involved clearly. You said nothing. “I would appreciate it if you would honor what I want and I would like you to buy your groceries around what is recommended.”

“Okay.”

Steve gave a humorless chuckle, “I would much rather be around to make sure that that is happening, but I know that that is out of the question.” He hesitated for a moment, as if he was waiting for you to rebuke it. When you did not, he exhaled sharply. “Be sure to pass that date on to Tony since he’s insisting to tag along every time.”

“I will.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night @woohoney