#and i no longer even venture into x reader tags anymore

[dejwrld]

jjk fics (outside of my mutuals) has lost its flavor.

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 4

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: The moment we've all been waiting for...

Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! PTSD, medical trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, smut and feels (and "herb" smoking lol).

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 4: “The Power in You”

In the morning, you woke before the man sleeping beside you. The longer you stared at his peaceful face, the more you wanted to remember why your heart ached just looking at him. And after last night, you couldn’t doubt him anymore. 

Ben cared about you. Your heart could even hope to believe that he loved you, even if that hope surprised you.

He made you feel comfortable and warm. He made you feel safe.

So with these thoughts on your mind, you carefully slipped out of bed and got freshened up for the day. You tried to be as quiet as possible, and when you padded out into the living room on bare feet, you found the rest of the apartment empty.

Marie must’ve gone to work already, you realized, as it was nearly 10:00 a.m. Instead of going into the kitchen for your usual ritual of coffee and rummaging for breakfast, you found yourself all too curious about the man still snoring down the hall.

You decided to venture into the office you apparently shared with him. There was a big crate of vinyl records, a few of which featured Ben on them with various artists of the 70s and 80s. The cheesy album covers made you smile in amusement.

You moved on to the books on the shelves. Most of these seemed to be from your collection, as you recognized your favorites. Your fingers brushed over their dusty spines.

The pads of your fingers paused over something binder-like, not book-like. You pulled it out and realized it was a photo album. So, bringing it over to Ben’s large leather chair, you sat down and flipped it open.

The first pictures were in black and white. You didn’t recognize the young woman in one of them. Not until you saw her again next to a tall, stoic looking man, who had Ben’s facial structure and broad frame. You saw the young and cocky versions of Ben distilled in sepia tones, and it made a smirk pull at your lips.

The further you flipped through the album, the more your attention got sucked in. There was an old-school polaroid of you with Frenchie and Kimiko, sharing milkshakes. Then you and Annie, clinking cocktails together. Followed by you and M.M. trying to beat Butcher at Backgammon. 

And then one of you, your friend Yvette, and her son Devon in Central Park. Another beside it, on that same day, where Ben had an arm raised high and parallel to the ground, and Devon clung onto his arm with a wide smile.

You brushed your fingers over that picture in wonder. You didn’t remember that day, even though you were sure you must have been there…

It was so odd to see so much of your life in pictures, yet it was all still so fuzzy, or entirely blank in your mind.

You paused, blushing once again when you saw the picture of you getting out of the shower with the towel barely wrapped around you. Why the hell would this be in a photo album?

You quickly moved on. Though you stopped next at a picture of you and Ben in what looked like a dark nightclub. The way he was holding you, looking at you like he was ready to devour you, and the way you were looking up at him, with a smile that said he’d better damn well try…

It made a sharp pain lance behind your eyes.

You gasped and held a hand to your temple, flinching at the sudden sensation. You’d taken your medication. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

But your vision altered. In your mind’s eye, you saw a dark club where people were dancing to Latin pop. You were clothed in black leather and flashing lights, and someone was spinning you across the dance floor.

As the scenes began to change in flashes, the pain in your head intensified. You whimpered and gripped your head with both hands. The photo album slid off your lap and to the floor.

You remembered being tied to a chair, staring up at Ben’s stoic face. And there were so many other faces you knew that you knew: Hughie and Annie, M.M., Butcher, Kimiko, Frenchie, Frank, Loco, Saul, your mother and sister, Grace, Stan Edgar, your father, Jon…

And Ben. He was standing over you, with worried eyes. You were pinned to the ground this time—a sharp pain in your shoulder.  

“Stay awake.” It was both an order and a plea as the walls of a tower fell around you. 

But it mixed with flashes of a knife carving across your flesh. Of demands and questions over and over as you resisted. 

No, no, no, no…

You didn’t realize that you’d screamed loud enough to reverberate on the walls. You didn’t hear the thundering footsteps that brought Ben tearing into the office. He took one wide-eyed look at you, slumped and huddling on the floor, rocking yourself, holding your head with both hands, and he got down to one knee in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, grabbing your shoulders.

You couldn’t speak. And to Ben, it didn’t seem like you were even hearing him as tears slipped down your face.

“Hey!” he barked, startling you with a flinch, but you blinked faster and looked up at him. Part of him felt a measure of relief at that small victory.

“Tell me what's happening,” he said, with deeply furrowed brows.

He held your face in his hands, and he could feel you shaking under his grasp. You uttered an agonized sound and grabbed onto his wrists, shutting your eyes tight.

“It hurts!” you managed to grit out. “Hurts bad this time.”

For the second time in his long life, Ben felt helpless. That feeling clawed through his stomach and up into his throat. It was like he was watching you fall apart, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

…No. His jaw locked as he ground his teeth. No. He wasn’t going to let you break.

“Wait here,” he said. He didn't want to move you, in case that made it worse.

He left you briefly just to grab his cell phone, but he was calling Dr. Jeong on his way back to you. There he kneeled on the ground and pulled you close while he waited for the damn doctor to answer. You clung to his shirt, pressed your face into his chest and wept hot tears.

Ben dropped the phone when you cringed, with a pained cry. He called your name and tried to pry you off him just enough so that he could see your face.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muttered, pressing a hand to your cheek. “Hey! Look at me!”

There was a long moment where you couldn’t answer him.

Then, slowly, slowly…the pulsing behind your eyes and at the back of your head began to recede. Not all the way, but enough to blink your eyes open and release a breath. You were trembling, with your fingers wound tightly in Ben’s shirt. You were able to let go.

You blinked certain shadows out of the corners of your eyes while you caught your breath. When you next looked up at Ben, you saw that his face was tight with apprehension. It confused you.

“Ben?” you prompted. He took your hand, whether to steady you or himself, he’d never tell.

“What the fuck was that?” he said, his voice edged.

You blinked in shock for a moment as you caught your breath. Then, your lips twitched at a smile.

Ah, you recognized his polite way of asking if you were okay.

“Wow. That’s my caring boyfriend,” you said wryly.

Ben’s expression slackened. You became even more confused, and a little concerned, especially by the fact that you were sitting in his lap, but you both were on the ground. 

“What?” you asked him. Why was he looking at you like that? What was happening here? 

Ben quirked his head at you in wonder.

“How long have we lived here?” he asked. 

Your brows furrowed. Why was he asking you that? But he looked dead serious, like this was a test of some kind.

“Almost a year. What, is your memory fading already?” You joked weakly, despite the way your head was still aching, just much less intense than before.

You realized then that the photo album you made for him for Christmas was on the floor, a couple of pictures displaced. 

“What’s this doing on the floor?” You bent over to pick it up, even though just that small movement made your head swim. “Whoa…”

Ben grasped your arms and righted you. He stared into your eyes. 

“Do you remember what happened two months ago?” he asked. 

He was so damn serious, he was starting to scare you. When you contemplated his question, you realized the fog that had claimed your mind for so long was beginning to lift.

Piece by piece, it returned to you.

You remembered waking up in the hospital, everyone coming to see you, the doctor telling you…

“Something happened to me,” you said slowly, rubbing your aching forehead. Your brows furrowed, and you clung to Ben’s arm. “Am I…am I okay?”

That’s what the fuck I’m trying to figure out, Ben thought. 

He reminded you that you were taken by Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom. Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team found you, but you’d been hurt. Along with your other injuries, your skull was fractured. It affected your memory, among other things. 

“My memory,” you repeated. “Ben, did I…?”

You looked up at him with a small gasp. His face remained stoic, but you saw through it as his gaze veered away from you.

You remembered that he’d been taking care of you with your mother for weeks now. You remembered that you’d forgotten him.

You took his face in your trembling hands. Both sorrow and apology showed in your eyes, along with brimming tears.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry,” you said, through choked emotion. “I can’t believe I…”

Ben didn’t speak, but he met your gaze while trying to stamp down the full force of his relief. He swallowed past an unfamiliar tightening in his throat.

“What do you remember?” he asked. 

“That you saved me, as usual,” you laughed through your tears. “And that I owe you this.”

Your thumbs brushed his bearded cheeks in a tender caress, and you brought him down to kiss you. His lips met yours in kind as his eyes closed. He let out a breath through his nose and held you a bit tighter against him. Part of him was still wary of hurting you further, and reluctant to even accept this as real. 

After a moment longer, you paused, pulling back a little. 

“I guess I’m back,” you said, in the small space between his face and yours. 

Ben sighed. He brushed the back of his hand against your cheek, and he claimed your lips again. 

Dr. Jeong arrived within the hour to check you over, and to confirm that most of your memories had returned. Meanwhile, her team of nurses checked your vitals and prepped you for a blood transfusion from Ben. In your bedroom, you sat up on your side of the bed while a bag of his O-positive circulated into your bloodstream.

A couple of hours of bed rest later, your body was completely healed, and even free of scars. The powerful ache in your head that had become commonplace had vanished. And afterward, the doctors took up their supplies and left.

You were finally able to take in your familiar surroundings. Your fingertips passed over picture frames on your dresser, the ornate perfume bottle Ben had gotten you for Christmas, your favorite throw blanket you’d tossed carelessly onto the floor this morning. You paused for a moment to look at yourself in the mirror.

It was odd to see yourself dressed in a tank top and pajama pants, slightly frizzy hair around your shoulders, your skin free of any scars. You touched your cheek tentatively, marveling at the way you didn’t feel any pain.

Ben’s frame appeared behind you, as did his hands on your hips. You turned in his arms and pulled him into an embrace. You smiled at the warmth you felt through his shirt. Your own portable heater.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked. He had to wonder at how easily you’d slipped yourself into his arms just now. Yet another small reminder that you were his again.

In answer to his question, you gave a hum of contemplation, all while your hands moved down his back. You looked up at him, your lips curving into a smile.

“I think you can guess this time,” you replied.

Ben’s eyes roamed over you, over your face, your body held in his arms, and back up to your lips.

One more added perk of your “medical treatment” had you pulling him down to you by his shirt for a heated kiss. His strength coursed through your veins, making you more solid and energized than when you were once on V24.

Ben heeded your demanding kiss with a near growl as he took you into his arms and walked you back towards the bed. A warning triggered in his mind, however. It had him cupping the back of your head and laying you down with more gentleness than he usually had with you in times like these.

Not to say that he was overly rough with you, but as he positioned himself above you and began to undress you, tank top and pants flung to the floor, you noticed how careful he was being. After you helped him get rid of his own shirt and pants, you slowed things down for a moment, once again caressing his cheek. It encouraged him to meet your eyes.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “You know I’m pretty much as strong as you right now, right? You won’t hurt me. I’m not in pain anymore.”

Ben nodded, releasing a sharp breath. “Right.”

He knew that, of course. He’d just had to get used to treating you like fragile glass over the past two months. Every time he’d helped you, touched you, cared for you, he’d had to use every ounce of his self-control to temper his strength even more so than usual. It was hard to turn that off.

You smiled. An idea sparked in your head, and you pushed at his chest to let you sit up. There you encouraged him to roll over and switch positions, so that he was lying on his back and you were straddling his hips. You slid your hands up his toned stomach and chest and you bent down to kiss his neck.

He closed his eyes as you burned a wet path across his skin. Your lips traveled down his chest, where he slid his fingers into your hair. It prompted you to look up at him with a smile. Seeing him watching you with half-lidded eyes made a small flood of heat pool between your legs.

You couldn’t help but move back up and guide his face up to yours for a kiss. He deepened it pretty much immediately, his tongue hungrily demanding entrance to your mouth as you began rocking your hips against his.

His hands tightened on your waist, but they soon slid up your sides to unclip your bra. He slid down the panties next, and you broke away for a moment to shimmy them down your thighs. You helped him do the same with his underwear.

He gripped at your thighs and ass hard enough to leave serious bruises, if you were normal. Right now though, your bones, your skin, your touch was just as strong as his. Now, his iron grip just made you smile.

The feeling of your smooth, warm skin under his hands, your wet folds brushing against his straining cock, the promise between your thighs, it all made him groan into your mouth. He sat up and held you to him, skin against flushed skin, your breasts pressing against his chest. He grinded his thick, hard length against your core, earning a breathy moan from you.

“Fuck, I’ve fucking missed you,” he admitted. He fisted a hand into your hair and bared your neck for him. He trailed wet kisses that occasionally grazed with teeth. You shuddered against him as your hands splayed against his back.

“Ben, I’m so sorry,” you whispered in his ear. You held him tighter for a different reason.

“Enough,” he said. His words were gruff, but he soothed a hand over your hair. “It’s over. We’re here now.”

You nodded, biting your lip and blinking against the sting of tears.

What you didn’t know was, the last thing he wanted was for you to apologize to him. He couldn’t fucking tolerate it.

Instead, he reached a hand between you and slid a hand down the inside of your thigh, and then two fingers between your folds, and into your wet heat. He wasted no more time in working you open.

He drew a hot moan from you, one that echoed in his ear while his thumb found your clit, and the rest of his fingers toyed with your pussy. You ached to be filled, and your core was already throbbing around his fingers.

You gripped his hair tight. Your hips began to undulate with the tempo of his pulsing fingers.

“Ben,” you implored and whined at the same time. Your inner walls were squeezing his hand tight as his fingers brushed with purpose over that sensitive place, deep inside you.

“That’s right. Fucking squeeze the shit out of me,” he demanded. “Want you gushing all over my hand.”

“You’re about to get what you want,” you panted. “Fuck…”

He didn’t care that your iron grip was threatening to rip a chunk out of his hair. He was stroking you with single-minded precision, until you finally clamped down that much harder on his hand and gasped in his ear. To him, that sound was his own personal symphony. He never got tired of making you come apart, and making you sing just for him.

And you…well, you certainly never got tired of letting him. This time though, you’d wanted to be on top so you could be the one to make him feel good—and give him a little care after everything that had happened. But you couldn’t even argue when Ben rolled you onto your back again. Still, you slid your hands over his chest.

“I wanted to give you some star treatment,” you said breathlessly. You began to sit up again. “Here, let me—”

“You’re gonna let me fuck you deep into this fucking mattress ‘til we break a few springs,” he said. “That sound good for you?”

He bent down and sucked hard at your neck. Meanwhile, he grabbed your thighs and hooked your legs around his waist.

“O-Okay,” you agreed, your eyes closing. You gasped as he bit down just under your ear, marking you as his, and earning another gasp of pleasure from you as your body pressed against his.

Then he lined his cock up to your entrance. Once he breached your folds, your squeezing grip on his arms encouraged him to sheathe himself inside you, sliding all the way home.

You shuddered at the delicious feeling of being filled. Your heels pressed into his back, urging him to keep moving. He still took the time to brush his hand against your cheek, a tender caress.

You blinked up at him with a smile. He gave you one back, albeit more reserved. In turn, you swept his hair away from his eyes, like you were wont to do. He secretly reveled in the feeling of it, the familiarity of you. He turned his head and laid a kiss against your wrist.

But after that brief flash of tenderness, Ben pushed forward, quite literally, to steal your breath away. Each new stroke of his cock deep inside you made the coil of warmth and pleasure tighten, for both of you. The sound of mingled breaths and flesh against flesh filled the room as you two moved together. And in this, you two had always been in sync.

His hand moved between you to circle roughly at your clit.

“Come on, baby. At least one more for me.”

You nodded, panting for breath. You moved the angle of his hand to just right, and his last pounding strokes finally drove you over the edge. You came shortly before he did, spilling into you with hot abandon and a ragged sound in his throat.

You two recovered there for a moment. He rested his forehead against yours, and again, you swept your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Eventually, he pulled back and opened his eyes to meet yours. He grasped your free hand off his shoulder and pressed a kiss into your palm. Then he smirked down at you.

“Welcome home,” he said.

Long afterwards, your body felt like warm molasses. You’d both gotten cleaned up and now shared the bed properly in rest. You were half-dozing while you laid warm, comfortable, and naked in his arms.

You’d called your mom earlier to let her know what had happened today, and that you’d recovered fully following the blood transfusion…and if she wanted to grab dinner with Louisa tonight before coming home, then that would give you and Ben some time to “catch up.”

Thankfully, Marie had enough tact to read between the lines. She told you that she’d be back later this evening, and Louisa would come to visit you again tomorrow. 

You were at peace as you trailed lazy patterns across Ben’s chest while he smoked a blunt. 

He deserves it, you thought with a smile. That led you to shift onto your side and rest your weight on your elbow, above his shoulder.

“You know something?” you said. “Thank you for being so gentle with me throughout all this. I know I didn’t always give you an easy time of it.”

Ben shook his head, smiling slightly before he blew out a puff.

“What else is fucking new?” he said. You smiled too, but you still grabbed his chin, so he’d look at you. 

“I’m serious,” you said. “Thank you.”

He sobered, letting out another coil of smoke through his nose. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Your head quirked. You released him to caress his cheek instead. 

“Yeah, babe. I’m all healed up now,” you reassured.

“Not entirely what I meant,” he said. He hesitated, his gaze dropping, before it met yours again. “…It took us three days to find you.”

That made you dim with more sobering consideration, when you realized what he meant. You had finally remembered what you went through with the Rawlins brothers, held captive in that dark, disgusting cave. A shudder ran down your spine. 

Those memories had only just returned to you a few hours ago, and you’d immediately shut them away in the “don’t file this into your core memories” pile. You really hadn’t had too much time to reflect on that, or even process it all really. 

Tears stung at your eyes, and your lower lip trembled, but you tried to breathe past it, closing your eyes. 

“I’m okay now. It’s in the past,” you said. 

In other words, denial of the purest form.

Ben shook his head with a sigh. He put out his blunt on the ashtray on his nightstand, setting it aside. He slid a hand up your back and gathered you closer against his chest. You rested your head there.

You sucked in a tremulous breath, and your tears finally fell. You sniffed and tried to bat them away, but you let the sound of his heartbeat steady you. 

What you’d been through was…beyond words. It was more than you’d ever been through, even with your father. Even though you were grateful to be you again, there were also things you wished you could forget again. Things that were etched into your psyche, and you were certain you’d see them again when you next closed your eyes.

“It shouldn’t have fucking happened,” Ben said. "This one's on me."

His voice dislodged you from your spiraling thoughts, if for the moment. It drew your eyes back up to his as your mouth parted. You knew that was his way of apologizing.

“Ben, it wasn't your fault,” you said, laying a hand on his chest.

He gave you a measured look. 

“We both know that’s not true,” he said. Always to the point. 

“And…” he began to add, but he cut himself off. You tilted your head at him.

“And?” you prompted.

Ben’s lips pressed together in hesitation. He almost wished he hadn’t set down his blunt. Instead, he looked you in the eyes like a man.

“Your family doesn’t know who’s really responsible for this,” he said. The admission was a small weight off his heart, even though he didn’t want to acknowledge that bit. “All they know is that it was…retaliation.”

You looked up at him then, with a frown.

“You mean Mom and Louisa? You didn’t tell them it was the Rawlins brothers,” you clarified.

After a moment, Ben nodded. "Yeah."

You could thought you could also read between the lines of what he wasn’t saying.

Who’s really responsible for this…

You took in a deep breath, then you released it. You had a feeling your mother would understand if you told her the truth, but Louisa, on the other hand?

“Okay,” you said. “That’s probably for the best, anyway.”

He tacitly agreed, even if the well-hidden depths of his guilt remained. You saw all that too.

Before he reached for his blunt again, you took his hand. You laced your fingers with his, and raised your joined hands to your lips, pressing a kiss over his knuckles.

“Look, I knew what I was getting into when we decided to be together,” you said. “I don’t regret it, because…I love you.”

Ben’s gaze began to drift away, but you turned his face back to you with a finger.

“I love you,” you repeated, with emotion making your eyes sting. “I know we’ll get past this. Probably with copious amounts of therapy on my end, but we will.” 

Ben considered that with a shallow nod. He couldn’t help but reach for you, cupping your cheek. He bent down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead. He stayed there for a moment, just thinking.

You gave him the time he needed, and in the meantime, you let yourself be comforted by his warmth and closeness. You also wiped away your remaining tears, sniffling.

“Okay,” he said, at last. 

“Okay?” you echoed. “What does that mean?”

“This,” he said, and guided your face to his for another kiss. He claimed you slowly, but with purpose. And, after a slight pause, he allowed himself to speak an ultimate truth. 

“I love you,” Ben said. His face wasn’t stoic, or reluctant. It was honest. 

“I may not say it enough,” he continued, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “But it's you and me. Like Sonny and Cher. When they were good, before the ugly divorce. Or like Bonnie and Clyde. Just, you know, without the grisly end bit."

You laughed and shook your head incredulously. Sign this man up for Hallmark cards.

Ben made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Whatever. The point is, you’re mine, understand?" he said. "That’s just how it is.”

“Is that right?” you teased. A smile tugged at Ben’s lips as well.

“That’s right,” he affirmed, squeezing your waist. You laughed a little more and settled back into resting against his chest.

“Okay,” you replied. 

And for now, it really was.

AN: Ahh, the end of a series is always bittersweet, no? I had a lot of fun with this BMD mini series, and I hope you did too! I'm sure I'll come back to these two eventually (there are still BMD requests in my inbox), but let me know what you thought of how we wrapped up here with Wake Me Up. 💚

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, we have a pivotal part of the BMD story:

Summary: After you accidentally break through a solid wood table, you know there’s something wrong with you. You begin to have your suspicions, but can you keep it from Ben long enough to find out?  (In other words: This is the story of how you and Ben discover that you’re pregnant.)

▶️ Next Story: Strong as Blood

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[fettuccin-e]

Angel Incarnate

Kinktober Day 7: Soft and Slow

Tags: Javier Peña x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, really really light angst, domesticity, javi is finally happy guys okay (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Alright so this is so fluffy it hardly even feels like a kinktober prompt but y'know what javi has his dick out so it counts okay. anyway i had a really fun time writing this because i love it when sad characters are happy it brings me insurmountable joy (For the month I've been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Everything around him has always been so violent. His world has always been bloody and bruised and chaotic, and Javier had always supposed that it was just meant to be that way.

He didn’t deserve anything better than the angry pain of Bogatá. He’d hurt too many people, ripped apart too many lives to be redeemed, to deserve any kind of sweetness. His life boiled down to blood and tears, the endless race against the narcos too much to take anything slow. The only sex he had was rough and violent, just like his life, just like his soul.

Getting back to Laredo, to his father’s ranch, had been a kind of culture shock that he didn’t think he could experience anymore. The lack of gunfire, the lack of violence, day in and day out, had him reeling.

He’d tried burying himself in the work, fixing up his childhood home and tending to the cattle and the horses, hardly venturing into town at all. The people who knew Javi, the young man who left Laredo with a bride at the altar for a life as an agent, did not need to know Javier, the broken, hollow, shell of a man. He didn’t need their pity, their looks of confusion mixed with sympathy.

He regrets those first few months now, the ones that he spent hiding from the rest of the world. After all, the first time he went out into town, went into the only little library for miles, he found you.

And you, God, you’re so different. So kind and patient, even when he’s rough with you, even when he tries to push you away. It’s a kind of slow, soft sweetness that sings through his bones, that makes him feel human again. 

You’re slow with him, gentle in a way that he hasn’t been treated in years. He feels precious here, with you, between the soft sheets of your shared bed, as you roll your hips on top of him, taking him slow and so deep inside of you.

He wants to grip your hips so hard they bruise, roll you over and slam into you until you’re sobbing and writhing from the pleasure of it. He wants to press your face into the pillows and fuck you hard into the mattress. 

But he holds back, just like you want him to. Let yourself just feel, Javi, you had told him one day, after he’d taken control from you, just like he wants to right now. We don’t have to rush.

So he doesn’t. He brushes his hands along your waist, relishing in your soft skin as  you drop yourself down on his cock, over and over again. You gasp as he stretches you apart.

“That’s it, baby, so beautiful for me,” Javier murmurs. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod, whining as he guides you down to grind deep into your g-spot. “It’s so- it’s so good, Javi. You feel so big like this.”

Javier groans as you clench around him, tight and wet and fucking perfect. The soft morning light filters through the curtains you put up last week, illuminating your skin and enshrining you like an angel. You are an angel, he thinks, as close to heaven as he’ll ever get.

He leans up, searching for a kiss that you gladly grant him. He loves kissing you, licking into your mouth and tasting you as you moan for him.

You curl your hands into his hair, grown longer with his time away from the DEA. The one time he’d asked you about cutting it, you’d protested so hard he’d laughed for thirty minutes straight. He’d started letting it grow after that.

You lean back up, undulating your hips in a way that has him groaning, pulling on your hips to help you along.

“You want to cum, Javi?” you murmur, pulling him in so fucking deep his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Por favor, nena, si,” he gasps, and God, you’re the only one that can make him beg like this. To make him desperate like this.

“Come on, honey, fill me up,” you coo, and Javi is lost to it. His hips jerk up of their own accord, pumping into you involuntarily with his orgasm. He spills into you without the fear of knocking you up, knowing that there’s no violence, no uncertainty with you. A small, not-so-secret part of him actually hopes it’ll take.

You whine above him, pushing your hips down on him over and over, frantic for your climax. He reaches a hand between you both and rubs slow, hard circles into your clit, and fuck, the way you cum will always steal the breath from his lungs. Your eyes clench shut, your mouth exhaling a beautiful, melodic little moan as you rock yourself on his cock, working yourself through it.

“That’s it, beautiful, so fucking good to me, so pretty for me,” he husks, and you curl yourself over him, meeting his lips in a sticky-wet kiss that has you both desperate for more. He palms his hands over your back, pulling you down to rest on top of him as you both breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

You both don’t move for a long time, content to bask in each other’s warmth as the morning sun rises, bringing another day to spend together. It’s a kind of peace, a kind of contentment, he’d thought was a pipe dream for so, so long.

“How did I ever find you?” He murmurs into the quiet of the room. You tilt your head up from where it rests on his chest to smile softly at him. He feels like he could drown in your gaze.

“I think we were always meant to find each other,” you whisper, and like always, he knows you’re right.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part six —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this was longer but i decided to break it up sorry :p

The last glimpse of civilization you had was a chaotic one.

It was the first day of the outbreak.

Freshly infected running around. Bodies scattered in the streets like dead flies. Screaming. Paul grabbing your hand and tugging you towards the treeline. Your nephew shrieking in your sister’s arms. It’s funny how trauma likes to grab hold of the minute details. You can also recall seeing a bus pass by with an ad for some superhero movie. You had planned on seeing it. The bus crashed into a house and the ad was licked by flames.

Paul was always the one to make the trips to pharmacies and markets. He was the one who wielded a gun, not you. You were the one to stay behind, fortify the fence, and watch over the two broken members of your family.

Society's dust— that is what you leave Ghost’s territory for.

You know you need to.

You wait for your period to end.

Freshly spilled blood is not a scent you want to carry. Greys are drawn to it like flies to rot. Something you learned the hard way once during a hunt with Paul. They were able to catch your scent from a further distance than usual because of it.

To your relief, Ghost lets you look at his map.

Of course, you can’t take it with you.

“Jus’ memorize it,” he grumbles under his breath.

So the evening before you venture out, you study the map of Northern England. Ghost brought out a whole stack of them from the room you’re certain is his. You notice a map of the European continent on top, briefly catching a glimpse of a black circle drawn in the middle somewhere, but he is quick to move it underneath the pile.

You focus on the one you need.

There is a black dot to indicate where their camp is amid the forest. Some 20 kilometers south is the closest city. Or village rather. Ribchester. Maybe that is a safer bet than going by yourself to a big city like Manchester. You may have a bow and knife and some strength, but you don't have a car or guns like he does. Or companions coming with you.

Blue helps you turn your pillowcase into a strapped bag with some scissors. You need something to carry what you find. Ghost isn't willing to let you leave with his backpack. Bitterly, you get it. It’s a useful item.

The next morning, you feel as prepared as you can be. You wake up earlier than usual, before Blue has the chance to poke inside your shed with Grim. You eat a big breakfast of two dried squirrels. You have a third one to take with you.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Blue picks at her breakfast as she sits beside you at the table. Her lips twist around thoughtfully.

You glance between her and Ghost. His stare is unreadable like usual. Dark, stoic, and hiding under lowered brows. You wonder what he thinks— if he would be secretly relieved if you don't make it back alive. Probably. He could get rid of you without Blue pointing the blame at him.

"Medicine is important. I need to find my own.”

We can’t risk sneaking anymore, you would say if he wasn’t right there. But by the way she slides her blue eyes to discreetly meet yours, you think she gets the hint.

"Just be careful, okay?" You nod. "And remember—" she lifts a finger, "—you have to shoot those fucks in the brain."

"I know. I've been practicing my aim a bit."

The smile you offer is only half-there. The truth is, you are risking your life with this. Part of you wonders how deeply she has processed that.

Despite her lips appearing more chewed-through than usual, they give a wary smile in return.

“Yeah, we could hear you hitting the trees. Right, Ghost?"

He hums low, but characteristically, doesn't have much to say about you.

But when you head for the cabin door after eating, his firm hand surprises you, gloved and skeletal. It wraps around your bicep and brings you to a halt before you can step outside. Heat spreads through his glove and the layers of your clothes. You turn around just as a metal object is silently offered to your chest. Ghost holds your stare before you look down at what he is giving you.

It's the revolver. The one they collected from that man.

The gun with only one cartridge.

"Thanks."

You bite your cheek to hide the dry tone, slipping the revolver into your coat pocket. Maybe it will come in handy. At least he now trusts you enough not to immediately point it at him or her.

Blue is the one to follow you out to the gate of their camp.

"I hope you find something good."

"Me, too."

"You know, Ghost and I only went on one trip that I can remember," she says as she unlocks the bolts for you.

"Yeah?"

"To get him more ammo from a military base," she explains with a wave of her hand. "It was pretty close, though. He says that we went on one other trip back to Manchester when things first happened, but he carried me on his back the whole time so I don't remember much except for all the loud sounds.”

This part she adds quietly: "Think I closed my eyes for most of it."

"I would have closed my eyes, too, Blue.”

The next glimpse of civilization you get is a desolate one.

Again, you are on your own. Though, maybe you’ve been alone this whole time in a way.

It is that weird time between winter and spring when the air is crisp but the sun is bright. You hope to complete the trip in one day, which gives you about nine hours. You walk and walk, leaving Ghost's familiar territory behind until the trees become new to you again. You’ve never gone south before. You stop by a creek to drink some water along the way. By high noon, you exit the forest for the first time in five years.

You can see it. Overgrown shrubs and dry vines that crawl over cracked concrete. A road. A billboard arches over with a peeled ad for shaving cream, the woman’s face looking mangled. Your bow is poised as you follow the highway towards the village, recalling a time when you used to take the bus ride down this very route to visit your sister’s home. You liked watching the trees and rolling hills pass through the window as you tucked your ears under headphones.

It is so strange.

The air is quiet with abandonment.

Briefly, you ache for a world that once existed and the life you once lived. Car rides. Music whenever you wanted. Drunk outings on the weekends when you were supposed to be studying for nursing school. Hope for a family of your own someday.

But you have to ignore all that to stay focused on the present. Now, life is whittled down to basic needs and protecting yourself the best you can.

The village soon appears as stone buildings with unkempt wisteria scaling the sides. Abandoned cars haphazardly parked throughout the streets. You keep your guard up and your nose flared as you approach. There is a faint, awful scent that looms in the air, but it is not strong enough to cause concern. Not yet.

A pharmacy.

You need to find one.

If you want to make it back to their camp by nightfall, then you can only waste about an hour or two here. You could spend the night in a tree and trek the 20 kilometers tomorrow, but sleeping in a branch is even more unpleasant than your shed and it is risky. You were willing to do it when you had no other choice, but what if some unfriendly people find you this time? Perhaps even unfriendlier than the threat of Ghost's knife to your neck.

An hour is killed just searching for the pharmacy.

You roam the empty streets.

Finally, you catch sight of the faded sign and your heart leaps. But the excitement fades away when your nose and eyes detect the group of Greys just outside the building in an empty parking lot. Their pale eyes aren’t pointed at you yet, so you move behind a crumpled car for cover. If you had gotten any closer, they surely would've smelled your human flesh.

You take a deep breath. How many are there?

Carefully, you poke your head out just an inch to survey the threat. Six of those fucks. That is doable given the range.

The last time you ran into Greys, you had no choice but to run because of the bow Ghost stepped on. This time, you can kill them off with the bow carved by his hands.

You are quick with it. You stand and release arrow by arrow. Four of the six are headshots. You aren't perfect. The last two receive arrows through their shoulders, but this type of wound means nothing to a Grey. It is their brains that are infected with the virus, just like Blue said.

These two begin running towards you, now catching a whiff of your scent.

You climb on top of the car. Hitting a running target is far trickier. You go for the faster one first, using two more arrows before hitting the skull, grey chunks of brain splattering onto the concrete. The slower one just barely reaches the car before you finish it off, the closer distance sharpening this final hit.

The pharmacy is reachable now.

As you run over, you gather the used arrows. Precious ammo. You pull them out of their bodies with a twist and a putrid squelch.

When you push through the doors to the pharmacy, you almost choke. The shelves— they are empty. You breeze through every aisle, eyes and hands seeking anything that could be left, but there is nothing. You check the back. You check the shelves behind the counter.

Empty, empty, empty.

“Oh, fuck me,” you croak. Hot tears spill down your cheeks.

You half expected this.

But you’ve come all this way.

You need something.

There must be somewhere else you can look.

The cars maybe. Most people used to keep med kits somewhere inside. There is a slight chance that one could’ve been forgotten. It is worth a try.

You keep moving, not wanting to return with an empty bag. The white sun hangs high. The dry air turns your tear-stained cheeks sticky. You pick up rocks to begin breaking the windows of the abandoned cars, poking your arm inside to undo the locks, and rummaging through the glove compartments.

CDs, magazines, condom wrappers.

Nothing.

“Please, please.”

You make it down the street like this, checking every single one. Distracted, you shatter the glass of a white sedan without noticing the shadow laying in the backseat.

Fingers wrap around your wrist as you reach for the inner lock.

A maggot-filled mouth lurches for the flesh of your hand.

An arrow won't work here. With a cry, you use your free hand to grab the revolver from your pocket and shoot its head. The sound echoes. The single bullet burrows right between its eyes. The Grey writhes for a moment before going limp against the seat.

Panting, you have to pry the bony fingers off your wrist.

Again, you search the glove compartment. In this car where the stench is thick enough to sicken you, a med kit and a Twix bar fall into your hands.

“Fuck— thank you.”

You stash both into your homemade bag.

You could leave now, but you are itching for some antibiotics. The kit will help you clean wounds without Ghost's help, but it won’t save you if you develop an infection.

The next idea you have is to check a house.

By the look of the sky, you can fit in at least two quick searches. You run over to the next street and kick at the front door of the first one you see. Nothing but knocked-over furniture and torn wallpaper. The bathroom cabinet is empty.

The next one you fight inside is decorated with furniture that smells like faded perfume. The first room you check is a bedroom. In the center, a full set of bones lies on the bed, void of any meat after God knows how long its been there. You try not to look at it. On the floor lies a pile of clothes. You could use some more, still dressed in the ones Ghost found you in. You don't even look at them, just grab what you can fit in your bag and move on to the bathroom.

Here, beside a pair of molded dentures, you find two half-full bottles of pills.

Amoxicillin.

Paracetamol.

You cry some more.

It's not much, but it is enough for now.

Your muscles are fatigued by the time you make it back.

You reek of sweat. It is a long walk. You run into a few more Greys but manage them. You eat the squirrel you brought.

Darkness covers the forest just when you spot the camp's fence in the distance. Relief. You actually did it. Some pride breathes into your tired lungs.

As you get closer, you make out two silhouettes leaving the gate. One is a girl who you tiredly smile at the sight of, and the other is a bulky tank.

You leap over the trench.

But when your boots land on the other side, the end of a rifle pokes your breastbone and prevents you from getting any closer.

"Ghost."

You can't help but shout at him, eyes widening. He is pointing a gun at you? You were just beginning to think he could tolerate you enough to not threaten murder anymore. The memory of your first encounter resurfaces.

"It's just me! What the hell are you doing?"

Panic finds you once again. Your chest rises and falls under his gun’s touch. You glance at Blue, who tries to get near you, but he sticks out an arm to keep her away.

"Dad," Blue groans, "Do you really have to— ”

The tip of the rifle brushes up over your collarbone and toward your neck. Your nerves awaken under cold metal.

"Let me see." His voice is firm.

Oh. Bites. He wants to see if you have any bites.

"Okay, okay." You nod breathlessly.

Swallowing, you gather your braided hair in your hands as he clicks on a flashlight. You have not been offered string to tie them with so most of the hair has fallen out as always. You roll your neck to one side, and then to the other to show him the unmarked skin. But he is not satisfied yet.

He moves the rifle down to the hem of your shirt and uses it to lift up the fabric just beneath your breasts, revealing the skin of your stomach and ribs. You should feel exposed, standing here with your bare midriff under the light, but the two of them have already seen this much of you. You are more concerned about the fact that he could kill you if he actually suspects you could’ve been bitten.

The cold air invites a shiver. Your teeth clench as you stare at him. In the darkness, his eyes almost lean red.

He lowers your shirt.

"Roll 'em up for me,” he demands, now giving a nod to your trousers.

You bend over to roll up the pantlegs, all the way up to your knees so he can’t complain about it. All that is revealed are your unshaven legs and sweat-laced socks. You are sure they can smell them from where they stand.

"She doesn't have any stupid bites, Ghost, alright?"

Blue tugs at his arm with a huff. Finally, the rifle lowers. You straighten back up and exhale the short breath you were holding.

There is a silent moment where the three of you just stand there. An owl hoots. Ghost rubs at his masked jaw and looks you over some more, eyes flicking to the filled bag over your shoulder with a raised brow.

And then, something unexpected.

A small body whirls into yours and you almost stumble back in a step. Blue wraps her arms around your waist and excitedly breathes out, "I knew you'd make it back. Ghost said you wouldn't. I told him you would."

What?

It is a short-lived hug.

But still, the first one you have had in a long time.

After this tiring day, your eyes close with some more moisture. It is a strange feeling, her young embrace. Her palms spread flat against your back and she presses her forehead to your shoulder because she is tall enough to reach it. You are just about to hug her in return, move your arms around her shoulders out of instinct, but she is soon tugged away by a skeletal hand. Her blue eyes drift down to her boots. She looks a mix of irritated and embarrassed.

In a daze, you end up back in the warmth of the cabin.

Blue begs you to show her what you found. You dump the contents of your pillowcase onto the table. Her father’s shadow lurks behind you somewhere, always watching and taking up space, but for now, you ignore him.

You cannot recall a time when you were in this kind of mood. It is enough to surface the waters of your grief. Because now, your survival does not have to rely so much on Ghost's mercy or the risk of Blue’s sneaky hands. Food, a med kit, one type of antibiotic. It should all be enough to keep you alive - to take care of yourself - for at least however long you end up staying here.

"Shit balls." Blue rummages through the goods. "You did pretty good."

"Right? I can't believe it," you whisper numbly. You wipe your eyes.

She holds up the clothes first, starting with a large, floral blouse that looks like something an old lady would wear. Her head tips back with a giggle.

"This is way too big for you."

"I'll make it work," you say, shrugging, but almost manage a quiet laugh, too. You don't really give a fuck what the clothes look like. At least you can change finally into something else - something that didn’t belong to your dead companions.

Where you care about the medicine, Blue is far more intrigued by the candy bar she discovers. She holds it up, and inspects the wrapper with curiously wide eyes, shooting a glance at her dad.

"T-w-i-x," she sounds out with pinched brows. She looks back at you. "What's this?"

"It's like... chocolate," you tell her.

"Oh— no way. Could I try some?"

You don't really care about the Twix bar. You almost forgot about it since the moment you found it in the car. But before you can tell her she can just have it as a late birthday gift - because she has done so much for you - Ghost moves to take it from her hands.

He puts it back down on the table.

“What’s hers is hers, kid. That’s how it works here.“

[kykyonthemoon]

Under The Shooting Stars

A millennium has passed since I sat on the throne of Philos, now Xavier only exists in my memories.

── .✦ Xavier x Reader (MC)

♡︎. Tags: (heavy) angst, hurt no comfort, tragedy, emotional hurt, myths related, oneshot.

♡︎. Word count: 1000w

♡︎. Requested by Felicia Keller.

♡︎. Ky Ky's note: This story is closely tied to Xavier's first myth: Shooting Stars and written in first point of view. Please consider reading his myth before this fic, or refrain from proceeding if you do not want any spoiler.

── .✦ My L&D Masterlist

── .✦ Request a fic - closed for the time being.

The afternoon sun sprinkled kisses on my face. I awoke on the roof of a high tower, where the bell began to ring right in my ear.

“Are you awake?” A familiar voice rang out. Right after that, two soft hands swiftly covered my ears as I grimaced from the bell's loudness. 

“Xavier?” I called. That person smiled at me.

“It's time for your class.”

The bell eventually ceased ringing. I rose up and grabbed his hand in haste. 

“Don't go…”

Yet, he disappeared.

“Your Majesty, what do you think of our performance today?”

I turned back to look at the group of young students at Astria Knyght Academy. They were anxiously awaiting my comments. I focused my attention on the pair who had recently dueled each other. A boy and a girl. Two of the greatest knights in training here. They were around the same age as he and I at the time. 

"Excellent. Both of you.”

They bowed. 

“We always strive to become your Knights, Your Majesty!”

“The future of Philos is in your hands.” I smiled at them. After that, the crowd dispersed and I caught a glimpse of the two clasping their hands together. 

“If the two of them compete against us, who do you think will win?” 

I looked up towards the statue of the Holy Sword of the Goddess, where Xavier was standing with his arms crossed. His back was drenched in midday sunlight. The scent of wavyleaf sea lavenders wafted in the air.

I replied: "That depends on whether you want to skip class today or not." 

Xavier's laughter echoed in the wind. I blinked. When I looked back, no one remained where he stood. 

This was where Xavier and I used to duel a lot back in those days. He was the best knight of the Starhunters, and I was the top student from the Moonchasers. He was the prince, and I was the sword that would protect him. Everyone believed he and I were true rivals. Nobody would have imagined that the sword clashes were mainly for his convenience in skipping class or avoiding messengers from the palace.

I proceeded walking, leaving the Academy behind. I traveled alone through the trees, following the trail to Starfall Forest. This place had been sealed ever since my coronation. Except for me, no one could step foot in there anymore.

Its mysteries remained buried. But I knew that I would not last much longer if Xavier did not come back.

“Wait for me.”

How long? Seven days? Two hundred years? Or a millennium?

I was always left behind like that. Still, I could not stop waiting. Hope became my breath, my sky and my stars. I could not give it up. Even when waiting was like poison, causing me to slowly die on the high throne. 

If Philos did not consume me first, my love for him would.

This planet was dying. I was dying.

Since my coronation, I had not permitted any soul to come to Starfall Forest merely to die. But Philos still needed to be fed. That was why, every year, I discreetly ventured deep into the forest, using my own power to quench its hunger. I knew that was not enough. It was never enough. But this would allow me to hold on a bit longer until Xavier returned.

Would he return?

Or was it just another lie?

I opened my eyes to see a sky full of stars across my eyes. I was still in the wilderness, unconscious since I had lost so much power. Alive, still.

Little specks of light, resembling fireflies, emerged around me. The person seated in front of me was staring at me with care. I sat up, leaning against the tree. My trembling hand continued to reach forward, until I touched his face. 

“Xavier…”

“I'm here. You are not dreaming. I really came back…”

My hand clenched into a fist. I wanted to punch Xavier for leaving for so long. Yet I could not do it. I could only stare at him, tears obscuring the forest and the stars. He drew me closer and held me.

“I'm sorry. For keeping you waiting.”

I sobbed aloud.

“I'm so weary, Xavier… I don't know how much longer I can do this anymore…”

"You rest. I will be by your side. Always."

Staying here was my decision. Becoming Queen was also my choice. But that did not mean that I was strong enough to get through this all alone.

For a thousand years.

I was in agony, I was angry, I even resented Xavier. Even so, I could never forget him. I always chased his silhouette in the sky, every time a star fell. Where was he amid the abundance of stars out there?

It seemed I finally understood what it meant to love someone when they did not care about you at all. It seemed I finally understood why he always chased after her, even when she had entirely forgotten him.

I was the only one left in Philos. For the last millennium, there was solely me. 

Every morning, I would wear that crown on my head, smile at my people, and tell them how prosperous Philos was. I would go around all the places he had been to, hunting for his traces in every fragmented recollection of us. Every night, I would stare up into the sky to look for shooting stars. My hope would be lit up again with each star that fell; perhaps one of them would be his returning spaceship.

He forgot me, right?

“Xavier… Don't leave, please?…”

Xavier gently stroked my back and placed a kiss on my hair. 

“Wait for me.”

How long? Seven days? Two hundred years? Or a millennium?

My tears had dried up. The fireflies eventually died. The warmth that enveloped me vanished into the darkness. Up in the sky, a star fell. Yet it did not bring him back to me.

-The end-

[abibliophobiaa]

Evermore - e.m x f!reader/ s.h x f!reader

summary: Eddie loved you, he still loves you, but he’s not the man he was before.

tags/warnings: Kas!Eddie/Vampire Eddie, angst, fluff, implied sexual content, character death, bittersweet ending, allusion to pregnancy (very brief, if you squint).

relationships: Eddie Munson x Afab!Reader, Steve Harrington x Afab!Reader.

song suggestions (in order): lovely by billie eilish; evermore by josh groban; beautiful boy (darling boy) by john lennon

Eddie…well, he remembers.

He remembers those before moments clearly.

Those times of togetherness. Of you and him side by side in his bedroom, hands tied together, whispering confessions of love. Of your words, spinning in his mind, as you whisper stories to him in the night, your fingers in his hair and his around your waist.

He can still see your face.

The way you smile at him, the faces you make when you’re hurt, happy, when you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. He can see them all. They’re clear as day still, as if they’re happening at present, an endless repeat in the back of his mind as he hunts—as he kills.

Because he’s no longer Eddie Munson.

No.

There's this otherness now. The mind he shares with this thing that resides in him. The monster. The creature that lurks in the shadows, that whispers of a deeper need, tells him to feed. The part of him that is enhanced, vision stronger, scent more refined, his hearing powerfully adept.

It’s the parts of him he’s most afraid of.

And yet he finds you that April evening, sitting before a little makeshift headstone in an open forest. You speak into the open air like you believe someone hears you, like someone’s listening.

He is, he supposes. He always is.

You’re sitting beside his Uncle Wayne, your head hung low, tears falling into decaying earth.

The world is full of rot now.

Hawkins is in four, and your heart is in two, and Eddie hides in the shadows because it’s best for the one.

He should be happy, he reminds himself, that the spirit of Henry, of Vecna, allows him these moments.

These moments of reprieve where his mind is his and he remembers all the things of his before—of a life that seems far away now.

A mere distant memory.

“I miss him.” Your words carry in the wind and curl around him, beckon him forth, but he never ventures further.

He’s not the man you knew.

Not anymore—never again.

*

His fingers long to touch you.

To reach out and grasp your hand as he watches from a distance when May burns bright.

You’re at the movies today with Dustin, Steve and Robin. You tip your head back in a laugh as they speak to you, but he knows it’s fake.

There’s a forced nature to the way you hold yourself. Your smile never quite reaches your eyes, the way you shift awkwardly on the spot, how you glance off into the distance.

You try and play it off as sincere, but Eddie knows.

You tell them you had fun, that you can’t wait for next time, that you’re happy you got to spend this time with them.

But when they’re gone, when you’ve returned to your home and creep up the stairs to your bedroom, Eddie sees through it all.

The way your forehead presses against your window, how you search into the distance in the way you used to when you were together. Longing, searching, begging for more.

You cry.

You cry so much lately and he wishes he could take that from you—this endless pain that sucks the life from you.

He misses you.

Gosh, he misses you so much.

But the shadows call, and he answers.

It’s safer this way.

*

You fell in love quickly, like many often do.

The first date was at the local diner, thighs slicked from nervousness and the summer heat against red vinyl, hearts all fluttery from excitement, his words a fumbled mess from his mouth because you were so pretty and he’d been wanting to ask you out for ages.

And with you there sitting across from him, all he could think was that, and he blurted out how pretty you are and his cheeks stained red because you bit your lip and averted your gaze and he assumed the whole thing was over.

But later that night it was all strawberry flavored kisses at your front doorstep, him nervous at first and you with this dangerous glint in your eye. He’d fall for it every time, and he told you as much, his forehead dropping down against yours to pull away and press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

He asked you, a little breathless, bitten with nervousness, “You wanna do this again sometime?”

And his heart felt like it had been punched in the best way when you’d crinkled your nose affectionately against his and whispered back, “Make out…or another date?”

“Both?” His stomach did that thing where it dropped out beneath him, but he’d thrown all caution to the wind at this point, because he liked you and you liked him and what a beautiful thing to know.

It was a summer love, Wayne had teased, as the weeks slipped on by in the lazy July heat. You spent nearly every day together, whether it was walking around town with ice cream cones in hand, hands stained vanilla and chocolate and rainbow colored sprinkles because you always talked for too long they started to melt, or in the back of his van at Lover’s Lake with a rolled joint shared between the two of you and nothing but time, hours spent in his bedroom where you talked until the moon grew high above the sky and a new day crept and you revealed all your thoughts and deepest secrets, a drive in movie with his friends from the band, where he’d introduced you as his girlfriend for the first time.

He immediately panicked, face hot and red, but you never corrected him. Instead, as the colors from the screen danced in the other boy’s eyes and they were distracted for a bit, you leaned over and kissed his cheek, and told him you accepted.

After that it was the kick start of his heart that first time he’d snuck through your bedroom window. Climbed up your trellis and nearly woke the neighbors as he careened into the room, leaves and other brush sticking out every which way from his hair. You’d giggled, all lyrical and bright, warning him he needed to be quiet. ‘Cause your parents were down the hall and you didn’t want to wake them, but you also really wanted to do this.

He wasn’t sure what to do, mentioned as much, just as you slipped your tank top from your shoulders and bared yourself to him. And he’d whispered a silent prayer, a curse under his breath, as he leaned forward and kissed you slowly, soundly, sweetly, walking you backward until you clambered across the bed and flopped down onto your back, staring up at him with a look in your eyes he’d never seen before.

But it was all for him, and relished in it as you whispered you loved him for the first time.

And what a beautiful thing, because no one had ever told him they loved him before. Not like that, not in the way one gives you a part of themselves, not as you handed your heart to him and he gave his right back.

Soon it was all pretty sighs and gasped moans against his mouth. It was hot flesh revealed as you helped rid himself of his clothes before he worked your shorts and underwear down your thighs, a hand curling around your kneecap as his hips settled against yours. It was a whimper and a plea of, “Need you, Eddie,” and a muffled cry as he pressed your head into his shoulder to stay quiet and slid inside inch by blessed inch for the first time.

And as he loved you in the night, closer than the two of you had ever been before, he promised himself it was forever.

Felt the first flicker of it deep within his chest as you shattered around him, babbling his name and telling him you loved him over and over and over again like a mantra.

Resigned himself to the fact you had all of him after he rolled off of you and opened his arms so you could crawl into them and fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Whispered it to you against the crown of your head, even though you slept soundly against him, and reminded you in the morning when you leaned up and kissed him and told him how happy you were to be with him, and watched your face as it lit up, because you felt the same.

*

You still wear the ring he gave you, back at the boathouse, back when you slept under a tarp and prayed someone would take away the burden of Chrissy’s death and the public scrutiny—the allegations that the man you loved was, in fact, a murderer, the threat of Vecna looming closer and closer every day.

He sees it one night as he stands in the trees outside your bedroom, the glint of silver on your ring finger.

He’d given it to you the night before Patrick’s death, said he wanted to marry you after all was said in done, said you were two kids who were probably too young to be thinking about marriage, but he knew it didn’t matter if it was now or years from now because the person he wanted at the end of it all would always be you.

You cried and nodded your head, and he laughed through his own tears and pushed the ring up onto your finger, one of his that had been small enough to fit. He pulled your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss there.

Forever then, you were going to be together forever.

In the end though, you only get a few days.

He breaks your heart and it breaks his because he promises you till he’s old and gray but only days later he watches you from below as you scream his name and sob for him to come back.

It breaks his heart as he cuts that rope dangling through your two worlds and your cries bleed into Dustin’s as he rushes from the trailer and gets on that damn bike.

It breaks his heart because you and Dustin somehow find him anyway at the end of it all, sobbing into his broken body as he pushes your hair from your face and tries to make you smile, even though he knows you’re splitting down the center.

It breaks his heart to watch your hands as they hover over the parts of him that are no longer whole and only bleed, because you want to keep him alive, want to keep your love alive. But there’s so much blood, there’s too much, and even he understands that he’s running out of time.

You’re telling him you love him over and over and over again and he asks you to tell him about your future. And you whisper against his bloody lips through salty tears that, “We’ll…we’ll have a little house with a l-little porch swing so we can sit and you can read to me every night. We’ll adopt a dog—our little O-Ozzy. And you’ll call me w-wife and I’ll call you husband, and maybe someday we’ll do something crazy like have a kid. One with…your hair and your eyes and your heart, because the world needs more of you. And when they’re all grown up, and they m-move out and have families of their own, you’ll still sit with me every night on that swing. You’ll tell me you l-love me and I’ll tell you I love you because…because there’s no reality I want without a forever with you in it.”

He smiles even though you whimper against him because he feels so happy and of all the things he’s done in life, all the adventures he’s gone on, all the choices that have led him here, you’re his favorite.

It makes it less scary, as his vision grows darker and darker and his life bleeds into the ground beneath him, knowing you’re the light to guide his path.

It does little to change the fact he’ll miss you forever when it finally grows dark.

You twist the ring now as you sit in your bedroom window, your knees pulled up to your chest. He sees the way your face crumples as you hold your hand close to your frame, just over your heart, and submit to your tears.

He hates himself, because in this new body he is cursed with a forever, and he’s cursed with a reality with no you in it.

And in the night, with nothing but your image just feet away from him and the moon to keep you both company, he cries, too.

*

Your first close call comes when the summer bleeds into fall.

Vecna finds a new vessel, his powers grow once more, and the Upside Down bleeds into Hawkins.

But there are those brave enough to fight back, and it comes as no surprise that you’re one of those people.

He watches from a distance, a shadow in the night, a guardian to keep you safe, because it’s the only way he can have you, even if it’s not in the way he wants.

You and the group you grew close with that last week of his life are in the streets of a now broken Hawkins, fighting off a monster that walks on all fours and has a mouth like a venus flytrap—a gaping maw of rows full of gore-slick teeth.

He knows its name. Demogorgon. He feeds off them, walks the same lands they do.

He is not part of the hive.

He’s special, that voice whispers to him sometimes, he’s a most remarkable creation. He’s a monster.

He feels the pull of that other world.

The voice calling his name as the demogorgon grows a little too close to you growls and leaps.

He screams in his mind and the monster’s head turns, turns toward him and in its momentary distraction you slide a knife into its head just before Steve whirls around with a nail studded bat and watches it bleed and die against the ground.

“What’s wrong?” He hears Steve ask you, catching your eyes staring directly in Eddie’s direction. “Are you hurt?”

Steve’s eyes scour your body for any injury, his hands coming to rest on your arms, but you’re fine.

Eddie made sure of it.

Robin turns as well to see what’s going on, Nancy using her shoulder for support, hand cupping a wound on her side.

But he’s hidden in the shroud of night.

That voice whispers his name again, and he knows he has to go back to the place where the sky is always red, but he lingers just a moment longer to hear you start to walk closer, your head tilting to the side, eyes straining to see.

“I just thought…” Your voice trails off in the wind. It’s been so long since he’s heard it, he’s almost forgotten what it sounds like. “Nevermind.”

*

You're hurt, and there are no beds in the hospital.

You’re hurt, attacked by a demogorgon, so it’s not like they can bring you there anyway. Too many questions, too many risks involved.

You’re hurt, and he watches from a distance as Steve and Nancy bind the wounds on your side with whatever scraps of fabric they have in their backpacks, snow beneath you blooming red like flower petals around you.

You’re hurt and he watches as Steve lifts your weak body from the ground, your eyes closed and limbs slack. He tries to not think about the way you already look gone from this side of earth, tries to picture your smiling face in his mind, because you’ll be okay.

You have to be.

You’re hurt and he follows from a distance as they take you back to Steve’s house, because his parents are gone and you’ll be able to rest up there. Eddie watches through the trees as Steve lays you down in his bed and murmurs with Robin and Nancy, his face furrowing in worry at the sight of you unconscious in his bed.

Eddie ignores the call of the Upside Down beckoning him back home.

Because all his mind can focus on is that you’re hurt, you’re hurt, you’re hurt.

He ignores the voice of Vecna and shoves him into the catacombs of his mind as he climbs into the tree outside Steve’s window and watches for days as you slip in and out of consciousness, towels on your forehead, as you fight off fevers. Steve, Robin and Nancy watch you in shifts, sitting at your side in vigil.

Sometimes the kids do, too, with their hand around your own and mouths moving as they talk to you, as they remind you of all the reasons why it’s too soon for you to go.

One afternoon, he hears Steve and Robin sitting outside on the lounge chairs set up around the patio, Steve’s head in his hands and Robin’s hand on his shoulder as she says, “There was nothing you could do. She knew what she was getting into.”

“But if she dies—if she dies…that’s two in less than a year. I can’t—I can’t lose them both.” If Eddie had a heart, he knows it would ache, because though their tentative friendship had been short, it had been meaningful.

He wishes he had more time to see what could have been.

“Eddie knew what he was doing, just like she did, too,” Robin reminds him. Her voice is low and she sounds broken. They both do. “You can’t carry around this guilt. It’s eating you alive. When did the doctor say they could get here?”

Steve’s breath is shaky as he says, “Tomorrow. They’re coming tomorrow. I just hope she makes it.”

It’s stupid.

Eddie knows it’s stupid, but under the cover of night, he slips out from the tree he’s hiding in and climbs up to Steve’s window. He climbs to where Steve has left it unlocked, always does to make it easy to slip out when his parents are home and the Party comes calling, and pushes in through the parted curtains.

His senses overwhelm him.

The smell of your sickness, the shallowness of your breath in and out of your weak lungs, the slow beat of your heart holding on beneath your ribcage.

There had been a time he’d fallen asleep to it, but now it only fills the cavity where his own organ used to beat with dread.

He reaches out to touch you, but you don’t feel like he remembers.

Your skin is slick and clammy, sweat clinging to the surface, body warm from your fever.

Your lips tremble in your fitful sleep, like you’re speaking, only no words come.

His fingers trail along your forehead, across the hair along your scalp, the curve of your ear.

His ears focus on your breath, the sound of your heart, and he tries to clear his mind of everything else.

Slips into that space he’s gone to only a few times before since becoming this thing he is now.

It’s dark there.

An endless sea of inky night that stretches endlessly on and he finds you there.

Feels the ground ripple near his feet as he walks over to where you sit on Steve’s bed.

In here, your body isn’t broken.

In here, there’s no sickness, no fever, no wounds staining through white bandages with your beautiful life.

Your head tilts up and his breath catches because you’re beautiful and it’s the closest he’s been to you in months.

And your face crumples as you look at him and jump off the bed, rushing over, hands pausing before touching him like you’re afraid you might hurt him—like you’re not sure he’s really there at all.

“Are you real right now? Am…”

“You’re not dead, sweetheart. I won’t let you go yet,” he tells you, bringing his arms around you to hold you close. His legs nearly buckle under the weight of the moment. You fold back into him as you always have, as if you’ve missed no time at all. He nearly chokes on a sob, feels you heave and crumble against him, noisy cries ripping from your throat. “I know, baby. I know.”

“You’re here.”

“I am,” he promises, cupping the back of your head.

“Am I dreaming?”

His chest cleaves in two as you look up at him, your eyes bloodshot, tears falling like glittering stars down your cheeks. His hands slide up to rest on either side of your face, thumbs brushing against your skin, mouth dropping kiss after kiss to your forehead.

“Something like it.”

“So you’re…”

“Yeah, still gone,” he tries to smile, but it makes your eyes water more, your hands shaking against his forearms as you reach up to touch him. “Unfortunately.”

“I love you,” you whisper the words and they sail in the wind in the world that lives in the in between.

“I love you, too,” he tells you. It hasn’t changed, and never will change. Time, space, and death will never erase that. “But I don’t have a lot of time. I need you to fight, okay? I need you to rest and heal. Think you can do that for me?”

“It hurts,” you say, and he knows you mean your mortal, wounded body.

“I know, I know it hurts. But there’s a doctor that’s going to come tomorrow and they’ll give you the medicine you need to kick that infection and patch you right up. I just need you to hold on till then. Think you can do that for me?”

His fingers trail down the side of your face, and somewhere in the vestiges of his mind he can feel your waking body relax, can feel your breathing deepen, your heartbeat strengthen.

“I want to go with you,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “No. It’s not your time yet.”

Your head drops, and his stomach does along with it. “Will you come back?” Your words are a watery plea.

It's a sad sound that has his anguish exposed, raw anew.

“I’ll try, okay?” It’s the most he can offer you, and you nod slowly, sniffling on an inhale. “You’re going to live a long, long life, okay? I want you to do that for me.”

“I will, Eddie, I will,” you promise. You slide back into his arms, pressing your head against his chest, keeping him close.

“I can feel this place slipping from my mind,” he says, palm sliding up and down your back. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

You dissolve like that, held safe and sound within his arms, there one moment and gone the next.

In waking, in the real world, when his eyes open and he’s back in Steve’s bedroom, he sees you there.

It’s then, blessedly and finally then, that you rest.

*

Before long, it’s Spring again.

The weather warms, but Eddie’s body never does. Dead things don’t have hearts that beat, they don’t have blood to circulate through their bodies. His chest rises and falls, sure, but that almost seems like an involuntary reflex of a life that feels more and more like a memory with every passing day.

You’re on Steve’s patio with the Harrington boy himself and Robin. You look more rested than he’s seen in a long while. He thinks to the night before, visiting you in your dreams, laughter in the air as he brought a vision back to your mind, one of the two of you sitting in a field back before the world grew dark, him with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair, reading to him in an open field.

He hates leaving you at the end of it, hates it every time he has to go, and finds it grows harder and harder to do so every time.

But it’s not reality; he knows that.

He supposes eventually things will crash and burn, just as they always do; he just doesn’t expect it to happen so quickly.

One moment you’re sitting, laughing at something Robin has said, and the next he’s wincing as a twig snaps under his foot. The swear he lets out drives him to move, cursing his body for giving him supernatural hearing and smell, but not the speed he needs right now to outrun you.

Your feet pound in his ears, a thump that beats in tandem with your heart as you tear through Steve’s backyard and rush after him into the open street.

His insides tear in two the first time you call his name into the open air. It’s a cry, your voice shaking, tremulous like you can’t believe your sight.

He pushes faster, feet pumping beneath him, the echo of them a drumbeat. He needs to go. He needs to get far away. Run like hell, because you can’t see him.

Steve’s voice joins into the mix. A call of your name that sounds frantic in his ears. Steve cares for you. Eddie’s not blind to it; he’s grateful for it. Just like he’s grateful for it now, because your footsteps start to slow as Steve’s cries of your name grow louder.

“It’s Eddie,” you shout back, and Eddie rushes around a car and crouches down in your momentary distraction.

Catches sight of himself in a side door mirror, his reflection illuminated by the moon.

His eyes are dark and rimmed with shadow. Lines like little swirls beneath his bottom lashes, a telltale sign he needs to feed. And if he lifts his lip, like he does now, he sees those elongated canines.

He’s no longer human.

Hasn’t been for a while now.

You start to cry in your frustration. He hears your breath coming in rasping heaves, the way your voice breaks as Steve’s body collides with yours, how it wobbles as you tell him over and over again, “It’s Eddie, Steve.”

His eyes drift up to his face once more. The image looking back at him so unlike the boy you once knew.

Even if he would…even if he could, your Eddie is gone.

He’s gone, and he can never be again.

He can’t be what you need. He knows that for certain now.

Eddie crawls around the side of the car and catches the sight of Steve moving to curl his arms around your shoulders, forms illuminated in the street lamp, the way your face crumples against his chest as your cries grow hoarse. The pitiful way you whisper, “I saw him, Steve.”

But Steve’s honest.

He’s always been honest, and it shatters both you and Eddie when he says, “Eddie is gone. I’m so sorry, but he’s gone and I wish I could bring him back but I ca—”

His words break off at the end because you shove at him. Hands coming up to push Steve backward. He doesn’t flinch. Not as you shove him again and again and again as tears leak down your face.

Eddie wishes he could collect them all. Could ease the ache growing in your chest.

“Why would you say that?” Your voice is high and tight.

You shove at him again, body growing lax with your efforts. Feet wobbling, knees growing uneasy.

Steve remains firm, a strong tower, a shoulder to lean on in your time of need.

“I’m sorry, swee—”

“Don’t call me that. He called me that.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and holds his hands up in surrender.

“I hate you.” You shout it at him, and this time Steve does flinch.

You don’t mean it. Eddie knows you don’t. In a heart full of love such as yours, there’s never been room for it.

It breaks him even more.

Something on your face changes then. A flash of recognition flickers across your features. A slow, painful understanding sliding into place behind your eyes. Eddie wants to rush out, to hold you, to protect you from the utter despair that crashes over your form so suddenly. The way you practically fall into Steve and he’s there to catch you as you come crashing to the ground, howling with the anguish of what you start to sob into the man’s chest.

Of the reality you now understand. Maybe for the first time in the twelve months he’s been dead.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know.”

“He’s gone.”

Steve cups the back of your head.

Eddie’s hand curls into a fist.

“He’s gone.”

Steve pulls you into his lap, rocks you as your cries grow louder.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“He’s gone. He’s never coming back, Steve.”

Eddie watches your heart break all over again.

And he makes his decision.

He knows what he has to do.

*

You’re there, sitting in the center of your bed as always, when Eddie comes to you in the world that lives in the in between again.

After your close encounter with death, he’s come to visit you multiple times. Always in your dreams, in that land that’s always so dark, and yet it’s peaceful there. He can make it anything he wants to be, a horrifying ‘positive’ to being linked to Vecna.

Some nights you simply talk, your warm hand in his cold one, laying on your bed.

Others, you play cards, put together a puzzle, sing along to music because he misses it so much—if only to pretend like anything about this is normal.

Eddie doesn’t have a heart, not anymore, but if he did…he knows it would be racing because of what he knows he has to do.

This night is different; this night changes everything.

Your head lifts and your smile blooms as he fills your vision, his skin pale and unmarked from the bites that killed him, and it should have been your first realization that he’s not what he once was from when he first began visiting you in your sleep.

The man who died, the man who had closed his eyes and who slipped away your arms is not the same one standing before you now.

It’s why what once was can never be again.

It pains him to admit it.

In another world, another life, he would be selfish.

But he can’t.

He can’t fathom the idea of you aging when he stays forever twenty-one, can’t imagine losing you to time at the end of your life. He can’t think about it because doing so would break him.

And he can’t look at the pain in your eyes any longer. The way you always look to the woods, always searching for him, seeking out the boy who no longer is.

You need to move on, to flourish, to grow beyond this.

Your body crashes into his, your voice muffled by the front of his shirt. He’s always wearing the same thing, somehow never dirty, rid of his blood. “I missed you,” you breathe into him, into the chilliness of his body.

You never comment on it. He sometimes thinks you pretend it’s not real to preserve yourself from the pain of the ‘what if.’

He pulls his head back just enough to look down at you, and your mouth dips south. “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay…” You trail off as he settles down on your bed, his legs straight as you fold yours beneath your body where you sit beside him.

His fingers reach into the spaces between yours and lace within them. His next words, he thinks if he wasn’t already dead, might kill him. “I can’t feel you, baby.”

You brush your thumb along the back of his hand, mouth a wobbly pout as you say, “What do you mean? I can feel you right now. You’re…you’re right here.” You hold your interlocked fingers together in front of his face, trying to smile.

He leans forward and brushes his mouth near the corner of your lips. “I can feel you…but it’s like I’m hollow. Like I'm empty. You notice how I’m always cold now?”

You sniffle noisily, nodding. “It’s cold here, though.”

He brings your head closer to his chest. He presses your ear where proof of his life used to lay inside. Now it’s only silent.

Empty.

So fucking empty.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to say? Don’t make me say it, sweetheart, please.” He chokes on a cry as your hand slides up beside where your cheek rests, your head pulling back enough to look up at him. “Do you get it now? Do you get why it can only be like this here…in your dreams, in our dreams?”

“Eddie…”

“So here’s what you’re going to do, okay? You’re going to live. You’re going to do it to the fullest. Do all the stupid shit we didn’t get to do together. Travel the world. Try all the food. You’re going to move on, okay? I need to know you’re gonna be fine—”

“Eddie, no” you say, swallowing the sob threatening to spill from your mouth. “Just stay here.”

“This—this isn’t real.” The chair imagined the night before disappears from sight. Dissolves into nothing. The books sitting on the floor near your bed, the ones you’ve been reading to him, follow suit. One by one, the image he conjured up slips away. Little particles of light sifting and shifting into nothingness. “I can’t be what I was to you before. That future we dreamed up? I can’t do that. I can’t give you that. Not in this body, not like this. And I can’t…I can’t watch you grow up, can’t watch you and all our friends...please, shit, please d—”

Your hand comes up to rest on his cheek, and he finds you crying silently before him.

“I want you to live for me,” he says, brushing his lips against yours. One of the last kisses you’ll share. “I need you to promise me that. I need you to do all the things I can’t. Take pictures, go on adventures, read all the books, find new hobbies. I need you to experience the world, fall in love with it, fall in love again.”

You’re kissing him and he’s holding you close. His hands fist in your shirt and cling to you, like you’ll drift into the wind, like if he lets go you’ll flutter away. And in a way, you will.

It’s goodbye.

It’s the end of who you both were, who you wanted to be, and no longer can.

You whisper over and over again into his lips that you love him, that you’ll never forget him, that you’ll live for him.

He smiles into your skin and nods his head, his hand coming to rest against your chest.

You’re alive and you're real, you’re his and you’re also not.

Part of you always will be.

“I’ll miss you. I’ll always miss you,” Eddie tells you, his face moving to press into the side of your neck. He feels the shudder of your breath as you take in his words, as you understand the seriousness of them. His finger taps your chest and he laughs, but it’s a broken sound. “I’ll be right here.”

You don’t talk for a while. You rest in the unspoken understanding that this is the last time you'll be together.

It’s the last time you’ll feel his arms around you, the last time he’ll hold you like he planned on doing for the rest of his life.

He presses a kiss to your brow and feels you hug him tighter still as you lay beside him on your bed, legs tangling with his own, your fingers in his hair.

You kiss endlessly. Constant presses of skin against skin.

A thousand, for all the days you’ll be without. You kiss until you’re breathless and in the waking world the sun starts to creep up the waiting sky.

“Live, sweetheart, live,” he says against your skin, feeling you warm, feeling your body start to fade in the circle of his embrace.

“I love you,” you whisper, eyes lingering on his face as particles of light burst and dance around you. Just a few moments now. “I’ll always love you. And I’ll do what you asked. I’ll live, Eddie. I’ll do it for you.”

“I love you, too.”

He smiles, and light bursts behind his eyes.

When he wakes, the sky is red, but all he sees is your face.

He finds peace in that.

*

Vecna’s gone now. Has been for a while.

The world heals and rests, and the Upside Down chooses Eddie. The world that once was, full of dark skies and death, is now teeming with life.

He’s tied to it now, just as he was before, but more so now.

There’s a small gap in worlds, left open, that he ventures out of every so often to remind him of the place that seems almost foreign now.

He’s on a path he’s traveled many times now.

Not in some years, but he’s familiar all the same. The winding roads that lead to your family home bring him to your front lawn. There are two cars out front, one a familiar BMW, and beside it sits a newer, bigger SUV.

The place looks different than when you were two kids in love. There are more flowers now, brighter blooms, and the smell of something sweet spills from the curtains blowing in the wind.

He hears the heartbeats within the home before the voices. Four all together. Two slower—he knows those are adults. There’s the rapid flutter of what he assumes to be a child, and the last is muffled and swift, unfamiliar to him even after all these years in his new body.

His head tilts up and he sees Steve Harrington’s familiar head of hair moving about a little boy’s room illuminated by a lamp. There are endless blocks strewn in a corner, little postcards from places all over the world plastered on the sky blue walls.

He’s nearly thirty two if Eddie remembers correctly, and wears a pair of thin wired glasses. He’s still disgustingly pretty in that way only Steve Harrington could be.

Steve’s voice is soft as he runs his fingers through the little one's hair. Brushes a kiss on his forehead from where he kneels beside a kiddy bed. “I told you, the Tooth Fairy is nice. Plus you’re four, little man, you don’t have to worry about it for a long time. And if you really don’t want the Tooth Fairy to come, I’ll tell them our house is off limits.”

“Are you sure?”

Steve nods, his chuckle carrying through the gently parted window. “Plus, Uncle Dustin and Aunt Suzie don’t know what they’re talking about anyway.”

“They don’t?” Those little eyes perk up, soft and round like his father’s.

“No, Jamie. Also, didn’t I tell you I’ll always keep you safe?” The little boy nods, and Steve’s finger slides down the gentle slope of his nose until it wrinkles and a boyish giggle reaches Eddie’s ears. “So you never have to worry, because I’ll always protect you. Always.”

“Daddy, can you sing me the song?” It’s then, as Steve nods and shifts to sit in the bed beside his son, Eddie sees the boy fully.

He’s got Steve’s eyes and his dark hair, but Eddie immediately knows the rest is all you.

He doesn’t even need to see you appear in the doorway to notice the clear resemblance. But his breath catches all the same. You’re just as he remembers you. Smiling and beautiful as ever, one hand on the doorway, the other on your hip.

He catches the rings on your left hand, and then higher up, around your neck against your heart where he remains forever now, the ring he gave you all those years ago.

You're thirty-one now, just like Steve, though you could never tell ten years has gone by from looking at you.

You’re that girl from the diner, the same girl he fell in love with so many years ago it feels like another lifetime.

“Jamie Edward, it’s past your bedtime, sweet boy,” you admonish, and Eddie’s throat swells with emotion, chest aching with fondness.

He glows inwardly, because what a gift you’ve unknowingly given him.

Jamie Edward.

“Uncle Dusty scared me,” the little boy whines as you join them and sit on the end of the bed.

Eddie watches your fingers reach across and twine with Steve’s, and he feels that ache in his chest for you start to subside. The part of him that always feared you’d live in the past forever, stuck in the memory of the boy you’d loved and lost.

Steve whispers, “Tooth Fairy.”

You only nod.

Jamie climbs further into his father’s arms, resting his head over his chest, looping an arm around his waist.

Steve rocks the boy slightly and sings. The sound that comes out is beautiful. Uniquely Steve. Quiet, a little raspy in tone, but Eddie feels a weightlessness creep into his soul as the words fall from his mouth and out that open window.

“Close your eyes, have no fear. The monster’s gone, he’s on the run, and your daddy’s here…”

Jamie’s head nuzzles against his father’s chest, and your ringed hand comes up to brush along your little one’s hair as your husband sings into open air.

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful…beautiful boy…”

Eddie turns on the heel and starts in the other direction, Steve’s voice following him along the way like a gentle caress.

A healing balm.

He walks down the path from whence he came, a new lightness to his steps.

There’s no bitterness, no sadness.

No, there’s only joy, because you’re happy and you’re alive and so full of it and that’s all he’s ever hoped for.

He kicks a rock down the road and hums to himself, glancing over his shoulder one last time to watch Steve kiss you on the forehead, his palm coming to rest lovingly against your slightly rounded midsection.

Steve moves away from you a second later to close the blinds and pauses. For a moment Eddie wonders if he can see him, hidden in the veil of his shadows. Steve squints and lingers, then shakes his head softly as though he thinks he’s seeing things, and shuts the light before he follows you out of Jamie’s bedroom.

Eddie smiles to himself.

He’s finally at rest.

[koiishyy]

The death of peace of mind (time is a thief)

ღ summary : Your keen sense for imminent threats and disaster's goes haywire during an otherwise once in a lifetime festival, and if you were given one more minute, then everything might have been different. pairing : porco galliard x braun! reader tags/content warnings : graphic depictions of violence, swearing, depictions of a panic attack and survivors guilt. pre-established relationship, hurt/comfort. a/n: this is the first reader fic i've uploaded to tumblr since i was fourteen, be gentle with my soul pls. enjoy!

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There’s a taste lingering on the tip of your tongue.

It’s sickeningly sweet and accompanied by an icy chill that sends goosebumps pricking across your biceps. Dribbling down the side of your hand, it trickles across your skin towards your sleeve. At this rate, it’ll stain the cream-colored uniform. With another lick, you quell the racing liquid.

Strawberries.

It tastes like well-ripened strawberries.

Ice cream isn’t a luxury you’re often afforded within the Liberio internment camp. It’s one of many foods that is solely attainable past the gates. A delicacy that the Marleyans decided to withhold from the spawns of devils. You can stain your hands with the blood of their enemies and do their dirty work, but they can’t even allow the simple, regular pleasure of ice cream.

Today is a different tale, however. Today is a celebration. The war against the Allied Forces took longer than predicted, but even with the countless setbacks, Marley’s victory reigns true.

All thanks to the race they despise so much, of course.

Now, there’s vendors packed, lining the streets of Liberio. Exotic foods and little knick-knacks sit front and present at every booth. It’s supposed to put the foreign guests at ease and make them feel happy that they signed a peace treaty with the country that proceeded to massacre them. There’s supposed to be a play about what you have no idea—at some point in the debrief you had tuned out Zeke’s voice.

The younger candidate’s run amok before you, weaving through the crowd with excitement gleaming in their eyes. Every sweet treat entices them, and every savory dish catches their wonder-filled eyes. Of course, your sister is among them; in fact, Gabi is the most vocal of them. Her brown eyes ogle fascinated over a monstrosity of a chocolate drizzled crepe, the desire to stuff her belly full of the unique pastries setting her up for stomach-aching punishment later.

She’s babbling to Reiner, whom, for once, you’re grateful for, over the treat. He’s been graciously paying for the food, even at your protests.

Over the years of your youth, you’ve butted heads more times than you’d like to admit with your cousin. His arrogance over being a half-blooded Marleyan being the biggest argument starter. Now, after he returned from Paradis, he’s different. Different in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. Whatever he went through with the island devils changed him. You don’t argue anymore, not like you used to.

Pieck has also been keeping up well with the candidates, trailing after them and engaging in conversation. You watch as money exchanges hands and Gabi receives her crepe. Pieck laughs as she practically inhales it after the first bite. You even manage to capture the faint crack of a smile from Reiner.

Udo and Zofia stand off to the side. Udo does most of the talking you notice. The kid has the innate ability to chatter on about any topic. Zofia listens, never once interrupting him or telling him to quiet down.

A little ways away, you spot the Grice brothers, who have ventured just a tad bit further than the group. Colt ruffles Falco’s hair, which earns him annoyed swats from Falco. You’re surprised that Falco isn’t glued to Gabi’s side.

Everyone’s having a fantastic time. Plenty of laughter is being had, and delicious food is being consumed and enjoyed. It’s good company. It’s a beautiful day. Most of the veteran warriors have even let their guards down.

Everyone is happy. So why can’t you be?

“Your ice cream’s melting.”

The words jolt you violently from your endless thoughts. Physically, your head recoils, jerking upwards in the direction of the familiar voice. In the midst of staring off into space, Porco has retreated to your side. He looks at you with a hint of concern and a wealth of curiosity written across his features.

Your eyes trail towards the half-eaten ice cream cone tucked in your grasp. It threatens to become a watery soup. The pink-tinted liquid trails in multiple lines down your hands, sticky and warm now.

“Shit,” You hiss softly, transferring the cone between your hands. You shake the hand covered in liquid, flinging droplets of ice cream against the ground. You’re not even sure why you’re still holding onto it—your appetite has long gone. Porco sighs, pulling a brown napkin from his jacket pocket. He extends it in your direction and you gladly take it. “Thanks.”

“What’s on your mind?” He asks.

“What?” You blink, tossing the ice cream into a nearby garbage bin. Shaking your head, you wipe your hands clean. “Nothing.”

Porco gives you a knowing look—a look you despise. A frown tugs at your lips. He never misses the slightest change in your behavior. You hate it.

“You always finish your food.” Porco points out. “Lying to me is stupid; why don’t you just tell me?”

He’s right; you hate that he’s right. Lying to him is stupid, considering you’re more honest with Porco than anyone else. You’re being difficult for no reason.

Well, you do have a reason, just not a particularly good one.

“I just have a bad feeling.”

Porco’s eyebrows furrow. “About this and the play?” He inquires, and you nod in response. “The allied forces have already signed the treaty. The war is over. No one would be dumb enough to plan an attack in Liberio anyhow.”

“Treaties are broken all the time.” You remind him.

Enchanting hazel eyes trail over your face, and your heart skips a beat. “It’s your gut, isn’t it?” Porco asks.

Instinctively, your hand grazes against your abdomen, a nauseating feeling building in your stomach. “My gut’s never wrong.” You say. “You should know, it’s saved your ass more times than I can count.”

“Not every time.” Porco argues. “Also, I save my own ass and everyone else's—and yours too.”

You roll your eyes. “Name one time I’ve been wrong.”

Porco’s lips part, the resemblance of a word forming on them, only for no sound to come out. They bob open and closed, and you can almost visibly see the gears turning in his brain. He looks stumped. He struggles for a moment, too stubborn to accept the truth, before finally relenting to the glaring reality.

Your gut has never been wrong.

This keen sense for imminent disaster was one of the reasons you earned your warrior candidacy. Gabi calls it your sixth sense. You could sense a threat from a mile away. No one could ever pull a stealth attack on you because your gut was never - and has never been wrong.

Porco’s eyes comb the crowd before wrapping one of his large hands around your wrist. He gently tugs you to an abrupt stop, redirecting your course to a secluded portion of the street—in an alleyway between two nearby buildings. The group continues onward, temporarily oblivious to the loss of two of its members.

Porco turns to you, serious as ever. His intense gaze causes butterflies to awaken and flutter about in your stomach. “Say your gut’s right; do you think we’d need to be worried about it?” He asks, his hand falling from your wrist to your hand and curling his fingers around your own. “It’d have to be one hell of a sneak attack.”

An exhausted, tense sigh falls from your lips. “Of course it would, but you saw how badly Reiner’s armored titan was destroyed by the artillery.”

“That’s because Reiner’s useless.” He grumbles under his breath.

You scowl, continuing with your train of thought. “And Pieck’s equipment takes precious time to transport and set up—time we won’t have.”

Apprehension lingers in him, but you can tell he believes you—or at the very least in you. Your eyes flicker across his face, knowing that he trusts you and that this pointless questioning is only for his peace of mind. He knows you would never be this worked up over something if you didn’t believe it. He knows you. He knows you.

So, he relents.

“I’ll let Pieck know.” Porco says, his hand trailing up to your cheek. He cups the side of your face, sighing. You lean into his touch—his soft, gentle touch. It’s a side of Porco that only you see regularly. “No one will trust just a gut feeling—especially not from us. So stay alert, okay? Stay near me until this is over.”

Relief floods through you instantaneously, and you nod. “I’ve got your back.”

“And I’ve got yours.” Porco smirks. He gazes at you for a moment, his cheeks growing a pinkish hue to them. His usual cool confidence falters. Shyly, he murmurs, “You look pretty today; did I tell you that?”

“No, you didn’t.” You grin. “But I’m only pretty today, though?” You tease.

“What? Well, no, of course not.” Porco flusteredly stammers out. A giggle breaks through your lips. “You look pretty every day; just today you—ah, goddammit, nevermind—forget it.”

It’s rare that you get moments like these. Moments where you are not warriors or dirt-blooded Eldians. Moments where your lives are simple and you get to act like every normal couple.

Embarrassed by your teasing, Porco grumpily attempts to depart. Softly laughing, you tug him back to you. “C’mon, I’m kidding, Pock.” You say, pulling him in by his jacket. “Stay with me. Just for another minute, please?”

He can never resist those puppy-dog eyes of yours. Porco sighs and obliges. “One more minute.”

The two of you lock eyes, and the world dissolves around you. Porco leans down, pressing his lips to yours. One kiss, two kisses, three. His lips envelope yours, gentle but a little sloppily. His hand slides up the small of your back, keeping your body pressed into his.

It’s bliss. Loving Porco is a private affair; these moments that bear the threat of the public eye are few and far between. You cherish them, silently wishing to scream your love from the rooftops. A wish that will never come to fruition—not with your positions.

Coming up for air, you pull back. Still not wanting to break the bubble just yet, Porco leans to press his forehead against yours. The tip of your nose kisses his, and a small smile tugs at your lips. Your eyes lull shut once more, savoring every moment of this temporary peace.

Until you hear the distinct sound of someone calling for you, Gabi’s voice rings across the streets. Your eyes spring open, and you catch a glimpse of her on the main road, Reiner in tow. You still, watching as they disappear down the street.

“Minute over.” You murmur.

Porco hums in response. “Minute over.” He echoes, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s go.”

---

One more minute.

Clawing at your throat, bile threatens to spill over from you. There’s an aching in your chest, a hammering against your ribcage. Your heart threatens to crack the very ribs that protect it. Your footsteps feel heavy, weighted by cement. There’s a dull pain thudding behind your dry, bloodshot eyes, the capillaries in them threatening to burst at the seams.

You wish you would have stayed in that alleyway for just one more minute.

Corpses would still litter the streets of the place you call home, crimson blood pooling against the concrete and staining the pavement. The hospitals would still be overfilled—maximized to their capacity—and even then, with patients scattered across the hallways. Smoke would still billow, flames roaring in the midst of building debris. The crisp, icy water of the sea would still hold the remnants of Marley’s naval fleet—pieces of their vessels floating aimlessly across the ocean.

A minute wouldn’t have prevented this. A minute wouldn’t have fixed this.

But for a minute, the vile image of Zofia’s pulverized upper body wouldn’t be on repeat in your mind—the mental image of her limp legs connected to nothing haunting you whenever you squeezed your eyes shut. A minute would have spared you the feeling of Udo’s arm slipping from your grasp in the midst of the panic. A minute would have given you the opportunity to hold your sister close, keeping Gabi by your side and never letting her go. Another would have prevented her from boarding that airship and taking Falco with her.

Breathe.

You have to order yourself to take deep breaths, lest you claw at your skin and tear the feeling of guilt out of your muscles. The miserable feeling clutches your chest like a vise, constricting your lungs. Tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. You blink them back—you don’t get to cry, not yet.

Breathe.

Forcing out another sputtering breath is like swallowing a hot coal. The acidic burn in your throat is only reinforced by the action. You keep swallowing, attempting to provide some sort of aid to no avail.

The Paradis devils. Eren Yeager. They’ve destroyed your home and killed innocent civilians who had nothing to do with the Warriors actions. And now they have Falco and your sister—your baby sister.

Through the shroud of grief, there is only panic.

Is she a prisoner of war? Is she dead? Are they going to torture her for information? Will they use the same methods that Marley does? You don’t even want to think about it.

Your gut tells you she’s alive.

And it’s so hard to breathe.

Breathe.

You failed them.

It’s clear as day, plain and simple. You should have spoken up and told someone with a higher ranking about your gut feeling. Instead, you doubted your judgment. General Magath might have listened, though the rest really would have never believed something as silly as a gut feeling.

But you did fail them: Zofia, Udo, Gabi, Falco, Pieck, Reiner, Colt...

Porco.

Oh god, Porco.

You finally reach his bedside, unsteady and five seconds away from completely unraveling. The feeling of breaking completely only intensifies as your eyes roam Porco’s unconscious body. The Warriors took a brutal assault from Eren Yeager, one that not even your gut could have predicted.

Temporarily, relief floods you. Porco is alive; his body is regenerating. It’s clear the doctors have done all they can for him, the only course of action to allow the titan’s power to complete the rest.

It’s the worst shape you’ve ever seen him in after a battle.

You practically collapse into a nearby chair, unable to stand on the two feet that have been carrying you throughout Liberio tonight. All you can do for a moment is stare at him, watching as his chest slowly rises and deflates. He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive...

And Udo and Zofia are not.

Shakily, your hand reaches out for Porco’s, his fingers clammy and cold to the touch as you clasp your hand around his. Thousands of emotions rush through your veins, and your mind fights tooth and nail to make sense of all of them. You cling to him, the relief of him being alive and the guilt of being glad that he is alive swirling within you all at once. How are you going to be glad he’s alive when your sister is gone and people are dead? How are you going to feel glad he’s alive when you should have been by his side in the first place?

You don’t know.

You break.

The tears come pouring out in rapid succession. “I’m sorry.” You say this through gritted teeth, lowering your head against Porco’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left your side.”

You fall asleep curled over his bedside, his hand in yours, clinging on for dear life.

---

Porco doesn’t wake for a while, even after his body has recuperated.

Over the span of his unconsciousness, you’ve been flip-flopping between the hospital and your home in what little free time you’re offered, checking on your parents and giving your aunt updates on Reiner.

Your parents are wrought with grief, convinced that Gabi has been killed. The crying is incessant from your mother, while your father is stone-cold and quiet. But you know better—Gabi is not dead. You don’t tell them that, though; the fate of her being alive in the hands of the island devils might be worse than her being dead.

When Porco does wake up, you’re there.

You barely register the subtle flex of his fingers against yours; he is far too busy spacing off. Porco stirs to life, a pained grunt erupting from his lips. His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the haze of his newfound surroundings and trying to come to terms with what he remembered before blacking out. By the time you notice, he’s already speaking.

“You're going to squeeze my fingers off.” Porco’s raspy voice grumbles from beneath you. Dazed, his tired eyes peer up at you from beneath heavy lids.

His first words to you almost want to make you laugh—or cry—solely because of the fact that he’s speaking. Porco’s always been terrible with words. When he confessed his love to you, it took you a good ten minutes to actually understand what he was saying. It’s one of the most endearing things about him.

But you can’t muster a laugh, and you’ve almost cried your body's weight in water. There’s nothing left for you to do besides softly gasp, “You’re awake.”

"Yeah, and I hurt like hell.” Porco murmurs, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. You turn and reach for the water at his bedside as he props himself up. He squeezes your hand as he takes it. “What happened?”

Your body stills, reforming itself into something statue-like. One wrong move, and you're certain your limbs will crumble into dust. Regardless of what you believe, you have to tell him everything, much like you had to fill in Pieck when she awoke.

So you do. You tell Porco everything that has happened or did happen as a result of Paradis’s raid on Liberio. You recount the death toll as you know it, including Zofia and Udo. You assure him that his parents are okay. You tell him the effort to rebuild the destruction and scrub the city clean is already under way. You tell him about Pieck and Reiner, you tell him about Zeke.

Much like you did, Porco goes through a range of emotions. The prevalent one is anger; you can see it bubble and dwell beneath his skin. A fierce look glints in his eye, and you let him break into a tangent, surprised that he managed to keep his anger controlled this long. Deep down, you know he blames himself, much like you do.

Once he cools, he looks at you. “How’s Gabi?” He asks.

Your mouth runs dry. You had been purposefully pushing that part of the story until the bitter end. “Gabi’s….Gabi’s gone.” You strain out.

“Gabi’s dead?” Porco’s eyes grow wide. He leans forward, all attention on you.

You shake your head. “Gabi’s not dead.” What little tears you can produce struggle their way out, burning white-hot at the corners of your eyes. “S-she’s gone. They took her. She boarded that damn airship, and Falco went with her.”

It becomes a struggle to breathe again. The all-consuming panic crashes over you like a tidal wave. You wish you could be stronger about it, like you have been, but in the presence of Porco, you shatter all over again.

“Hey," Porco coaxes, tugging at you. “C’mere.”

You crawl into the creaky hospital cot with him, careful about where you put pressure. You don’t care what your position is or who sees it; you need him. Porco seems to have the same sentiment as he guides you. You rest your head against his chest, thankful for the slow, steady beat of his heart that thuds in your ears.

“She’s gone, Pock. They took her and Falco, and they killed Zofia, and it’s all my fault.” You whimper against his chest, once again fighting back the trickling downpour on your cheeks. Absent-mindedly, Porco’s fingers comb through your hair.

“Don’t say that.” Porco firmly commands. “This isn’t your fault. This isn’t anyone’s fault but those fucking island devils'. I swear-“

“Porco.”

He sharply inhales, running his free hand along his mouth. “What?”

“I should have had your back.” You say, curling into his body. “I’m - I'm really glad you’re alive.”

Porco’s fingers grow still in your hair. You hear the quick skip of his heartbeat, and your eyes flicker to his face. A faint smirk pulls at his lips. “They can’t kill me that easily, not when I have you to come back to.” He tells you. Porco pulls you as close as he can, mushing your bodies together. “Don’t worry,” he whispers. “We’ll get Gabi back, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

You believe him, body and soul, because you know him. Nodding at his words, face brushing against the rough fabric of his shirt, you mold yourself against the shape of his frame. You clutch to the only thing that makes sense in the world at the moment—tired and weary.

“I love you.” You murmur.

A quick second passes, and you begin to believe he hadn’t heard you, until he murmurs back a soft "I love you, too.”

And in that minute, you wish you could stay in his arms forever.

[runningfrom2am]

you'll have me

summary: you wake up on the coastal venture after a fight with your boyfriend; you don't know if you're happy when his sister is the one to come to your rescue.

pairing: sarah cameron x fem!reader

wc: 1.8k

tags/warnings: a little bit of swearing, arguing, drugging, pretty darn tame other that that :)

a/n: this is for day three of obx week!! day three: reluctant friends to lovers w/ sarah! i've also never written for her before so it was a bit of a challenge but i really like how this turned out!

i hope you enjoy!! see you tomorrow for more rafe content :)

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when you wake up, shivering and sweating at the same time, your stomach turns as you try to force your eyes open. it's like you've had the best nap of your life- the colours of the world around you hardly contrasting from one another as you look around.

you quickly realize you're laying on a couch, and when you try to sit up you're quickly stopped by the fact that you're handcuffed to the radiator next to you.

your confusion only lasts for a moment, however, until you remember the last thing you knew.

"y/n, i don't want to do this but you're hardly giving me a choice!" your boyfriend shouts at you, and you quickly start stepping back from him as he approaches you quickly.

"rafe, rafe wait- i just don't want to go, i can't. this is too much i'm sorry." you try to apologize as you fumble with the door handle behind you.

"okay, okay." he stops, pressing his hands to his head as he takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. "let's just- i think rose made tea. i'll get you some, we'll talk about it. okay?"

you eyed him skeptically but nodded. maybe he is learning. maybe he is getting better- if he wanted to talk rather than scream. maybe he did truly care.

he left and returned a few moments later with a mug, holding it out to you. you take it and sit down on his bed. "i just- i don't feel comfortable leaving my family. all of this has gone way too far- but you take the cross. go without me. i'll come visit later." you suggest. in all honesty, you didn't have a plan of coming to see him again. you actually came to tannyhill tonight to break it off, he was too unhinged. too dangerous, and you knew it was only a matter of time before you ended up hurt.

"i don't want to leave without you." rafe replies, shaking his head. "but i don't have a choice, so you should just come with me. i have the cross, i found it- i don't know what i'll do with it just yet, but we'll be rich. for real."

you sigh and take a sip of the tea, trying to think over your response as a small smile forms on your boyfriends lips. "rafe, i can't leave. i have a life here, but you can't have that anymore. and i'm sorry, but that's just not..." you trail off, completely losing your train of thought as you furrow your brows. you give your head a quick shake to try and regain the path of what you were saying, but you have no clue. "what was i talking about?" you mumble, looking at him confused.

"coming with me." rafe answers. "you're so tired, here, have some more." he presses the mug up to your lips again and you start to wonder when you started trusting him this much, more so, when the last time you trusted him this much was. you take another small sip as you look at him over the rim, and he tilts his head at you, pushing your hair out of your face.

"right... uhm..." you try and continue as rafe is taking the mug and putting it down on his bedside table, hand quickly returning behind your back. the world is almost immediately spinning around you as your eyes get heavy. "rafe?"

he doesn't respond, and as your eyes flicker shut and you no longer have the strength to resist, you feel him throwing you over his shoulder and walking down the hall.

your boyfriend had drugged you? that's a new low- even for rafe cameron.

"help! help me!" you cry out, knowing now that you're on a boat, headed for guadeloupe. you have no idea what time it is, and your family must be worried sick.

the door creaks open slowly after a few minutes of you yelling. your head snaps up to see who it is, afraid you'll be faced with your boyfriend. for the first time in a long time, you're relieved to see his sister.

"y/n?" she whispers, quickly coming in and closing the door.

"you have to help me- seriously your brother is so fucked in the head you don't even understand." you begin, and sarah just stands there staring at you. you had a perfectly okay relationship with her before everything with the gold- before she started dating john b and before she took the pogues side in everything. you were only a year older than her, and despite this, you used to be good friends. mostly before you started dating her brother, which put a wrench in your friendship that you couldn't fix.

sarah quickly recovers from the shock of finding you, crossing her arms over her chest. "why should i help you?"

"because i don't think you came by free will either- so we can work together to get off this thing and back to the island?" you say, words venomous like it was an obvious solution.

sarah looks at the ground, thinking for a moment. "no, nope. i'm not. you're gonna sick my brother on me."

"who do you think i am?" you scoff, trying to sit up properly.

"i think you're a thief, that you're selfish, and that there isn't anything you wouldn't do for money. just like my brother. you've always been just like him- and i see that now. enjoy your life together." sarah replies bitterly, turning and reaching for the door handle.

"wait- sarah wait, wait! don't leave me here!" you plead desperately, pulling at the cuff around your wrist. sarah freezes, hand on the cold metal handle. she knows she should leave you, she has to, but she has a soft spot for you still she can't quite get rid of. "i went to tannyhill to break up with him. then he drugged me, and put me on this boat." you say, taking advantage of the second chance she's unintentionally giving you to plead your case. "i don't want to be here. please."

sarah sighs and turns back to you. "is that true?"

you nod rapidly. "yes, i swear. i can't take it anymore- he's crazy, unhinged, even! i just, i regret ever getting with him in the first place..." your tone lowers to a whisper toward the end. "he's not the rafe i knew- we knew. that boy is dead."

she nods a little bit. "but so are we." she admits. "you changed too- would you admit that? the y/n i knew would never stand by and watch everything he's done."

"i know." you agree quietly. she's right. you quite literally had stood there and watched when he shot her, and you saw the bullet hit her abdomen and you said nothing- not until rafe admitted it first. you stood by and watched him steal the cross from the church, knowing that it belonged to the heyward's in rights. "but i can't take any of that back now, i wish i could. he changed me into someone i never wanted to be, and i wish we could go back to the way things were before, sare, but i don't know how you expect me to do that."

"you can't." she admits, demeanour struck by the nickname she hasn't heard fall from your lips in so long. "i can't either, and... and i'm sorry."

"i'm sorry too." you reply, a tense silence falling over the two of you as she comes and sits next to you on the couch. sarah wouldn't admit it, but she had been angry since the first time you told her you slept with her brother, over a year ago as you laid in her bed for your weekly sleepover which soon after stopped happening. she was more angry when you told her he'd asked you on a date, a real one, and brought you flowers to your house. it was hard for her to place whether she was more angry with you or with him, so she decided on both. your friendship had never been the same, despite you trying for a long while to hold onto it.

you didn't understand her anger until she started dating john b. you didn't know it was the same feeling she had, you attributed your upset to the betrayal of her ditching you and everything you had for a life with the pogues. but as you sit next to her, skin almost touching in a tense silence, you realized you missed her so much more than you ever let yourself see.

"this isn't a trap, right? i'm going to let you go and you're going to pin me to the ground and rafe is gonna come in and shoot me again?" sarah asks, hopeful joking in her tone.

"no, no. i promise." you assure her. "i just want to go home. like you."

"my dad said he traded the cross for me." sarah mumbles. "that he gave john b the cross in exchange for him basically giving me up and he did it."

you frown, reaching up with your free hand and stroking her hair. out of habit you forgot you had. "sare... i'm so sorry."

"so like, now i don't even know what i'm going back to! if i don't have them i'll have nothing. i doubt i can stay at tannyhill alone, i don't know what i'll even do." sarah rambles on in a panic.

"hey.." you try and soothe her. "you'll have me." you smile softly.

sarah sniffles, eyes watering as she avoids your gaze. "thank you, y/n/n..." she says quietly. the amount she has missed you is hitting her like a freight train- your touch sending shivers over her scalp. "i missed you."

"i missed you too." you practically whisper, hand trailing down over her shoulder and gently brushing her neck. her skin is so soft, despite the life you know she was living this summer- one so previously foreign to the two of you in the comfort of figure eight.

she turns to face you then, anxious tears soothed by your eyes on hers. "i've missed you more than i ever cared to admit to myself." you add, the words hardly audible over her breathing and the creak of the ships hardware in the waves.

sarah's eyes drift down to your lips, under the self-imposed guise that she needed to read them to hear what you said, but instead she finds herself leaning slowly closer. you're not going to object.

your lips just hardly brush- a gentleness behind the kiss that you've never felt before. your eyes slowly open, your noses just touching. "we need to get out of here." sarah whispers, realization settling in and she quickly tries to get the handcuff off your wrist, before getting up to look for a key.

you can't help but smile as you watch her, knowing that now you're back together; as friends or something more this time around. regardless, the idea of that holds a comfort you had both been missing for a long time.

taglist: @bookishbabyyy @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury @fullfledgedemo @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @ragingsammie, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe,

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 01

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: violence, dark themes, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

SUMMARY: she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and a misunderstanding dooms her to a life as an ascendance card under the watch of the executer.

A/N: i’m so excited to go back to my mob writing roots with this one. there’s a bit of a few twists and changes to the traditional mob writing i’ve done before and i am really excited to be sharing chapter one with you. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER 

The ambience was dark, badly lit by the yellow flickering lights in the halls with echoes of the buzzing of the hot old light bulbs. There was no sound but that buzz and the heavy sound of his boots hitting the rotting wood floor boards. The scent in the air was putrid, a mix of what seemed like life meeting its end stage, cheap cider and weed. It was definitely different and he didn’t trust it. 

At the end of the corridor there it was. 107. The 107th flat in purgatory with the door slightly opened. He pushed the door open, the smell getting more intense and his boots sticky with the liquor spilled on the floor. 

     - What did you do? - each word was punctuated with intense disbelief, as if this was all a nightmare. 

     - Bucky, help me!

PRESENT

The wind brushed and pulled her hair into different directions as she stepped off the train’s step. She rushed through the streets of New York, hair pin stuck in the middle of her teeth as she fought the winds to try and set her hair into an appropriate hair do while running down the street at the same time. The chattering people and the sun peaking through the clouds was hopeful as she grabbed her coffee from the same vendor off the side street as her eyes gazed upon the Metropolitan Opera House which had been gracing the New York landscape for longer than she had been on this earth and now she was part of it, she was a small speck in an almost 60 year long history. 

Her smiled widened as her sneakers hit the pavement, eyes gazing over the fountain and the flags of the production coming down from the opera house’s arches. The same production she was part off. Sure, she was a chorus girl but the mere thought of singing on that stage, of watching that public in those red velvet seats under the chandelier just made it all more exciting. She walked inside the theatre through the stage door, meeting the manager at the door. 

     - Hi. - she leaned her hands against the desk where the manager was surrounded by attendance and cast sheets as well as a big laptop shining a blue light onto her face. The woman didn’t even look up, instead putting up a board with the names of all people in the production in front of her. - Do you need to see my ID? 

     - Just sign in front of your name. 

Y/N giddily looked at the list of names, hers closer to the bottom but there, written in bold Arial font. She signed her name in front of her printed one with the barely working pen, before pinning it over the board and handing it over to the manager who pointed inside the opera theatre. She held onto her gym bag harshly, padding the sublime floors and looking around with such wonder one would believe she’d never been here. She’d been here before, she was here every month to watch a performance but now she was not guest, she was not just another person walking in with a ticket, she was part of it, she was part of the show. After years of doing community plays, workshops and failed auditions, she had gotten here and suddenly all those days spent in bed feeling miserable in bed after getting rejected yet again didn’t matter anymore she was here.

Her eyes glanced at every tiny little ornament in the opera house until she entered the theatre room. Her heart filled with joy and happy nostalgia as the red and golden tones of the room involved her. There wasn’t anyone in the theatre yet except for a few musicians from the instrumental pit and some cleaners so she was free to roam around. Her fingers traced the suede velvet of the red seats, finding a few missing binoculars on the grounds but not really caring. 

     - You! - she whipped her head towards the voice which came from a woman, probably in her mid 40s all dressed in black with a gold name tag slightly above her left breast. 

     - Hi. - Y/N smiled, extending her hand towards the woman. - I’m Y/N, I’m the new ...

    - I don’t care, we need silk ribbons, now. 

    - Oh, I ... I’m new, I don’t know where I’d get silk ribbons, m’am.

    - The costume room? Go, stop looking at me as if you were Bambi and go.

    - Oh, okay. 

She made her way hastily out of the theatre room wondering how she was going to find silk ribbons, where she was going to find them and why she had to find them. Maybe it was a hazing ritual for new people, after all, she had been into various hazings during her career, including downing a whole bottle of honey which she couldn’t even finish, only eating one fourth of it before becoming nauseous. 

She stopped in the middle of the hall, wondering where the costume room could be. It couldn’t be on the top floor, that was usually where the bars and common rooms were so if the building followed regular construction protocols for opera houses, it was probably on the underground section of the house where the dressing rooms used to be. Y/N ventured into the lift, pressing the lowest number on the number chart of the panel until she reached the underground floor. Y/N looked around, people running in and out yet no one stopped whenever she tried to question where the costume room was. She had managed to find the costume shop but no luck finding the costume room until she was pretty much pressed against a dark door with those exact words by the passing crowd. 

She twisted the knob of the costume room door, tumbling onto the dark room as a result. The room was filled to the brim with costumes on each side of the room, a plexiglass divider between the two sides which stopped every meter or so and also appeared to be divided onto female and male costumes with the ensemble costumes at the back. She padded across the concrete floors, looking through dresses and accessories for ribbons but no successful attempt. The ruffling from the other side of the room had her turning around, forehead furrowed as she walked towards the plexiglass divider. 

     - Hello? - she questioned, wondering if there was someone in this room who could help her find silk ribbons. Great, she had barely joined the company and was already screwing up. Great, Y/N. Way to go, Y/N. 

She saw someone all dressed in black just like the women before, yet there seemed to be something which didn’t match up; black jeans, black shirt and black leathe jacket as well as a pair of also black boots, scruffed and probably entirely too old to still be holding up together. Her eyes caught his which despite the low almost non existent light of the costume room, were light, a sort of greyish blue like the calm sea before of storm. His gaze pulled hers in, like gravity and she couldn’t help but clutch the jacket next to her as a bad feeling along with something she’d never felt before settled in her stomach. 

His hair was mostly pushed back yet the ones which framed his face fell like dominos. She moved along the side where she was to one of the plexiglass gaps and he did the same still maintaining eye contact with her, until the two reached the gap. She didn’t notice she was holding her breathe in until she breathed out.

    - Hi. - her own hand gripped her wrist, shoe grinding against the floors. - Uhm, I’m new here and this lady sent me down to find some silk ribbons but I can’t find any. Do you ...

    - I... uh ... I don’t know where they are. - he faltered for a few seconds before regaining his posture.

    - Oh, I thought since you were here, you might be one of the stage managers. 

    - I’m not. - his tone was monotonous, almost as if he had the answer to her question before she even made it. 

    - Oh ... - she rubbed her neck. - Are you also looking for silk ribbons?

    - I’m looking for the dressing rooms, actually.

    - They’re down the hall. -  she pointed at the door as if it was the “down the hall”. - Hum ... Are you new here too?

    - Yeah. Thanks. - he walked towards the door, opening it and stepping out before catching her gaze once again. 

Y/N remained in the middle of the room as if she were in a transe and maybe she was. It felt like she was falling yet she was firm on her feet and she did not like that feeling. She did not like that feeling of falling, it wasn’t feeling, it was hopeless falling and she wondered why looking at a man who looked like an 80′s glam rock reject made her feel like that, so lost. Maybe it was the respect he appeared to command by merely looking at her or maybe it was the nerves about being new and not being able to find some goddamn silk ribbons. Damn it. 

    - Call for 30 minutes before dress rehearsal. - the voice came from the intercom and immediately her mind dropped the idea of finding silk ribbons and moved to finding the ensemble dressing room and get dressed and ready. Damn it, this was going well. 

She rushed down the hall, bag almost slipping off her shoulder until she saw the door with the ensemble plaque on it. The young woman peaked inside the room where pretty much everyone with a role on the ensemble were already sat down. She shyly walked in the middle row until she found her own little corner, her name written on a sticker on the mirror along with photos of how the makeup should be done as well as how to get the costume in correctly. The same goofy smile returned as she sat down and saw her name above her. It was fine, she was here, she was part of a company.

    - Hey you’re new. - the girl next to her twirled her chair to face her. She already had her makeup on and hair pinned curled up and ready to put a wig cap on. - I’m Elliot but people call me Elle.

    - Y/N, I’m the new chorus girl. First day. 

    - Aw, welcome. - she had a bright smile, inviting and almost as exciting as the whole experience of being there. - Do you want help pincurling your hair? I can get it done while you do your makeup. 

    - Yes, please. - she pulled out a big box from her bag which had all her makeup and pins. 

Elle started pin curling her hair up while she put an inappropriate amount of blush on which was just appropriate to get on stage under the bright yellow lights. Turns out half the practice for opera is learning to do your makeup under bright yellow lights and then learning to sing. 10 minutes to rehearsal start, she was along with Elle going down and up to the main stage where most dancers were warming up. Elle left her to do so, leaving Y/N once again to just stand there, looking around like a little sheep in the middle of wolves. 

    - I’ve never seen you around. - her shoulders almost went up as he turned to see one of the principal sopranos, if not the principal soprano. She had seen all of her shows ever since she was a teenager and she had even wrote an essay for university on her for a module. Catherine Vargas, the best New York could offer, if not the best the world could offer. - I didn’t know they were still casting dancers.

    - Oh, I’m a chorus girl, Mrs Vargas. 

    - A chorus girl? - she furrowed her brows at her, looking her up and down. - What type?

    - The type who ... is in the back with the ensemble. - her voice lowered at least a few volumes down, back curved as if she were bowing. 

    - I know what chorus girls do. I asked what vocal type. 

    - Lyric soprano, m’am.

    - A lyric soprano in the chorus. Interesting. Where did you train?

    - Julliard, m’am.

    - Julliard? - she looked her up and down again. - That is a great school. What is a Julliard graduate doing in the chorus line?

    - Everyone starts somewhere. - she laughed nervously, scratching her arm as she did so.

    - Not a lyric soprano from Julliard. Composers sure do love an ingenue, don’t they? Don’t worry, a few months with me and you’ll be supporting. 

    - That’s ... that’s really kind, Mrs. Vargas. Thank you.

    - Don’t thank me. Could you get me some honey from my dressing room? I’m feeling a bit strained. 

    - It’s 5 minutes until rehearsal starts.

    - It’s okay, chorus normally doesn’t do much during rehearsal. Can you get it?

    - Yeah, I think so.

She straightened her crinkled skirt, looking behind her back before going down the stairs which led down to the dressing rooms. This was good, right? Getting into one of the main star’s good graces besides she was right, the chorus didn’t really get much attention during rehearsals, at least not as much as the main characters. It’s easier to get away with screwing up in the back than in the front, her teacher would tell her which would always earn a few laughs from her colleagues. Yet, Y/N hated to make any mistakes. She would stay up all night in front of a cheap piano she had bought from a charity shop, playing and singing the same 5 note progression until her flatmate yelled at her to shut up. For her, if it wasn’t perfect and if she didn’t get any criticism while performing it, she hadn’t done it right. It didn’t matter at the end of the day but what did matter was to climb up the ladder. She didn’t want to be a star, all she wanted was to be able to be on that stage forever with the spotlight shining on her and she knew there was only one way to climb up. Actually there were two, extreme luck and connections. Now, she didn’t have the best of luck so her major choice was to make connections and reach that status. 

She made her way into the principal dressing room. It was probably one of the biggest she had ever seen, with expensive decor and various flowers covering it. She wondered how many flowers she received on opening nights if that was the number she had on regular days. Y/N made her way to the desk, opening drawers and more drawers to find honey until she found it on the lowest drawn. She went down on her knees to grab it, mindless and careless to everything that was happening until she felt a sharp pain on the side of her her.

Then everything went dark. 

TAGLIST: @lookiamtrying @buckyswillows @blossomslibrary @juliesland @iloveshawnieboi @unmagically​ 

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Hooked On Your Feelings - Chapter Two (FWB! Tom Holland x Reader)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 5255

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N:  I am HYPE to post this new chapter! Omg I just love writing this series so much its so fun writing Tom like this lol. Also low key...this chapter has an easter egg to a pervious series of mine and I’m v curious if anyone catches it but probably not because its superrr tiny but either way I hope you guys like this one! Obviously, smut is in this chapter! DM me to be tagged and I cannot wait to hear everyone’s thoughts! (Also .gif is not mine. DM me for credit please, I found on google!) Thank you xx -N

“What happened to that girl you took home the other night from The Lace Rabbit?” Harrison asked as he ordered his lunch before he took a seat at the table with Tom. It was typical for them to meet up during the week on their lunch breaks and catch up when they were not busy being wingmen for the other while bar hopping on the weekends. 

Tom shrugged off Harrison’s question as he took a bite of his sandwich, “She got a little clingy so I had Y/N help me get rid of her,” he smiled as he said your name out loud. His friends knew of you as the hot girl who lived next door who bailed him out of sticky situations. Always teasing Tom how he could never actually get you. The irony made it all too funny for him, “How’d it go with that blonde girl?” he asked to change the subject off of him.

He didn’t know if he should bring up the two of you sleeping together with Harrison. Harrison was his best friend and wouldn’t judge but he knew he’d give Tom shit for it. He’d want to know details of your arrangement or how it came about, if you were really that good and Tom didn’t feel comfortable answering that. Not if it was about you. He didn’t want his other friends knowing about you in the way he did. That was personal between you both and he wanted to show you he respected you.

“It didn’t,” Harrison admitted while taking a sip of his water. He let out a chuckle as he felt himself blushing, “Forgot her name and she spilt her drink on me. Can’t say I didn’t deserve that one,” he at least knew when he was in the wrong.

Tom cringed into his sandwich as he let out a cackle, “You definitely deserved it, mate,” he laughed with another bite. His phone vibrated in his pocket but he chose to ignore it, knowing like clock work what it probably was. It was going to ruin the rest of his day and he at least wanted to enjoy lunch with his friend before getting pissed off for the day.

“She’d probably love you,” Harrison teased. 

“Fuck off,” Tom rolled his eyes with a laugh. “I’m not taking your angry seconds.”

“Don’t knock angry sex til you try it,” Harrison smirked knowingly. 

Tom shook his head as he once again ignored the phone ringing, “I think I’m good, thanks,” he brushed it off with another eyeroll. 

He didn’t know why he suddenly felt weird talking about their last venture out at the club. Maybe it was because Tom knew where he ended up after that girl had left and he knew what that meant for the both of you. But Tom wasn’t done with his bachelor days, and even you knew that. Hell, you practically insisted since this was a no strings attached deal.

It just felt strange not telling Harrison about you. Like it was a weird secret. But at the same time, he felt oddly protective of you. Not wanting his friends to see you as some girl he was getting laid with. Or worse, a potential love interest. He knew it wasn’t going to happen. Hell would be freezing over before Tom decided on any sort of long term obligation. But he knew his friends and he knew they wouldn’t see this is a simple agreement between two friends. And he didn’t want to deal with that conversation.

Staying quiet was the better option. For his own sanity. And...well, would you care if he told anyone about this? Tom figured that was another rule he’d have to ask about. He didn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he knew you had a list of rules as well that he was happy to follow. As long as that meant one thing and one thing only: non-exclusive.

Harrison noticed Tom’s phone buzzing for the third time. And Tom ignored it for the third time. He checked the message with a huff of his breath before turning the screen face down on the table, going back to his lunch before he had to get back to work.

“Clingy girl?” Harrison nodded towards Tom’s phone. 

Tom shook his head, “My mother was supposed to visit this weekend but you know the routine,” he mumbled into his food, not even wanting to respond to her.

“Let me guess,” Harrison began, knowing exactly where this was going since he knew Tom’s whole story inside and out. Including the bits he hated to discuss which was mainly his family, “Going skiing with Clint in Veil instead?” he questioned knowingly.

Tom scoffed out a laugh at his guess, “Surfing with Clint in Malibu but same shit,” he corrected as he tried not to let it get to him. But even Harrison could tell he was getting bothered by it once again and who could honestly blame him.

 Always the same story every time no matter what and Tom grew tired of her antics. He couldn’t even blame Clint for it anymore considering she’d been this way since he was a kid before he was even in the picture. Only now she would just use him as the perfect excuse to get out of coming to visit.

He knew he shouldn’t care anymore but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t something easy for him to simply let go of. It was his mother. And no matter how many times he’d try she would always give him back the bare minimum and it always made him upset. She was his one final connection to him and she could care less about any of it, so why did Tom? It always got under his skin and he loathed that it did.

But he would still invite her. No matter how miserable it made him.

“Well at least now you’re free this weekend,” Harrison broke his thought while he gathered their garbage before they headed back to work, “The usual at The Lace Rabbit this Saturday then?” he suggested with a knowing smile to try and get Tom out of his mood.

Grabbing his phone, Tom clutched it tightly as he inhaled sharply. Knowing his change of plans meant doing his normal routine even though he was looking forward to the slight change this weekend, which now just seemed bleak to him

.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed as he tapped your name on his phone but hesitated when he saw his mother trying to call for a fourth time, “The usual this weekend.”

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

Your chest tensed as you got into your car after your extremely long day in the office. Everything around you felt heavy and you couldn’t wait to get home as soon as you could but you found yourself still frozen in your car. Unable to move as the moments from earlier this afternoon invaded your thoughts once again while you tried your best to move in. Even though you knew you were completely grief stricken and didn’t know what the hell to do.

The promotion was yours, at least you had thought it was by the way your boss would constantly hint at it. You knew it was never a definite thing, but you were confident in the hard work you had put into your job and knew you were a top contender for the spot. You worked longer hours, took on extra tasks, you even worked on the occasional weekend to get your work done. Taking every precaution necessary to prove that you were the best fit for the role.

Everything felt like it was lining up for you. Co-workers were giving you a pat on the back for your work accomplishments, your boss was taking note of everything you were doing, and you overall felt really good about where you stood for the potential position. So imagine your surprise when you attended the big luncheon and your boss announced his undeserving son was getting the spot instead of you.

It was both nepotism and misogyny rolled into one and it made your stomach turn the longer you had thought about it. None of it made any sense and it was far from fair. You knew you were the one more deserving of the position, the whole office knew it. Even your damn boss knew but he chose his damn son over you and it felt like a stab right to your gut.

You felt so betrayed and beside yourself as you finally decided to head home. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you tried to focus on the road but you just couldn’t ignore the facts. How were you going to be able to show up and take orders now from your boss’ son? You knew the job more than he did and it felt like a huge screw you.

On your drive home, you tried to make yourself feel better by putting on some music to distract yourself but nothing helped. You felt beyond defeated and frustrated right now you didn’t know what was going to make you feel better at the moment. It felt like the world was against you. Between finding Justin with another woman and your job, you were really batting one thousand lately and you weren’t sure when you would catch a break.

Things were not going how you planned at all. The thought of just quitting your job and starting all over again crossed your mind but the fear of the unknown kept haunting you. You didn’t know which direction to go in or who to turn to for advice anymore. You were slowly drowning and you needed someone to throw you a goddamn life jacket already.

You were relieved to finally be home. Maybe some peace and quiet would make you feel a little better, you thought to yourself while you kicked your shoes off and turned some music on for yourself. Trying to put the day behind you and focus on the present moment while you got changed into more comfortable clothes to unwind.

You jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock at your door, not expecting anybody to come by right now. Pulling your hair up into a bun, you headed back towards the door and looked through the peephole. To your surprise, you weren’t really surprised at all. You were actually sort of relieved when you opened the door and saw Tom standing there holding a pizza box.

“That better have extra cheese,” you asked with a narrowed expression while you invited him inside with the pizza that he would always bring you even in normal times. 

Placing the box on the kitchen table, Tom opened it with a grin as he showed you the pizza pie with cheese practically oozing from the crusts, “Figured it was an extra toppings sort of day,” he admitted, knowing he really needed the escape from reality. Even if it was just a pizza.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed as you grabbed a piece closest to you as Tom handed you a paper plate. You headed over towards your refrigerator to grab you both a few beers while Tom leaned up against your kitchen counter as he devoured his slice, “I’m guessing you had a bad day judging by your pizza presentation?” knowing there wasn’t really any particular reason he’d be coming over with it today. Unless if he wanted something?

You slowed your pace back from the fridge wondering if he was going to pick up on how you were feeling. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted him to notice. Whenever you and Tom had a pizza night it was merely to gossip about your lunatic neighbors or watch a game together. You talked about casual things but never really gone into depth or prying into each other’s lives. Why did it feel like suddenly you wanted something different? Would sex change that much in your friendship?

“We can just ignore that...we don’t have to talk about unimportant stuff,” you waved it off. Tom didn’t need to hear about your miserable day. And you didn’t want to pry into his. 

He swallowed the last bite of his slice, “If something makes you upset, it’s not unimportant,” he noted. But when he noticed you just looking at him, he raised his hands in surrender. “Ignore my philosophical ass. But I’d like to hear about your day, you know,” he laughed it off. 

What the hell was he doing? He thought to himself. Don’t let personal shit ruin this. Enjoy her company. That’s it. 

“I didn’t get the promotion,” you told him. You had mentioned to Tom a while ago that your boss was hinting at it but you never went into detail with him about it. You weren’t used to Tom actually wanting to be open or the other way around. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly surprised Tom even gave a crap about stuff like this. 

Tom frowned at your answer and he felt his heart sink a bit when you told him the truth about your bad day. He didn’t know much about your job but he was sure you were a hard worker. He saw how much you loved your job and how passionate you were about it when it would come up. You would share upcoming projects with him from time to time and he would see the look on your face whenever you explained them to him. So hearing that you were passed by for a promotion was upsetting to him.

“I...shit, Y/N,” he put his pizza down as he walked over towards to give you a hug. Sliding his hands around your waist he pulled you into him as he felt you relax against his chest, “You didn’t deserve that,” he added softly.

You allowed Tom to embrace you, his warmness comforting you a bit before you pulled away and started crying when telling him about your boss’ son getting the job instead of you. Making you laugh by calling him every name in the book, you and Tom finally found a common ground as you kept venting to him.

Tom pulled away slowly, his hand resting at your chin while he licked his lips, “You’re boss sounds like a fucking prick, I hope you know that,” he told you reassuringly. The small smile you formed when he spoke made him want to keep making you feel better, “I’m glad you’re smiling,” he blushed at his confession.

Stretching your mouth wider, you flashed Tom a playful yet overly wide grin to deflect the attention he gave to you. The two of you laughed as Tom pulled away with a loud chuckle, shaking his head at your sudden silliness, “That has to be the most hideous smile. But we’ll work on it,” he told you through his laughter.

You rolled your eyes before going back to your pizza, giving Tom a look as you nudged him, “Not gonna tell me about what happened to you?” you finally asked.

Tom tensed as he tried to brush it off with a simple shrug into his pizza. The thought of his mother’s texts and ridiculous apologies and excuses continued to drive him crazy as he mumbled into his bite, “It’s stupid shit,” he told you as he swallowed the crust he was chewing, “Mom stuff, not important,” he added bluntly.

You could see the look on his face and could tell it was important to him but you didn’t want to force him to talk about it. Tom was never one to bring up his family ever to you and that was the first time you had ever heard him even mention his mother. He never spoke of his father, at least to you, so you just assumed both were out of his life for whatever reason and it was none of your business to ask.

 And Tom refused to admit it but he wanted you to ask about him. Spending hours upon hours at bars, turning his focus always onto the girl; because he knew no girl would ever want to go home with a self righteous, egotistical guy. It was never something Tom minded to do, especially with complete strangers who he would never open up to in a million years. It might have been the recent development he had with you but there was something refreshing he felt around you and as much as it freaked him out, he didn’t seem to mind.

But diving into his mommy issues with you now seemed too much to deal with right now. You were dealing with more than enough problems with your job and your miserable ex-boyfriend, he figured you didn’t need to hear his bitching right now anyway. He came here to get away from those shitty thoughts, not open those wounds further. 

Tom came here for a distraction.

Licking his lips, Tom perked up as he looked at you fervidly, “Wanna have sex?” he asked matter of factly. He figured he didn’t need to beat around the bush since you had your arrangement but maybe he was a bit too direct with his request. Tom cleared his throat as he tried to save the night, “I-I mean, I just figured since we both had shitty days that maybe we could uhm-”

“Thought you’d never ask,” you cut him off with a smirk and you perked up as well, nodding as you smoothed out your hair. Standing back up as you turned your back towards him, removing your shirt in the process, “Let’s go,” you called over your shoulder as you headed towards your room.

“Oh, we’re jumping right in,” Tom mumbled to himself as he practically fell off his chair to follow you into your room, tossing his shirt beside yours as he practically froze already seeing you completely undressed, “Christ…” he breathed out while taking you in. 

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to him, bringing your lips to his now bare shoulder, “You’re really acting like you haven’t seen me like this the other day?” You laughed against his skin while you began to suck a bruise against him, hearing him let out a gasp while your hand snaked into his pants sneakily, “Beginning to really like this whole friends with benefits thing we have,” you laughed as you found Tom’s lips.

Practically growling into your kiss, Tom lifted you up and lowered you onto your back on your bed. His lips traveled from yours, to your stomach, dipping his tongue into your belly button as you moaned quietly before he brought himself down between your thighs. His lips peppering your inner thigh before he got straight to the point because this whole arrangement meant no foreplay. Another plus for Tom.

“Darling, I think you may be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Tom breathed out a laugh as he pressed his tongue flatly against your clit. Sliding two of his fingers into your core while he slowly pumped in and out of you, “This is what got me through my day today,” he told you before he brought his mouth back to your core.

You arched your back while your fingers went towards Tom’s curls. His name began to fall from your lips while he lapped his tongue carefully, letting it slip inside of you as he continued to tease you with his mouth. His fingers sliding into you again, adding a third as he moaned against your center; allowing the vibrations to roll throughout your entire body.

“Mmm, oh, fuck...!” you cried out, yanking gently against Tom’s hair as you felt the coil beginning to burn from inside of you. Biting your lip to stifle another moan, “Fuck...yo-you’re really good at that,” you breathed out with a small laugh which turned into a whimper.

With his head peering up at you, Tom flashed you a cocky smile with a playful wink as he licked your folds teasingly, “Did you seriously doubt my abilities to make you cum with my mouth, Y/N?” he raised his eyebrow while pumping his fingers now tantalizingly slow, “You’re gonna pay for that comment,” he said to you.

“Just...shut up and make me cum, Tom,” you told him through another gasp as you felt his teeth drag teasingly against your already throbbing bud. His lips wrapped around it as he sucked more harshly, doing exactly as you had asked him to do, “Ungh...oh god, okay. Yeah, keep doing that,” you instructed as you began to grind your hips against his mouth.

Tom took it as a challenge and picked up his pace, beginning to flick your clit faster while he continuously sucked on it. His three fingers now entirely coated in your warmth as he felt you clenching around them. His pants feeling tighter from his hard on while he knelt at the end of your bed trying to bring you to where he wanted.

His free hand splayed against your stomach, holding you in place while he felt you trying to squirm around from the way he was making you feel. Rubbing your clit in between his breaths, Tom looked up at you as he licked a solid stripe down your center, “Let out how you’re feeling from today and cum for me, Y/N,” Tom commanded. 

Your eyes shut as you did exactly what Tom had suggested. Completely coming undone from beneath him while you released as much of the tension from earlier as you possibly could but in the most amazing way. Your eyes rolled back into your head while your back arched as Tom’s tongue continued to work you up while you were at your highest point.

Letting out a breathy laugh as you started to come down from it, feeling Tom begin to kiss his way back up your stomach with a smug look, “Don’t give me that look,” you rolled your eyes at his cockiness as his tongue traced along your neck, “I could do what you just did to myself, you know,” you tried to knock him off his high horse a bit while he pretended to be wounded from your words.

“Ah, but you didn’t. Did you?” Tom reminded you as his lips found yours. His hands still in between your thighs as he brought them between you both, showing you his coated fingers while he tasted you off of them, “Tastes like I made you cum because you wanted me to,” his smugness only elevated as he pushed himself off of you as he laid on his back on your bed.

“Need I remind you that you came to my place like a porno with a pizza looking to get laid,” you retaliated as you shifted so you were now hovering over him. Your hands guiding towards his belt buckle to get him out of his restraintive pants. The pleading look on his face made you just as smug, “Sounds like you want me to do just about the same thing, am I right or am I right?” you sang in his ear.

Tom helped you get the rest of his pants and boxers off, feeling himself spring out as he stared back at you with uncertainty, “Did you...just call me a porn star?” he questioned as the two of you let out a laugh.

“You wish, Tommy,” you teased as you ran your tongue down his abs, placing small and open kisses against his stomach as you made your way down to his legs while your hand carefully gripped his hardened length, your thumb running the pre-cum around his tip while you already heard him gasping for you.

Gripping your bedsheets with one hand, Tom reached around to create a makeshift ponytail to hold your hair. Cussing under his breath as he watched your mouth wrap around his tip, swirling your tongue around it while your eyes searched for his. He was really trying to hold it together but you were already driving him crazy.

“Let’s see what you got, Y/N,” Tom challenged you with a heavy breath as he tightened his grip around your hair, “Sometimes, girls think they know exactly what to do but-OH FUCK!” 

His words were lost as soon as your mouth went straight down to his base. Suctioning as hard as you could before coming back up his cock painfully slow. Moaning your name as his chest began to heave, Tom felt his thighs start to quiver from under you. Even just watching the way you were working on him was enough to make him whimper right now.

“Fuck...okay, yeah I take that back,” Tom gasped as his nose crinkled up while his other hand white knuckled the sheets, “God, your mouth is fucking perfect. Why haven’t we done any of this shit before?” he was in such a fucked out haze, he wasn’t even sure if anything he was saying made any sense at all. But he felt his stress from earlier going away finally. Even if this was just a short state of bliss, he was grateful for it anyway.

“You really want me to answer that or would you just prefer me to keep sucking your dick?” you sassed while you kitten licked his tip. You watched from the end of the bed as Tom bucked his hips into your mouth to try and get more contact from your lips but you pulled away from him and just kept licking his tip.

God, you were good, Tom thought to himself.

‘K-keep going,” Tom finally breathed out, flinging his head against the pillow to brace for the impact.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pushed yourself all the way down his cock. Your tongue flicking the base in between as you began to feel him throb inside of your mouth. You could tell he was close so you moaned softly into his cock, watching as Tom shuddered from the sensation you just sent through him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tom cried out, moaning your name as he rutted his hips into your mouth. His pupils blacked as he felt the heat rising in his body, “Shit...I’m gonna cum, Y/N,” he warned as you pulled away, running your hand down his shaft as he began to come undone for you.

His warmth spilled out into your hand and down his cock while he let go finally. The stress somewhat leaving his body as it did yours while the euphoric high peaked for him. Your lips crashed against his while his tongue parted your lips to find yours, tangling them together as he moaned against your mouth while riding out his high finally.

You waited for Tom to catch his breath before you smiled against his lips, placing a small peck against them as you pulled away with an even bigger grin, “Yeah, you’re welcome,” you gave him the same arrogant tone he gave to you moments earlier before you pecked his lips again.

After taking some time to get yourselves together mixed with the continuous fooling around underneath the sheets, you and Tom finally decided to get up and end the night. Even though he didn’t want to leave, he knew he probably shouldn’t overstay. Primarily, Tom was adamant about never spending the night at a girl’s place that he slept with. That made things complicated and he didn’t want complicated. But since you and him had rules to not make things messy, he wasn’t sure if that applied to you. For now, he wanted to play it safe so he got himself dressed again.

You pulled on an oversized t-shirt, realizing both of your hair looked a mess. Luckily you were already home and Tom was down the hall so it didn’t really matter. You wanted to say something to Tom, that you were thankful he came by tonight. You were thankful even before sex was on the table. It felt nice to have him as an ally to swing by with a pizza when he didn’t even know you needed that.

“...is it weird to say I’m glad you came by?” you gestured towards your bedroom while you walked with him out into the kitchen where the half eaten pizza was left, “I know we haven’t really made too many rules about it but…” you trailed off with a nervous laugh as you smiled at him awkwardly.

“Like we said, zero weirdness,” Tom reminded you as he padded his way over to you. He grabbed a leftover crust from the box and shoved it in his mouth, clearly starving already from the workout you had just given him. He smiled while he chewed lazily, his mouth still filled with pizza crumbs, “But I’m happy to come by when we have shit days...and make you cum as well,” he smirked deviously. 

The door opened as you smiled back, “Doesn’t have to be just bad days, you know. We could...screw whenever we feel like it,” you told him, hoping that it wasn’t too much.

“Did you just say screw?” he whipped his head towards you with a loud laugh.

“Alright then, I guess I’ll just leave you to the girls who leave you unsatisfied then,” you fought back.

Tom leaned against the door with his mouth gaped open, “They do not...leave me...unsatisfied?” he questioned himself, knowing that that was true, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Then why are you here?” you placed a hand on your hip, feeling the smile pulling at your lips while you messed around with him. You certainly weren’t in this mood earlier before Tom came around.

Pressing his lips together, Tom rolled his eye at you, “Fine...we can screw...whenever,” he leaned in closer to you with his eyes big as he mimicked your voice when you said it, “As long as we keep this thing strictly what we intended, you can use me whenever you need, Y/N,” and he meant it.

You didn’t back away when he sealed his words with a soft kiss, paired with his trademark grin. Tom pulled away slowly, taking in the moment as he wished you a goodnight quietly before kissing you against the cheek, “Like I said, best friend I ever had,” he said softly once again.

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice broke from behind the two of you. Both of your eyes widened towards each other as you both simultaneously pivoted your heads towards the staircase where the voice was coming from.

Tom closed his eyes with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore Harrison staring at the two of you with a crooked grin. Making it known to Tom that explaining this was going to be a lot tougher than he had imagined.

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[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader] SMUT

ੈ♡��‧₊*: • Chapter 8: The Truth ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2200>

Warnings: more angst and feelings! 18+ SMUT; unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), f receiving oral, fingering… very soft sex andddd a praise kink because it’s Din’s first time giving oral :’)

AN: Please reblog to spread this around! It’s not showing up in tags! i think i’m still semi-shadow banned:(

Series Masterlist

Din didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t understand. Not the Manda’lor? How could that be possible? If you weren’t the Manda’lor, then... who were you? As if you were reading his thoughts, you closed your eyes and turned around so you were facing the brick wall behind you, and tried your very best to explain the truth. You had to at least make an attempt. You ignored the choked nervous knot in your throat. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

How could you ever even begin to explain this to him. You’d never spoken about what happened back on Mandalore to anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all this time. It was so painful. But you had to try.

“My mother was Duchess Satine Kryze, and I am, by technicality, the Princess of Mandalore. I always will be. When my mother died, fifteen years ago, I became heir to the throne. I became the Manda’lor, and... everything was fine. I had everything under control, and, dare I say, I was a good leader. Until one night, there was a planned attack by the Imperials on my city and they slaughtered everyone. They raided homes and killed children…” a single tear slipped down your cheek. “Moff Gideon came to see me. He wanted… the darksaber. So he had his troopers raid the palace and they found it. And once he wielded it, he became the rightful ruler of Mandalore. And, I still don’t have it back… I’ve-- I’ve never felt so helpless. And responsible for the murder of my people.”

You were crushed. You thought by admitting all of this, it would take the giant burden you’d been holding this entire time off your shoulders, but it didn’t. It only made you dread all the built up pain and anguish you had in your heart… for letting this happen and for lying to Din. You really had failed everyone around you, but most importantly, you’d failed yourself.

Bringing your hand to your wedding ring, you twiddled it around your finger and took a shaky exhale. “Din, I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I can leave, and you’ll never see me again. I promise you that much. But I will get the darksaber back and I will be the rightful ruler of Mandalore. These were my people he killed. He stole it from me. And I won’t let the Imperial’s take anymore than they already have. Not without a fight.”

Compiling all the remaining bravery left in you, you turned back around to face Din and opened your eyes.

And your heart stopped.

His eyes were big and brown and sad. He had short, shaggy brown hair and a light stubble which grazed his jaw. His pink lips were parted slightly as he looked at you with his own eyes. No visor modifying his vision of you. This was raw, and completely him. He’d taken off his helmet.

You tried to ask him why, but no words came out.

“So that’s why the Imperials were chasing after you?” His jaw ticked but Maker, his voice without the helmet was as soft as silk. Rich and velvety.

He was handsome too. More handsome than you could’ve ever even imagined. In a rugged way, not in your typical Prince of Mandalore way. But you liked it a lot.

“Yes,” you swallowed thickly. “Moff Gideon imprisoned me in the palace and he never wanted me to leave. He made me promise to never tell anyone that he had the darksaber, because no doubt, any Mandalorian who found out the truth would venture after him to try and reclaim it for themselves. I was forced to live this lie. But I had to do something. That’s when I sent out the distress signal to coverts around the galaxy. That’s when you came for me, and helped me escape.”

Din tried his hardest to process your words. It… made sense. His gaze fell from your face and he looked down at the ground. He looked so sad and your heart ached. If there was a way you could fix this, you were pretty sure you’d do anything. In that very moment, you didn’t even care about the Mandalorian throne or the darksaber. You just cared about Din.

“Din, I’m so sorry.” you began, preparing to fully beg for his forgiveness, but before you could say anymore, his lips came crashing into yours.

He didn’t have anything to say to you, really. He was just so enamoured by you, that he didn’t care. You could lie to him a million times over and he’d forgive you, because you were just too perfect. You were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he loved you.

He should be mad, he knew that much. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you when all he could think about was just how beautiful your lips were. The entire time you were talking, he was fighting the urge to kiss you. Until finally, he just couldn’t resist anymore.

His mouth was soft and fit perfectly against yours. Your eyes snapped shut and a surprised moan fell from your lips as he took you in his arms and held you. You loved the way it felt… his hands on your body and caressing your skin. Was this… the first time he’d kissed? He was so passionate yet gentle, and Maker, you didn’t want it to end. He was absolutely gorgeous, and such an amazing kisser. When you thought he was going to break away, you raised your hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, swiping your tongue over his lower lip and signalling for him to continue the kiss. He did so, and you opened your mouth, granting him deeper access.

A minute or so later, when the both of you were practically gasping for breath, he pulled off you and rested his forehead against yours. If he was unsure about his feelings before, he knew for certain now.

“We’ll have to leave at dawn,” Din said eventually, huffing and looking into your eyes. His hands were still planted firmly on your hips and he nudged his nose against yours. “There’ll be less Imps around, the earlier we leave.”

You were baffled. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“We’re getting the darksaber back,” he confirmed. “You’re getting the darksaber back. You are the rightful ruler of Mandalore.”

You couldn’t believe it. He still wanted to help you, even after admitting to him that you’d been lying. He no longer had a duty to protect you, and yet he was doing this not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

“Are you sure?” you gasped, completely exasperated. “Are you sure you still want to help me?”

Din nodded his head wordlessly before kissing you again. “We should rest before our escape tomorrow,” Din breathed. “I have a room here.”

“Take me.” you begged, curling your body into his.

Din’s room at the covert was no different to the many other rooms that were habited by other Mandalorians. It was a small boxy room with a bed in the corner. At least it was a real bed though, and not Din’s poor excuse for a bed back on the Crest. He closed the door behind him and turned on the light, although it wasn’t bright whatsoever. It barely illuminated the room in this dull, amber colour, but it was just enough to cast your shadows on the wall.

You gulped, not tearing your eyes from him once. “I think you’re very handsome,” you blurted out, smiling when you noticed a rosy blush cross Din’s cheeks. “And I think it’s a real shame that you have to hide your face. I just know that those brown eyes could charm you out of trouble.”

Din chuckled nervously. “I think you’re very pretty too,” he said. “But you probably hear that a lot.”

You shook your head, the smile never leaving your lips once. “No.”

When Din kissed you, it felt like heaven. As the moment became more and more heated, both of you ended up undressing, and discarding your clothing and his armour into a pile on the floor.

Din carefully laid you down on his bed and hovered over you, planting kisses down your neck, along your collarbones and down your chest. He brought his hand over to your breasts and began with giving them a few experimental squeezes. He brushed his thumb over your hardening nipple and pinched it, earning a moan of pleasure from you.

Not taking his lips from yours, he dropped his hand down your body and to the hem of your panties, dipping his finger under the waistband and feeling just how wet you’d already become. He chuckled to himself, his thick and deft index finger tracing quick and tight circles across your clit. You arched your back into him, a foggy haze crossing your vision as he worked you into a complete state of euphoria.

You chanted his name like it was a prayer, caressing his biceps and holding onto him. After he drew out your first orgasm, he tapped on your thigh. You lifted up your ass so he could pull down your panties and take them off completely. You were an absolute sight to behold, there was no denying that. Your folds were slick with your arousal and Din done everything he could to contain himself. Licking his lips, he knelt down between your legs and began to lap his tongue around your bundle of nerves, even sucking occasionally on your sweet spot.

“Does-- does that feel good?” Din asked, briefly pausing just before you were about to cum again. Your legs were shaking with pleasure and Din just wanted to make sure you were alright. “I’m-- I’ve never done this before.” he confessed.

“Oral?” you asked breathlessly, rolling your head into the pillow.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nibbling and pressing lovebites into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Never took off my helmet.”

You moaned something incoherent when the curve of his nose rubbed against your clit and you felt the warmth of his breath fan over your core.

“It’s good Din, so good,” you sighed longingly. “You’re doing so good. Please don’t stop.”

So Din kept at it until eventually you were a heaving, quivering mess, and he drove out your second orgasm. When he pulled away from you, a trail of his saliva pulled between your wet cunt and his lips, but he immediately licked himself clean and leaned over your body so he could kiss you again. The way you could taste yourself on his mouth felt so erotic.

You pulled his hard and leaking cock from the confines of his underwear and began to pump at his length. He was hot and heavy, and somehow, he was even better than you had imagined. Even as you stroked him, you yearned for him, and you could feel your cunt clench around nothing as you wished for him to fuck you already.

Din loved how you were a needy, squirming mess beneath him. He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed his engorged tip inside of you, taking a few moments to allow you to adjust to his length. The wet noises as he thrusted into you were lewd and obscenely loud, and if you were with anyone else you might’ve felt embarrassed -- but as Din built up his rhythm and held on to your hips, you couldn’t even think straight enough to feel embarrassed.

“Din,” you cried out, letting your fingers curl in his brown locks of hair. “Oh Din.”

His own hips began to stutter and with a loud gasp, you felt his cock convulse inside of you and a spurt of his creamy hot seed rope your walls.

Din let himself soften inside of you as he caught his breath, eventually rolling off you and laying by your side. He wrapped his arms around you and spooned you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until eventually, you fell asleep in his arms.

“You will reclaim Mandalore,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

_________________________________________

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[whitexwingedxdoves]

wretched heart    [request]

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Warnings: Language Summary: Despite ending things with Daryl, you still can’t seem to let go of him. (loosely inspired by Happier by Olivia Rodrigo) A/N: Requested by @srhxpci​ (angst with a happy ending 😊 ) I hope you enjoy. Tags: @chloe-skywalker​ @browneyes528​ Italics = Flashbacks.

-

Your heart seemed to break into a million pieces as you walked away from Daryl, after everything that had happened with Negan and now with the loss of Rick you weren’t prepared to lose Daryl Dixon. You clawed at your chest, hoping it would allow you to breathe but it remained stuck as you left the archer there in the middle of the forest. You had never loved someone so deeply before and it scared you, it scared you to the point of running and hiding – you told him it wasn’t safe for them anymore and that even though it wasn’t your time now, it will be one day and you wholeheartedly believed it. The idea that the world will be well enough one day that you could get back your Daryl was the only thing that allowed you to get out of bed in the morning.

Thing’s got too much for you after you and Daryl went your separate ways and therefore you decided that you needed to venture out on your own for a while, perhaps look for Rick’s body or find out where Anne had disappeared. You didn’t have a set objective but you knew you needed the time to yourself. Tara tried to argue it was too dangerous for you to be on your own but failed to take into account the amount of time you had already spent alone out in the woods before meeting the group. Your trip didn’t provide much new information but you felt you had successfully cleared your mind enough to return back to Hilltop. You had been gone for maybe a month or two, you didn’t really keep track of the time but you didn’t think it could have been longer than that.

Once you reached the gate’s it didn’t take long for them to open, the guards seemed more than happy about your return, you gave your horse a stroke, thanking it for returning you back home safe before trotting past the gates. You watched as a few people gathered as you came to a stop, you looked around, happy to be home until your eyes landed on a far to familiar bike. A lump formed in your throat as you tried to redirect your attention, finally pushing yourself to get off the horse. You managed to send faux smiles at everyone who welcomed you home, allowing someone to take your horse to the stable. You looked around at the small crowd of people before returning your attention to Alden who offered you a warm hug. You pulled away and let your hand land on his shoulder. “Where’s Jesus?” your question seemed to strike unwell with Alden, his head dropped slightly before meeting with your gaze.

“He- erm” he struggled to pull together a sentence attempting to keep you updated on the situation at Hilltop, you instantly wished you were back out in the woods blissfully ignorant to the death of your friend. A small tear rolled down your face but you nodded towards the man, acknowledging his words.

-

You spent the rest of your day in your room, with the news on Jesus and seeing Daryl’s bike you figured that anything beyond your four walls weren’t worth the hassle. No one bothered you all day and you were grateful for that, you cleaned yourself up and got familiar with the comfort of your mattress again. When the sun started to set, you thought you needed to stop moping around, show your face even if its just for a few minutes. Thankfully on your travels you came across a half empty crate of alcohol, a bottle of rum seemed fitting for the situation so you grabbed it by the neck and made your way outside to mingle.

Fires had already started and you seemed to slip into the crowd of people unnoticed, everyone seemed to be in their own little groups or wandering around you unscrewed the cap of the rum and allowed the brown liquid to pour down your throat. You found a quiet spot just off from everyone else but it gave you the perfect view of everyone gathered there that night. Your eyes wandered from person to person until they seemed to freeze. Daryl Dixon. Your heart seemed to crawl up your throat as you watched the man fiddle with his fingers, attempting to master a sign but you didn’t pay much attention to that, instead you admired the way he had aged since you last saw him. Your mind flashing images of a younger archer and you came to the conclusion that he aged perfectly well, you’d giggle to yourself thinking about how he’d always be scared of the age gap you had even though no one else really noticed it nor did they care.

You noticed his smile and then you noticed who he gave it to, you’d never seen her before but you couldn’t disregard her beauty or the way her eyes seemed to shine as she laughed at Daryl’s attempts to communicate with her with his hands. Your heart dropped, it felt like it had completely left your body as you watched the two flirt with each other, your eyes welled up whenever she touched his arms all you could think was how they were your arms and not hers. So caught up with your blind jealousy, you almost didn’t notice that Daryl was now staring right back at you, it made you stumble a little but you shot him a smile before your eyes left him, doing anything you could to keep the tears from leaving your eyes.

The alcohol seemed to help loosen the lump in your throat as you chugged down as much rum as you possibly could before it made you feel sick “Hey” you’d know that gravelly voice anywhere, it sent goose bumps up your arms as you lowered the bottle back to you side, clearing your throat as you looked to your side. Your heart seemed to race at the sight of the archer who stood close by you

“Hey” your voice was much softer as your eyes landed on his shoulders, not brave enough to look into his eyes just yet. The tension could have been cut with a blunt knife, you kicked loose stones under your feet as the southerner struggled to think up a conversation. “How ya been?” he broke the silence finally with a question he genuinely cared to know, he watched you closely as you scoffed at his words. “Fine” despite your short temper, you allowed yourself to look into Daryl’s eyes now sending him a faux smile. “Whatta bout you? Saw you getting on nicely with that girl over there, what’s her name?” you hated how bitter you sounded in that moment but it seemed the alcohol had taken over your entire attitude failing to incorporate a filter. “Connie” Daryl muttered back at you, watching you take yet another sip of your poison. Your eyes widened now you had a name for her face, licking the access rum from your lips. “She’s pretty” the air fell silent around you both now, you tried to fight every urge to shout and scream that he should be with you and not her.

Eventually you couldn’t hold your tongue anymore, you had far too much liquid confidence supporting your toxic words to even think straight anymore “Does this mean you forgot about me?” despite your intentions your words fell soft as you stared into the crowd of people, your leg shaking a little as you awaited his response but you never got one, instead he just stared at you in disbelief “I always thought that one day we’d get back together you know but I can see that’s not on you agenda” you spat at the man, the anger becoming more apparent with every word. Daryl grunted at your words, his scowl creasing his features. “Na, ya the one who ended shit!” he became extra expressive with his movements, his finger pointing in your direction as he paced back and forth. “because it wasn’t safe!” you shouted back in his direction, your face mimicking his “You know what it’s like now as soon as you’re even slightly happy, the thing you love the most is taken from you without warning. I’ve lost too much, I couldn’t lose you too!`` At some point you decided to take a softer approach with your honesty taking a deep breath when you finally split your truth.

The moment fell quiet once more, a tear created a track on your face as you turned away from him you crossed your arms keeping a firm hold on the bottle you babysat all night. “I'm happy you found Connie, you deserve it.” You peeked over your shoulder so that the archer could hear you “I just don’t think I could ever be as happy as I was when I was with you” and with those words you left him there as you made your way back to your room.

When the door closed behind you, you found yourself pressed against the wall beside it, trying your hardest to suppress the tears your eyes held onto. You placed the glass bottle on top of your dresser and attempted to ease your breathing and slow the hard heavy beating of your heart. It seemed to stop completely when you heard someone’s knuckles brush against your door, you stood perfectly still for a moment before you reached for the knob. You slowly pulled it open revealing Daryl stood on the other side, you stared up at him in silence and took in his posture, he seemed a little out of breath, like he had been running which only confused you more. “Me an Connie are jus friends' ' he panted, taking a couple of steps so that he was now fully in your room. You couldn’t deny that your heart seemed to burst with joy at the news but now you were just left completely embarrassed by your outburst. “Ya the only girl for me” you allowed a small chuckle to pass your lips but you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around him, pushing at the back of his neck with your hands to pull him into a soft, sweet kiss. You tried to hide the moan that surfaced as his hands cradled your hips. You were completely weak at his touch, god had you missed the way this felt.

He pulled away slowly, taking in the smile that stretched across your face, allowing a small smile of his own to pierce his stern features “Ya taste like a bar” “I'm sorry!” you winced attempting to pull away from the redneck but he didn’t allow you, he kept you close and pulled you in tighter when you attempted to leave his grasp.

“Na, I like it”

[babyboibucky]

Babysitting Bucky - Part 5

Pairing: FATWS!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,368

Summary: You’ve been assigned by the government to keep an eye on the Winter Soldier to ensure that he was no longer a threat to the world.

A/N: It has begun lmfao, check out the link at the end of this post if you’d like to be tagged in the next updates! Would love to receive feedbacks! 

MASTERLIST

-

You found yourself in the conference room of the Avengers compound, together with Sam, Bucky, Sharon and Fury discussing about an upcoming mission.

Sharon went over the brief of the mission with everyone. There was an intel about a certain drug cartel that decided to expand their business and venture into the trade of biological weapons as well. Grabbing the folder on the desk, you skimmed through the information and frowned when your eyes landed on a familiar name.

“Black Sparrow? I thought the entire organization was taken down during the raid years ago?” You asked.

Bucky turned to you, “You know these guys?”

“One of my first missions, I was the assigned liaison officer to check up on the whistleblower who was placed under the witness protection program.” You explained.

Sharon sighed, “Apparently, not everyone was imprisoned. Whoever decided to keep the organization going, we have no idea.”

The mission required all of you to find out about the illegal trades. There wasn’t much information provided, except for the tip that an important trade might be taking place soon.

“Black Sparrow’s nest is said to be hidden within a fruit shop downtown.” Sharon added.

Fury let Sam takeover the strategizing, with him deciding to do a stakeout to see how the organization operates. Once the trade takes place, raid the nest, find out the other groups involved and most importantly the source of biological weapons.

“You up for a stakeout, Buck?” Sam asked.

Bucky shrugged and glanced at you, “Only if the babysitter agrees to do so.”

You let out an exasperated breath, “Mister Barnes, I would appreciate it if you’d address me properly.” You scolded.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright. Sharon and I will try to research on the potential groups involved in the trades. Stakeout starts tonight so pack your things.”

-

All your things have been packed and you were about to leave your room when you received a call from none other than Secretary Ross.

“Ugh, what does he want now?” You complained to yourself before accepting the call.

“I heard about the stakeout, Agent. Isn’t it convenient?”

You rolled your eyes; the secretary’s voice was too chirpy, as if he was excited. He was definitely up to something, what it was, you still didn’t know. Something about the mission you were tasked to do was off. They didn’t even tell you for how long you needed to tag along the Winter Soldier.

“Yes, sir. I will make sure to keep an eye on the subject and report whatever it is that I find out of place.” You reassured, hoping that the secretary would simply hum in agreement and end the call.

“Good. But wouldn’t it be better if you stir things up a bit?” He asked.

You frowned, “I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

Secretary Ross chuckled, “Push his buttons, Agent. See how he reacts to certain triggers.”

God, he really wants you to dig some dirt on Bucky. You were supposed to tell him that you already tried doing so and that nothing bad happened, but the Secretary reminded you that he wanted to see a detailed report about it and ended the call.

You didn’t want to push Bucky’s buttons anymore. Bringing up the Soldat seemed too much already and he had already proven how much in control he was of himself. However, you felt conflicted as well since you needed to file a report. You could easily fake it though, but you were afraid that the secretary might have eyes and ears lurking around.

You were too deep into your thoughts, almost losing track of the time. Thankfully, FRIDAY interrupted and informed you that Bucky and Sam were already outside the compound, waiting for you.

-

“You’re eight minutes late, Agent.” Sam reprimanded as you approached them.

“Did you have a hard time packing Bucky’s diapers and feeding bottles?” He teased.

Bucky grunted in dismay, “Jesus, Sam.”

“Sorry, had to take a phone call from the secretary.” You responded and began placing your things inside the trunk of the car.

Bucky stiffened at the mention of Secretary Ross, his hands tightened into fists at his side. You eyed his stance and noticed that he seemed uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t be if the government had their eyes on you?

“Nothing to worry about, Mister Barnes. You’re all good. I made sure of that.” You told him reassuringly before sliding into the passenger’s seat.

Bucky drove to the stakeout location with an uncomfortable silence in the air with the occassional directions coming from the GPS. You were slightly nervous about being on a week-long stakeout. It wasn’t because you were afraid of Bucky, but being with him by yourself was intimidating.

Seven days with the Winter Soldier. With no one else around.

You and the Winter Soldier. On a stakeout. For an entire week.

The more you thought about it, the more it was beginning to sink in. You’ve had your fair share of stakeouts in the past, but you were either by yourself or paired someone you closely worked with. But a stakeout with Bucky Barnes? How the fuck were you going to keep calm the entire week and maintain your calm persona?

“So...” Bucky trailed, tone unsure as if he too was uncomfortable with the silence and decided to break it but not knowing how to proceed.

“Do you want to turn on the radio?” He asked and cleared his throat, keeping his gaze on the road.

You looked out the window, “Yeah, why not.” You said with faux nonchalance.

Bucky quickly turned it on and adjusted the volume. He skimmed through various radio stations before settling on one.

Despite having the radio playing in the background, the atmosphere between you and Bucky remained awkward and uncomfortable. You could tell that Bucky could feel it too, so you decided to start a conversation.

“How has it been being an Avenger?”

You didn’t know why you chose that question, but it was the first thing that popped into your mind.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, “Is that part of your research on me or are you actually trying to start a conversation?” He asked, glancing at you with amusement.

“You know what, forget about it, Mister Barnes.” You waved off.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was genuinely curious.” He sheepishly responded, “But to answer your question, it’s been...weird so to speak. Especially having someone watch my every move.”

You shrugged, “Well, I apologize but I don’t have a choice. This is my job and I have to—“

“I know, Agent. You don’t need to explain, I completely understand. I’m really trying not to make it hard for you to do your job.” He explained.

You were actually surprised at how easy it was to talk to Bucky. You were expecting him to be completely broody and tight-lipped, considering all the things he went through. There were times when he’d be moody of course, but for the most part, he was friendly. And very kind.

“Well then I appreciate it, Mister Barnes.” You stated.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh, “I’m still looking forward to the day when you’d call me, Bucky.” He said and gave you a smile.

You felt your face heat up from the way he smiled at you and how his eyes crinkled at the sides. He almost looked the same as he did in his photos dated back to the 40’s, when he was oozing with that boyish charm and innocence before he was drafted for the war.

You immediately looked away and bit your lip.

-

The two of you arrived at the cheap motel that was situated a few blocks away from the fruit shop. The building was old and almost looked dilapidated. It was known to be the number one spot for illegal transactions. It was the perfect place for a stakeout.

“The old lady at the reception seemed suspicious of us, I saw how she eyed the both of us when we checked in.” You said upon entering the motel room, groaning at the stench that welcomed your nostrils.

Obviously, the room was far from decent given the quality of the motel itself. There were two beds separated by a night desk and a small coffee table; the cream curtains were splotchy and dusty, some parts of the wallpaper were torn apart and the flooring creaked with every single step.

“I think she was merely judging us, thinking we’re one of those couples.” Bucky said as he placed his bags on the bed.

“Those couples?” You asked, walking over to the other bed and inspecting the bedding.

“Well, I heard this motel is a popular location for shooting x-rated videos.” Bucky explained casually as he walked towards the window, pushing the curtains aside, revealing the perfect view of Black Sparrow’s nest.

You almost choke on your own spit, “You mean to say...that old lady thought we were going to shoot porn?!”

Bucky hummed, “Maybe. It’s probably for the best, that way we’ll remain unsuspicious. Less chances of being interrupted as well.” he replied casually, as if it was no big deal but you also noticed that the corner of his lips curved into a slight smirk.

Clearing your throat, you regained your composure and went to unpack your things instead, starting with some of the weapons you brought. A stakeout often resulted to a raid so you had to make sure that you were prepared in case of an attack. Bucky moved away from the window and closed the curtains again before sitting on his bed.

“Those all yours?” he asked with interest as he watched you arrange your knives and guns on top of your bed.

You glanced at him for a quick second and saw the glint in his eyes as he observed your arsenal, you just hummed in response and started cleaning your guns while Bucky watched in silence.

“When we sparred...” he trailed and you froze, expecting him to confront you when you brought up the Soldat to trigger him.

“You used Romanoff’s technique. Where did you learn that?” he asked.

You shrugged, “Mister Barnes, it’s not that hard to learn that move. I’m just as trained as you and Mister Wilson, I know a lot of moves.” you explained but Bucky didn’t seem to buy it.

“It’s actually kinda hard to execute that move. Not a lot of trained agents can do that easily.” he pressed.

You pursed your lips before looking up at him, “Sounds to me like you’re trying to compliment my skills, Mister Barnes.”

Bucky ended up letting go of the topic.

-

The first few hours of the stakeout was uneventful; you and Bucky simply kept watch to see whether there were suspicious movements in the fruit shop. It seemed to be a regular fruit shop but there were certain people walking in and out of it that looked pretty shady.

This was going to be a difficult task.

There were small conversations between you and Bucky, mostly formal and about the mission. Everything seemed to be going well but you knew that the longer the both of you would stakeout together, the more it was going to be uncomfortable. You figured that you’d cross that bridge when you get there.

It was past six when you felt a pang of hunger; the last time you had a meal was during lunch. You needed to get food before your stomach could even embarrass you in front of Bucky who remained staring out of the window, keeping watch.

“I’m getting us food for dinner, would you like anything?” you asked.

Bucky shook his head, “Anything is fine.” he offered a small smile.

You left the motel and thankfully, there was a nearby Mcdonald’s a couple blocks away. On your way back, you decided to casually pass by the fruit shop to get a closer look. You didn’t want to linger around but you did notice that there were certain people who kept on going in and out of the store throughout the day. You rushed back to your room to inform Bucky about it and upon stepping inside, you were welcomed by the sight of the Winter Soldier fresh out of the shower wearing only a towel that was wrapped around his waist while he was drying his hair with another towel.

Your eyes immediately zoomed in on the droplets of water that was running from Bucky’s neck down to his pecs, sliding lower to his chiseled abs. Your eyes remained on his abdomen, even when the water had disappeared into the towel around his waist. By the time you snapped out of your trance, you shifted your gaze back to Bucky’s face hoping that he didn’t catch you staring at his body.

Oh, but it was too late because your eyes were immediately met by a pair of baby blues.

“I...b-bought...” you stammered and wanted to slap yourself for sounding like an idiot. “...dinner from uh...Burger King.” you continued, unable to look away from Bucky’s piercing gaze.

“Mcdonald’s.” he said.

“What?”

“You bought from Mcdonald’s...not Burger King.” Bucky corrected you, pointing towards the brown paper bag in your hands.

You coughed and finally managed to look away from Bucky’s half-naked figure, “Yes, I meant Mcdonald’s. Sorry.” you softly said and pre-occupied yourself by taking out the food from the paper bag and placing them on the small table.

As you focused your attention on arranging the food on the desk, you felt Bucky hover behind you. His bare chest slightly pressing against your back as he reached for the french fries that was still inside the paper bag. You stood still and tried to keep your cool despite the closeness between you and Bucky. He pulled away just as quickly and grinned when you looked back at him with a frown.

“You smell good, Agent.” he said before grabbing his clothes from his bed and walking back into the bathroom to get dressed.

You blinked a couple of times before you realized what had just happened.

“Fuck!” you whispered under your breath.

This was going to be one hell of a stakeout.

-

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[wandas-sunshine]

Touch (Kinktober Day 1)

Kinktober Schedule

Prompt: Mutual Masturbation

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,291

Warnings: Smut 18+ ONLY. Fingering, light praise, mutual masturbation, mediocre lesbian smut

A/N: This is my first time writing fem x fem smut so please bear with me. Hopefully it’s a good enough way to kick off kinktober. There is a second part that didn’t get added, so if you’re interested let me know.

You didn’t know how to react when your girlfriend broached the subject of your pleasure over breakfast. You had nearly choked on your pancakes when she’d asked how you pleasured yourself when she wasn’t around.

It wasn’t like you and Wanda had never slept together You had thought you two had a healthy sex life, and she almost never failed to get the job done. But the look in her eyes was entirely serious. You glanced around your apartment like someone would accidentally overhear.

“You mean...how do I...touch myself?” You poked at your food, and Wanda nodded. You prayed she didn’t notice the way you flustered. “I usually just use my fingers. Or my little blue vibrator.”

Wanda hummed, sipping her coffee before speaking again.

“I want to try something. I want to watch.” Her words caught you off guard, and you simply stared at her for a moment. Sure, she’d seen it all before, seen you writhing in pleasure beneath her, but something about getting yourself off in front of her was...different. The more you thought of such a thing, the more your stomach began to swirl.

“You wanna watch? Why?” You squirmed in your seat. “I mean you can touch me, why just watch?”

“You know your body better than anyone. I want to learn what makes you feel best. Please.” And when she put it like that, how could you possibly question her any more?

“Okay,” You gave in, smiling back at her. She leaned across and pressed her lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t particularly long, but it had you pressing your thighs together. And despite the table, Wanda didn’t fail to notice.

“Are you done with your food?” She asked, settling back into her seat. You poked at your abandoned meal before nodding. “Is something on your mind?”

You weren’t looking, but you could hear the smirk in her voice

“I think I want to touch myself now.” You murmured, shifting in your chair and chewing anxiously on your bottom lip. You hadn’t expected the idea to have such an effect on you, but you could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs. Wanda seemed less surprised.

“Then come on, love.” She stood, her hand outstretched for you to take, which you did happily. She stole another kiss, this one was longer and slower, and it felt like a fire set between the two of you.

You made your way into your bedroom, and she carefully shed her top and shorts. She settled against the head of the bed, eyes watching you intently. You felt a swell of nervousness, but you swallowed it down. This was just Wanda. Your Wanda.

You tugged your shirt over your head and discarded it. Your jeans followed suit before you settled on your bed. You could feel her eyes on you, intense and loving as you let your hands wander the bare expanse of your skin. Your touch danced along the edges of your bra, down to do the same with your panties, just teasing yourself until every touch was electric.

Your hands moved up to grasp at your still covered chest, groping at yourself before giving in and stretching to undo the clasp behind your back. Your eyes drifted to Wanda. She was watching on, blue eyes dark with lust as her gaze followed the strap slipping down your arm, then to your finally bare chest. She made a noise in the back of her throat as if she was fighting the urge to take over.

Your hands returned to the now bare flesh of your breasts, sighing at the feeling. Your fingers tweaked at your nipples until they’d hardened beneath your touch. Your right hand traveled lower, teasing along your thighs. Wanda shifted as you dragged your nails over them, a trail of gentle scratch marks left behind. She pressed her own legs together to ease the throbbing between them.

You let your legs fall open wider, moving your hand from your leg to tease over your clothed mound. Your lip caught between your teeth and you hummed softly. You were already buzzing with need. Your eyes opened at the sound of a groan from Wanda. Her teeth were dug into her bottom lip, and her hand dipped under her panties.

“Keep going.” She urged, and who were you to argue? Your fingers finally dipped lower, brushing against your core through the soaked cotton panties hiding the last of you from the cool air.

You strangled out a quiet moan when your fingertips brushed past your clit. You circled the nub, teasing yourself until you were whining and squirming and simply couldn’t take it anymore. Finally, you wiggled your panties down your hips and kicked them aside.

“You’re stunning.” She praised, lifting her hips to wiggle down the last of her clothing. You whimpered softly, circling your fingers over your clit gently. Your fingers ventured lower, one of them slipping slowly into your heat.

You dared to spare a glance towards your girlfriend as she followed your lead. Her lith fingers worked her clit in tight circles, and you felt a shiver at the sight. You moaned at the sheer intensity behind her gaze as she watched your finger pump into yourself, deep and slow.

Your back arched from the bed and you whined softly. You added a second finger, closing your eyes and letting yourself fantasize about Wanda’s fingers stretching you open instead of your own.

“Wan, please,” You gasped out, squirming under your own touch. Your fingers curled in search of the spot that made your head spin, the spot that Wanda always found so effortlessly. You didn’t catch her groan of pure pleasure and adoration.

“Please what, baby?” She cooed, slipping two of her fingers into her own soaked pussy. You whined, not having enough coherency to put words together.

“P-please,” You bit your lip as you fucked yourself with your fingers, an obscene noise that only served to turn you on more. “I need you.”

Wanda grinned at the sight before her as you drew yourself closer and closer to the edge, and truthfully, she wasn’t too awfully far behind.

“Not yet baby, gotta do this first.” She hardly finished her sentence before you were whining your dissatisfaction. “Come on, make yourself cum on your fingers for me. I know you can do it.”

She noticed the telltale signs of your orgasm rushing towards you. The way your head flipped from side to side so desperately, the way your chest began to heave. She slid a hand over your thigh, and even just that made you moan her name.

Her hand found its way to the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs like second nature, rubbing circles against it while her other hand brought her teetering towards the edge of her orgasm. Just as quickly as her touch joined yours, your hand halted. Wanda tutted at you.

“Don’t stop, baby. Keep going.” She groaned out through gritted teeth as she held the wave of euphoria at bay. You clung to her arm, pumping your fingers deeper, harder, faster until you felt the tension snap. Your orgasm washed through you, your hips rolling against Wanda’s hand and your nails curling against her arm.

She followed right after, tumbling over the edge with a sharp moan. When she came down, you were still floating on cloud nine. She propped herself up and peppered kisses across your shoulders and chest.

“You did so well. Always so pretty for me.” She praised as your mind slowly came out of the fog.

“Can I have you now?” You murmured, your hand coming up to run through her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can have me now.”

Tag List: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @vozit // @realgaytrash // @i-love-books-so-fricking-much​ // @nikkiofasgard​ // @duvetsandpillows​

[archerdaryl]

Peppermint Sugar.

You’ve been tasked with decorating the Christmas cookies while Carol is out on a hunt. It would have gone just fine if the archer hadn’t shown up.  

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Tags: more cute christmas vibes, sfw, fluffy and fun but still a little slow burn Word Count: 2.5k  Notes: This one-shot follows on from London in Your Eyes! I’m thinking about turning it into a little collection of Christmas fics that all link together. As always I would love to hear your thoughts. ♥

You’d been at Carol’s house for barely ten minutes and you were already overwhelmed.

The air was thick and sweet like molasses, a pleasant surprise that was almost enough to soften the visual overload that was waiting for you in the kitchen. There were trays upon trays of cookies sitting on almost every counter space you could see. You had happily agreed to help decorate while she went out on a run with Ezekial and his knights, but good God.

There were at least a hundred cookies there. And they all needed expertly icing.

You approached the kitchen island slowly, eyebrows knitted together as you cursed under your breath. You can’t have been the only person she asked. Especially considering you weren’t exactly artistically inclined. Sure, a snowman was simple and you could probably figure out how to ice a Christmas tree adequately enough, but a couple of the shapes you couldn’t even identify.

“She’s lost her fucking mind.” The words escaped you in a mumble, followed by a long exhale.

Looking back you weren’t sure why you agreed to this in the first place. Maybe it was the assumption you wouldn’t be stuck here alone at 7am or that it would only be a few cookies you could hide at the bottom of the pile. You couldn’t have been more wrong, but you were at least relieved that you didn’t bother to change out of your yoga pants for the occasion considering you were going to be standing there decorating for hours.

Eventually you accepted that simply staring at the endless trays of cookies wasn’t actually going to do anything and you moved towards the stove to boil some water for coffee. While you waited for it to bubble, you organised the trays according to cookie shape and decided to start on what you could only assume were snowflakes.

How could you possibly mess those up? All you needed was white icing. If by some miracle Carol had got her hands on some food colouring, maybe you could be real fancy and mix a little blue in too.

You continued to wipe down the counters, dusting off remnants of flour before placing the first tray in front of you. You soon found a set of instructions left behind by Carol and you would be lying if you didn’t say you were relieved. You followed them, grabbing everything you needed and mixing up some sort of concoction that resembled a very basic icing.

Carol had to have chosen you for a reason. You hoped she had more faith in you than you did in yourself.

She had to, because you were already bored and you had barely begun.

And then the door swung open, almost making you jump.

“Oh my god, my very own knight in shining armour.”

Daryl Dixon stopped in his tracks and stared at you in confusion.

“Wha’?”

“I could settle for scrap metal.” You grumbled.

He narrowed his eyes before hesitantly moving his way through the house, eventually disappearing into the basement with Dog trailing along behind him. You mumbled a rather sarcastic goodbye before grabbing a ziplock bag and carefully spooning the icing into the bottom right corner, following Carol’s instructions as closely as possible.

“Thought you were huntin’ today.” Daryl shouted as he climbed back up the stairs.

“I was supposed to be. Carol wanted me to do… well, this.” You gestured to the mountain of cookies behind you and tried to hide your disdain. Dog happily padded towards you and demanded neck scratches by pushing his snout against your legs. Naturally, you obliged.

“On yer’ own?”

His crystalline gaze traced your form as he leaned onto the opposite side of the kitchen island. You were in an old hoodie, hardly form fitting but the dark red hue complimented your eyes, and there was a dusting of icing sugar across your cheek. He smiled ever so slightly, but said nothing.

“Unless you’re offering to keep me company, yeah, it looks like it.”

The pair of you hadn’t spent much time together since the Christmas fair. Keeping food stocks up was more important than ever with the snow being as heavy as it was, and the fact The King insisted on an extravagant Christmas celebration wasn’t helping anyone’s work load. Keeping busy kept you both from thinking about that stolen moment of innocent intimacy, though Daryl still found himself staring at you just a little bit longer with his fists clenched every time you crossed paths.

He was chasing the sensation of your hand in his without even knowing it.

“Ain’t got much else t’ do,” He lied, shrugging and leaning further onto the countertop with his forearms, “Watchin’ you fuck up might be fun.”

You didn’t bother glaring at him, your hands went straight for the icing sugar, picking it up in a pinch and flicking it right into his face before turning to find some scissors. You heard him splutter and blow hard, as if that alone could erase your act of vengeance.

“Don’ start somethin’ you can’t finish girl.”

You snorted and returned to your original position at the kitchen island, your grin widening after seeing the mess you made of him.

“I think you look great.” You insisted, “As ruggedly handsome as always.”

Daryl’s lips thinned in faux annoyance, though his eyes betrayed him. He was unable to come up with a retort of his own. He was stuck on two words in particular.

Ruggedly handsome.

He knew you were being sarcastic, you had a habit of that, but it still made him feel a little embarrassed. If not for the icing sugar speckled across his face, you likely would have noticed him blush a little.

“Handsome huh?”

Daryl had never been one to concern himself too much with the way he looked. He could never afford to and there certainly wasn’t any point anymore with the world in the state it was. However, in that moment he realised that when it came to you, he felt a sense of insecurity previously unknown to him.

“Oh yeah. I’m super into the whole dandruff thing.” You teased further, gesturing to the sugar speckled in his hair.

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the island counter, “You talk too much.”

You had thrown him off on purpose. You had no choice. You couldn’t stand there and lie to him to protect yourself from the feelings you constantly tried to bury. Daryl Dixon was many things but ugly was not a word that ever came to mind. Yet, you couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him he looked like home either.

“C’mon. Carol will kill me if I don’t get something done.”

Daryl wasn’t sure what exactly it was he was supposed to be doing, but he was perfectly happy to be there even with the nerves causing havoc in his stomach. Anyone else would have considered them butterflies, but he wasn’t exactly a teenager dealing with a high school crush.

He met you behind the island and towered over you at your side. You forced yourself to concentrate on the task at hand, continuing to spoon icing into the ziploc bag. As he watched your hands at work, he leant down onto folded forearms and chewed the inside of his bottom lip absentmindedly

How did they look even softer than before?

He supposed it was because you were inside where it was warm, nuzzled within that oversized hoodie of yours. Was the rest of you as soft as your hands? He lost himself for a moment wondering what it would be like to fall asleep against your chest, your heartbeats perfectly in sync.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Quickly clearing his throat, he took his index finger and scooped up a blob of icing before you could steal it away with your spoon. He savoured the sweetness as he sucked it off his finger and then looked up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

This was the most time they had spent together in days and he wasn’t about to ruin it by getting caught up in shit that didn't, no, couldn’t matter.

“Don’ start somethin’ you can’t finish girl.”

You met his gaze, eyes briefly drifting to his sugar sweet lips before you allowed a smirk to tug at the corners of your own.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Dixon.”

“Oh yeah?” He replied, cocking a brow before going in for a second scoop of icing.

Before you could even try to swat him away, Daryl had gotten his hands on the bowl and darted out of reach. Though his mischief may have been a distraction from his wandering thoughts, you were none the wiser. To you, this was one of those rare moments where he let his guard down enough to act a fool without wanting to beat himself up about it. You couldn’t be pissed even if you wanted to.

Grabbing the bag of powdered sugar, you immediately rushed after him, eager to make an even bigger mess than you already had. You followed him into the lounge where he had collapsed onto the couch, making himself comfortable and continuing to scoop out sticky white icing with his fingers.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You whined, unable to keep an amused grin from tugging at the corners of your mouth, “Don’t think I won’t ruin this couch.”

Daryl looked up at you and allowed a snort of amusement to escape him. He didn’t doubt you for a minute, but he didn’t care about decorating no cookies and he knew you didn’t either so it wasn’t like he felt particularly guilty about the matter.

You stood your ground, your hand venturing into the bag of powdered sugar. Daryl watched you carefully and weighed up his choices, which didn’t take long at all because he soon found himself leaning forward to grab your forearm, pulling you down onto the couch with him in a poor attempt to keep you from attacking again.

What he didn’t consider was the bag of sugar doing a somersault out of your hands and creating  an even bigger mess anyway.

“Ah, shit!” He groused.

You landed awkwardly on him, having to adjust yourself so that you were flat on your back while he was laying on his side next to you with his arm bent to prop up his head. You quickly found yourselves coughing and having to wave your arms as you tried to dissipate the cloud of sugar, which mostly landed in a little hill on the rug but had still managed to leave heavy traces all over you.

“This,” You gestured to your hoodie and the mess around you, “- is on you.”

“Fuck that, I weren’t the one chasing me with sugar.”

After a futile attempt of wiping down your stomach with your hands, you turned your head to look at Daryl with a frown. You didn’t realise how close you were to each other until you met his eyes, which almost made you trip up on your words. You didn’t remember them being that blue.

“You’d really leave me to fend for myself like that?” You pouted.

Daryl opened his mouth to speak but the words got stuck in the back of his throat. You were so close. Too close. He could smell the sweetness on your skin, paired with peppermint which he could only assume was your toothpaste or some sort of lip balm.

“Carol won’t get mad at her pookie.”

He reached for the pillow by his legs but didn’t follow through on the threat as you quickly grabbed his arm and pulled it back towards you.

“I’m kidding!” You practically shrieked, his arm resting over your stomach with your fingers still wrapped around it to keep him from going for the pillow again, “Well, actually…”

“Stop.”

“It’s true and you know it. Please don’t leave me with this.”

Daryl went a little stiff. He wanted to pull away. He could feel the warmth of your body against his, could see each individual eyelash, and, fuck, those fingers of yours were wrapped around his arm. He was almost afraid to breathe. He didn’t want to take up more space than he already had.

You had spent many sleepless nights at each other’s sides in the past, either in temporary shelter while on a run or for comfort when things got bad. You had not, however, been this wrapped up in one another. Not in the slightest. He only had to put his head down for you to take him into your arms, and the thought of that alone was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

Once again, something had shifted and those uncharted waters were only getting deeper.

“Ya’ know, Dog can be pretty bad sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

Your eyes were locked and the words spilled from each of your lips slowly. Your grip on his forearm softened but you made no effort to let him go. In that moment it seemed as if you only saw each other and that the wall you insisted on keeping up was starting to crumble. It was only a matter of time before one of you rebuilt it, but right then, right in that moment, you could have laid there forever.

You wanted to know what he was thinking, if his thoughts were as scrambled as yours. You felt safe at Daryl's side, as if nothing could ever hurt you again, and you found yourself wanting him to pull you in closer.

God, he was already so close. One of you only had to lean in.

“Yeah. Carol don’t gotta know.”

“But the cookies…”

“Can’t ice no cookies without icin’.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Daryl wet his bottom lip with his tongue and he could have sworn your eyes lowered to his mouth for just a second. He wanted to be put out of his misery. He felt like a damn school girl losing his head over someone he couldn’t have. You hadn’t approached this - whatever this is - for a reason but he wasn’t feeling very reasonable anymore.

Did your mouth taste as sweet as his? Would the peppermint make his lips tingle?

All he had to do was lean in.

Then, the unmistakable sound of the front door being opened echoed throughout the house. You both froze and confusion turned to horror when Carol eventually called out to you, claiming the weather had taken a turn for the worst.

You sat up on your elbows, eyebrows knitted together in worry whilst Daryl went completely silent, both annoyed and embarrassed that Carol had trespassed in her own home. You were mortified, there wasn’t a damn thing to show for your time there other than icing sugar everywhere, but you were also a little relieved - not because you didn’t want to be pinned in place next to him, but because you were finally able to take a full breath.

“Quick.” Daryl muttered, “Out the back.”

“But -”

Daryl didn’t give you a chance to argue. He quickly but carefully climbed up off of the couch and grabbed your hand without hesitation, squeezing it tight and pulling you along towards the back of the house where you could both escape.

You squeezed back, a childish grin growing across your sugar dusted face as your hand fit perfectly into his once more.

[the-silentium]

Here we go again

Masterlist - Murphy day - Part 2

Before I introduce you to my story, please note that Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 3661 words

Warnings: Hurting animals (predators, don’t worry).

A/N: This is going to be insane. It’ll get gory (not in this chap, but we’ll get there). 

Taglist: @haloangel391​ (still want to be tagged?) + Tag list open

_____________________

"This," Tech paused to find the right words to not insult you once more. "went rather good considering it's your first time." He met your gaze, clearly concentrating on your body language to see if you were insulted or not.

You stared back at him blankly, eyebrow raised, hands joined on your lap. You turned your chair to face him completely and moved forward to get your elbows on your knees, never breaking the eye contact. 

"Cut the crap. Say what you wanted to say." 

"Two things." He immediately followed like the words were dying to leave his lips. "One, this should have been a lot more chaotic. Two, there was no way you actually never flew a ship before." His eyes squinted like this would press the info out of you.

"You accusing me of lying?" You remained stoic, not letting him know yet about your little secret and actually making him squirm in his seat. 

"No!" He straightened in his seat, frowning in confusion as if you'd just slapped him. In the background, you could hear footsteps getting closer to the cockpit door. 

"Are you?" He continued, uncertain.

"No." 

"For a second I doubted it was you piloting." Hunter entered, followed by Wrecker who stood right behind him. "Very good for a first flight." 

"Yeah! We could tell it wasn't Tech because of the landing! It was too smooth." Wrecker chimed in to his smaller brother's dismay. 

"Thanks." You answered with a nod at the same time Tech yelled his indignation. 

"She cheated!" 

"And how can you cheat at piloting a ship?" Crosshair snickered at the apparent attempt to keep his reputation of best pilot of the Marauder. Apparently you were promising enough to be a threat. This was interesting. 

"Tech. She doesn't have a droid. She couldn't cheat." Hunter pointed out, confused. 

"She said she didn't fly a ship before! It clearly isn't the case!" His hands moved around to prove his point, almost causing you to burst out laughing. 

"Again with accusing me of lying?" You inquired innocently. 

"No! I'm not-" 

"You just did." The sniper smirked, enjoying the show. 

Shiny decided to join the troop at this moment, passing its head under Wrecker's big hand for some pat. Your heart squeezed at the prospect that the tiny baby wouldn't be around anymore. He was so sweet. 

"But you can't learn that from the books!"

"I didn't lie." You chuckled, your attention back to the discussion. One of your hands found the engineer's pauldron to calm him down. "I never flew a ship before. Hell, I've never used a blaster before! This planet is still using bows and arrows."  

You heard a snort on your right, clearly coming from the grey-haired trooper, but your eyes were fixed to Tech's who was still trying to get how the hell you managed to get the hang of flying a ship so quickly. You were sure it took hours of training to be able to fly to the GAR standards and you knew you didn't reach these standards. Yet. But it didn't stop your first performance to be quite good, or so it seemed. 

"You're right. I read all the books and they couldn't have prepared me enough." He nodded, already knowing that he was right, waiting for you to continue with barely contained impatience. 

"Remember the trooper who shared my room for a while? Blast?" You didn't wait for him to answer your question before getting to the part of his interest. "He's a gunship pilot. He taught me what to be aware of, what to look for, how to react in what situation, and other stuff." 

You smiled sweetly at his goggled eyes, batting your eyelashes innocently. 

"See? Not a liar. Just resourceful." 

His eyes grew wide in panic, almost making you panic. 

"You blew your cover of being a trained pilot!" Oh. You rolled your eyes in all playfulness, noticing how the rest of the team tensed at his words. 

" 'm not that dumb Techie." You resisted the urge to boop his nose in front of everyone. "Told him I was used to starfighters and not gunships. Wasn't used to the big extra weight behind my ass. He bought it and helped me 'adjust'." You finished by making quotation marks in the air, happy to see his face crumble in relief. 

"It's okay Tech. You're still the best pilot between the two of us." You patted his shoulder and got to your feet, a new energy in your steps as you made your way to the back of the ship. 

You looked around for your knife, going to the last place you remember seeing it; the barracks. Only, you found the beds to be totally empty and your knife was unexpectedly nowhere to be seen in the living area too. Maybe one of the boys had it, you thought. Before you went to ask them, it flashed into your mind. You remembered sliding it into the slot at the side of your boot. You lightly hit your forehead with your palm. Oops. You could keep that to yourself.

You heard the boys argue for a bit, Wrecker laughing at the whole exchange, your lips stretching at his contagious joy. They finally settled, the silence making it obvious that their small discussion was over, so you made your way to the door of the ship. 

"All ready to go drop off our lil' friend." You announced as they joined you, pressing the button to open the door. 

Tech handed you a small device with a flashing round circle as soon as he was within arms reach. 

"What's that?" You took the device, turning it around to inspect it. 

"An improved comm link. If by some bad luck we get separated, we'll still be able to reach you. It is set to our team frequency. Press this button to talk." He pointed at the no-longer-flashing circular button. 

"So I can't dirty talk Hunter." You said in the device, and you could hear your voice echoing from all their helmets under their arms. 

"Definitely not." He deadpanned, disgusted. Wrecker laughed whole-heartedly, one of his hands slapping the back of your right shoulder that moved forward under his strength, Hunter smirked in your direction with a delicious glint in his eyes while Crosshair rolled his eyes and put his helmet on. 

"Fiiiine." You fake whined, eyes and head rolling like a kid before inviting them to get off the ship with a movement of your hands presenting them the outside world. "After you, gentlemen." 

Scoffing, Hunter pulled his helmet on and walked down the steps, followed by the rest of the batch. 

"Good job Y/N!" Wrecker eagerly presented you his fist, to which you keenly answered with a hit of your smaller fist. He descended the stairs to regroup with his team. 

Smiling, you noted that they were fully armored, armed and alert, surely not trusting the fauna around to stay at bay. You found that deep inside, it made you feel safer to have them by your side. 

You pocketed the comm link in one of your deepest pockets before following suit, arms wide at your side to bathe in the warmth of the slowly retiring sun while you could. Space, you'd realized, was terribly cold. 

Tall trees reached high in the blue sky, the green grass grew as far as you could see, a warm breeze stroked your face and all in all, you found yourself not relaxing like you expected. You thought that you'd feel better to be in known-ish territory as opposed to a cold military base, but your mind couldn't find ease. Not even slightly. Maybe it was PTSD following your last experience on Murphy Day. You deeply hoped this was the explanation. 

You made sure that you landed the ship far enough from the Forsian hunting territories and the Waytree, the prospect of meeting one of your peers wasn't very tempting and if you could avoid meeting another Basilisk, you'd definitely take it. The Marauder was now in wild territory, far enough that even you hadn't ventured that far in your exploratory trips, about a couple of hours of walk away from your native village, just enough to stay undetected.

You joined the group, smiling at seeing Shiny running into the greenery, glad that at least one of you was happy to be back. 

Wrecker and Crosshair went ahead, closer to the line of trees to search for predators of some sort, their movements frightening small sunbathing Jerboas that fled back into the jungle. 

"We'll have to do it quick. Can't be here when the sun's down." You informed the sergeant who nodded in understanding. 

Or at least, some understanding. Like everyone else, he must have deduced that this planet was even more dangerous at night. If only he knew to what extends. Or maybe it was best for him not to know. 

"Clear." Came Crosshair's voice from your pocket. 

"All cl-" Wrecker started before his sentence finished in a yelp of surprise. 

All at once, four heads turned towards his position, quick enough to see his torso and helmet disappear into the ground. 

'Wrecker!" You yelled along with Tech, running to where you last saw him, the remaining commandos barely outrunning you. 

"Stop!" Hunter barked, arms extended at his sides to prevent you all to fall off the cliff, cutting your breath for a second when the blaster in his hand hit your chest full force. 

The ground was crumbling under your combined weights, hurrying you to step back from the edge. You dropped on your stomach to redistribute your weight and peer at the open space below. Making sure this time that only your head poked over the edge and nothing else. A hand gripped the back of your shirt in haste, like you would ever decide to throw yourself off a precipice. Again. 

Wrecker sat there on his ass surrounded by trees, passing a hand over his helmet in confusion. You finally took a deep breath in when you registered that he was moving. 

"You okay there?" You yelled with your hands around your mouth, the others replicating your position at your sides to look down, the hand on your back still closed around the fabric. 

"All good." He looked up, flashing you a thumbs up. 

Bending your head to look under you, your blood ran cold as you took in the really thin plate of ground kept together by roots and nothing else. There were only a very few inches of dirt supporting your bodies, creating a gap between the part of the cliff Wrecker could climb and the edge where you all laid on. 

"He can't climb up." You rotated your head to the side at Crosshair's comment and saw the ground disappearing two clicks further down. You landed on a weird ravine top of some sort. 

Your breathing picked up in pace as the image of the sun licking the top of the trees reached your brain, pushing back to the front of your mind all your survival instinct adapted to the hard life on your planet. 

"We have to get him. Quick." Your eyes were fixed to the sun, muscles tensed. 

How long before the last rays warmed the ground? How long until you weren't protected anymore? 45 minutes? A bit less? 

"What's wrong?" Hunter questioned, bringing you back to the land of the living. He looked worried, maybe it was caused by the panic in your voice. Or the fact that your skin paled significantly in a matter of seconds. Or maybe it was both. 

You got on your knees before bolting toward the line of trees, evading the hand clutched around your shirt to look for a spot where the cliff met your own ground. Yells of your name were muffled by your loud frenetic thoughts, warnings to not stay outside at dusk, stories of what roamed the darkness on the other side of the gigantic fence protecting the village, drawings of terrifying creatures that haunted your nights for years.  

You jumped at the something closing on your shoulder, instinct kicking in to lift your hand to threaten the intruder. You were as surprised at Tech when you saw the hunting knife in your hand, the blade almost pressed against his neck. 

"Calm down!" A sharp order reached your ears as a hand pulled your wrist away from the tender skin. 

"S-sorry Tech." Your voice shook as much as your hand, your grip tightening around the handle of the blade.  

"What's wrong? Talk to us!" Hunter ordered again, invading your line of sight. 

"We have to be gone before dusk. We can't survive a night outside." You rushed, eyes lifting to the darkening sky between the leaves. 

"Why?" He pressed, tension building. 

"We are losing time! We have 20 minutes tops to find him and all get our way back to the ship." You turned around to continue your search of a way to get to your teammate. 

"What happens at dusk?" Tech inquired, joining your sides and matching your quick pace. 

"They come out, Tech." You whispered, almost scared to say it out loud in fear that they would appear at their mention. 

"What's 'they'?" Crosshair grumbled, completely done with your nonsense. He seemed unbothered, but you knew your stress was affecting him too, his gun at the ready was secured in a tight grip while his helmet scanned the trees meticulously. 

"Apex predators." You shuddered, the drawing of an Algax invading your mind. 

You noticed Shiny wandering a bit farther ahead, his horns illuminating a couple of Furants watching the group closely. The feline-like owls were perched on low branches, the green light reflecting over their dark feathers and four legs armed with sharp talons. Their ears and eyes followed your movements, their tail intertwined to keep the other close. 

They flew away in silence when Wrecker's voice boomed from your comm link. 

"I hear weird laughs all around." He sounded worried, some of said laughs could be heard in the background. 

As if this situation wasn't already bad! You definitely could have done without Wrecker being surrounded by a pack of vicious opportunist predators.

"Shoot 'em! Check in the trees!" You rushed out. "They'll try to surround you, you can't let them. Run if need be, they're not that fast." You glanced down the edge and huffed in annoyance when it still wasn't close enough to let you jump down to help him. 

"We have to get to him!" You heard the first blaster bolts just below to your right, meaning that Wrecker foolishly ventured the jungle alone on his side when the others started running after you.  

"Wrecker. Continue running North. We'll meet at some point." Hunter ordered. 

"Got that!" 

You jumped over dead trunks, roots and dense patches of tall grass, slalomed between the trees disturbing the small animals tending to their daily routine of surviving the harsh environment and ignored the yelps of Tech tripping over something. 

"Don't shoot that!" You yelled, pointing to the big moss-covered lizard currently digging the ground before you, rushing past it without a care. He barely acknowledged your passage, staying focussed on his task. 

You passed too much time running to your liking, but it all paid off when a very tall tree almost reached your ground level. It was a couple of feet too short, but it definitely was enough for you to jump down to the thick branches below. The top ones weren't strong enough, breaking beneath your feet and scratching your arms slightly. Soon, you reached the level where the wood became thick enough to sustain your weight. You plunged your knife into the trunk to slow down your fall to allow you to grab a branch without dislocating your shoulder and quickly made your way down. 

You heard your name from above, but ignored it. They could make it on their own. Or at least you hoped. 

You heard Wrecker before you saw him, the high pitch snickers and whoops following him closely. He shot some bolts behind him but continued running forward like Hunter ordered him to. He passed below you, not seeing you in the tree but stopped when he heard something fall on the ground behind him. 

You had plunged your knife into one of the Rideat following the clone, stabbing him near the neck as soon as he jumped on your branch to continue its course. It lost balance at the pain, propelling the both of you to the ground. 

You jumped to your feet in milli-seconds, already expertly jumping away from its long clawed prehensile fingers to stab it in the neck. It screeched in pain, jerking it's dangerously powerful back legs forward to push you away and claw at your flesh in the same movement. 

You jumped back and Wrecker used the moment to shoot at the agonizing beast. Groans and grunts resonated all around, brown flashes moving from trees to trees. With your back to Wrecker's, you analyzed their pattern, lifted your hand and threw your knife to where you were sure the brown Rideat would jump next. Its body hit the ground, stunning it long enough for the trooper to shoot it down. 

With snarls, the others retreated, leaving the scene as swiftly as they came. 

"Those things are ugly!" Wrecker let out when you pulled your knife out of the canine-bat's shoulder. 

"They are." 

You pushed the body with your foot, cautious of any movement on its end, they were known to fake dead after all. Its long front legs were motionless just like its smaller back legs. 

When it's large sensitive protrusions on its scapulas didn't move, you allowed yourself to breathe. 

"You okay?" You turned to Wrecker who lifted its helmet to wear it as a hat. 

"Yes! Thanks to you, cabur'ika!" 

You frowned at the new nickname. You opened your mouth to ask what it meant when troopers rained from above, landing on their feet like the perfect elite commandos that they were. You were actually surprised that they didn't fall all the way down with their armor. 

"They're gone." You informed them, almost snorting at their weapons moving along the trees. 

"You sure?" Hunter stayed focused on his surroundings. 

"100%. They're opportunist cowards. Always flee when they realize the prey is too strong." You pushed Wrecker's arm playfully at your last word. 

"What's that?" Tech asked, crouched next to one of the bodies. 

"A Rideat." You looked above, trying to discern the sky above the clouds of leaves but failing miserably as this part of the jungle was way too dense. "I'll describe later. We should get back up and leave." 

Unfortunately, the tree was too short for you all to get back up there, so you had to walk further into the jungle to find a way up. This ravine must have a climbable spot somewhere. It had to. 

Each passing second put you more and more on edge, sharpening your senses and reflexes. You heard the pounding of several Jerboas running to safety around you, a young single Loth wolf passed right next to your group, running towards its den. 

You'd spent too much time walking, running and fighting. You were late. Too late. The sun was down and the diurnal animals fled to their secure home to pass the night. Preys and predators alike. 

"We have to follow it!" You yelled, sprinting after the Loth wolf. Maybe it would lead you to a suitable shelter. Please, please, please.

Desperately, you tried to keep sight of it. Running at your fastest, you took every turn it did, jumped every mud puddle it did, but in the end, its four legs were too fast for the two of yours. 

You lost him for a second. It was a second too much. Your blood ran cold when you lost sight it, but you soon spotted the small crack in the rock where it sneaked in to find shelter. 

"No. Nononononono." You shook your head, eyes widening as fear traveled through your body like fire. 

The fissure was too small for anyone to slip in. You were stuck out past daylight. Too far from the ship and too far from the nearest village.

"Stop running off." Hunter grumbled, joining your side. 

You were on the verge of hyperventilating, too much blood was flooding your head, pins poked your fingers, the quick beating in your skull almost made you dizzy. 

"Can't be out at night. Can't." You whispered, reciting the fundamentals of your previous years of survival. "Never leave the village alone. Don't forget your weapon. Return home before dusk."

You had failed. You'd die. You'd die like everyone else that ventured the night. You'd given yourself a death sentence without even returning to the village. How dumb-

"Y/N!" You were shook back and forth for a moment, trying to get you to focus. 

"Calm your breathing. Now!" You heard the order, it was distant and muffled, but you heard it. It was only then that you regained feelings of your own body and forced your erratic lungs to slower their pace. 

Your vision cleared, the sounds in your head vanished, the ringing in your ears faded, your fingers flexed to regain full feeling in them. You were alive. Still alive. Not for lo-

"Good." You blinked at Crosshair, his worried gaze moving over your face like you'd scared him. As if. 

"We have to find shelter." You told them, coming back from your panic attack. Body leaning on the sniper's hand on your shoulder for stability. 

"Remember I told you guys that Fors feeds on beliefs and basically make them real?” You didn’t wait for an answer. “Now what are common beliefs at night?" 

"Monsters." Crosshair deadpanned, eyes reduced to slit. He must think you went downright crazy.

"Blood-thirsty man-eating monsters." You specified to their horror.