#fire engine red lipstick

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: On Colour

Describing Colour in your Poetry and Stories

BLACK Shadow Black, Dusk, Midnight, Blackbird, Blackberry, Ebony, Black Honey, Darkness, Jet Black, Ink Black, Soot, Onyx, Licorice, Ivory Black, Pitch, Char, Gloom, Outer Space, Creosote Black, Melanite, Goth Black, Gunpowder

BLUE Blueberry, Sapphire Blue Metallic, Tiffany Blue (Pantone 1837), Cobalt Blue, Denim, Aquamarine, Turquoise, Sky Blue, Topaz, Ultramarine Blue, Azure, Cerulean, Oxford Blue, Periwinkle, Electric Blue, Baby Boy Blue, Pthalo Blue, Robin's Egg Blue, Persian Blue, Marino Blue, Prussian Blue

GREEN Leafy Green, Olive, Moss Green, Jade, Lime, Sour Apple Green, Emerald Green, Mint, Kiwi Green, Phthalo Green, Praying Mantis Green, Viridian, Greenback, Shamrock, Sap Green, Chartreuse, Sea Green, Pistachio, Teal, Bamboo, Sea Salt, Celadon Green, Celery, Asparagus Green, Fern Green, Neon Green, Jungle Green, Pear Green

ORANGE Pumpkin, Burnt Orange, Carrot, Sunset Orange, Tangerine, Persimmon, Salamander, Tennessee Orange (Pantone 151), Jack-o'-lantern Orange, Florida Orange, Summer Squash, Pale Daffodil, Smashed Pumpkin, Saffron, Autumn Orange, Macaroni and Cheese, Cadmium Orange

PINK Pink Flamingo, Neon Pink, Bubblegum Pink, Salmon, Peach, Fuscia, Cotton Candy Pink, Rose, Carnation, Thulian, Apricot, Atomic Pink, Barbie Pink, Hot Pink, Amaranth, Flushed, Glitter Pink

PURPLE Lavender, Purple Haze, Grape, Eggplant Purple, Plum, Violet, Orchid, Psychedelic Purple, Amethyst, Lilac, Boysenberry, Mulberry, Wisteria, Bruised Plum, Indigo, Mauve

RED Blood Red, Copper, Maroon, Strawberry, Watermelon Red, Crimson, Candy Apple Red, Tomato, Brick Red, Scarlet, Cardinal Red, Cherry, Ruby Red, Coral, Sunburn, Hot Lava, Cadmium Red, Auburn, Blush, Alizarin Crimson, Fire Engine Red, Raspberry, Vermillion, Lipstick, Burgundy, Magenta, English Vermilion, Mahogany

WHITE Dirty White, Albino, Chalk, Alabaster, Cotton, Titanium White, Vanilla, Bone White Egg Shell, Marshmallow, Ivory, Pearl White, Almond, Champagne, Blond, Cream, Milky White, Corn Silk, Bleach, Navajo White, Ghost White, Light, Cloud White

YELLOW Canary Yellow, Lemon, Banana, Egg Yolk Yellow, Mellow Yellow, Chanterelle, Mustard Yellow, Corn, Goldenrod, Amber, Pineapple, Metallic Gold, Cadmium Yellow, Wheat, Tuscan Sun, Butter, School Bus Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Citron, Dandelion

BROWN Mud Brown, Beaver, Caramel, Rust, Macaroon, Toasty Brown, Coffee, Sandy Tan, Cocoa, Honey, Chocolate, Burnt Sienna, Mocha, Seashell, Antique Brass, Bronze, Brown Sugar, Chestnut Brown, Taupe, Burnt Umber, Khaki, Dark Sienna, Light Chocolate, Sepia

GRAY Stone Gray, Ash, Metallic Silver, Platinum, Smoke, Concrete Gray, Mercury, Steel Gray, Mist, Titanium, Charcoal, Slate, Sterling Silver, Tungsten, Old Coin Gray, Iron Gray, Chrome, Magnesium, Overcast

MIXED Candy Cane (red and white), Zebra (black and white), Chameleon (many different colours), Ladybug (black and red), Wildfire (yellow, orange and red), Tiger (orange, black and white), Yellow Jacket (black and yellow), Christmas Lights (red, white and green), Rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet), Black Pepper (black and gray), Leopard (spotted gold and black), Creamsicle (orange and white), Candy Corn (orange and white), Iceberg (a bluish gray), Marbled

COLOURS: Symbolisms, Associations & Psychological Effects

Black. Especially in Gothic literature from the West, a black colour choice often represents death, evil, grief, and depression. Associated with fear, the unknown and often has a negative connotation. Black clothes can make you look thinner. A black background severely diminishes the readability of most type. Often the go to colour for funerals and grieving. It symbolizes stability and power, which gives a sense of authority. Thus, the black colour often represents professionalism and expertise.

Blue. Has positive and negative connotations in colour psychology. Some writers may use blue to represent serenity and tranquility, instilling a scene with a calming effect. Blue can also signify sadness, melancholy, or isolation. People who find someone very loyal and faithful are often called "true blue". Blue is often considered to be more masculine which is why it is often the colour of choice when choosing a suit. Lighter blues are associated with tranquility, softness and healing. Darker blues are associated with power, knowledge and seriousness. Blue is actually shown to suppress appetites a bit. The colour blue symbolizes wisdom and hope. It’s the colour of peace and confidence. Blue has been shown to reduce blood pressure and pulse rate. It fosters serenity and a sense of belonging.

Green. The colour green often symbolizes rebirth, growth, peace, jealousy, and greed. Green colours may also represent spring and renewal. It is a colour that is very easy on the eyes. Dark green is often associated with ambition. Green suggests stability, safety and hope. At the same time, it may denote a lack of experience in a particular field. Green symbolizes peace, growth, and nature. It is the colour of success, promoting healing and tranquility.

Orange. The colour orange often represents energy, excitement, joy, and creativity. Since orange is the colour of fire, it may also symbolize heat. Since orange is not as aggressive as red, it can actually stimulate brain activity. It is very useful to catch someone's attention, which is why it's used a lot to advertise food and toys.

Pink. The colour pink symbolizes love, kindness, femininity, innocence, and playfulness. Certain shades of pink can limit aggression. Pink may be associated with unconditional love and caring.

Purple. Often associated with royalty, the colour purple symbolizes bravery, spirituality, and luxury. Light purple usually brings up romantic or nostalgic feelings; while a darker shade can make you feel gloomy or sad.

Red. The colour red symbolizes some of the most powerful human emotions, like passionate love or lust. On the other side of the spectrum, this warm colour is also the colour of blood, often symbolizing anger, danger, and violence. It stimulates the appetite. Red is an emotionally intense colour associated with energy, danger, anger, passion and determination. The symbolic meaning associated with the colour red is passion, excitement, and love. It’s the colour of urgency, power, and desire. Red is said to boost hunger and is believed to inspire confidence and excitement. This colour has also been found to increase blood pressure and heart rate.

White. This primary colour traditionally symbolizes innocence, peace, and cleanliness. In Western cultures, the colour white also represents purity and virginity, while it symbolizes mourning in some East Asian cultures. Usually has positive connotations when used and thought of as safe. Associated a lot with healing, simplicity and sterility, which is why it's used in hospitals and healing centers as much as it is. The symbolic meaning of the colour white is truth and sometimes even indifference. It encourages feelings of safety and cleanliness. Clean, white clothes and linens show sterility since stains are easily visible. That’s why doctors and nurses frequently wear white lab coats and scrubs.

Yellow. Writers may use the colour yellow to symbolize creativity, happiness, optimism, and warmth—think of a yellow ray of sunlight poking out from a dark cloud. A common negative connotation of the color yellow is cowardice, popularized by the phrase “yellow-bellied.” Warming effect which stimulates body and mind. Gold is associated with the highest of luxury. When bright yellow is used with black it's one of the easiest colour combinations to see from long distances; when uses with lighter colours it's not so easy to see. Yellow ribbons are worn as a symbol of hope and used quite often to welcome home loved ones. Yellow is the colour of warmth, kindness, and happiness. It’s often associated with optimism and well-being and promotes energy.

Brown. This warm, earthy brown colour may symbolize dependability, comfort, and a sense of being grounded. Brown is also a neutral colour, and writers may use it to represent dullness and predictability. Brown is a colour that is related to very grounded traits such as simplicity, practicality, common sense and hard work. Can also be associated with those that are frugal and not too flashy.

Gray. Lighter grays are often thought of as more feminine while darker grays more masculine. Gray is considered by many to be a neutral colour; the perfect balance between light and dark / good and evil. Pop up the lighter grays and add a little shine to it, and thought immediately turns to silver, which correlates to wealth.

Sources & related articles: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

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[toomuchracket]

blood-red lips (birthday party!matty x reader angst/fluff)

the year is 2022. bfiafl release is imminent. you and matty are clearly in love but nervy to admit it. he brings a date to a house party you're at. things go tits up. promptober! enjoy <3

(p.s. if ur name is mabel i am so sorry lol)

“... oh yes, we went last week, i thought it was just so incredible. we just loved it - didn't we, matty?”

“hmm?” matty's snapped out of his reverie at the mention of his name; he's not really got a clue what his date's on about, but he nods anyway. “decent way to spend an evening.”

she touches his face in a weird approximation of tenderness, and he has to fight the urge to recoil. “god, you're so funny. isn't he just, like, so funny?”

“oh, yeah, hilarious,” nick deadpans from across the living room. he nods at matty. “fancy a smoke?”

a reprieve. thank fuck. “absolutely,” he stands, flashing a quick smile that doesn't meet his eyes to the girl beside him. “be back in a bit, yeah?”

“miss you already!”

he doesn't answer, already out of the living room and making a beeline towards the front door. when he follows nick outside, the cold air chills him to the bone, but he doesn't make a move to go back inside for his jacket - that would mean going back in to her.

“so,” nick busies himself with rolling a cig, while matty lights his own one from the pack perpetually in his pocket. “your date seems… nice. if a bit, well, overly affectionate.”

“you can say ‘clingy’, mate, it's alright.”

his friend laughs. “just trying to be polite.”

matty shrugs. “fair. but why lie?” he takes a long drag of the cigarette. “so. when's everyone else getting here?”

“you mean when's the best writer in the friend group getting here?”

“stabbing me would hurt less, nicholas,” he glares, face quickly shifting into a grin. “nah, you're right, she is,” he does his best to look nonchalant, which is an impossible task for him when you're concerned. “seriously, though, is she coming?”

“yeah.”

“definitely?”

nick smirks, nodding to the street. “i'd say it's a possibility. look.”

matty turns his head so quickly he's surprised he doesn't get whiplash, and he feels a massive smile spread itself across his face as he takes in the sight of you speedwalking down the street towards him, laden with tote bags; as you get closer, the bottle-clanking within them is apparent, as is the gorgeous red lipstick you're wearing. by the time you reach the front gate, he sees it's a slightly darker red than he first thought, more akin to fresh blood than fire engines and postboxes, a colour he'd happily let you leave all over his body if it meant he got to be kissed by you. combined with the familiar rosy scent that constantly surrounds you and wafts up the steps to the front door before you do, the thought of you leaving lipstick kisses on him has matty nothing short of dazed, and he's thankful when nick does his host duties and takes the lead on greetings - matty does manage to snap himself out of delusion before he's socially required to say hello, though, which he does through a longer-than-probably-appropriate hug and a soft “hi, darling”.

you eagerly reciprocate the welcome, squeezing matty so tight he goes a bit floaty. well, more than he already is around you. “hi, lovely. been a while, hasn't it?”

like he needs reminding. part of the only reason there's someone new sitting on the sofa indoors is because you weren't free to hang out. “i know,” he pulls back, heart fluttering at how beautiful you look and how sparkly your eyes are. “where have you been?”

“farringdon.”

matty frowns. “i thought you were in glasgow?”

“yesterday, yeah. but today,” you sigh, smiling tiredly. “negotiations with faber & faber.”

“they giving you a fuckload of money?”

you nod, smirking. “oh, yeah. cleared them out,” the boys laugh, and you join in before nudging matty. “and where have you been, lately, healy?”

matty opens his mouth to answer, but nick beats him to it. “oh, with his new lady friend,” the man takes a drag of his rollie, holding it to you; you shake your head, stealing matty's cigarette instead and taking a puff, which he reprimands you for by gently nudging you indignantly. “constantly out and about, the pair of them. she's in the living room, actually.”

“oh,” you blink, and matty swears he sees your face fall slightly. wishful thinking, perhaps. but you recover quickly, turning to him with a smile that his brain tries to tell him is fake. “you brought a date?”

“i did,” matty replies, guilt beginning to gnaw at his stomach. he rushes to clarify, practically tripping over his own words to reassure you. “but it's not, like, serious or anything, me and her.”

nick raises a thick eyebrow. “does mabel know that?”

“well-”

“hold on,” you take a long drag of matty's cigarette. fuck, your lips. “her name is mabel? is she eighty?”

nick cackles, and matty has to bite back a laugh of his own. “she's your age, actually.”

“fucking hell. poor girl,” a smirk appears on your gorgeous face, and matty braces himself. “and poor you, having to moan that during sex. jesus.”

he shrugs, while nick practically cries laughing in the background; someone - probably frankie, his girlfriend - calls him from the living room, and he heads inside, leaving matty and you alone. “i've worked around it.”

by closing his eyes and imagining it's you he's fucking instead, thinking about your name and face and body and voice instead of hers, forcing his words into moans before he says them because he knows he'll end up calling her by your name if he doesn't… yeah. 

matty reaches for the cigarette in your hand, which you pass over politely as you muse. “well, i s'pose you'd have to. fuck, i'm not even in the party yet and i'm already being a bitch,” you shake your head. “m'sorry.”

“nah,” matty slings an arm around you, giddiness fizzing in his veins at the contact. “you know i like it when you get feisty.”

you don't quite know how much, but that's a secret between him and his right hand only.

humming out a little laugh, you turn to look him in the eye. there's something dancing in yours that he can't quite name - if he was any more delusional than he currently is, he would say it's attraction, flirtiness. “yeah?”

the breathiness of your voice has him reeling. “yeah.”

“maybe i'll keep it up, then. just for you,” the words are paired with a wink, and it takes everything in matty not to actually pop a boner. “can i have another drag of the cig?”

“magic word?”

you smile, saccharine. “please?”

he rolls his eyes. “they're bad for you, you know,” still, he holds the cig out for you to take. instead of holding it, though, you duck down and take it between your lips from his fingers, cheeks hollowing almost obscenely as you inhale; you stand up to exhale, winking as you do.

yeah, he's getting rid of his date as soon as possible.

someone - definitely frankie - calls your name. you start, grabbing your bags and moving to go inside, turning back to matty. “coming?”

he wishes. god, what is wrong with him tonight? “i'll finish this first, darling. you go ahead.”

“okay,” you smile. “miss you already.”

so does he, melancholy washing over him as soon as you disappear into the house. sighing, matty takes a final draw of the cig, stubbing it out in the ashtray on the garden wall; once he's sure it's done, he slides the lipstick stained butt back into the pack, keeping it safely in his pocket. which, admittedly, is a bit insane of him, but it feels like the right thing to do, to keep this definite evidence of the moment the two of you just shared.

when he reenters the house, he makes a beeline for the kitchen - partially to get some liquid courage for dealing with mabel again, but mostly because he knows that's your first (and last, and most frequent) port of call at any party. sure enough, you've already perched yourself on the counter, sandwiched between frankie and alexa with what looks like a vodka cranberry in your hand, and now that you've shed your jacket matty sees your dress for the first time; navy mesh, tastefully sheer, undeniably doing wonders for both your chest and legs without going too far… not an outfit he'll forget in a hurry.

speaking of things to be forgotten in a hurry - “matty, baby, where were you?” mabel stumbles into him out of seemingly nowhere, teetering on her louboutin-dupe stilettos; he steadies her as he best he can while trying to avoid touching her, leaning away from her prosecco breath and the way she's trying to cling to him possessively. “you were gone for so long i finished a whole bottle!”

jesus. what on earth was he thinking, getting mixed up with her? charity work? still, matty does his best to stay polite, conscious of the fact the conversations in the room - yours included - have halted somewhat. “i was just having a smoke. no big deal.”

“mmmkay,” she leans in for a kiss, which ends up on his cheek when he turns his head, and blinks her way around the room. when she sees you, her unfocused eyes suddenly sharpen, and her overly-plumped lips draw into a pout. “who are you?”

oh, fuck.

matty's whole body tenses. alexa's eyes widen. you, however, do nothing but insouciantly sip your drink, cocking your head as you swallow. “et toi?”

behind matty, nick snorts a quiet laugh, and matty has to hold one in of his own. mabel's frown deepens, confused. “what?”

“sorry. mabel, right?” you smile, genuine, before introducing yourself. “nice to meet you.”

she doesn't reciprocate the statement, drunkenness making her direct. “matty talks about you a lot,” there's an edge to the way mabel slurs her words that makes matty deeply, deeply uncomfortable. she sniffs. “i used to be worried about that, but you're actually not even that pretty, so…”

there's a beat of dead silence, before several jaws - including frankie's, and yours, and matty's himself - all but fall to the tiled floor. he jerks his hand away from mabel, a cocktail of embarrassment and disgust and utter fury coursing through him. “what the fuck, mabel? why would you even say that?”

she shrugs, and he gets even angrier. “it's true.”

“you're fucking ridiculous, you know that?” frankie's making her way over now, storming straight past mabel to hold the kitchen door open. “get out of my house. no fucking way you're getting away with saying something like that to my friend. matty,” her face softens a smidge when she looks at him. “i'm sorry, but she has to go.”

“way ahead of you, fran,” he's already got his phone out, tapping furiously. shoving the device savagely back in his pocket, he glares at mabel, who has the gall to look surprised. “an uber will be outside for you in three minutes. consider it a parting gift.”

the words take a second to compute, and then mabel's face twists into one of affront. “you cannot be serious. you're choosing her over me?”

“always,” matty spits back. and as an afterthought, so as to not seem suspicious - “i’d defend any of them before you, if you had the fucking cheek to be rude about them like that. we might've had fun, mabel, but this,” he shakes his head. “nah. we're done.”

mabel rears back, and he braces himself, but the slap never comes. instead, she looks around the room, shaking her head before storming out. “bunch of cunts.”

the door slams, and all the girls in the room flock to you as if they've been trained to do so. matty doesn't dare even look at you, the guilt from earlier turning to nausea and threatening to creep up his throat; he gently rests his head on the cool marble of the kitchen island, taking deep shaky breaths and doing his best to calm down.

that is, until your voice cuts through the hubbub of the kitchen, as soft and warm as he's ever heard it - he must be tuning it subconsciously to make himself feel better. “matty? can you come here, please?”

he looks up tentatively to find you standing by the door, heart slowing down to an almost regular pace when he sees you don't look angry, or upset. you beckon him over with a manicured index finger, and his legs seem to move of their own accord until he's standing right in front of you. the tiniest smile finds its way onto your lips, and you hold out your hand. “shall we go for a chat?”

matty nods, grasping your open hand and letting you pull him into the hall and upstairs. part of him wants to be ecstatic about the fact you're finally leading him by the hand away from a party so you can be alone - in a bedroom, no less, it turns out - but the context in which it's taking place is impossible to ignore, as is the sadness and guilt he feels about it. still, he can't stop his heart skipping a beat when you sit on the edge of the bed, and pat the space beside you for him to sit in, and reach out to hold his hand when he does.

“so,” your voice cuts through, again, but this time matty looks up to see your eyes are trained on the floor. “that was… something.”

“darling, i-” matty shakes his head, a lump in his throat. “i'm so, so incredibly sorry about that. never for a second did i think she would ever,” he shakes his head, tears pricking at his eyes.

you squeeze his hand. “matty - matthew, look at me, please,” he obliges, and the tiniest flicker of a smile crosses your face. it breaks his heart. “you weren't to know she would say that, yeah? please don't beat yourself up about it.”

“but-”

“no, seriously, it's okay. i'll get over it,” you try to smile again, but it falls off your face almost as fast as it appears; then, horribly, your voice cracks. “and here was me thinking i looked nice after i got ready tonight.”

matty's heart shatters, and all he can do in the moment is just tug you onto his lap and wrap his arms around you as tightly as possible. you're crying, he's crying, you're both clutching at each other like you're drowning… fuck, what a pair the two of you are. “don't you dare let her convince you you didn't,” matty croaks into your hair. “you're fucking beautiful, darling. always. it's fact. scientific fact.”

you laugh, and his heart lifts a bit. “even now?” you sniffle, pulling back, eyes slightly bloodshot and cheeks on the verge of being streaked by running mascara.

he nods. “i meant it when i said ‘always,’” he kisses your cheek affectionately, enjoying the way it lifts under his lips as you smile. “really like your lipstick, by the way.”

“thanks. thought it was chic.”

“it is. you've got great taste.”

“yeah, you haven't,” you nudge him playfully. “in women, that is. in most other things, i think you're good.”

oh, if only you knew what his taste in women was really like. matty grins. “shall we go back downstairs and put that statement to the test with the tequila i brought?”

“absolutely we shall,” you climb off him (and he does his best not to be upset about that), holding your hand out and squeezing his when he joins the two. “you know i love you, yeah?”

matty smiles, only slightly sadly. “i love you, too.”

[jolalibrary]

heyyyy! could I request Javier Peña for the #mmvalentinesevent with “I… thought I lost you” {14} and “Never do that again. Please” {15} from the injury prompts?? you do angst so well!

take me to yours

javier pena x f!reader (dea!agent)

warnings: reader gets injured, mention (brief) panic attack, post-injury panic. wc: 3.8k an: also, i’m dedicating this to @yeyinde who i know didn’t request this, but listens to me rant and rave about this man

A bead of sweat ran down his spine as time slowed to nothing.

It was the sound of her voice that made it. Birthed it. It doing a number of other things to him. His spine tensing as something twists. Sticking painfully into his abdomen—similar to the blade of a knife.

Hey, Javi. I’m real sorry to bother you, but something doesn’t feel right here. What? I don’t… I don’t know, it just doesn’t.

She never calls—not in the day. Not even when night kisses the city and he expects her.

Their conversations had started as fleeting. More said around breaths as hands explore fabric to unveil skin. Then they had grown into stolen moments, huddled in file rooms and down the side of buildings.

Now she had called him.

Not anyone else: him.

Anyone with you? No. I’m… I’m alone. Shit—my car. It won’t start. 

The sweat had begun building at the nape of his neck when Javi heard her voice. A reaction floods through him almost instantly—far too quickly.

Something he’d have to unpack later when he wasn’t under the watchful eye of Murphy or holding her voice in his hand. 

The bead had hung on for dear life, growing under the tension as he tapped Murphy, and stormed back to the car.  

I didn’t know who to call—and it’s you and me, right? Look— Fuck, Javi. I think they’ve seen me. Bonita—

Something strummed inside of him. It shifted, changed. All violent and unpredictable.

It played on his nerves and organs. It made his hand shake as he rammed the key into the hole, the engine roaring to life—ignoring the questionable stares from Murphy. 

All he focused on was the nervousness in her tone. 

The worry. 

The one he expects from others, but never from her. Not the woman who’d burned her lips against his, mixing tequila and whiskey as he pressed her back against brick; not the woman who raised her chin when someone talked down to her. 

The tone and the fact she’d called him.

I’m coming, Bonita. Alright?  What do I do, Javi? What do I do— Do not go into that house, Cariño. We’re coming, okay? We’re—

That same bead of sweat slid under his shirt collar when he saw the holes in her vehicle. The same ones he had heard being fired at her when the call went dead. How it had been accompanied by a gasp, the last noise he’d heard from her. 

The one which unlocked a fear he hadn’t known he even had for her.

His fingers gripped her truck door. His eyes taking in the phone discarded on the passenger side floor. A bullet firmly in the place keys once were. It lay in a pattern of shattered glass—all of the pieces twinkling under the bright sunlight. Appearing like stars which had fallen from the sky.

It was everywhere, shards that were dragged to the other door—the one half-open that Murphy stood at.

He can’t meet his eyes. Not yet.

Instead, he sweeps his gaze over the backseat does he spot her denim jacket, stomach lurching, twisting.

He knows without thought it’s the same one she’d had on earlier. The one which had spent weeks hanging on the hook near his front door from a time when she’d “forgotten” it.

I’ll get it soon. Don’t worry, I’m not sneak moving in.

Now, it’s covered in the softest spray of drying red.

Complicated. That’s what she had said about them. When she’d been busy reapplying her lipstick in the bar’s bathroom. His fingers had zipped up his jeans, meeting her eyes in the dirty mirror. We’re complicated. You and me. 

He hadn’t argued then, and he didn’t now. 

The sweat had finally dripped. Followed by so much more. It all burns a path down under his shirt. 

His hand swipes across his jaw as he meets Murphy’s gaze—trying not to crack under it. Even as one thought loops continuously, almost making him fearful of even speaking:

Where is she, Murphy?

Images conjured, appearing one after the other. Her bent in odd places, her eyes devoid of life—her soul, her sparkle. 

The bead began its path down his shoulder blade until it finds a home at the base of his spine. Collecting with the others, his fingers brushing his hair back, following his partner's eyes to the house. The one with its door wide open, banging against the inside wall as the warm breeze swipes against it. 

The one he told her not to go in. He takes a breath. 

The two of them fall into a line—one practised and drilled into them from training. One the two of them do countless times as Murphy gestures and he follows.

Javi is too busy trying to banish the thoughts which threaten to boil him over. The ones where his mind conjures her in positions he’ll never be able to forget; holes in her he’ll never be able to fix. 

It takes more than one breath, but two, until he feels a semblance of calmness washing over him. 

It’s quiet, eerily so. Each time their sole hits a loose floorboard, they expect a sea of bullets. Ones which never come.

Not as they clear the hallway, moving into a room with matted chairs and dead bodies. Alcohol, copper and cigarettes stain the air, all sliding past the hair in his nose into his throat. 

He should be thankful she’s not amongst them. But, he’s not. Not as he sees scarlet red spreading across the rickety wooden floor, some even with handprints, some of it even on the walls.

That same pain twists in his stomach. The silence between the two agents remaining, thick and uncomfortable. A mist falling, something churning in him that he fears Murphy can feel too. 

I’m coming, Bonita. 

He meets Murphy’s eyes. The two swap the same hopeful sentiment: the blood won’t be hers.

The tip of his boot kicks at one of the men, and his heel slides the gun from the second—content they’re both bathing in their own blood. All very much disposed of, taken care of.

He’s set to move, to follow Murphy when Javi sees a third gun, one that’s like theirs. A dread ballooning, growing so large it almost consumes him.

“She could still—“

“Let’s clear the rooms.”

He doesn’t mean to snap—didn’t mean to spit the words at him like poison.

It’s just… his breath is all mattered and clinging to his throat. A thing inside of him unfurling. It spreads itself through him. It tries to drag him into darkness, tries to make the corners of his eyes see speckles of red. 

The cracks in his walls widen as he begins to unravel. All of the well-kept emotions suddenly not remaining in their cage, escaping in bursts from him until they’re all out, hammering away at his bones. 

It’s Murphy who suggests they split, taking the next few rooms. Be quicker to find her, won’t it?

He doesn’t argue—can’t, argue. Swallowing the thickness which is doubling with each passing moment. 

The shell of the house whistles in its emptiness as Javi scans for beautiful eyes and a kind smile.

He tries not to feel anything when he doesn’t. Tries not to linger on the fact that as every second pass, the likeness of him hearing her voice grows thinner. It burns into him, twisting something in his stomach as the first room he clears is spared of death. 

Gratitude—glee—almost escaping with a sigh as he moves to the second. 

The second is the sight of disaster, but he’s not sure of what kind or magnitude. 

The stench hits him first. The smell of torture, cigarettes and sex. The matted mattress in the corner is stained with things he only casts his eyes over, the body in the centre of the room demanding his attention. 

He spots several body-shaped holes in the plaster, ones he hates the realisation that they match her height and frame. He sees the smallest amount of drying blood on what hasn’t crumbled to the ground from the force, the contrast of the once-magnolia plaster stark against the dark floorboards. 

The man in the centre is more than dead. The hole in his neck had stopped leaking at some point, having begun to congeal against the floor and the man’s shoulder. More holes in his chest, stomach and thigh follow a similar pattern. 

Javi spots the knife—the culprit of what had done the damage. It’s lodged in the decaying skirting board on the opposite wall, likely kicked there through fury and fear. 

His mind sinks into itself. It pulled open drawers he’d rather keep closed, yanking out past reports and horrid tales, seeing it like a horrid mirage playing out across the dust and debris. A part of him having already carved out space for her, and yet—

She may not be around to fill it. 

We’re complicated. You and me.

Protocol recounts in the back of his head.

His fingers twitch at his side, needing to be busy.

He should go to the car, and call ahead. He should check out the wallets of the deceased, and see if they’ve done damage against Escobar—she’s done damage.

Javi does none of that.

Instead, he puts the safety on and sheathes his gun in the back of his jeans, fingertips sliding against his thumb as he stares at the dead man in the centre of the floor. 

He waits. His teeth return to peeling the skin from his lip. Suddenly busy recalling the ways he could have kept her safe. The main one being he shouldn’t have allowed her to leave his bed. His hand should have slid over her hip, slid his thigh between hers and married his lips to hers until they both forgot about alarm clocks and responsibilities.

The sight of her this morning is what he wants back. The way her eyes had smiled more than her lips. That her palm had pressed against his cheek, laughing at something he’d said. 

It’s why he doesn’t leave the room now. Not wanting to stumble across her bent in a broken way and devoid of any life behind her eyes.

Needing, almost praying, for Murphy’s voice to carry through the house. 

That tone—that particular voice which said she was breathing, that she hadn’t been taken from him too. 

“Javi?!”

His boots sound on the floorboards before his name has stopped echoing around the emptiness. Eyes taking in Murphy, him leaning against a doorframe, gun in his bulletproof, hands over his arms. He shoots a look, one that earns him a jut of his head.

“I’ll call ahead. Give you both a minute.”

“Yeah, sure. T-Thanks, Murphy.”

He pats him as he passes—his partner. The one who likely knows too much, but Javi suddenly cares that much about.

His focus on the room. The one with no scent. The room where the plaster is peeling and the floorboards groan under his soles.

Occasionally, speckled shimmers of sunlight dance over the room from the hole-bitten curtains. The cracked window blowing a warm breeze, sliding over the cobwebs and the creatures that likely hide inside the walls.

He sidesteps around the slanted wardrobe, eyes finding her in the corner—spine pressed against two walls. She looks so small, so unlike the person he’d bid goodbye to this morning.

Her knees to her chest, arms around her calves, chin resting. But, it’s her eyes he focuses on. How they’re blurred, lost—that she’s fractured and withered at the edges.

Her clothes splattered in red, splotches on her skin. None of it bothering her, she’s being haunted by a moment they’ve not let go of.

“Bonita?”

She blinks. It’s quick, the way she banishes her thoughts as she drinks him in.

Realisation dawning, covering her face and body language as though he’s the sun at the start of a new day.

Javi is slow as he coming down in front of her, knees protesting as he does so. Her shaky smile growing, wearily placed joy spreading across her features.  

“H-Hey, Peña—you came? I know. I know you said you would-d, but… I’m glad you did. Really glad. Didn’t know if you’d find me. Anyone would find-d me. You know? You do, know. I know—”

He cups her chin, swiping his thumb under it as she swallows. “Hey, look at me. There she is… Bonita, you’re in shock, ok—”

“I am?” 

It’s forced nature not meeting her eyes, choosing to nod instead. His eyes assess the cut above her head, noticing how it’s become tacky—somewhat healing in various shades of red and black. He turns her face, surprised she allows him to, watching her eyes slide from him to the space behind him. 

The minutes before their arrival trying to steal her from him, almost doing so until her palm plastered around his wrist, surprising him. 

“Had to sit down… just for a minute. So tired, and then I couldn’t… I couldn’t get up—“

“Cariño…” His thumb strokes her cheek, the one blooming, bulging. “Hey, keep those eyes on me.” 

His hand tilts her face, spotting the severity of the swelling around her eye, her gaze blurring, altering. 

“You should see the other guy.” 

“I did. All three of them. You did good.” 

She swallows and it looks like it was harder to do than he cares to think about. “I-I did?” 

“You did, Bonita.”

Her eyes close, a second longer than they have been as her chest tries to rise and fall. “I channelled m-my inner P-Peña. What would P-Peña do? And h-he’d make sure they never g-got up-p… especially when…”

He should let go of her chin, and drop his hand back to his lap. He doesn’t. Just stares instead, taking in the flecks of her one good eye and the way her breath seems to be coming back to her. 

She places her hand on his arm. “I’m okay.” 

“You are.”

Biting the inside of her lip. “They’d spotted me.”

His heart slows, and almost stops. Just for a moment—so brief he could have ignored it, but he doesn’t. “I heard, Cariño.”

Not sure if he’ll ever be able to drink away the sound.  

“Thought… not him—not Escobar. But, someone… y’know? Important. That we could tick off. Red cross over their face. You know? You know, of course you do. But, I don’t think they was. Important, I mean?” Her lip trembles, the size of it sprouting the same as her eye. Tears welling up, sitting in her eyes as she furiously doesn’t let them fall. “Even for the way they… they really wanted to hur—kill me.” 

It drops, his stomach. Practically almost falls out of his ass into the floorboards.

We’re complicated. You and me. 

The fear he’d managed to stifle, darts through him again like wildfire. Scorching all the parts of him, fanning its vine-like fingers through him, tangling around organs as it flexes and tightens, making it hard to breathe. 

He acknowledges what it means—what she means to him.

He does.

Javi knows she isn’t just someone who has kept his bed warm or been there when he’s needed to fuck his frustration out; she’s not someone who he just looks for around the building. She’s—

“Where’s Murphy?” 

Her breathing suddenly difficult—challenging. Her hand slides under her blouse, eyes dilating, blurring before his eyes all over again.

All he can think is she shouldn’t have been here alone. Shouldn’t have been asked to come here without someone like him, like Murphy. 

“He’s outside. You good to walk?” 

She nods, just about. 

His brain latching, furiously clutching to the fact she’s alive—breathing.

He hadn’t lost her—she hadn’t been taken from him. Not yet. Something he hadn’t allowed himself to believe could be true when he’d seen her truck. When they’d walked in and heard nothing—not even the wheezes of someone’s last breath. 

You like her. He thinks. You like her, you like her, you like her. 

She’s taken to the ambulance the moment they exit the building.

It allowed him a horrid moment to take in the rips in her jeans, the way her once-white blouse was stained to ruin. How she limped, ever so slightly—something he hadn’t noticed from nearly carrying her against him out of the building.

As soon as she was taken from him, he hated how far away she was. His hands lighting a cigarette, and then another. Able to speak clearly to those who asked him things.

But, it didn’t quiet his thoughts or calm his frayed edges. 

“Carrillo says he can handle the rest, you coming?”

There’s a look in Murphy’s eyes as he asks—all-knowing and cocky. He hates it—despises it. It feels like a test.

Javi wants to roll it up and shove it down his partner’s neck. 

“Um, no. Think I’ll stick around here.”

Nodding, Murphy casts his cigarette down. “I called it.”

“No, you fucking didn’t.”

“Did. Look after her, yeah?”

He jostles under the slap of Murphy’s hand on his back, half-rolling his eyes as he tries to ignore the frustration building. The fact all of it, his feelings, are rising to the surface in thick bubbles. And he’s not able to keep a lid on it. Not the way he feels or how much he’s showing it. 

Me and you.

He lets his eyes find her again. 

Having tried not to let her out of his sight the moment the medic had taken her from him. She’d searched for him too, having been examined by the shut doors—desperately looking for him, calming when she seated at the edge of the ambulance having found him. She soothed him too, stopped the storm from taking over and rendering him more useless than he feels. 

It’s why he waits, and spends far too long avoiding going over until her head turns and shifts. The sight of it making him worry, panic.

Then he follows her line of sight, seeing the sheet-covered bodies, and his legs cut through the people and trucks until he’s standing before her. 

It pulls her back to him. Her eyes land on him, an easier smile able to spread over her lips as she leans her head against the inside of the vehicle. 

“You causing trouble?” 

“Me? No. I leave that to you, Peña.” 

He placed his hand on his hip, foot up on the ambulance's step as she watches him. Takes him in as he does her.

The bruising has developed, spreading its swollen fingers where it shouldn’t. Shouldn't have ever had the chance to spread, blossom. 

“You gotta go to the hospital?” 

Slowly, she leans her head against the side of the vehicle. “No. But, I can’t be alone, so I suggested this guy called Javier could keep an eye on me. Just has to make sure I don’t faint or pass out, vomit and something else, I kinda stopped listening.”

“Cariño.”

Her tongue sweeps out over her lips. “What? You don’t want to keep an eye on me, Javi?” 

More than fucking anything. 

Never wants to let her out of his sight again, if he could. Wants to press her body against his until no space remains, letting her breath fan out over his face and her heartbeat pelt against his ribs. 

“Javi…?”

Lifting his head, he meets her eyes. A more detailed conversation happens in the stare, one with words that fall with ease. Each is perfectly articulated, chosen and spoken which makes all of this easy. Not that she’s easy—not that the two of them are either. 

We’re complicated. You and me. 

They are complicated and messy, and brilliant. He knows it—feels it even. How complex it is that she even managed to get under his layers, weave herself into his life to the point he’s not sure if he could breathe as easily without her. 

He knows, on some distant level, he felt it more before today. That it had begun festering months ago, blooming into something sweeter and nicer than he’d ever allowed himself to have only once—if ever. 

“I… thought I lost you…”  

Slowly, her grin drops. Her lips spread out into a line—either in surprise at his confession, or at the truth of it. His words remaining, hanging, settling between them—not dancing up into the sky. 

Even as he heard them, he didn’t regret them. Even if it widened the gap in his carefully curated walls.

It takes a lot to render her silent, he’s learnt that. He’s found ways, but never with words. So, watching her mouth open and close is a sight to behold—somewhat waiting for a trophy he’s never sure will come. 

“Who’d annoy you if I went and died, Peña?”

“Knowing you? You’d find some way to fuckin’ haunt me.”

It’s low, but it’s there—her laugh. It brushes through the air to his ears, both of them tuning in for it, needing it. It settles a part of him—one which hadn’t believed she was out of the woods. Somewhat expecting at any moment for her eyes to roll back into her head and her soul be whisked from him, without him having much say in it. 

“Javi… I should thank you. For coming for me.” 

It takes all of his self-control to not let the words he feels slide out. Seeing something in her eyes too. Something hidden, stuffed down. Something likely akin to how he’s feeling. 

“You called me, Cariño. I’ll always come.”

Her lips slide into a smile, one softer, more genuine, and his heart skips a beat at the sight of it. “Because it’s you and me, right?”

His chest tightens. A thought growing, mouldering—that he doesn’t deserve her, isn’t good enough. It rises like a tide, filling his throat as he watches her lean forward, easing herself down from the vehicle. He tries to force how he feels back down, swallowing back everything and anything—

And then her palm brushes his cheek, soft and innocent. 

“You’re coming to mine.” 

She bites the inside of her mouth, lips pulling tight, nodding firmly. “Okay.”

He rolls his head on his neck, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip as he shifts his weight. “Never… never do that again,” he whispers, just for her. “Please?”

“What?”

He finds her smirking. Knowingly. “Scare me. I—I can’t… I don’t think I can lose you.”

She moves closer, letting him see the pale stripes against her wound—the one that the medic likely fought to stick on. He notices the flecks in her eyes again, almost sees the reflection of himself in how wide and beautiful they are. 

“Take me to yours, Javi.”

Nodding, he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip. 

[rashoumon-homo]

Kiss Marks (Dazai x Reader)

-> Content Warnings: sfw, terrible emo impression, fluff to comedy

-> 750 words

Prompt from @suru1990 - sorry this took me so long to get to!

You stop by the ADA office around lunchtime one afternoon to visit Dazai. He’s always happy to see you when you drop by unexpectedly, but this time he specifically asked you to come by.

The office is empty save for Dazai; everyone else having gone out for lunch. Dazai is sitting at his desk, frowning at his reflection in a compact mirror. An array of makeup supplies have been dumped out over his workspace.

He spots you out of the corner of his eye and perks up. “Ah good, you’re here! I need your help with something.”

“Yeah..?” you ask cautiously. Your Dazai-mischief-sense is tingling, so you’re a little hesitant to get involved in whatever he’s scheming about this time.

“I have all these lipsticks, you see,” he drawls, gesturing at the table in front of him, “and I’m trying to decide on the best shade.”

“Where do I come in?” you ask.

Dazai uncaps a lipstick and swipes it over his lips. It’s a bold, fire engine red, and it looks great on him. Before you can tell him that, he grabs your face and kisses your cheek. He pulls away, still holding your face, and hums thoughtfully while looking at the kiss mark he left. “Not quite what I’m looking for…” he mumbles. “Gonna try another one.”

“Dazai,” you grumble. He catches your hand before you can wipe the sticky mark off your cheek and gives you a warning look.

Dazai hastily wipes off his lips with a spare napkin, then applies another shade, this one a rich burgundy. “Kinda sexy, don’t ya think?” he asks, checking his reflection in the compact mirror again. There’s a playful glint in his eye as he lunges for your face again, this time kissing your other cheek. When you try to squirm away, he plants another kiss on your jaw.

“Come on!” you laugh, shoving him away. “What’s all this about?”

“Can’t I mark my pretty boy up with kisses?” he replies innocently.

You give him an unimpressed look, but the effect is rendered largely ineffective due to the lipstick marks all over your face.

“Ooh!” Dazai says suddenly, picking up another from the desk. He twists it up to reveal the matte black color of the lipstick. “Emo,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. You laugh as he puts it on and checks the mirror. “Think the emo look’s for me?” he asks.

You make a face. “Nah, you can’t pull it off.”

Dazai pretends to be shocked and offended. “I totally could!” he insists. He pulls his hair down over his forehead to cover one eye and tries to look broody. “The only things I love in this world are Gerard Way and death,” he says, mimicking a “teenager” accent.

You burst out laughing. “C’mon idiot, just kiss me so you can try the next one.”

He kisses your face as many times as he can get away with it (three) and wipes the lipstick off his mouth as well as he can. He doesn’t do a very good job of cleaning it off, so you take the napkin from him and sit on his lap, facing him.

“Hold still,” you say, then carefully wipe off the spots he missed. He does as he’s told, though he has a hard time keeping his mouth from curving up into a smile.

You’re suddenly hit with a suspicious thought. “I didn’t know you owned makeup,” you say nonchalantly.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “This is Yosano’s.”

You put the napkin aside. “Damn, I’m surprised she agreed to let you borrow it.”

Dazai looks up at you guiltily. “She… didn’t.”

“What?!” you shout. Just as you’re about to really lay into him about getting proper permission before taking other people’s things, the door to the office opens and the other ADA members spill in, still chattering happily from lunch.

Kunikida freezes in his tracks, eyes wide. Atsushi hides his eyes and mutters a stream of apologies for interrupting. Ranpo comes in behind him and says, “Told you not to go in yet.”

You awkwardly scramble off Dazai’s lap, scrubbing your sleeves at your face to wipe the marks off. Yosano enters the office after Kenji and points angrily from Dazai to the makeup scattered across his desk. “You!” she shouts.

Dazai grabs your hand. “Now we run,” he whispers, then takes off, tugging you behind him. The two of you laugh together while Yosano chases you up and down the streets for the next half hour.

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[strawberryfairi]

Synopsis🌹: After discovering a strange yet alluring red book in a boutique bookstore, you find yourself sucked into a strange world, where all of your inner most desires exist…

Pairings: Wakasa Imaushi X Musician! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Author AU, scifi, Musician! reader, reader is a talented nerd, smutty (slow burn) romance, tiny doses of angst, adventure, futuristic city, magic?, !!sexual tension!!, etc (just find out the rest, lol)

w.c: 3.4k💠 Released: October 5

Previous | Next… | Chapters Masterlist

A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: I think this might actually be my favorite chapter I've written so far. I had so much fun writing this part!!

C.W:  None

Tags: @nixalozt

↳ (Let me know via inbox or the comment section if you would also like to be tagged here for this story🩵)

𝟐 || 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

(Alternate Reality/First Meeting Theme: Rise From the Ruins - Lost Traveler)

Your eyes snap open, and your heart pounds as a wave of disorientation washes over you. Bright neon lights assault your vision, and you instinctively squint, shielding your face with an arm. You're on your feet, standing in the middle of a sidewalk, but this is no area you recognize. The sounds, the smells, the very air around you—it's all wrong.

Around you, towering skyscrapers reach high into the sky, their surfaces beaming with neon lights and shifting holographic ads. The streets are crowded with people—some with brightly colored hair, others with cybernetic enhancements replacing limbs, eyes, even parts of their faces. Hovering cars zip by overhead, leaving behind jet trails of blue fire where their tires should be, and a low hum of machinery fills the air, blending with the pulse of strange music emanating from hidden sources all around.

Your mouth goes desert dry as you quickly realize you have no idea how you got here. It's like a dream, in the way that they just simply begin directly in the middle of a particular scene. No context, no frame of reference, just there.

"Where am I?" You whisper to yourself, taking a cautious step forward.

People move past you without so much as a side glance, their faces illuminated by the neon lights that flicker from every direction. Your heart races as you try to process the chaos around you, but everything is too much. Every sound, every flash of light, it makes your head spin.

Okay okay, think.You force yourself to take a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment to try and center yourself. You're dreaming. That has to be it. This can't be real. It's just one of those dreams where your mind knows you're in one. A lucid dream, that's it. You've never had a lucid dream before, so it's probably natural your'e freaking out like this.

But when you open your eyes, the world is still there. As real as the ground beneath your feet. And that's when you hear it.

"Unidentified citizen detected."  A cold, mechanical voice announces from behind you.

You turn around abruptly, pulse quickening, and your eyes lock onto a mind boggling scene. A...midsized robot. It's floating off of the ground eye level with you, painted white and navy blue, with a neon red holographic badge that shines above its "chest". The whir of its internal engines barely audible above the noise of the street.

"Please present identification," It states, its robotic voice creepily polite.

Your breath catches in your throat. "Identification? I-I don't—..." You stumble back, mind racing. Identification? What kind of identification? What am I supposed to do?! Your hands instinctively go to the mini purse hanging from your shoulder, but of course, you had nothing. Nothing but a lipstick and lip liner in there. No wallet, no ID, nothing that made sense in this strange, futuristic place.

"Uhhh, I don't have anything," You stammer, panic rising in your chest. "I don't know how I got here, but I need—"

"Failure to present identification will result in detainment." The robot interrupts, its glowing red eyes making you anxious as it hovers closer.

Your heart pounds in your chest. You can feel the eyes of passerby's on you now, the slight glances, and low murmurs. They all seem to know exactly what's happening, but no one's bothering step in and actually help. You're on your own here...

So, you do the only thing you can think to do in this situation: run.

Without another thought, you take off bolting, weaving through people as fast as you can. Your breaths start to become uneven pants, your heels making your feet sting with every hard step.

From behind, you can hear the sound of the robot tailing you, "Halt! Unidentified citizen!"

Yeah, I think the hell not, you think to yourself, dodging a flying car that nearly grazes you as it zooms by. Your lungs begin to burn as you push yourself harder, but you still have no idea where you're actually going. Every street looks the same—slathered in neon lights, holographics, and cluttered with unfamiliar, strange faces. Your mind races, desperate for a solution, but nothing makes sense.

Suddenly, a figure emerges on what looks like a motorcycle from one of the alleys to your left, just a bit ahead of you. They pause at the opening of the sidewalk, where the alleyway leads to the main road. Directly in your way.

You let out a small yelp as you clumsily skid to a stop, but end up just crashing right into the person. Reflexively their arm grabs you, catching you by your waist before you can really hurt yourself. You hang there, thrown over his arm.

"Need a hand, sweetheart?" His voice is low, teasing as if the entire situation is amusing to him.

You stare up at him wide eyed and panting. But then, as your eyes meet his, you feel your breath hitch.

The man holding onto you is...impossibly beautiful. His shoulder-length hair is pulled back in a loose half-up, half-down style, the top half dyed a striking shade of purple, while the lower strands gleam blonde in the city's neon glow. His striking lavender-colored eyes are framed by long, dark lashes that gaze down at you with a half-lidded, cool—almost sultry intensity.

Your eyes drift over to the earring dangling from his left ear, catching the light as it sways gently. And damn, he's got tattoos too. They're roses, with pretty intricate designs crawling up both arms and disappearing beneath his shirt, then peeking out around his low collar, hinting at even more ink across his chest.

For a brief moment, you actually forget where you are and your current situation, your mind completely consumed by the strong magnetic pull of this man. You stutter an incoherent sentence, thoughts a jumbled mess while your eyes continue to roam over him, caught in the intensity of the moment. But the distant mechanical whir of the cyber police snaps you back to reality.

"I—I'm being chased! There's a robot—"

"I can see that." He says casually, glancing back where you had been running. The robot is closing in fast, its red eyes glowing brighter as it hones in on you. "Looks like you got yourself in a little trouble."

"A little?!" Your voice cracks with desperation. Ok, he's gorgeous but you don't have time for his chill, cool boy attitude. You need more urgency. "I gotta get up outta here!"

He grins. "I can help you with that." Without another word, he sets you down over his lap, an embarrassing position. His grip is firm but not painful, and his leg raises from the ground to the bike as he starts to rev the engine.

"Wait wait, hold on! I can't—I don't do bikes!" You cry out, shaking your head frantically. Quickly your hands struggle to reach down to the hem of your short, silver dress, trying to pull it down enough to where you don't flash both him and anyone else coming by.

"You don't have a choice." He says before the bike shoots forward past the robot officer. The roar of the engine drowns out the high pitched scream you let out.

The chase begins.

The city is a blur around you, neon signs, holographs, and towering buildings fly by as the motorcycle rockets through the busy streets. You grip tightly on the man's shirt, heart pounding in your chest as a mix of fear, and admittedly, excitement courses through your veins. You can hear the mechanical sounding police sirens of the cyber cops from behind, but this man doesn't seem even a little bit concerned.

He weaves effortlessly through traffic, cutting sharp corners down narrow alleyways. It's like he's used to this, like he's done this plenty of times before. You have never felt such a rush before—the danger, the thrill, the stranger you're currently clinging to with no idea where he's headed.

The robotic voice of the cyber police bots echoes behind you again. "Unidentified citizen, halt immediately. You are in violation of city law 375-B. Submit for processing."

You look behind you, letting out a deep gasp as you spot not just the one, but six other cyber-police bots dashing after you two, their red lights flashing ominously in the night. "We're gonna get caught!" You holler anxiously.

The man scoffs out a laugh, his voice steady and unbothered. "We're fine."

He revs the engine again, picking up speed as he tears down the street, dodging past hover-cars and otherworldly pedestrians who barely have enough time to jump out of the way. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your ears as he jets down a long, open road that starts to lead out of the heart of the city.

The cyber cops, however, are relentless. They summon for reinforcements, and more drones whir loudly from above, scanning the streets below for the both of you with beaming night suns. (Night sun: High intensity search light).

Just then, the commanding voices of the cyber police bots change its targeted focus, speaking in creepily perfect unison, "Citizen 0843-77, you are wanted for multiple offenses. Including illegal racing, tampering with city surveillance systems, and evading arrest. Pull over immediately!"

"What?!" Your eyes widen, jaw nearly hitting the floor. First of all, not only did they just put his business on straight blast with his citizen number, but they even went and aired out a whole entire list of criminal offenses! That's why he's so unbothered! And that's why he's zooming through these streets like he's used to running from cops!

The man chuckles, the kind of reckless laughter that makes your heart skip a beat. "What, you think you're the only one who's good at gettin' into trouble?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, your body can't help the surging rush of adrenaline—and honestly attraction—that came with his carefree attitude. It's like he thrives on chaos. And now, crazily enough, it's starting to rub off on you.

You let out a loud "Oh shit!" as he turns around a tight corner, the bike tipping dangerously close to the ground before he righted it again, speeding down a dimly lit alley. Your stomach flips as the narrow walls flew by your face in a colorful blur.

You look out again. The cyber cops are still chasing behind, but their movements have slowed. Then, they hesitate at the edge of the city, their glowing red eyes flickering as if unsure how to proceed. The night suns, after a couple of seconds, turn off as well, and it feels strangely symbolic of a battle victory.

"They stopped following us." You breathe out in disbelief.

The man nods, finally easing off the throttle as the city lights fade into the distance behind you. "They can't follow us out here. 'S outside their jurisdiction."

After what feels like an eternity, the bike slows, and he comes to a stop at the edge of a long-abandoned overpass. The once-bustling infrastructure now crumbling and overtaken by unfamiliar nature. The neon glow of the city still lit the sky behind you, casting an eerie light over the desolate area. All kinds of plants crawl up the sides of ruined buildings, and what's left of the streets are eerily silent. Dead.

Your heart is still racing as he turns the vehicle off, and you stumble off the bike, legs visibly shaking.

You turn towards the man, who's already chilled out leaning against his bike, watching you with that same unserious grin. "You okay?" He asks as he holds back a chuckle, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You narrow your eyes at him, chest heaving. "It's not funny; hell no I'm not ok! I have no idea where the hell I'm at, or how I got here, and we were just chased by a bunch of freakin' robots like it's the damn apocalypse! And who even are you?! Are you, like, deadass a criminal?!"

Finally, he chuckles, running a hand through his wind tousled hair. "A thanks would'a been nice. I'm Wakasa. By the city's standards I'm definitely a criminal, and as for where you are...well, that's a little more complicated."

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. "What do you mean complicated?"

Wakasa shrugs with a grin. "You're in Neon City, sweetheart. It's a small planet in galaxy KE-411. Not exactly your usual vacation spot, I'm guessing."

You stared at him, jaw dropped and mind reeling. "A pla-...it's a what?! This city is a whole planet?!"

"Yep." He popped the 'p' with a smirk. "All this is Neon City." He says, gesturing around lazily with a hand.

You let out a disbelieving laugh, hands shaking as you rub them along your temples. "Hell no. No no no, that—this can't be real. I gotta be dreaming! I'm dreaming for sure, you're-...you're not real—"

"Trust me Doll, I'm very real." He muses. "But hey, look on the bright side. You're here now. Might as well enjoy it." He adds with an infuriatingly nonchalant shrug.

"Enjoy it?!" You gape at him. "I'm a fugitive on a whole 'nother freaking planet! The only thing I'm trynna enjoy is me getting the hell up outta here!"

"Hey, suit yourself." He raises his hands in surrender, pushing off of his bike and swinging one leg over it, "Good luck gettin' home."

"Wait!" You call out instantly. "W-Where're you going?! You just gon' leave me out here?!" You scrunch your face up in appall.

"Thought you said you don't do bikes?" He raises a brow teasingly. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

"Well...I'm willing to do bikes if it means I'm not alone." You reply sheepishly.

"Come on." He nods his head towards the bike. Your face lights up with relief, quickly scurrying over and hopping on the black motorcycle behind him.

"You know, you still haven't told me your name yet."  He says, just as he starts the engine of his bike. 

"Oh yeah, you're right. My mind's all over the place, sorry. I'm Y/N." You ramble, shaking your head at yourself.

He repeats your name, nodding a little before he says, "That was kind'a a cool way to meet, huh?" 

You think it over for a second, replaying the extremely hectic, action-packed way in which the two of you happened to meet each other just a bit ago. "Yeah, I-..I guess that was kinda cool." You shrug, chuckling lightly. 

The motorcycle slows to a stop once again, and you look around at the deserted area in mild confusion.

"We're here," He announces, cutting the engine.

You blink, still a little disoriented. "Here...?"

It's like a field of nothingness out here. There's small patches of grass scattered all around, but other than that it's just debris from old buildings, roads, and such.

Wakasa smirks as he gets off the bike, holding out a hand to help you down. "This is the underground. No one'll find you out here—not the drones, or the city officials. We're completely off the grid."

You hesitate for a moment before taking his hand, your fingers still trembling from the adrenaline of the night, stepping off of the bike and looking around once more at the ghostly surroundings.

Wakasa guides you over to what looks like a run-down bunker, hidden from view by the tall, overgrown greenery. A single, faintly glowing neon red sign hangs above the heavy, rusted door: "The Underground".

You swallow hard, mind racing. You had been running on sheer panic this whole time, but now...now there's a strange allure to all the danger, the unpredictability of this place. The neon city had felt overwhelming and suffocating, but here in the shadows—or the underground rather—everything feels raw. Real.

Wakasa leads you to the door and knocks in a rhythmic pattern—three short knocks, a pause, then two more. A small, mechanical green eye slides open above the door, scanning them both before letting out a low whir. The door creaks open, and the two of you step inside.

The interior of The Underground is nothing like you could have ever imagined. The nightclub is dark, save for the faint glow of scattered, mismatched neon lights, casting all kinds of shadows across the cavernous space. A low, synthetic beat murmurs from deep within the walls, vibrating through the floor beneath your feet. Smoke hangs in the air, swirling lazily like fog as the dim lights catch it in neon pinks and purples, and greens. The room has an ethereal quality, like something out of a dream.

The bodies packed tightly on the dance floor move together as if they share some kind of secret knowledge you'll never know. Lost in the foreign music and flashing lights. Everyone looks so confident, so sure of themselves, and here you are—spending the whole night... just shook, for lack of better words. You find yourself oddly fascinated.

Everything about this place—from the gritty, broken-down aesthetic outside to the futuristic, slight boho-meets-retro feel of the inside, to the people who seem to fully embody the space, calls to you. It's the complete opposite of everything you've ever known. But instead of feeling lost, left out, or even intimidated, you rather feel...invited.

Wakasa smirks down at you, noticing your awestruck reaction. "A little different from your usual night out, huh?"

You scoff out a laugh, "Very different."

"Come on." He says, leading you further into the club with a hand on your lower back. "Let's grab a drink. The more relaxed you are, the better."

You approach the bar—a long, marble-like counter, behind which stood a half human male bartender with mechanical arms and glowing lime green eyes. Wakasa calmly orders you both drinks as you blatantly stare from the bartender to the other "people" in the vicinity. For some of them, it's hard to tell wether they're actually human, half human, or just a straight up robot.

For other's, like the bartender, it's obvious. The people here didn't really match the look of Neon City's citizens. They're edgy, harder, rebel-like people who maybe don't actually belong to the city above ground. And yet, they have this je ne sais quoi about them, a quiet confidence that draws you in like a moth to a flame.

Wakasa smirks as the bartender comes back and sets two glowing drinks before you two, giving him a short "Thanks". The liquid inside shimmers a bright, electric blue, casting a faint glow that dances across the metal bar.

"This one's for you," He says, pushing the glass toward you. "'S called Bliss."

You raise an eyebrow, eyeing the drink with both curiosity and hesitation. "Bliss?"

"Yeah," Wakasa nods, amusement flickering in his eyes. "It's...well, let's just say it makes things more simple."

When your drinks arrived, you can't help furrowing your brows at the glass, your gaze scrutinizing as you swish it around. "Ok, but like...what is it? Why is it glowing?" You ask skeptically.

"Just try it. It's good; goes down real easy. Promise." He assures cooly.

You immediately note the way he deliberately did not answer the actual question, being what the drink is. You watch him take a long sip of his own, waiting for any crazy reactions. Yet it never comes.

If this were any other situation, you wouldn't dare take a drink from a man you didn't know, but this entire situation is different, technically. The memories of this wild evening flicker through your mind as you continue to slowly swirl the blue liquid around in the glass.

Wether you remember exactly how you got here or not, you're here now, and maybe this really is exactly what you need. A nice break from the constant, monotonous grind of working on music and slaving away at your officially finished record label internship.

From the endless rejection emails, the constant cycle of disappointment after someone you put your trust in fails you, from the pressure you constantly put on yourself. This nightclub, this scene—it's so far removed from your world. Removed from your cramped bedroom that you've made into your home studio, electric keyboards taking up way too much space, notes app filled with unfinished lyrics, and neighbors arguments picking up through your studio quality mic you saved two and a half months just to afford.

So, fuck it. You allow the glow of the blue liquid to lure you into temptation.

Hesitating for only a moment, you take a tiny little sip, bracing yourself for some kind of strong burn or sour taste. But that proves to be for nothing. The drink is cool and sweet—floral almost, and it sends a sensual shiver down your spine. Warmth blooms in your chest, spreading outwards like liquid sunshine. Instantly you feel your nerves begin to relax, your racing thoughts slowing down as the pulse of the club's music seeps into your bones.

You feel good. Really, really good.

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 31

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 30

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @userchai @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

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@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smoking, alcohol use, fluff, light crying, mentions of abuse, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, praise/degradation, anal fingering, squirting, mentions of various sexual activities, nightmares, mentions of harassment/assault, light angst

Word Count: 13.9k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 31.1: The Promise

Friday, August 25th, 1989

"Okay, he's pulling up the driveway now. Places, everyone!" Dustin calls from his spot at the window, he's been peeking through the curtains to watch Eddie pull up to your house. He scurries to his hiding place, behind the armchair in the corner of the living room. Mom, Wayne, the Hellfire kids, Chrissy, and all your other friends hide as best they can behind various pieces of furniture. It's a tight squeeze for most of them. They've had to resort to less desirable spots, like cowering under the shield of the kitchen island, or beneath the coffee table.

These last few weeks have been a whirlwind, to say the least. You've been absolutely swamped at work, as well as juggling trial prep and registering for your classes that are getting closer by the day. You've got an entirely full plate, with a huge dollop of Eddie plopped on top of all of it. The two of you have been doing very well at keeping distance when necessary, it's become the new normal for you. You still make plenty of time for one another, despite your busy schedule, but your shared existence has lessened significantly. As exhausting as it can be, you truly feel like an actual adult for once. Balancing work, life, and relationships. It's something you've always wanted to prove you can do. It's a real, tangible sign that you're all grown up now. And today, you take another big step towards completing the process.

Your various party guests murmur in excitement, but you frantically shush them. You peek through the peephole of the front door, watching your boyfriend kill the engine and hop out of the van. He's holding a large pink gift bag, and he's dressed a little nicer than usual. Black jeans, a red button-up shirt that's only half done with the sleeves rolled up, exposing a good portion of his chest and arms. He looks so handsome, and you can't wait to finally reveal this long-awaited surprise. Your heart pounds in excitement, watching like a hawk as he makes his way to the door. He knocks, and you quickly open it.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Happy anniversary." He smiles at you, pulling you in by the waist to give you a small kiss. He pulls away, taking in your own special outfit. It's a cute, red dress that barely reaches your knees, with spaghetti-thin straps that sit perfectly on your bare shoulders. You're wearing flats with them, simple, black, with little bows on the toes. You also put on some light makeup, baby pink lipstick and natural coverage. "You look gorgeous, Y/N." He compliments you, and you blush.

"And you're looking very handsome, Eddie." You pull back from his embrace, ushering him inside so you can close the door to keep the mosquitoes out. He goes to the counter to put the bag down, thankfully taking no notice of Steve and Robin crouching just a couple feet away.

"So, what do you have in store for me this time, hm?" He asks curiously, making his way back across the floor to you. Eddie boxes you in against the door, putting a hand against it beside your head. He gazes at you hungrily, wrongfully assuming you've got the house to yourselves. "More dirty pictures? Something new in bed?..." He trails off, lowering his head to kiss your neck. You don't reply, unsure how to diffuse this. You know everyone can see and hear him, and it's no doubt going to be a bit embarrassing when they all jump out in a minute. "Am I getting warm, sweetheart?" He asks teasingly, biting down on your throat. Shit, please don't fucking moan. Not in front of all your friends and family, you think to yourself. You grit your teeth to hold it in, struggling to form a sentence as Eddie's hand travels up your waist and toward your chest. You've got to stop this, before he gropes you in front of your own mother.

"W-what's the rush, Eddie?" You stutter, ducking under his arm to get away. His face scrunches in confusion, you never turn him down like this. "I thought maybe I could show you that surprise that I've been keeping such a secret?" You emphasize the word 'surprise', gesturing awkwardly with your hands in hopes that the others will take the damn hint. Mom pokes her head up a little, looking at you oddly. You slowly back away from Eddie and towards the couch, but he follows your every step. He probably thinks you're only playing hard to get.

"I have been wondering about that...but I think there's a certain present I'd like to open even more, angel." He chuckles darkly, looking you up and down.

"Are you sure you don't want your surprise first? It's something very special!" You repeat yourself, trying to subtly nudge your head at Mom. She finally mouths an understanding 'oh' at you, and ducks back down to quietly get the rest of the group on board. You make a mental note to never attempt this charade again, you've severely overestimated their capacity to stick to a fucking plan. You hope these assholes have been enjoying the show, because it ends now. Your ankles hit the edge of the couch in your avoidance of Eddie's charms, making you fall onto the cushion. He looms over you, a slight indent formed in his tight jeans.

"I can wait a little longer, princess. Besides, we're all alone...with the whole house to ourselves." He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip while staring at you lustfully. A mere second after those ironic words leave Eddie's lips, everyone pops out from their hiding places at the exact same time.

"SURPRISE!" They all shout, which scares the absolute shit out of Eddie. He screams at the top of his lungs, whipping around to see that essentially everyone he knows has heard him speak to you in such a vulgar way. His face immediately goes beet red, and he hides it in his hands in shock and embarrassment.

"Jesus christ!" Eddie groans into his palms. You wrap your arms around him, keeping him in place. You lean up to speak in his ear, unable to hold back a laugh at his expense.

"I really got you good, didn't I?" You cackle, your head falling against his shoulder. The others are laughing too, enjoying the mortified expression Eddie made. He lowers his hands after a minute, smiling despite his continued shame. He holds you close to him, and gazes around the room.

"Yeah, yeah. You got me." He waves them all off as they struggle to calm down, and looks at you again. "Fuck, a little warning would've been nice, babydoll."

"You know there's no fun in that, Eds." You retort, still giggling a little bit.

"Damn, Munson! It's no wonder Y/N loves you so much, when you talk like that!" Robin comments, cracking herself up even more.

"I swear, I didn't teach him a damn thing!" Wayne calls out, hoping to absolve himself of any responsibility as Eddie's father figure. The laughing only grows louder, though your own has died off completely at this point.

"Ugh, can you guys please stop? You have no idea how much I overhear in this damn house." Dustin whines while shaking his head in resignation. He holds back a gag at all the things he's unfortunately heard exchanged between his best friend and his sister.

"I second that, I've made enough of an ass out of myself as it is." Eddie chimes in, hoping everyone will move on sometime soon. He looks at you with pleading 'help me' eyes, and you nod in understanding. His randy behavior didn't exactly paint you in the greatest light, either.

"Alright, that's enough, you guys. I think it's about time I tell Eddie exactly what I've been keeping so close to the chest these last few months." You address your guests, calling an end to Eddie's humiliation. They nod in agreement, and take a minute to each find a seat. Mom, Dustin, Eddie, and yourself take the couch. Wayne sits in the armchair. Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Chrissy take the dining chairs, with JJ on Chrissy's lap. The rest sit on the floor, expressing no complaints.

Once everyone is settled, Mom leans over to whisper to you. "What was that earlier about pictures? Is that what you used my Polaroid camera for?" She asks, though you're unsure if she's angry or amused.

"It's nothing, Mom. Eddie was just messing around." You reply in an unconvincing tone.

"Uh-huh. Sure." She shakes her head, holding back a smile. It seems like just yesterday that she did the exact same thing for George at the beginning of their marriage.

"Anyway." You clear your throat, turning to face Eddie. Everyone goes quiet, and you take Eddie's hands in yours. He raises an eyebrow, wondering what you're going to say. "Eddie, we've been together for half a year now. And I know you fell for me really early on, as I did for you." You speak sweetly, which makes him smile. "So much so, that exactly one day before our one-month anniversary, Mom offered to pay for a couple months rent, so we could find a place together when we made it this far." You smile uncontrollably at finally being able to say these words to him. It's been so difficult to keep this all a secret, it's hard to keep anything from him at all. But the time is ultimately right, and you have everyone you love right here to support you. "What do you say, Eddie? You wanna move in with me?" You ask, feeling oddly emotional. Happy tears well up in your eyes, because you know deep within your heart what his answer is going to be.

"Of course I do, Y/N. I love you so much. There's no one else I could picture doing this with." Eddie says with a nod, gently cupping both sides of your face. He gazes tenderly into your eyes, before bringing you closer to kiss you passionately. Your lips meet, and everyone around you erupts in joyful cheers and applause. Tears fall down your cheeks, as well as his own. You melt into the kiss for a moment, gaining a collective ‘whoo’ from your guests.

"Okay, I think it's time for presents!" Mom pipes up, wiping a tear from her own eye. She gets up from the couch, going to the dining room table to retrieve the lovely gifts everyone has brought for you both. You don't even really care about the presents, you mainly organized all this to celebrate Eddie, and your undying love for him. It was Mom's idea to give you things to build your home with, which everyone jumped at the chance to do. They care for you and Eddie so much, you wonder every day how you got so lucky.

"Presents?" Eddie asks in confusion once you break your kiss.

"It was all them, Eds. I swear." You giggle, wiping the salty tracks from his face. He does the same for you, giving you another short peck. He can't help it, the fact that you've done all of this makes him want to shower you with affection.

"Dusty, you want to help me out here?" Mom calls to your brother.

"Sure thing, Mom." He gets up to assist her, as do Wayne and Steve. They manage to bring everything over in one trip, piling the presents in front of you on the carpet.

"Wow. Uh, thanks, guys." Eddie says, eyes boggling at the neatly wrapped items sitting at his feet. It feels like Christmas, or a birthday, or even an engagement party.

"Please, it's the least we could do!" Chrissy chirps, giving you both a warm smile. JJ babbles in her lap, the spitting image of his father.

"You wanna pick first, love? I dunno where to start." Eddie chuckles, getting a little overwhelmed by all this. It's not easy for him to have so much attention directed his way. He's been appreciative of almost every other celebration being kept between the two of you.

"Yeah. Let's do....this one." You pick up a bundle from the top, wrapped in pink tissue paper.

"That one's from me." Chrissy says, and JJ lets out a small laugh in agreement. He sure is a cute kid, with sandy blonde hair and bright green eyes.

You rip open the thin paper, revealing some cooking utensils. "Thanks, Chrissy! These are great!" You set them down in your lap, and Mom takes the paper from you to put in a trash bag she brought over. You look over at Eddie, nudging his shoulder. "Your turn, baby." You smile, which he returns.

"Right..." He looks over the pile for a moment, unsure of what to choose. He supposes it doesn't really matter, they'll all end up open at some point anyway. He picks up a red envelope sitting on top of one of the larger boxes, tearing open the seal. It's a card from Hopper and Joyce, with a certificate to Manny's Furniture Bonanza inside. The card itself reads:

Hey there, kiddos! Congrats on moving in together, we're so happy for you! We didn't know what you'd need, so hopefully the certificate will be helpful to you. We'll have to be there for the wedding *wink wink*, and we wish you the best of luck in building a home together. We can tell you make one another so happy, and you're one of those couples that will surely withstand the test of time.

Love, as always,

Joyce, Hop, and the kids

"Aw, that's so sweet." You say after reading the card over Eddie's shoulder.

"You'd better send them a thank you, Y/N." Claudia says, reminding you of the time-honored tradition of thanking older adults when they give you anything.

"I'm on it, Mom. I've been writing thank you cards since I was five." You roll your eyes at her insistence. You and Eddie take turns opening the rest of the gifts, kindly thanking everyone for their generosity. You receive a toaster from Mom, pots and pans from Wayne, bath towels from Dustin, a set of dishes from Steve, a coffee maker from Robin, some bedsheets from Nancy, and silverware from Lucas. You take a small break to gather up the wrapping paper again, having neglected to hand Mom the mess in your excitement. When you continue, you reveal a pair of dish towels from the twins, oven mitts from Erica, matching 'His' and 'Hers' coffee mugs from Max, and a very nice comforter set that your coworkers pooled money together on.

"Well, looks like that's everything. I'm assuming you two want to open your gifts to each other in private?" Mom says, chuckling impishly at her last statement.

"No, we can open them now." Eddie says, hopping off the couch excitedly to retrieve the bag he brought for you.

"Okay. I'll have to get yours from my room." You add, getting up from your seat and heading down the hall.

"Hurry back!" Eddie calls after you, making you smile. He's in a very good mood, the surprise cock-block notwithstanding. So are you, and you can't wait to give him his gifts. You love giving him things, he's very appreciative of everything you do for him. The way his eyes light up in admiration, the heart-melting kiss he gives you afterwards. Those little things make it all worthwhile. You pick up the wrapped gifts sitting on your dresser, almost skipping back down the hallway while holding them in your arms. You rejoin Eddie on the couch, sitting as close to him as you possibly can.

"Here, my love. How about you go first this time?" You say as you put the gifts in his lap.

"Sure thing, princess." He smiles at you, gazing down at the pile of gifts wrapped in blue paper you've presented him with. He opens the smallest one at the top, finding some new guitar strings. He'd mentioned needing some new ones for his prized electric guitar, which he's started to pick up again in his spare time. "Sweet! I've been needing some of these!" He says appreciatively. Next, is an apron that says 'kiss the cook' on it, which earns a small laugh from everyone in the room. "I love it, sweetheart." He grins, giving you a small kiss before opening the last one. He tears away the paper, revealing a black leather photo album. The picture of you, him, and Arwen sits in the little window on the front. He opens it to find all the other photos you've taken together, with plenty of empty spaces for new ones. "This is so thoughtful, Y/N. These photos are great. I can't wait to fill this with more pictures of us." He pulls you into him for another kiss as well as a hug, which you happily reciprocate. You're so glad he likes them. He breaks away from you far too soon for your liking, giving you a loving glance. "Your turn, babydoll."

You open up the bag he's set on your lap, taking out a small sheet of tissue paper used to hide the contents. You pull out a mixtape he's made with all your favorite songs, little doodles of hearts and other lovey dovey things penciled in around the label. "This is perfect, Eds! All my favorites in one place, thank you!" You set the tape down, pulling out the next gift. It's a drawing of you two and the cat, beautifully drawn in black pen and colored in with watercolor paint. It's in a simple, black frame, and it's absolutely gorgeous. Eddie's captured not only your likenesses perfectly, but also the love and happiness that radiates between the three of you. "This is so sweet, Eddie. You're so talented." You smile brightly, turning the picture around for everyone to see.

"Wow, Munson, that looks amazing!" Steve pipes up, impressed with Eddie's artistic skill.

"Thanks." Eddie replies, blushing wildly while rubbing the back of his neck. The others take turns looking it over, giving approving nods and comments.

"Okay, looks like there's one last thing in here." You say, reaching deep inside the bag to pull out something that feels like denim. You set the empty bag down once you free the item from it, and unfold it to inspect what this last thing is. Your mouth drops open once you put it together. Eddie has gone to all the trouble to make you your very own battle vest. It's in your size, in a dark blue wash that compliments your complexion. He's put a cut-up Vixen t-shirt on the back, and has either bought or made buttons and patches from all your favorite bands. There's a Bowie lightning bolt, a Prince love symbol, as well as other patches for AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Madonna, Wham!, Duran Duran, Def Leppard, Michael Jackson, Weird Al, Oingo Boingo, Poison, Joan Jett, Pat Benatar,etc. He even put on the Ozzy Osbourne patch you bought for him at the concert on his birthday. "Eddie, you didn't!" You exclaim, pointing to the patch in question.

"I did, sweetheart. I figured you should have the Ozzy patch. My vest is pretty full already, and it'll look better on you anyway." He says lovingly. "And I tried my best to find all your favorites, but it wasn't exactly easy. So, I made a few of them myself, I hope that's okay." He speaks so humbly, as if his massive effort to show how much he cares about your interests isn't impressive at all.

"It's more than okay! This vest is totally bitchin'! And now we match!" You reply excitedly, slipping it on over your dress. "How do I look?" You ask while posing goofily, biting your lip as you wait to see what Eddie thinks.

"Gorgeous as ever, princess." He chuckles, leaning in for a final kiss before your gathering hopefully disperses for dinner. Everyone 'aw's at you two being so sickeningly cute, and Mom snaps a picture of your affection.

"Another one for the album." She says as the camera spits the photo out. She shakes it in her hand, and passes it to you once you've let Eddie go.

"Thanks, Mom." You take it, letting it fully develop on your lap for the time being. Eddie keeps his arm around you, and the others go off to have some of the food Mom put out. It's mostly chips and soda, but she's ordering pizzas, too. You look over at Eddie, who's smiling bright and wide. He looks so cute, handsome and sexy all at once right now. "Happy anniversary, Eds." You say softly.

"Happy anniversary, baby." He gives you another kiss, though he quickly moves on to nuzzle your neck afterwards. He wants to be close to you, while keeping his libido in check. He spent the entire time he was getting dressed thinking about you. How beautiful you'd look, what dress you'd wear, how perfect said dress would look as it got tossed to the floor in your usual lustful frenzy. "So, I guess this means we have to start looking for an apartment, huh?" He asks, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Yep. Just me and you, looking at all the shitty little places Hawkins has to offer." You say with a laugh.

"Yeah...but soon, one of them will be our shitty little place." He replies, sounding so unbelievably happy about the idea.

"Very true. Ugh, I can't wait to live with you. We can finally be on our own, together." You can't help daydreaming about it, as you have done for months on end. Having landlords show you around until you find a place you like, unpacking the stacks and stacks of boxes together, breaking in the new bed...

"I can't think of anything better than that, sweetheart." He coos, still leaning on you while bringing his lips to your neck. It's only light pecks, small tokens of affection. You hum quietly at his pleasant warmth, thankful that everyone else has piled into the kitchen and dining area for your benefit. "I also cannot wait to get you alone later, princess." Eddie says lowly, nipping your neck slightly.

"Eddie, play nice. There's too many people here." You warn, though it would be so very easy to pull him down the hall to your room to have your way with him.

"Fine, fine. But only because you asked me to. You know I can never say no to you, my angel." He smirks against your flesh, placing down one last steamy kiss before returning to your innocent embrace.

"Because you know I'll punish you for disobeying me." You reply in a sultry tone. You get up from your spot without another word, leaving him speechless as you approach the group.

"You two done flirting over there?" Steve asks, handing you a red plastic cup with unknown contents in it.

"For now." You answer. "What's this?"

"Champagne, it is a very special occasion after all." He answers with a smile, and you take a sip. You make an odd face as you swallow, this is definitely not your kind of drink. "Not good?" He asks.

"No." You say apologetically, giving the cup back. "I think I'd prefer beer."

"And that is why you're my kinda girl, sweetheart." Eddie quips once he makes his way over. He slings an arm over your shoulders, unable to be away from you for more than a few seconds. Steve hands each of you a freshly-opened bottle, which you take generous sips from.

"Ugh, can you two stop being so disgustingly cute for five seconds? You're making the rest of us insanely jealous!" Robin gushes, having already downed a couple helpings of the champagne herself.

"No can do, Buckley. I'm way too fuckin' happy right now." Eddie chuckles, lowering his arm to your waist. He keeps you close, his fingers gently fidgeting around with the hem of your new vest. You smile at his restlessness, you're sure he's counting down the minutes until everybody leaves.

"So, when do you guys think you'll have time to look for a place? I know you've been pretty busy with the trials, and work, and Y/N starts her final year of college in a couple of weeks. That's a lot to handle." Nancy says, nursing her own drink.

"Shit, I have no idea. But we'll figure it out. We've got plenty of time." You reply in uncertainty, you hadn't even thought about that. Everything has been so crazy, and this party has overtaken the forefront of your mind, you didn't even consider how difficult adding another important task would be.

"It'll be fine, princess. We'll work it out together." Eddie says, noticing your unease. He knows how stressed you've been lately, though you seem to be handling things pretty well. You have been getting a lot of headaches, and you toss and turn in your sleep whenever he's in bed with you. But other than that, you're coping. You aren't hiding away, or breaking down. Hell, you haven't even had an anxiety attack in quite some time. Perhaps it's because Eddie has done everything he possibly can to lighten the load for you, which he is always more than happy to do.

"You're damn right we will. When we put our heads together, we are unstoppable, love." You smile, giving him a brief kiss.

"Well, it's good that you two seem to have it figured out. I'm an absolute mess trying to plan this wedding." Nancy says, playing around anxiously with the diamond ring on her finger.

"Have you figured out where you're having it yet? Here, or California?" You ask. It would be pretty cool to see California, you've barely even left Indiana before. But logistically, it's very far, and very expensive.

"Oh, I have no idea. And it's driving me and Jonathan crazy. Because basically each half of the wedding lives in either place, and everyone wants to give their damn two cents about it." She speaks frustratedly, taking a big swig of her champagne.

"Well, what do you and Jonathan want? It's your wedding, after all." You ask, and her expression softens. You're probably one of the few people that genuinely cares what the happy couple wants. It's their day, and yet everyone else has managed to make it about themselves. Her parents want to have the wedding here, because California is 'full of criminals', and Hopper and Joyce want it in California so all the kids can go to Disneyland. But she can't help wondering what that has to do with anything. They could go there any other time. Although, having the bachelor/bachelorette party there could be kind of fun. Otherwise, those events would probably be held at the Hideaway...which isn't ideal.

"It's been hard for me to choose, everyone's reasoning makes either option sound awful at this point. But, putting that aside, I guess California would be the better choice. I mean, who dreams of a wedding in Hawkins?" She answers, surprising herself that she's managed to figure this problem out. Jonathan made it very clear that marry her anywhere she wants, he'd even go to the moon if she asked him to. "Well, that's one issue down. And thirty more to go." She laughs, rolling her eyes at the thought of picking out flowers and hiring a photographer.

"Well, if you want any help, you can always call me and Robin up. We are your bridesmaids, after all." You offer, smiling wider at that idea. That's the one thing Nancy and Jonathan figured out once they got engaged. You, Robin, and Jane are Nancy's bridesmaids. And Steve, Eddie, and Will are the groomsmen for Jonathan. Neither one of them could pick a maid of honor or best man, so you've all collectively agreed to share the responsibilities. You've always wanted to be in a wedding, but you never thought you'd be close enough friends with anyone to do it. You want to wear a pretty dress, and help the bride get ready, and be witness to what the world collectively agrees is the ultimate symbol of love and commitment.

"I definitely will. I still need to go dress shopping. Mom keeps hounding me to wear her wedding dress, but the bulky thing is ancient and smells like moth balls." Nancy crinkles her nose, at the memory of the smell, and those god-awful poofy sleeves.

"Just let us know when you're going, Nance. We'll be there every step of the way to assist you. Ooh, you're gonna look so pretty!" Robin squeals, she's terribly eager to be part of this as well. But who wouldn't be? Nancy and Jonathan are perfect together, and they're some of your closest friends now.

"I'm guessing this means I have to wear a tux, huh?" Eddie asks, trying his best to withhold a sour face at the notion. He hates wearing fancy clothes. Neck ties are so goddamn strangling, and everything else is stuffy to a point where he feels like he's suffocating. He takes another swig of his beer, swallowing hard.

"'Fraid so, Eds. But you're gonna look so handsome." You answer, poking his nose playfully.

"Do I not already look that way?" He asks jokingly.

"Of course you do, my love. You look so good in everything...and nothing at all." You smile mischievously at him, flicking your eyes to look him up and down to prove your point.

"Ugh, stop it! I'm gonna barf!" Dustin cries, having been not-so-casually eavesdropping on your adult conversation. You suspect he's been sent over as a spy by the other youngsters, they really like to know what you all get up to. It's cute, like you're all their older siblings and they just want to participate and feel grown up.

"Quit spying, then! Don't you kids have anything better to do? Shit, when we were your age, we would've snuck out of the house to go get wasted by now." Steve kicks into babysitter mode, as he always does in these situations. He shoos Dustin away, and shoots a disapproving look at the gaggle of teenagers waiting for their special agent to return with intel.

"Oh, don't be so hard on them, Stevie. Not everyone can be a party animal like you." Robin chides him, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, I was not a party animal." Steve scoffs, crossing his arms defiantly.

"You so were! You threw so many parties, and went to every party hosted by anyone else for four whole years!" Robin exclaims. You and the others nod in agreement. You'd never been invited to a Harrington rager, but even the freaks and geeks in your graduating class knew that said parties were the stuff of legend.

"Oh, whatever. It wasn't that many. And how would you know? You weren't there." Steve retorts.

"Didn't have to be there to know that 'King Steve' was doing keg stands and sleeping with every girl he saw for four years straight." Eddie interjects.

"Okay...you may have a point." Steve gives up. He really should know better than to debate some of the biggest losers in Hawkins High history about how popular he was.

"Alright, everyone! The pizza's here!" Mom announces, setting down a stack of cardboard boxes on the dining table. Everyone immediately digs in, piling slice after slice onto paper plates.

You and Eddie cuddle up together on the couch as you eat, with the other young adults sitting around you. You continue to discuss the wedding with Nancy, helping her figure out small details like the color palette and flowers. Even Chrissy joins in on the conversation, and you welcome her. You'd been inadvertently excluding her before, which you feel a little guilty about. Nancy seems to appreciate the help, there's no doubt Mrs. Wheeler has been on her case about the whole thing. It's understandable, a mother dreams of assisting with her daughter's wedding. But Nancy is fiercely independent, so surely any advice from her mom is going in one ear and out the other.

You can tell Steve and Eddie are a bit bored with this conversation, but they sit by and listen to you girls babble on until you've had your fill. It's not like they can come up with anything all that interesting to talk about right now, anyway. As you sit in Eddie's lap, his hands wander around your stomach and hips. He makes subtle touches on your body, trying to tease you to pass the time. You can feel him getting a little hard underneath you, which makes you smirk. You shift your lower half every so often, knowing full well he can feel you rubbing against him each time you do that. He keeps his cool, there'll be plenty of time to pay you back for teasing him later.

Once everyone's done eating, Mom comes around to clean up all the empty paper plates and leftover crusts. Your friends help you move all the new gifts into your room for the time being, and they now occupy a mostly-unused corner by your window. Some of your guests depart for the evening, mainly the kids and Wayne. You say goodbye to them and give them all hugs and thanks for sharing this night with you. Mom goes to her room for the evening, feeling rather tired after all the excitement.

The rest of you continue to hang out for a bit, taking the gathering outdoors for a smoke. Eddie lights your cig for you, as well as his own. The stars and moon light up the night sky, and the lot of you sit quietly while huddled together in the grass. JJ sits on Chrissy's lap, and a cigarette dangles from her manicured fingers as she sits to your left on the end of the gathering. Eddie's to your right, with the others sitting in a line onwards in that direction. Neither Nancy or Robin take part in the smoking, they've never enjoyed it much. But they like hanging around the rest of you too much to be left behind.

"So, how have you been, Chrissy?" You ask, turning your head to look her way.

"I'm doing great. I got a job in town, at the Big Buy, actually. And my aunt is honestly a godsend. She's been really helpful with JJ, and I'm so happy to finally be free." She answers with a smile, taking a drag from her smoke afterwards.

"That's great! Are you doing alright with prepping for the trial?" You question. You wonder if she also finds Murray Bauman to be quite the colorful character.

"Yeah, it's coming together. It's hard to talk about everything, but Murray makes it as easy as he can. He is a bit odd, though." She chuckles, flicking her ash into the grass.

"He certainly is." You laugh. "But, he seems to know what he's doing. He's been very helpful for Eddie and I."

"Oh, that's right! I forgot about your own case. I was sorry to hear about what that asshole Hagan did to your house." She exclaims, which morphs into anger at the thought of some jerk antagonizing you. She considers you a very good friend now, after everything you've done to help her.

"I appreciate that. It's all fixed now, obviously. But I dread actually pulling everything out again in a courtroom." You sigh, not wanting to think about Tommy or the awful things he's done. Not tonight, when everything else has been so positive and sweet.

"So do I, Y/N. It's never easy, but it's what's right. We both deserve justice, and we're damn well going to get it!" She says with complete resolve, even thrusting her fist in the air to get her point across.

"You bet your ass we will!" You mirror her sentiment, clasping her hand with your own for a moment. You two share a bond now, in a way. Here you sit, two young women fighting back against the men who've tried to make victims out of you. It's not just about you as individuals at this point. You both serve as a voice for others who are too afraid to fight back, too scared to say no. It's kind of empowering, actually. Your strength, and refusal to back down, will show the world (or a small town, at least) that abuse cannot and shall no longer be tolerated. Not by you, not by the court, not by society. It isn't the nineteen-fifties anymore. You're in the modern age now, spearheading a new wave of feminism in ninteen-eighty-fucking-nine.

"Shit, look at the time. JJ is way overdue for bed." Chrissy tuts after glancing at her watch. She looks down at her son, who's fallen asleep in her arms. It's going to be one hell of a drive home, he'll surely cry the whole way when she inevitably disturbs him to put him in his car seat.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that." You apologize, standing up from your spot.

"No, no, it's alright. It's my own fault. You mind holding him for a moment so I can get up?" Chrissy says, preparing to lift JJ up for you to take him.

"Oh, sure." You reply uneasily. You've never been one for holding kids, you've always had this weird fear of dropping them. You hold your arms out, and Chrissy carefully hands JJ off to you. He stirs a little from his slumber, but you bring him close to your chest, supporting his bottom with your hand.

"Don't get any ideas, princess." Eddie jokes, gazing up at you holding the small child. He can tell you're not enjoying holding Chrissy's son one bit, your stiffened face says it all.

"Believe me, I wasn't." You roll your eyes, waiting for Chrissy to take JJ back already. He is very cute, but the sensation of holding him is very uncomfortable for you.

"Oh, Eddie, be nice. Don't you want kids someday?" Nancy asks, her eyes glued to the little bundle of joy in your arms. He's so adorable, and she'd love to have one of her own, or maybe two.

"No!" You and Eddie blurt at the same time. The others laugh at your serious expressions and quick protest. Your cheeks begin to burn, wishing you didn't have such a strong reaction to the idea of children.

"Well, that's a shame. You'd make some very cute babies together." Chrissy adds, taking JJ back now that she's standing up.

"Sorry, we don't mean to be so aggressively anti-kid. It's just not what we want, that's all." You sigh, realizing you might have hurt Chrissy's feelings or made her think you don't like her son.

"It's okay, Y/N. I'm not offended." Chrissy giggles. "I get it, it's not for everyone. I just love being a mom so much, I can't help wanting to share that joy with other people." She says sweetly.

"Well, we've got a cat. That must count for something." Eddie comments, flicking his spent butt away. The others groan at that suggestion, comparing a pet to a child is always a no-go. "Ugh, I give up." He sighs, flopping backwards to lay in the grass now.

"Sorry, Munson. Cats may be cute, but it's not nearly the same as raising a kid." Robin says, giving his head a sympathetic pat. He bats her hand away, becoming rather annoyed with this conversation. "Ow! Someone's getting testy. Y/N, control your man, please!" She taunts.

"Don't mind if I do!" You laugh, positioning yourself to straddle his legs. You land hard on him, pinning him down on the ground. He grunts at your weight, his hands immediately going to your hips. He looks at you with an unamused expression. "Now, Eddie, you'd better play nice." You speak teasingly.

"Or what?" He asks, challenging you.

"Or, all the action you're gonna get tonight will be coming from your right hand." You warn, drawing raucous laughs from everyone else. You peer down at Eddie, leaning down real close to show him just how serious you are with this threat. "Now, be a good boy and say you're sorry." His eyes widen at you pulling out that phrase in front of your friends, though they don't know the extensive history you have behind it. A light blush colors his cheeks, and he hopes to God the others don't notice.

"Alright, jeez!" He yields to you, turning his head to look at Robin. "I'm sorry for being mean, Rob." He apologizes, as sincerely as he can muster. He knows that if he gives anything less, it won't be good enough to escape punishment.

"Damn, dude! Y/N's totally got you whipped!" Steve cackles, earning a smack on the chest from Nancy. "Hey, I thought we said no hitting!"

"You earned that one by being an ass." Nancy answers with a casual shrug.

"Alright, well, I'd better get going. Thanks for having us over, Y/N." Chrissy cuts in.

"Thanks for coming, Chrissy. It was nice to see you again." You say kindly, not looking away from Eddie as you speak. His eyes don't leave yours, either. He knows exactly what he's in for once the others leave.

"Yeah, we should probably leave, too. I think we're getting in the middle of something." Robin chuckles, and Steve and Nancy nod in agreement. "Night, guys. Have fun." She says in a sing-song voice.

"Bye, Rob." Eddie answers this time. The other two say their goodbyes as well, and you can hear them catching up to Robin to crack jokes about the both of you. But you don't mind, you're barely paying attention at all. All you can focus on is Eddie, and everything you want to do to him.

"Finally, I get you all to myself." You say lowly once the cars of your guests pull out of the driveway, shifting your lower half over his. He groans at the feeling, and you sense him growing underneath you. You bring your lips to his, kissing him hungrily. Your tongue slips inside his mouth, and his hands grip your hips a little harder. You reach for the buttons on his shirt, clumsily undoing them.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" Eddie asks breathlessly.

"Having my way with you. Is that alright?" You retort, managing to get his shirt all the way open now. You lower your head to plant sloppy kisses on his chest, your teeth biting his nipples when you find them.

"Out here? Someone might see us, babydoll." He says, though it doesn't matter much to him how or where you want to have sex. He'll do anything you ask, no matter the risk.

"It's late, and no one's around. I want you, I can't wait anymore." You pant, reaching for his belt. You hastily undo it, opening up his jeans shortly after. You reach inside, taking his cock in your hand. "Don't you want me, Eddie?" You ask seductively, leaving his chest alone to meet his eyes again. Your pupils are blown wide with lust, and your mouth sits slightly agape. You are the prettiest picture of desire he's ever seen.

"Of course I do, sweetheart. I always want you." He says, groaning as you begin to stroke him in your hand.

"Good." You reply simply, taking hold of his hand to bring it under your dress. He can feel how wet you are through your panties, you must have been thinking about him all day. He rubs his fingers over your clothed heat, making you gasp. You press your lips to his again, and he realizes that this is surely going to be a night to remember.

Part 31.2: Fever

"You sure you wanna do this out here, angel?" Eddie asks as you continue to pump his dick in your hand.

"Ask me one more time, Eds, and I'll change my fucking mind." You answer firmly, shimmying your body over his to remove your panties. You toss them away, hiking your skirt around your upper thighs as you straddle him.

"Sorry..." He swallows hard, watching you get yourself ready for him. "I just一" He starts to explain himself, but there's really no need. You shake your head, smiling down at him as you press a finger to his lips.

"Baby, relax. I want this." You make yourself perfectly clear, not an ounce of doubt in your eyes.

"Then so do I, sweetheart." He says, a small grin forming on his face. He has absolutely no problem fucking you senseless on your front lawn in the dead of night. Hell, he's thought about it a lot as it's one of the few places where you haven't had sex yet. He's been waiting for the day when you'd finally cross it off the list.

"Touch me, baby. Please." You beg, greedily taking hold of his hand to bring it back to where you want him most. He gently frees himself from your grasp, running his palm up your thigh until he reaches your soaked pussy. He carefully brushes his fingers through your folds. You moan at his touch, your eyes falling closed.

"No need to rush, princess. You know I'll give you anything you want." He says sweetly, sitting up to put himself level with you. He continues to stroke your cunt, and you grab hold of his stiffened length again. You open your eyes to meet his, placing your free hand on his shoulder. "You're so wet, Y/N. Is this all for me?" He asks, his loving tone laced with lust. He's always been able to toe the line between affection and seduction, making you feel adored while also turning you on beyond belief.

"Always, Eds." You reply breathlessly. He keeps his eyes on you as he slips a finger inside of you, watching your mouth fall open slightly to let out a beautiful moan. You look down between your bodies, watching Eddie's hand move back and forth between your thighs. His finger glides in and out of your soaked hole, your arousal making it glisten in the moonlight. "More, baby." You plead, waiting in anticipation as he brings another finger to your entrance. He presses it inside, making you gasp. You continue to gaze downwards, a knot building in your belly with every second you spend watching him slowly fuck you with his fingers.

"Such a pretty picture, babydoll..." Eddie breathes. He's completely stuck in place, witnessing you sitting on top of him while making the sweetest sounds, turning yourself on even more by watching him touch you. Your hand absently runs up and down his shaft, his tip becoming red and swollen with need. A bead of precum has gathered in the slit, slowly dripping down the side as you lightly squeeze him while you work. "Look at me, angel." He says, still speaking in his comfortable, yet sexy voice. You do as he asks, finding his gorgeous face admiring the hell out of you. You can't help blushing under his gaze. "My sexy girl. God, I love you so much." Eddie coos, cupping your cheek with his free hand while leaning in closer to you.

"I love you too, Eds." Your lips meet his, soft and warm. He tastes like cigarettes and beer, which is an all too familiar flavor for you. It's addictive, despite how bitter it is. It's him, and that automatically makes it the sweetest thing to ever grace your palate. Your tongues quickly come out to play, deepening your kiss as you fight for dominance. Neither of you care who ends up winning this small battle, it can end in a tie for all you care. All you want is to keep touching each other, and to make love in the dew-kissed grass.

"Can I fuck you, Y/N?" Eddie asks as you pull away. It's the same question he'd asked you on that fateful night six months ago. He sounds just as sincere as he did that evening, if not even more so at this moment.

"Yes, my love." You answer, lifting yourself up on your knees. He takes away his fingers, quickly licking your arousal from them. And in turn, you carefully bring his cock closer to your pussy. You teasingly drag his tip along your slit, drawing low groans from the both of you. You maintain eye contact with him as you slowly sink downwards. His dick fills you up deliciously, and you continue to make muted noises together until he's completely sheathed inside of you. "Fuck...I've been craving this all night." You chuckle lustfully, so very glad that you finally have what you want.

"So have I, princess. But you already knew that." He laughs lightly, grabbing hold of your hips as he waits for you to start moving. Your insides clench around him, just as they did on your first night together. It appears you're both trying to recreate it, in a way. To show how far you've come, as well as how hopelessly in love you've become since then. "Do that again, sweetheart. You know how much I love it." He pleads, and you don't hesitate to do it. He groans at the sensation, and you hold yourself tightly around him for a moment. You can feel every single part of him, picturing the exact size and shape of him in your mind. "Jesus christ." Eddie murmurs, tightening his grip on your waist.

"Is my pussy blowing your mind, Eddie?" You ask lowly, putting your hands on his shoulders for leverage.

"You could say that." He struggles to get the words out, gripping you harder in an effort to resist the urge to buck his hips upwards. You stop squeezing him, and lift yourself up slowly...before slamming back down again.

"Fuck一" You gasp, your head falling forward from his tip kissing your cervix. You allow your eyes to close, letting yourself enjoy every sensation for a moment. You repeat the action, carefully rising, and falling back down with force. This draws more noises from the two of you, and Eddie's hands only squeeze tighter around you.

"Please...go faster, love." He whines. You're driving him crazy with all your teasing.

"You got it, babe." You rasp. You press a brief, hungry kiss to his lips, and start to ride him at a steady pace. Your hips move up and down, rolling to hit your g-spot with Eddie's hands guiding you.

"Fuck." He observes your body bobbing above him, taking in every little detail. Your lips meeting his every so often, punctuating a few gentle bounces at a time. Your tits subtly jiggling inside your dress, cleavage on full display in what little light there is out here. His cock disappearing into your pussy again and again, your most vulnerable parts staying warm and wet as they work against one another. Everything about this night has been absolutely perfect, and having you moaning in his lap is the delectable cherry on top.

"You feel so good, baby..." You whimper, picking up the pace a little. Your kisses become rougher, and you repeatedly take Eddie's bottom lip between your teeth.

"So do you, sweetheart." He exhales, following your lead. He reaches around to grab hold of your ass, exposing more of your skin as your dress rides up your back. You moan into his mouth, speeding up in response. "Go faster, love. I know you can do it." He requests breathlessly, squeezing your flesh harder in his grip. You moan aloud, bouncing quicker now. His dick is hitting all the right angles inside you, and his huge hands helping you roll your hips is melting you from the inside out. "That's it...such a good girl for me." He praises, watching your face twist in pleasure whenever you aren't aggressively kissing him.

"Only for you, Eds." You pant, unable to resist speeding up even more. You ride him as fast as you can, letting out more vulgar sounds along the way. You're getting so close already. The added thrill of possibly getting caught makes every time you land on him feel stronger than the last. Your skin slaps loudly against his, and the humid night air has painted you over in sweat. "God, I love your cock, baby..." You murmur, trying to reach Eddie's neck to latch onto it. You slip your hands under his open shirt, needing to hold his bare skin like your life depends on it.

"More than me, princess?" He asks jokingly.

"No, but I think it's a pretty close second." You answer, clumsily biting down on him.

"Shit一" Eddie grunts at the sting of your teeth scraping against his throat. You're like a wild animal, one small step away from making him your next meal. Far be it from him to complain, when you're absolutely soaked and dragging him down the rugged path to ecstasy with you. Your velvet walls squish and pulse around him, wet noises joining the overarching chorus of moans and skin meeting skin. He's not sure how much longer he can last, though he doubts this is the only round you'll have tonight. "Mmm, I can feel you gettin' close, princess...you gonna make a mess for me?" Eddie smolders, while you continue to mark him up with careless bites and bruises.

"Yeah...gonna cum all over your dick, love. Just the way you like it." You pant the words out, your hot breath fanning against him.

"You know me too well, babydoll. Keep going, be a good little slut for me." He encourages you, helping you both along by thrusting himself upwards to meet your rough bounces.

"Fuck! Keep doing that, Eds. You're gonna make me cum..." You leave his neck alone now, it's far too difficult to keep kissing him through your rough motions. Waves of pleasure are rolling over you, and you can't help your head falling forward as you anticipate your high.

"Don't look away, angel. I wanna see that pretty face when you let it all go." He commands through labored breath. He's completely soaked through his shirt with sweat, and the fabric sticks to him uncomfortably. You lift your head up to meet his eyes, holding yourself upright while helpless noises repeatedly leave your lips. "That's it...almost there一 fuck." He smiles at you, despite his own bliss threatening to take hold. His stomach has begun to tense, and his balls are as tight as can be. Any second now, he's going to lose it entirely.

"Eddie..." You trail off, reaching a hand behind you to take hold of Eddie's wrist. You bring him around in your grip, raising his fingers towards your mouth. You take his index and middle ones past your lips, moistening them with your tongue.

"Whatcha doin' there, baby?" He asks curiously, his orgasm put on hold for a moment. You don't say anything else, you're just following an intense urge you feel inside of you. You release his fingers from your mouth, which are now covered in your saliva. And then you bring his hand behind you again.

"Eddie, please..." You beg as you attempt to press him towards your puckered entrance. You want to feel him in both of your holes. You've done this a couple of times already, though you haven't had him fully penetrate you in this way. You've been a little nervous about it, if you're honest. But tonight, you want to finally try it out. After a bit of preparation right now, of course.

"I've got you, princess. It's okay." He chuckles lightly, giving you what you can't bear to plainly ask for. You continue to ride him at full speed, and you feel his finger slowly push inside your ass.

"Fuck!" You gasp, the combined sensations shoving you further toward the edge. It feels insane to have Eddie inside you in these ways, and it leaves you craving so much more.

"Does that feel good, Y/N? Should I add the other one?" He asks, hoping you say yes. He loves the painfully obvious expressions of pleasure that mold your face into various beautiful shapes.

"Yes, baby...s-so good. I want more." You whine, and Eddie mercifully slips in his middle finger to join the other. Another loud gasp escapes your lips, and he proceeds to rapidly pump his digits inside your asshole. "I'm gonna cum, Eddie. Please...don't stop...oh, god一 FUCK!" Your eyes lock onto his as bliss takes you over. Your mouth falls open, releasing a sound loud enough to draw some real attention to you. But you don't care, the heavenly heat bursting through your body matters far more than the cops being called. Your pussy clamps down around Eddie's cock, effectively yanking him into the lustful pit with you.

"Fuck, Y/N一" Eddie's cut off by a deep groan bursting forth from his lungs, his brows furrowing. His hips buck into you as his sticky load spills inside your cunt. His continued thrusts to meet your erratic bounces cause a warm flood of arousal to gush from your pulsating hole. Your juices spill down messily, quickly being absorbed by Eddie's jeans and boxers. Your ass clenches around his fingers, too, making it difficult for him to keep sliding them back and forth. Your thighs quake as you ride this out, your nails digging into his shoulders to hang onto him.

"Holy shit..." You huff, letting yourself fall forward into Eddie's chest while your high subsides.

"You can say that again, sweetheart." He replies once you've both gone completely still. Eddie carefully removes his fingers from your ass, making you whine at the loss. "Damn, I love it when you do that. That little sound you make...it's so fuckin' sexy." He smirks, gazing down at your head buried in his torso. He swipes his hand along the damp grass, making a mental note to wash up before you start round two.

You look up at him, meeting his satisfied smile with a sultry grin of your own. "What can I say, Eddie? I hate it when you're not inside me." You press a light kiss to his lips, keeping it brief so you can go inside and take this to bed. You slowly lift yourself up, letting Eddie's softened length fall out of you. Your mixed release goes with it, spilling out around his cock and spreading quickly into his clothes. "Fuck." You murmur at the mess you've made, leaning down to lick off what you can.

"Jesus, Y/N." His breath catches at your tongue licking around his dick, and he watches in awe as you clean him up. You can't help moaning a little at the taste, you're such a sweet indulgence together. You do your best to get every last bit you can, you'd hate for it to drip all over the floor.

"Mmm." You hum as you swallow, sitting upright. "C'mon, Eds. Let's go to bed. We've still got so much more to do." You say sweetly, getting off of his lap to stand up. You pull your dress down over your bottom half, and retrieve your panties from the grass.

"Don't have to tell me twice, princess." Eddie puts himself away, quickly doing up his zipper and belt. He stands to meet you, taking your hand. He leads you into the house, and to your room. He makes a small detour to the bathroom, quickly washing his hands and bringing a couple fresh towels with him. With everything you both have in mind, you're going to be making quite the mess. "Just so you know...you're not getting a second of sleep tonight." Eddie says darkly as he shuts your bedroom door and clicks the lock.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, Eds." You reply with a smile, beckoning him to the bed with your finger. Safe to say, it's going to be a long night.

Saturday, August, 26th, 1989

"No further questions, your honor." Murray says as he finishes your line of questions from his end. The trial has been going very well so far. You've answered everything exactly the way Murray told you to, leaving no room for the defense to pick you apart. Your anxiety about this whole thing has been put to rest. You can feel it. You just have to finish this out, and then you'll get the justice you deserve.

"Alright. Mr. Fielding, you may begin your cross-examination." The judge says. He's a gangly, younger man with short brown hair, and a somewhat nasal voice. His name plate reads 'Judge Harold T. Stone'. Your case is being overseen by none other than the goofy judge from Night Court. And Tommy's lawyer just happens to be Dan Fielding from the same television show. This can't be right, can it? This isn't real. But it certainly feels like it. Your ass has gone numb in the uncomfortable chair you're sitting on in the witness stand, and the ledge in front of you feels real enough. The grain of the wood is distinctly read by the tips of your fingers. The subtle grooves and ridges telling you that this is reality, despite the alarm bells in your head saying otherwise.

"Thank you, Judge Stone." Dan says, looking at you with a subtly smug smile on his face. Here we go, just follow the guidelines Murray gave you. Don't let him phase you, don't let him twist your words. Keep your answers short and concise. "So, Ms. Henderson. You were in a relationship with my client for three months in 1986, correct?" He starts, the question sounding simple enough.

"Yes. During the summer." You reply, nodding your head.

"Right. Now, you testified that your relationship with Mr. Hagan was an unhappy one. That he would treat you poorly, and would act unfaithfully on a regular basis. Is that correct?" Dan says, coming a little closer to you.

"Yes." Short and sweet, keep it short and sweet. Just like Murray said. You keep repeating the tips Murray's given you in your head over and over. You're feeling so nervous all of a sudden. Mr. Fielding seems to be building to a rather unpleasant place. You don't know where it'll lead, but you don't like it one bit.

"But Mr. Hagan made it a habit to shower you with lavish gifts, didn't he?" He takes another few steps closer to you, like an animal on the prowl.

"Well, yes. But they came at a price." You realize once that second sentence leaves your lips, that you've slipped up. You look at Murray on your side of the courtroom, and he shakes his head in disappointment. You flick your eyes to Eddie instead, and his expression is the same. It reads all over his face. You're blowing it, sweetheart. You look away from them, having found no comfort. Or reassurance that perhaps you can salvage this.

"And what price would that be, Y/N?" Dan asks, his smile growing wider as he sets his trap.

"Sex." You answer shortly, unsure what else to say without digging this hole even deeper.

"What? You don't like sex, Y/N?" Mr. Fielding asks snarkily.

"No, I do. But not when it feels like a transaction." You explain, though every word out of your mouth seems to be the wrong one.

"Are you suggesting that Tommy was essentially paying you for sex? A promising young man? From an upstanding family in your humble community?" Dan pushes, almost putting you right where he wants you.

"He was trying to. But when I wouldn't do what he said, he'd insult me and threaten to take the gift back." You really wish you'd stop talking now.

"So, it wasn't really about the sex, then? You just wanted the gifts?" There it is, his sleazy angle to discredit you.

"No! That's not what I meant!" You exclaim.

"I advise you to watch that tone, young lady. I won't abide shouting in my courtroom." Judge Stone says, giving you a stern look.

"Sorry, your honor." You address him respectfully, before continuing. "I didn't care about receiving anything material from him. I just wanted a loving boyfriend." You end softly, with a shrug.

"Well, spoiling you the way he did sounds pretty loving to me. And all you had to do was, what? Put out every once in a while? That doesn't seem too much to ask. I mean, a man's got needs, Ms. Henderson." Dan says with a chuckle. You're waiting for Murray to object, or for the judge to reprimand that last string of comments. To call out this man's clearly biased 一not to mention pervy一 behavior. But nothing of that nature comes. In fact, you look to see that Murray has disappeared from the courtroom altogether. "Moving on. You also testified that Mr. Hagan harassed you during the short period you both worked together at the Hawkins Theater earlier this year. Is that correct?"

"Yes." You say shakily, suddenly feeling a little ill. You flick your eyes over to your corner again, finding Eddie, Mom, Dustin, and all your friends giving you disapproving looks. You don't understand why. Regardless of how this stupid trial goes, they're supposed to be on your side. They promised you that much...didn't they?

"You claim that Tommy kept touching you and saying inappropriate things to you at work, correct?" Dan asks.

"Yes." You answer. The less words, the better.

"But that isn't true, is it?" He questions, coming closer. His eyes stare daggers into yours, warning you that things are only going to get worse from here.

"Yes, it is. I didn't want to interact with him at all, unless it was directly related to work." You firmly insist, keeping your anger and disgust at bay for fear of Judge Stone scolding you again.

"Do you keep that same policy with all of your coworkers? Including your boyfriend?" Mr. Fielding presses, smiling even more smugly than before.

"Yes. I keep things professional at work." You say shakily, your confidence has completely melted away to nothing at this point.

"Now, Y/N. You know it's wrong to lie on the stand, don't you? Because I have it on good authority that you did, in fact, engage in...intimate activities with Eddie Munson on numerous occasions in the storage closet at your workplace!" He says accusingly.

"Who told you that?" You ask incredulously, crossing your arms in defense.

"You just did, Ms. Henderson. So, if you'll lie about this, how can we trust your word on anything you claim Mr. Hagan has allegedly done to you? If you ask me, I think you enjoyed Tommy's advances. I think it...excited you, and you've only concocted these stories to keep your boyfriend from realizing how unfaithful you are! I think you were afraid of Eddie leaving you, and you couldn't let that happen!"

"That's not true! I don't feel that way about Tommy at all! I don't!" You cry out, pleading with everyone in the room that this is all a bunch of bullshit. You meet Eddie's eyes again, and he's absolutely furious. His face has gone red with rage, and he quickly turns his head away to keep from looking at you anymore. The others aren't much better, their gaze growing more disapproving and disappointed by the second. They all think you're a liar, and a whore.

"Stop lying to us, Y/N. It's not helping your case, I'm afraid. Now, c'mon, admit it. You wanted to have both of these men vying for your attention. And in doing so, you made Mr. Hagan jealous enough to vandalize your house. It'll be so much easier on everyone if you just take responsibility." Dan speaks like he's begging you to see reason.

"If you can't be honest, young lady, I'm going to have to hold you in contempt." The judge warns, peering down at you from his seat.

"I'm telling you the truth. For the last time, I had no intention of leading anybody on. I did not want to be with Tommy anymore, and I made that perfectly clear many times. He didn't take no for an answer, so he harassed, assaulted, and stalked me. He broke my window, and spray-painted 'whore' on my house. That's all there is to it. Why won't you believe me?" You try to stay calm as you speak, but it's become so difficult, given how aggressively Tommy's lawyer is coming at you. It's like the only way out is to 'admit' that this is all your fault. But you know damn well that it isn't.

"Your honor, I hate to say it. But I believe we have an uncooperative witness on our hands. I request that she be removed from the courtroom, and for this case to be dismissed." The man addresses the judge, who nods in quiet agreement.

"Yes, quite right. Please hold Ms. Henderson in contempt of court, and I declare this case officially dismissed." Stone announces to the room, before looking at you again. "This is what happens when you act like a whore, Y/N. Maybe next time, try keeping your legs closed, hm?" He grins wickedly at you, his words making your stomach drop. "Bailiff, take her away. Court is adjourned." He bangs his gavel, and you feel two strong arms grabbing hold of you from behind.

"No! Let me go! I didn't do anything! I'm not a whore, goddammit! This is bullshit!" You cry and scream and kick your legs, trying your best to escape. But it's no use, the officer pulling you away is far too big and bulky for you to break free. "Eddie, please! Don't let them do this! Mom! Dustin! Anybody! Please, don't let them take me!" Tears flow hotly down your cheeks as you scream, this cannot be happening. This isn't how court works. How is it that you're the one being locked away? You didn't do anything wrong. But nonetheless, everyone has turned on you. Eddie and the others leave the courtroom along with the jury, their backs turned to you as you're removed from the courtroom to be thrown into a cell.

"Y/N, sweetheart." Eddie coos quietly as he shakes you awake. You snap out of your bad dream, your body jolting at rejoining reality.

"The fuck?" You murmur, blinking your eyes. You're very confused as to what's happening right now. Just seconds ago, you were being arrested for 'lying' under oath. And now...you're back in bed with Eddie. You don't know what time it is, or what day. Your dream had you convinced that it was weeks in the future, in the midst of your much-dreaded trial.

"You were having a nightmare, princess. You kept talking in your sleep, and fighting...something. You even smacked me in the face." Eddie says, ending on a chuckle. He knows you didn't mean to hit him, clearly something inside your head was tormenting you.

"Ugh." You sigh, clapping a hand over your face. "It was about the stupid fuckin' trial." You reply groggily, still getting your brain in order. "What time is it?" You ask, uncovering your eyes to look at him again. He gazes down at you kindly, the exact opposite of how he was doing so in your dream.

"It's 2:30 in the afternoon." Eddie answers, stroking your damp hair. You're covered in sweat, and your heart is still pounding in your chest.

"Jesus. What day is it?" You question.

"August 26th, baby. One day after our six-month anniversary. Are you feelin' okay? Did I fuck you too hard, or something?" He jokes, which earns him a light smack on the chest and an unamused look from you. "Hey, what's the problem?" He asks, confused as to where your head's at. It's honestly worrying him that you're so disoriented.

"Sorry. Just...the dream felt extremely real. Well, except for a few minor details." You reply, rolling your eyes. You're not exactly spooked by this odd nightmare of yours, moreso annoyed at your mind trying to convince you that you're at fault in the situation with Tommy. Like, what even is that? You know it's not true. So...what's up with the self-imposed guilt-trip?

"You wanna tell me about it?" Eddie asks sweetly, stroking your arm.

"Yeah, I don't suppose I have a choice in that, do I?" You snark, knowing he won't let you hide anything like this from him.

"Nope. Sorry, babydoll. But as always, I'm here to support you. Even when you're being a bit of a一..." He trails off, stopping himself.

"A bitch?" You ask, guessing that's what he was getting at.

"Uh, well, I..." He says nervously. He doesn't want to sour your mood any further, your dream was hard enough on you as it is.

"It's fine, Eds. I am being kind of a bitch right now, and I'm sorry about that. But I'll explain why in a minute." You sigh again, giving him an apologetic glance. "Care to light me a smoke first?" You plead, forcing yourself to lighten up a little. Talking this out with him should help you understand what your dream means, if it means anything at all.

"Sure thing, love. Maybe it'll mellow you out a bit, hm?" He chuckles, reaching over you to grab his cigarettes and lighter from the nightstand. You smack him again, much more playfully this time. "Ow! Keep that up, sweetheart, and I'll have to teach you a lesson." He warns, his eyes flaring with desire for a moment. You touching him in any way turns him on, even when you're being kinda mean.

"I don't think so, Eds. I'm pretty sore from last night." You grin, mentally replaying all the nasty little things you did to each other for hours on end. Round after round you went, fucking one another in every way imaginable. Standing up, on the floor, against the wall, on your dresser, every possible position in and around your bed. Anal, oral, toys, handcuffs, masturbation, and everything in between was on the table. You of course needed many breaks in between, for water, snacks, cigarettes, even a shower that turned into a couple rounds in and of itself. You completely ravaged each other, until the sun began to rise and you couldn't bear to cum anymore.

"Yeah, I think I'd have to say the same." He smirks, and his cock twitches at the reminder. It was certainly a night to remember, though you're both suffering the consequences of going so hard for so long. Every single one of your muscles ache, as well as your various holes. You're also exhausted, despite sleeping well into the afternoon. You must have fit at least a week's worth of sex into one night, and that's not even counting your risky romp on the front lawn. "Alright, now tell me about this dream of yours." He says, pulling you both out of your reminiscing. He lights two cigs between his lips, handing one off to you.

"Okay, okay." You roll your eyes, taking a long drag of your smoke before telling Eddie everything. You casually let him in on every silly detail of your nightmare. From TV characters grilling you, to everyone you know turning against you, you spare no words in describing the awful experience.

"Well, that's...weird." Eddie says, unsure how to react.

"No shit, Eddie." You scoff, taking a long drag. You flick your ash into the tray sitting on your blanket, hoping he'll say something else.

"Do you seriously still think that it's all your fault?" He asks, getting into the deeper questions.

"I know that it isn't一" You start, but he shakes his head.

"That's not what I asked, Y/N." He cuts in. "Look, we've talked it through before, right? We established that you aren't to blame for Tommy's actions. But, obviously you still don't feel that's the case. It doesn't matter what you know, if you're still feeling guilty about it." He explains calmly, hoping you won't take his words the wrong way. You tend to get a bit defensive about this kind of thing. He doesn't blame you, he would be too. But it's his job to try to help you through stuff like this.

"But I'm not! I kept screaming at the top of my lungs that it wasn't true!" You retort, almost shouting.

"I know that, angel." Eddie says, still keeping his cool. He places his free hand on your arm, gazing into your eyes meaningfully. "Maybe what you're actually worried about is what everyone else is going to think of you? Like the judge, the jury, and Tommy's lawyer? That no matter what you say, people won't believe you over him?" He tries to dig deeper, which seems to be the right direction.

"Yeah, maybe..." You shrug. You don't really want to talk about this anymore. You're nervous enough as it is. You're so afraid of slipping up on the stand, or having your own words twisted against you.

"Is that maybe spelled 'Y-E-S'?" Eddie asks, and you nod quietly. He sighs, stubbing his smoke out to pull you closer to him. His arms wrap around you nice and snug, and he refuses to let you avoid his eyes. "Baby, we've been over this. Tommy may have a fancy lawyer, and lots of money, and all that shit. But do you know what he doesn't have?"

"What?" You ask, completely lost. There can't possibly be any real advantage on your end.

"He doesn't have tons of people ready to defend him. But you do. You have me, and your mom, Dustin, the list goes on forever. Tommy doesn't have anybody like that, because he's an asshole." He speaks sweetly, reassuring you that you have so many people in your corner. "And we aren't going to let anyone think you're a liar, or a whore, or whatever else you think he'll say you are. Okay?"

"Okay." You answer quietly, cupping his cheek with your hand.

"Good." He smiles, giving you a light peck. He thinks of something else as he pulls away, though, raising an eyebrow at you. "Also, why do you keep fixating on that word?" He asks curiously.

"What word?" You play dumb, knowing exactly what term he's referring to. He gives you an odd look, like he's clocked your cagey tendencies again.

"'Whore'. Should I not call you that in bed anymore?" He asks, realizing just how many times he's uttered it in reference to you. He wonders if he's somehow contributed to your guilt or shame in some way by using it.

"I know you don't mean it like that, Eddie." You insist, but he's not sure you're being completely honest about it.

"It doesn't matter how I mean it or not, Y/N. If it makes you feel bad, I don't want to say it anymore." Eddie doesn't back down. "Plus, I've got plenty of other things that I can call you, ya know." He smiles at that, recalling all the other names he has for you.

"I guess it has gotten a bit tainted. You know, with the graffiti and everything. We can stop using it, if you want." You shrug again, picking at your fingers.

Eddie sighs, becoming a bit frustrated with you. "Would it kill you to give me one clear answer today, sweetheart?"

"No, it wouldn't." You say, hesitating to make a real decision on the matter. But he doesn't say anything else, he just waits for you to tell him exactly what you want. "Alright. Don't say it anymore." You say finally, barely louder than a mumble.

"Now, was that so hard?" He questions you one last time, but he's much less irritated now.

"You have no idea, Eds." You say honestly, a small weight lifting off your shoulders all the same.

"Ugh, what am I gonna do with you?" He chuckles, burying his head in your chest.

"I dunno, Eds. Marry me? Throw me off a cliff? It's up to you." You giggle, lowering a hand to stroke his hair.

"Hm, tough choice there, sweetheart..." He quips, though you both know what his real choice would be. He doesn't say another word, but he hums lightly at your fingers massaging his scalp. You settle into each other, enjoying the comfortable silence while keeping one another close. You don't fall asleep again, but it's nice to just be together in the same space for a while. Arwen hops onto the bed to join you, curling up beside your pile of limbs. You both give her some pets, earning her coveted purring and happy mewing sounds. You put out your cig once it's finished, and set the ashtray back onto the table. Mom will surely have a fit for you two smoking in your room, but you honestly don't care right now.

"Alright, you two. It's almost 3pm, it's time to get up." Mom says as she waltzes into your room. She doesn't even bother to knock, which you find a bit rude. She finds you and Eddie cuddled up in your messy blankets, which are barely covering Eddie's ass and your bare chest. "Looks like you two had quite a night." She giggles at the sight of your disheveled hair and bedding.

"Sounded like it, too!" Dustin calls as he leaves his own room to head out for his shift.

"Oh, hush up, Dusty!" Mom chides him while he walks down the hall. "I'm guessing you're both hungry?" She asks cheekily.

"You have no idea, Claudia." Eddie answers, rolling over to sit upright. The covers almost slip to expose his lower half to her. Luckily, he catches them in his hand, nervously clearing his throat afterwards.

"Well, I made chicken pot pies for lunch, if you want some." She offers.

"That sounds great, Mom. You mind giving us a minute to get dressed first?" You ask, wishing she'd learn what the meaning of the word 'privacy' is. You've got to set the apartment hunt into motion as soon as possible.

"Oh! Of course! Sorry for intruding!" She chortles, turning to leave the room. She suddenly stops, sniffing the air. She gasps, facing you again. "Did you two smoke in here?!" Mom asks, crossing her arms.

"It was just once, Mom! I'll spray some pine shit in here or something! Now, get out of my room, please!" You whine loudly like a petulant child. Would it kill her to get off your case one fucking time?

"Alright, alright! Jeez, someone's cranky when they're hungry." She puts her hands up defensively, and quickly leaves the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

"I'm guessing you wanna look for apartments in the paper today, don't you?" Eddie questions, not needing to look at your face to know how much Claudia barging in has set you off.

"Yep. I cannot wait for the day where that never happens again." You say flatly, trying your best to not be in a bad mood for the second time today.

To be continued...

[nancy-xx]

Nancy and Sid

The Chelsea was a rather appropriate setting for the events of last week, which culminated in the arrest of Sid Vicious on a charge of murdering his girlfriend Nancy Spungen. When Swedish writer Stina Lindberg stayed there a couple of weeks ago, she was not surprised to find Sid and Nancy as fellow guests Naturally, she sought an interview...

SID VICIOUS Ex-Sex Pistol

Nancy Spungen, his girl friend. There's no mistaking Sid's black, spiky hair and his bovverboy aura. I only see the back of Nancy's head. She looks like an old woman. Hunchbacked. Tufts of almost white hair stick out from underneath her beret. Her coat is an ancient, ankle-length article. It's a Saturday, September 31.1 spot then in the lobby of the Chelsea Hotel on West 23d Street in New York. If you find yourself living at the same hotel as Sid Vicious, if you're a journalist and you like the new wave, you're an idiot not to try to talk to him. But it feels weird. The same evening, I see Sid play with ex-members of the New York Dolls at Max's Kansas City, haven of New York punks. Sid screams, makes faces, and spits. Grabs himself between the legs, doesn't look at the audience at all. They're all awkward on stage, the volume is insupportable, and the music is lousy. The paing audience is less than warm. The only ones enjoying the show are three pale peroxide blondes with fire-engine red lipstick sitting on the stage moving with the music. They're with the guys in the band, Sid seems to want to pack it in after three numbers, and splits. Nancy runs after him and brings him back. He spits, makes another face and starts playing again. He doesn't get through to the audience, and his half-hearted spasms just look pathetic. A lone, doped-out Japanese bops away frantically, but the rest of the audience is frozen. Sid is not a great musician, nor is he a genuine stage personality. Sid is a 21-year-old Englishman enlarged to the size of a Colossus by the mass media. Poor bastard. I ring Sid's room repeatedly to try for that interview. Finally he answers and agrees to talk to me the same evening. At nine p.m. I knock on his door. Room 100, ane flight up at the Chelsea Hotel. The hotel is the first New York building to have a cultural preservation order stamped on it. Brendan Behan, Dylan Thomas, Janis Joplin, Andy Warhol and many other artists and musicians have lived here. These days, there's a motley blend of prostitutes, pop musicians, near-destitute pensioners, French film teams and tourists. The door is yanked open. Nancy all but draga me into the room. Sid leaps up from the bed. He's wearing orange overalls and a chain around his neck. He checks me out nervously, then runs about the room, digging in his clothes and bags Nancy, dressed in a black net leotard and black leather trousers, holds my arm, hard, and babbles "What are we going to do? We don't know a thing. We just got to New York and don't know the score. Is five too much?" Sid searches nervously for something. The room is both bare and disordered. There's a big bed with a TV at the foot of it. A desk, a table, a chair. Two or three gold records are propped against the wall, and there are suitcases on the floor. Sid and Nancy have just changed rooms. The mattress caught fire in the other one. Suddenly I get it. They think I'm a dealer. God. I swallow, then explain who I am. Sid explodes a groan and throws himself onto the bed "Fuck' sighs Nancy. She lets go my arm and lies down with Sid. The TV drones on at maximum volume. I sit on the edge of the bed, laughing at the absurdity of everything. Sid points out that there's nothing to laugh at. I turn on my tape recorder "What do you think of New York?" "Very democratic. Do pretty much what you want. Not that you'd probably do anything much, but that's beside the point" turns out that Sid is trying to put together a band. It "I had a group going. Johnny Thunders. But Nancy smashed up Johnny's girl, so it went down the drain "Did you?" I asked Nancy. " "Yeah. She fed a lot of stupid stuff to me. I've been friends with Johnny Thunders for years. We had a lot of fun. And she couldn't take it. She started it, so I kicked her in the face," So Sid's looking for a new group, and plays with the ex-Dolls in the meantime We talk about the show at Max's Sid blames the audience, "My name's worth quite a bit of bread over here," he said.

"Isn't that because of the Sex Pistols? "No My name's worth a lot on it's own. It's worth more than any of the rest of them." Nancy agrees, and points out that Sid has had more press than any of the others. "Why?" "Because I'm what people call a bad boy. I do things that are outrageous,' he says, with what sarcasm he can muster. "Do you think that you're outrageous?" "No, but that's what they write about me. They're square "Do you think you're a free person?" "No. I'm on house arrest" "Who put you there?" "The world. But I'm going to try to get us free. I won't be able to do it, but if people get the idea for long enough, the idea that punk started off, it'll become like that eventually." We talk about punk's anti-racist side, and about Rock Against Racism, which Sid says he supports, and about England, which Sid reckons is the most boring country in the world-after Sweden, where I come from. America is okay. Sid Vicious is okay, and is doing fine However, the Sid Vicious I see in front of me seerns anything but. He and Nancy make me think of two animals caught in a trap and trying to claw their way. Desperately. out I ring the next day, and speak to Nancy. She doesn't seem to understand me, and thinks I'm trying to put her and Sid down. I tell her she's paranoid, but ask her for an interview. She seems to break down, and suddenly sounds genuine "It's not so strange that we get suspicious. Everybody's trying to get at us, trying to get Sid's money. Every bastard we meet wants to get famous through Sid. They've made a fortune off him here in the U.S., but we don't get anything. I'm a person, you dig? Not a dog" I ask her again about an interview, but she freaks when I say I can't pay her. "You think you can speak to us free?" suddenly she's hard-boiled again and go back to Sweden and make money because you met Sid Vicious? Get fucked!" I begin to see their dilemma. They think they can go on living off their fame, while they're in the process of buming out. Sid and Nancy sense that, I felt. What they didn't know was that the Swedish papers would pay more than any of us thought at the time because someone,   maybe Sid, stuck a knife into Nancy a week after I met them Sid's under real arrest. Nancy's dead. And the pop industry and mass media hysteria are doing okay.

[melodymunson]

Baron Lamram (Marmalade) x fem!reader blurb

Baron Lamram was the perfect Southern gentleman. The best part about him was that he was yours. There was never a dull day with him around. Having him in your life and his mama Eda who considered you to be a daughter to her meant so much to you. Baron loved that his mama supported his relationship with you. It all started when you were traveling cross-country on a road trip. Once you ended up in the South little did you know your life would change forever. In the park, you were sunbathing and that's when you met Baron by the lake. Not only was he respectable but he had the most adorable lopsided smile. You introduced yourselves to each other and it was all uphill from there. Soon you started dating and he would take you out on the cutest dates imaginable. The best dates were simple and fun like going on a picnic, swimming at the lake, the diner and ice cream parlor, and the local carnival. You were his first lover and first real official relationship. He gifted you matching promise rings once you were dating for a year. His home was now your home too. Baron loved vanilla ice cream cones and would get them every time you went to the ice cream shop together so you did too. It was simple but delicious.

Soon after you had a pregnancy test taken and it was unfortunately a false positive. Baron and you both wanted to be parents. Then the robberies started because Mama Eda was sick and working at the local supermarket together with Baron wasn't enough to make ends meet. Baron's mama meant a great deal to you and she appreciated all your help around the house with cooking, buying groceries, cleaning, helping the household with your job co-working with Baron, and tending to her by her bedside. One day out antique shopping you had the best idea- to buy masks. They were unique and had 3 distinct faces. Soon you and Baron mapped out and planned your first bank heist. The day came and you were incognito with the best disguises. Baron had confided in you he wanted to also dress as a woman but in drag. It was hot and sexy and it turned you on so much that you decided to make passionate love. Lady Baron had the prettiest makeup and the nicest jewelry. The black lacy Madonna-like gloves and fire-engine red lipstick truly completed the look. Lady Baron loved to get pegged and she loved to dress in your clothes completing her look with scarves. The blouse/skirt combination. The dresses she wore were gorgeous and some of them were silky. Your favorite outfits of hers were the black and red dresses, as well as animal print, especially leopard and zebra.

On the day of the robbery, you were the getaway driver and he went in gun in tow and held them up. Before the bank robbery, you wished Baron good luck and kissed him deeply and passionately as if it could be the last time he would ever kiss you. Coming back to the car with the money and goods like expensive watches and jewelry, you and Baron got away. After a few more robberies he was arrested and you made your getaway. He convinced the police it was all on him. In prison, you visited him and had the best conjugal visits with wild and crazy back-scratching sex. Soon you worked as a guard and helped him to escape prison. On the run now you had to get even better disguises and he changed his look by cutting his hair short and going a bit incognito. Lady Baron still made a presence though as you were dressed as a man and Ms. Lady Baron drove the getaway car evading officers. Driving far away from his hometown to visit his mom who was sick in hospice and bringing her the pills was the most important task. The money you had stolen counted up close to a million and with that money you bought a better and nicer car that was a sleek red Corvette. You eventually got matching tattoos of flaming hearts. Soon you got married at a little ceremony with Mama Eda and an ordained wedding officiant. The honeymoon was in Brooklyn, New York City, and Niagara Falls NY was the best part of it. When the time was right you got a puppy together she was a pomeranian from animal control. You named her Spike. Spike didn't like many people except for you, Baron, and Mama Eda. For the longest time, you tried hard for a baby and soon you were pregnant with a beautiful baby girl. You named her Eda. Less than 2 years later you had a boy then another girl. You named the kids Bonnie and Clyde. Thanks to the best doctors and medicine, Mama Eda got the best treatment and recovered gradually. Now living out in the country you had a farm with horses, ducks, goats, and cows. It was a nice farming life and you loved Baron more than anything else. The feeling was mutual.

tag list: @corneliuswatkins @keeryatmosphere @jadeylovesmarvelxo @ali-r3n @mrprettywhenhecries @daisy-is-a-writer @stevesxyellowxsweater @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @rowanswriting @edsbug @babygorewhore @steveslittlesunflower @emsgoodthinkin @seatnights @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @lovelythoughtfulcupcake @brinasdead @thescoopstroopers @ellharrington @dollalicia

[libraryofsecretfantasies]

Driven to Distraction

Max Verstappen x OFC. WOC. NSFW One shot. This is a long one.

The tension crackled between Max and Tara as they stood face to face in the locker room, their rivalry simmering just beneath the surface. Both accomplished F1 drivers for the Red Bull team, their competitive spirits burned bright, fueling the fire of their heated argument.

"You think you're invincible, don't you, Max?" Tara spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "You act like nothing can faze you, like you're some sort of racing god."

Max smirked, his confidence unwavering. "Damn right I do, Tara," he shot back, his tone laced with arrogance. "I can handle anything that comes my way on the track. No distraction, no challenge, nothing can break my focus. I'm the best, and you know it."

Tara's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in their depths. "Is that so?" she challenged, her voice low and dangerous. "Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

Max's smirk widened, thinking he had won the argument. "Yeah, we will," he replied smugly, turning to leave the locker room, convinced that he had bested Tara once again.

But as Max strode away, Tara's lips curled into a devious smile. She watched him go, her mind already working on her next move. Max may have thought he had won this round, but little did he know, Tara had something up her sleeve, something that would shake his confidence to its core. She was determined to prove that she was too was a force to be reckoned with. ---The next morning---

The sound of virtual engines filled the room as Max was engaged in a heated competition. His fingers danced over the controller with precision, his eyes fixed on the screen as he battled against his formidable opponents: Charles, Lando, and Alex. He had only four more laps to finish, and he was in the lead. Nothing can stop him now.

He felt someone enter the room. Tara. They had started their fight in the locker room after training, and finished it in bed that same night. No one knew about their relationship, and it was to remain that way. When Max woke up the next morning he knew he would wake up alone. Tara was long gone. That was their arrangement - they fight, they fuck, and they race.

So when Max joined his Twitch livestream, he was completely unaware that Tara had returned to his home. He tried to ignore her presence, but as he turned into the final fourth lap, he felt something touch his leg. Two hands going up his leg, and resting on his thighs. He jerked and glanced down, his eyes widening at the sight below him.

Beneath the desk, hidden from the prying eyes of his streaming audience, Tara knelt, her fingers tracing tantalizing patterns along the inside of Max's thigh. She had lipstick on. Red, just like he liked it. Her dark hair was out, and she didn't have a top on. The sight of her tits out almost made him throw his controller and suck her nipples, but he remembered their argument. Nothing could distract him from a race. Her eyes had a wicked gleam in them. She placed a finger on her full lips. An instruction - be quiet.

She slowly pulled down his shorts, until they were around his ankles. His cock was hardening, as she ran her hands up and down his leg. She stared slow, peppering his thighs with kisses, her breath hot against his skin, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume his every thought. She saw Max's cock twitch and she smiled. This was going to be easy.

Above the table, Max had grown quiet. His hairline was itchy, his breath was starting to get heavier and his brows furrowed. Charles, Max's closest friend and fiercest rival, couldn't help but notice the subtle change in Max's expression. With a quirk of his brow, he leaned in closer, his voice filled with concern. "Hey, Max, you seem a bit... preoccupied. Everything alright over there?"

Just as Max was going to answer, he felt Tara's tongue on his balls. Fuck, she was licking them like they were her favorite ice cream. His cock was in her hand, and she was thumbing his tip. Fighting to maintain his composure, Max tried to think of answer. "Feeling the heat of the competition, Charles," he replied, his voice strained with arousal.

At this point, Tara had taken his cock in her mouth, paying special attention to the tip. She alternated between sucking the top and kissing it. She wanted to take her time, really draw this out. One of her hands was still stroking his cock, the other fondling his balls with a gentleness that wanted to make Max scream with frustration. He wanted more.

Charles grinned, his gaze lingering on Max's flushed face. "Sure, buddy, but it looks like you're feeling something else entirely," he quipped, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Max's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to deflect Charles's suspicions with a carefully crafted double entendre. "Well, you know me, always striving to come out on top," he replied.

Charles chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Yeah, I can see that," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just make sure you don't burn out before the finish line, alright?"

He smiled at that, "Don't worry about me, I'm always in control." As he spoke, he jerked his hips up so that his cock hit the base of Tara's throat. Caught by surprise, she gagged a little, but recovered. She had planned to be gentle, but if he wants a challenge then so be it. She took his entire length in his mouth, and sucked like her life depended on it.

Max let out a string of curses, and she knew that he fucked up in the race. She looked up at him, her lips still around his cock. He shot a glance down and back up to the screen, "Its fine, I'm still in the lead". It seemed like he was reassuring the stream viewers, but Tara knew he was actually telling her. At that she stuck her tongue out, so she'd lick his balls whenever she took his full length in. His cock was rock hard, she was having trouble taking him in, but she couldn't give up.

It was the last lap now and he could feel the tension building within him, sweat was rolling down his forehead and his breath was heavy. Tara's hand was now wrapped around his cock, pumping him as she sucked his tip. Her other hand still fondling his balls. Max was close, in every sense of the word

Tara was unrelenting, she kept sucking knowing that the finish line was fast approaching. Max could hardly breath, all he could feel was her lips around her cock. The finish line was right there, just a few more seconds. And just as he shot across the finish like, claiming victory against his opponents, Max's body tensed as pleasure ripped through him. Blood roared around his ears, and his vision turned white. His cum was spilling into her eager mouth as he rode the waves of his release.

As the cheers of the crowd echoed through the room, Max couldn't help but moan in ecstasy, knowing that he had conquered both the race and the ultimate challenge by his secret lover. He had slumped back into the chair and smiled lazily at the screen. He looked below his table and saw Tara still kneeling with her head resting on his leg. Her hand was still around his cock as it grew soft.

He reach down and placed his hand in her hair, stroking it and petting her. She had done well. Tara looked up at him with a hazy look in eyes, that previous fire had dimmed. A drop of his cum was on the corner of her lips and Max couldn't help but wipe it with his thumb.

She smiled at him, and in that moment of sweet victory, he realized that some thrills were worth risking it all for.

[bullet-prooflove]

Can we get "I wasn't looking for someone that night" with Tig please 🙏

Tig wasn’t looking for anybody that night, he didn’t need to. After all he had you, his beautiful shining star, his light in the dark.

It’s only when his gaze sweeps over the bar at the party, that he sees the girl in the little black dress. It hugs the curves of her body, accentuating her assets. The lipstick is fire engine red, and it gets his pulse racing the second he sees her mouth frame his name because already he can imagine what his skin will look like smeared in crimson. She knows what she’s doing to him, he can tell from the way her lips tip up into that wicked little smile of hers.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it tonight.” He murmurs as his hand comes to rest on your hip, his lips brushing over your cheek.

Your palms come to rest on the leather of his kutte, fingertips digging into the fabric as you draw him close. The scent of your perfume floods his nostrils, it’s something dark, something sensual and he’s already achingly hard, his cock rubbing against the zipper of his jeans insistently.

“I wanted to surprise you.” You tell him, your lips ghosting over his lips as you lean in close. “I’m going to make this a birthday you’ll never forget.”

[wooyoungmybelovedhusband]

ᴅᴀʏ 7 : ᴊᴜɴɢ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ & ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ/ᴍᴀʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴᴋ [ʙᴏɴɴɪᴇ & ᴄʟʏᴅᴇ ᴀᴜ]

□ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : ᴄʟʏᴅᴇ! ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ʙᴏɴɴɪᴇ! ꜰ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

□ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : ꜰᴏʀ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʟᴏʀʏ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏꜱ.... ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴅ ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ.

□ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ.

□ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : ᴡᴏᴏ ɪꜱ ᴀ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇʀ ʟᴏʟ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜᴀꜱ ᴡᴏʀɴ ʀᴇᴅ ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴏ ʀᴏʙ ᴀ ʙᴀɴᴋ, ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀ, ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʙʀᴀᴛᴛʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴜꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴏꜰ ɢᴜɴꜱ, ᴄᴀʀ ꜱᴇx, ᴡᴏᴏ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏꜱ, ʙʟᴏᴡᴊᴏʙ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴇ-ʜᴜᴍᴘɪɴɢ.

□ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ : @azriel-owns-my-heart @taehyungisminee @toxicccred @cherryxsang @k-drizzle @kodzukein @exololyunho @woosanbby @whatudowhennooneseesyou @abby-grace @aikyubi @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @vitrealisbunny @changbin05 @yvyvluvr @michel-angelhoe @chewyhotteoks @kbitties @ate-ez @babygurl-hoshi @hellokittyslnt

[ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ : ʜᴇʀᴇ]

[ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ : ʜᴇʀᴇ]

□ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ : ᴀɴᴏɴ!!

□ ᴀᴇʀᴀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ : ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴᴏɴ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ! ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ🤍

□ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ □

The police sirens get louder, all the officers screaming loudly keeping their heads out of the window of their cars. You could count at least ten police cars chasing yours while you drove further away from them. "Do you think they can get to us?" You ask as you look out of the car, smirking when you know how far all of them were. "I don't think my girl is dumb enough to think that is she? Come here, kitty." You giggle before climbing on to his lap, but Wooyoung was no where fazed as he kept his hand firm on the steering wheel.

You get fully comfortable in his lap, your thighs straddled his thick thighs. Your hips move against his, and your hands come down to stroke his clothed bulge. Wooyoung smirks observing the way your needy hands trace his bulge, "Like what you see kitty? You want to take my cock so badly don't you?" Your lips curl up in a small smirk which definitely doesn't go unnoticed by Wooyoung. His free hand suddenly comes up to your bottom lip, brushing over it making your dark red lipstick smudge. "Woo!" You shriek at him in disbelief and confusion.

You could feel his cock harden underneath under your thighs, "So fucking sexy. You look so good like this kitty, you drive me so fucking crazy." Saying that Wooyoung harshly pulls you down for a kiss, his one hand stays on the steering wheel while his other hand trailed up down your skirt. "Jung Wooyoung, Stop the Car. Right now. It's an order." Wooyoung growls loudly, pulling away from the kiss after being rudely annoyed by the cop who shouted on top of his lungs.

Wooyoung reaches out to his pocket and pulls out the black matte coloured gun, which was his favorite. He hands you the gun, while his hand moves to change the lanes swiftly. "Get on with it, kitten." You grin playfully as you duck your head, your upper body completely outside of the window. Your hands directly point the gun to the engine of the car, and you don't give it a single thought before pressing the trigger. You watch the way the whole car burnt up in flames, lighting up the road in the dark night with the fire.

You instantly duck inside as Wooyoung speeds up into a dark alley which is all too familiar for you. You could still hear the loud siren noises coming from while you laugh at the images of the car crash. Wooyoung smirked at you, proud of your sharp aim, "My kitten seems to be enjoying this too much." Your laughing comes to a halt, your lips curling up in a playful grin. "Not more than how much I enjoy you fucking me into daylight." Wooyoung's gaze darkens from your words, his hands moving back to slipping inside your skirt.

Wooyoung groans when he feels his fingers come in contact with your bare pussy, "No panties? Guess this was your plan today kitty? Getting us the success of our life so I could fuck you into my sheets tonight." Your hips grind over his and you lean your head down to kiss his neck gently, leaving behind a mark of your lipstick. "What do you think, Master?" You whisper teasingly next to his ear. Hearing your words, his hands grop your ass roughly, "Why don't you get in the back seat kitty."

You giggle before moving out of the door to walk to the back seat. Wooyoung follows behind you, his hand coming down to slap your ass as you move inside the car making you whine. Just when Wooyoung got settled on the seat, his hands hastily pulled you onto his lap and ripped off your thin piece of clothing. Your breasts shift a little from his harsh way of ripping apart your dress making him groan at the view. You soon follow his actions and let your hands unbutton his shirt hastily.

You drool over the sight of his chest tattoos, your heart fluttering at the sight of your name tattooed every so prettily on his arm, which he names as his lucky charm. "C-Can I mark you, Master?" Wooyoung smirks at your sudden change in behavior, and cocks his eyebrows at your shy tone. "Since when did my kitty start asking permission to mark her territory?" Your cheeks heat up from his words but your lips latch onto his soft skin, leaving behind dark red marks of your lipstick.

"Fuck, you look so hot right now, my kitty. Go on, little one, mark master all you want." You whimper unknowingly from his words, and his hands come down to cup your bare pussy. His fingers start to rub slow circles on your clit while your lips continue to trail kisses down his chest, leaving behind bright red marks. His fingers slip into your hole slowly, thrusting into you at a steady pace. You moan lowly before letting your tongue dart out to lick his nipples.

Wooyoung groans when he feels your lips suck harshly on his skin and his fingers increase their pace while thrusting into you. Your eyes roll back slightly in pure pleasure, while loud moans escape your throat. You throw your head back as your legs shudder in his hold, soon his fingers curl up inside you making you reach your orgasm sooner than ever. Wooyoung quickly takes the chance to latch his lips onto your breasts, sucking softly on your bud to get you down your high. His large hands squeeze your thighs making you gasp.

Your eyes slowly trail down his torso to the huge bulge on his pants, your mouth waters at the sight itself. You were snapped out of your thoughts by Wooyoung's hiss, "Fuck, I can't wait to get you home just so I can fuck you into daylight my kitty."

Yes, this was certainly very short for what I usually write🥲

© wooyoungmybelovedhusband. All rights Reserved. Do not copy, repost, or steal any of my works.

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 30: To The Hideout

You’re extremely excited to see Eddie & the boys play tonight. His van packed completely with band equipment he asked Robin to ride you over & he'd be the one taking you home beings you both live together now. He left 2 hours ahead of time for a small rehearsal at Gareth’s & to head to the hideout to set up for tonight’s show. You’ve spent the past hour getting ready not wanting to stick out like a sore thumb you go for a more darker approach tonight even your underwear match your outfit tonight something you pray Eddie appreciates. The new black lace bra & pantie set you got at the mall pulling out your cut off shorts with fishnet stockings with a Megadeath T shirt you turned into a crop top a nice black Smokey eye with smudged liner & the most purist of red lipsticks you would’ve swore the devil himself used his blood to color this lipstick 💄 decidedly grabbing your new boots combat boots with a heel & laced them up spraying a bit of perfume on yourself as you hear the doorbell ringing nonstop. That’s definitely Robin you whip open the door overly excited she looks pumped too she’s wearing black pants with suspenders & a the cure t shirt with a pair of converse “Holy shit jame you look… you look fuckin HOT!!” You burst into a fit of giggles “Thanks Robs you look amazing too!” You notice her cheeks go red you pull her inside “come on girlfriend let’s take a shot before we leave” she looks at you wide eyed “wow someone’s in a wonderfully refreshing mood I likey” you laugh pouring 2 shots of whipped cream flavored vodka “here this is from Philadelphia my grandfather has been making this stuff since my dad was a kid Jacquin’s it’s a liquor factory my grandfather and grandmother both work there they’re like the senior versions of Lavern & Shirley ahahaha” robin slams her shot down “wow that’s…. That’s good! He made that?! Does he make anything else?!” “Oh hell yeah robs every Christmas we all get a box sent to us with a variety of bottles this year I’ll let you take first pick out of it I’ve tried everything so now it’s you guys turn don’t tell Eddie I cracked this he saw it & has been bothering me about it but I was saving it for my best friend” you wink at her & she smiles “I would’ve never thought I’d have a female platonic best friend but I’m so glad you moved here & I’m so grateful for you and..” you cut her rambling “Robs… I love you too & I'm glad you’re my friend let’s take one more of these & hit the road & go have a fuckin blast!” She woots three times raising her hands up in the air she’s always been a good hype man for everyone in your group. Rides with Robin are always a blast blasting Lita Ford through the stereo system scream singing the lyrics singing into the water bottle you hold in your hands pretending it’s a microphone taking turns sharing the mic with Robin 🎼”I went to a part last Saturday night I didn’t get laid I got in a fight uh huhhhhh it ain’t no big thing… Late for work but the traffic was bad had to borrow ten bucks from my old man uh huhhh it ain’t no big thing….”🎼 both of you thrashing your heads as the song quickens 🎼”But i know what I like… I know I like dancing with you…. & you know what you like I know you like dancing with me ohh yeah!!… kiss me once… kiss me twice… come on pretty baby kiss me deadly!!!!!!”🎼 pulling into the parking lot you see Steve Jeff & Gareth smoking a cigarette you Robin kills the engine to your car & you both hop out as gareth runs to engulf you in a hug “you look awesome!” You lean back to check out his getup “no Emerson you look awesome check you out if Eddie didn’t already have my heart you’d be in trouble” you wink at him “oh before I forget a gift you beam digging in the glove compartment pulling out a joint twisting it in his face “all the way from the east coast it’s chronic it’s called Black widow” his eyes sparkle with excitement “go grab Ed’s & I’ll fire it up” he nods & scurries off to grab his best friend when Eddie comes practically tripping over himself at gareth dragging him outside catches sight of you & his breath hitches.

[the-starry-seas]

was thinking more about mar'eyce zenith's job as forest service pilot and did some googling about smokejumpers and is anybody really surprised that i have more OCs?

Manaia, the ICT3, they/them, early forties. Co-parenting everyone with their pilot, Zenith (ey/em). They're 5'10" and built like a brick wall which tends to make people intimidated, but when they're not working, they're laid-back and like to laugh. But when someone tries to get fresh with their team... yeah, there's gonna be trouble. In their downtime, they're a photographer and pole dance for exercise (and to make people wonder if their poker face is really that good [it is]).

Waimarie, the spotter, she/her, mid twenties. Fashionista, gardener, and astronomer. She knows Nīkau's name as her buir <3 She always picks up a box of two-bite brownies on her way in to work, because while this girl should not be in the kitchen, she's got a need for baked goods. She can be bribed into doing about anything with macademia nut cookies. Likes to ride the bus on random routes to see more of the city. Has made many friends with old ladies on the bus, and on four separate occasions, has helped a kid with homework.

Nīkau, late thirties, he/they. He always has tea on hand and he never shares. Got his scar in a bar fight that he started by cold-cocking a homophobe. Thinks it's pretty cool. Also thinks fire puns are funny. He's always showing off pictures of his dog, a Boston Terrier named Rose Tyler. His three boyfriends look after her while he's at work. Doesn't actually own any of his shirts or jackets, they're all stolen from his boyfriends. The collar, on the other hand, was a gift from them. Has the TARDIS tattooed on the inside of his left wrist.

Christopher, mid thirties, he/him. A one-man survival team who always has a gallon bucket full of peanut butter cups on his desk. Likes some water with his ice cubes. Avid gamer. Face paint as self-expression. His car always smells like vanilla. Has four bearded dragons named Gandalf, Radagast, Alatar, and Pallando.

Tama, early thirties, he/him. Has an innate need to dive into literally any body of water even when explicitly told not to. Likely swimming somewhere right now. A year older than his brother, Tipene, and will never let him forget it. Car Guy™, who needs romance when you can spend three weeks disassembling a Ferrari engine and infodumping about pistons. Has dated two girls, both ended dramatically, might be time for him to realise he's into boys instead. Had several near-death experiences while cave diving and still required an intervention to stop. He still cliff dives.

Tipene, early thirties, it/its. Polyglot and polyamorous. Collects belt buckles and most of them are hideously gaudy tbh. Has a life-sized taxidermy shark hanging from the ceiling of the office and constantly scaring newbies with it. Always has the radio set to a classic country station. Stocks up on sour fruit candy like the apocalypse is coming. Would probably be fine in an actual apocalypse. Binges horror movies but can't watch anything where the dog dies. Consults the farmer's almanac daily and tracks how accurate it is in comparison to the local weather station. Has two full tattoo sleeves of indigenous birds, and it's a game to see if the team can spot all the birds on hiking trips.

Benjamin, late twenties, he/him. Takes heavily after his mother who died when he was born. His father remarried last year and he hates the new chick. Cotton candy is his main food group. Weaver and woodcarver who constantly gifts things to his friends or donates to charity auctions. Whenever someone asks to borrow a pencil, he takes out a jumbo pencil from his desk and pretends he doesn't have anything else. Flirts with everyone, nobody can tell when it's serious. Dramatically pulling off his sunglasses at least once a day. Only has one jacket that's red leather. Heavily tattooed from fingers to elbows but nowhere else. His lipstick is UV reactive and he's hooked up with half the city at some club or another.

Epoxy, late twenties, they/them. Transmasc swag cancelled out by inability to flirt. Seemingly never wears the same necklaces twice but they've kept the same shade of lipstick for the last ten years. Kiri is their best friend. Never seen without a backpack, but nobody is exactly sure what's in there. Constantly annoying everyone else by always having their earbuds in. Listens to Chappell Roan half the time and local indie artists the rest of the time. Hangs out at their other BFF Anahera's tattoo parlour on Thursdays because they have a crush on her. They got their name because they tried to wipe extra epoxy off on their hands on their first day and you can guess how that went.

Kiri, mid twenties, she/her. Everyone underestimates the skinny blond chick, which she uses to relentlessly fleece strangers at pool, darts, and contact sports. Highly competitive and will get in over her head if a dare or bet is offered. She's also an animal lover and keeps bringing home random insects and rodents that are considered pests around the airstrip. Constantly arguing with Chris about LOTR lore and drives him nuts talking about her Star Trek crossover fanfic bc they have wildly differing opinions on which hobbits would actually want to join Starfleet.

Oliver, nineteen, he/they. His cat is named Oreo and she's the love of his life, humans need not apply. He got the cat ear headband to match her. Goes all out on Halloween costumes every year. A friend to all insects, even the ones that bite him, they have their reasons. Designated remover of spiders from bathrooms. Keeps trying to grow flowers and failing miserably. Deeply invested in his neighbour's koi pond. Usually seen in a bomber jacket and jeans. Do not mention butterflies around him unless you're ready to hear more than you could ever remember. Keeps his Christmas lights up year-round. Has never thrown away a plastic bag in his life.

[racinginchid3nt]

Happier Than Ever | Part Four

Y/N x Pierre Gasly, Y/N Best Friend x Lance Stroll

Whirlwind romances with professional athletes certainly have their perks, or do they?

Inspired by Happier Than Ever - Billie Eilish

Warnings: mentions of assault and cyber bullying

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

When you had stepped out of the hotel bathroom, Pierre’s inhale had been audible.

“Can you zip me up please?”

“Of course, you look absolutely beautiful baby.”

Your dress for the night was black, cut outs across the front and back and small mesh panels made it undeniably sexy. You paired it with simple black platform heels. As you stopped at the mirror to put on your red lipstick, a voice interrupted you.

“No.”

“Excuse me?” You asked, confusion marring your tone.

“Pick a different color.” He said.

“What’s wrong with red?”

“No red. Pick a different color.”

“Pierre I’m confused. Why do you care? I’ll be careful not to kiss you on the cheek or anything tonight. It won’t stain.” You replied.

“Because I said so. Pick a fucking different color.” He repeated, anger breaking into his tone.

Pierre had never once cared about what color your lipstick was. Tucking it back into your makeup bag you pulled out a more natural nude color, coating your lips in it.

“See was that so hard?”

You placed the lipstick into your clutch for the night, walking to meet him at the door. You made your way down the elevator, he held your hand tightly in his. The other hand holding his phone as he fired off texts. You attempted to peer over his shoulder at what had him so interested, but he immediately turned the screen black before tucking it into his pocket.

————

The two of you paused for pictures and to speak to reporters a few times on the walk into the gala. As the first outing after the summer break, reporters were desperate for a sound bite or story to soon after a rather tame silly season.

As soon as you entered the gala, Pierre dropped his arm from your waist, making his way to greet some of the Alpine engineers. You made your way to the bar, ordering drinks for the two of you.

Flipping through your texts you waited to hear from Y/N Best Friend. She had surprised you both and somehow snagged a date, with Lando Norris no less, for tonight’s function. The two of them had been flirty at the club a few weeks back, maybe something was going on there that you didn’t know about. Making a mental note to check in with her about it, and Lance for that matter, you put your phone back in your clutch.

Pierre was still off speaking to various team members. Scanning the room you looked for anyone you might know who you could speak with. You didn’t want to be that overly clingy girlfriend who butted her way into Pierre’s conversations, especially when they were with his work colleagues.

15 minutes passed by and your drink had emptied out. The bartender was refilling it and replacing it almost immediately after you set it down. As you started to sip on it and contemplate how to fill your boredom, you noticed two newcomers to the event. The Ferrari boys had arrived in style, both of them sporting well fitted tuxes.

Making eye contact with Charles, the pair made their way to you at the bar.

“Hello Y/N! Looking lovely as always.” Stated Charles, pulling you in for a hug.

“You look gorgeous.” Replied Carlos.

“You two don’t look half bad yourselves!”

You all made small talk, discussing what everyone had done over the break.

“I heard you went back to Spain instead of staying Portugal? Pierre said you went to see your family.” Asked Charles.

“Oh uh yeah. It was nice to stop home for a bit to see them.” You replied. Pierre obviously must have told his best friend that you had left the trip, but obviously hadn’t gone into detail about why. Just bringing up the discussion made you uncomfortable.

Throwing back your drink, you set it on a nearby table and started drinking Pierre’s. By the time he walked up a few minutes later, his drink was gone as well. Carlos and Charles excused themselves to make their way to the bar as well, leaving you with Pierre.

Downing all three drinks in a matter of 30 minutes probably wasn’t your best call. And your good decision making certainly didn’t happen when a water came by with champagne and you took two, chugging one and immediately giving back them empty glass while you dipped the second.

It was obvious Charles didn’t know the true story about Portugal, but that didn’t make it any less awakened or uncomfortable to think about. That day was up there with one of the most anxiety inducing you had ever experienced, and finding out other people knew even part of it was overwhelming. By the time Y/N Best Friend showed up with Lando, the second glass of champagne was gone and you were rapidly approaching drunk.

You were a loud, affectionate drunk. Which is why when she walked in looking hot as fuck, you made it known. Which is also why when Pierre and Lando excused themselves to get waters at the bar, you brought up Y/N Best Friend and what happened with Lance, and how maybe she should hook up with both Lance and Lando in one go. As you carried on, a bit louder than you really should’ve been, it wasn’t surprising at all when you saw Lance approach and drag her away. Smiling to yourself, you waited for Pierre to come back from the bar.

————

Dinner on its own was uneventful. The most interesting part was watching the interaction between Y/N Best Friend and Lance, who had joined the table last minute. So when the two of them disappeared together later, you barely batted an eye.

And when Y/N Best Friend came back and told you that she was heading home and refused a ride from Lando, you had to keep in your giggle at the thought that she was leaving with Lance.

————

The press coverage from the gala next day was everywhere, particularly photos of Lando and Y/N Best Friend. You had to practically break down her down to get her to talk to you about it. So when Saturday rolled around and it was time for qualifying, you had to force her to come with you.

You didn’t blame her for not handling the media attention well. You certainly hadn’t at the beginning, the hate comments were bound to upset anyone.

Which is why, when in the middle of dinner with Pierre after quail you checked your phone, you panicked. Photos of Y/N Best Friend with Lance from the night of the gala and with Carlos earlier that day were plastered everywhere.

You tried to keep your mind of it, but the guilt for introducing her to the drivers was weighing heavily. And when Pierre took your phone when your main courses came out and slipped it into his pocket, assuring you that it would all be okay, you tried to believe him.

Looking back on that night and the events that occurred at the dinner and the day after, you wish you would’ve argued with him. Wish you would’ve gone straight back to the hotel. But you didn’t, and you couldn’t change what happened now.

————

You spent the night in the hotel, tossing and turning unable to sleep. You had a horrible feeling, a pit building in your stomach like something bad was going to happen. It carried with you into the next morning. Opening Twitter your feed was full of videos of Y/N Best Friend getting attacked outside the hotel.

You called her four times back to back with no response. Marching down the hall to her room, you banged on the door, demanding to be let it, but all that you heard was silence. She much preferred to process things on her own, you knew that. When she had broken up with her ex she had disappeared for three days, processing everything on her own before she was willing to talk to you about it. That was part of why the two of you got along so well, neither of you liked sharing when you were upset.

After 10 minutes you stopped knocking.

“Y/N, I know you probably just want to process everything, but please please call me when you’re up for it. I worry about you, okay?”

Leaving her door, you made your way back to your room and headed to the track with Pierre. Lando stopped you on your way to the garage, asking how Y/N Best Friend was. You told him that you hadn’t heard from her, and that she needed time, before repeating the same story an hour later to Carlos.

Lance was the last one of the group to approach you. Running into the Alpine energy station after the race like a crazy person, he screamed about needing to talk to her and asking where she was. It was only after Pierre interrupted that you were able to get out that Y/N Best Friend hadn’t come to the race. The Aston Martin driver turned on his heel and took off again, running off to who knows where.

Sending another text to Y/N Best Friend, you reminded her about what you said through her hotel door, hoping that when she eventually checked her phone she would respond.

————————————————————————

[ferromagnetiic]

𝟑 - 𝟓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘.

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒:

literally every hue of red

obsidian

golden-bronze

steel-silver

𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:

faded whiffs of cheap deodorant mingled with sweat at the end of a busy afternoon. distinct, masculine musk and warmed skin from being outside in the summer sun, beating down on him. the shared tang of the ocean’s headwind.

the nervousness lingering in the back of your nose, during moments of sharpened instincts; staining your tongue with something foul. like trepidation. he smells like oncoming threat. he smells like the anxiety you experience when you know danger is approaching, like something bad is about to occur, though you're uncertain of what that entails. he smells like clammy palms and a quickened heartbeat and a distrust that never quite dissipates.

metallic notes: spilled blood and laborious metalwork. the dryness of dusty tools in need of a polish, accompanied by the overwhelming bite of motor oil. an engine that's been running for too long, been functioning too hard, and is now emitting fumes.

the booze he's been drinking. rum on the rocks, or a frothy beer. stale fruit. shrouded in miasma while glasses clink in celebration as his men exchange a round of hearty toasts. an occasional cigarette when he steps outside for a smoke break. cheap thrills and long nights.

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍:

his signature coat: an exotic plume of feathers, heavier than it looks and impossible to ignore, racing like a sea of soft fire down his back.

gaudy-printed pants which some would consider an eyesore for being so needlessly dramatic.

crimson hair, spiked each morning with copious amounts of hair gel.

a sizeable collection of expensive jewelry: bangles, cuffs, rings; stolen and never once bought.

bold lipstick in dark shades and kohl eyeliner painted on a face that would otherwise be too bare without.

𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒:

a pair of tinted goggles from an old friend dear to him, still.

the harsh, jagged edges of a false alloy arm: a paradox in both loss and gain. of something clearly solid yet missing.

a welding torch carelessly abandoned on the ground next to the incomplete body of an unfinished project.

a well-used electric guitar resting atop an amp.

imposing mechanical animals seeming to contain life of their own, rattling and hissing with complicated motions.

𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄:

the brutal collision of a fist; knowing precisely where to land to make his opponent reel.

the brawl-promised warning of a sneer poorly disguised as a wry smile.

the fluid movement of a tongue, thick with an accent belonging to an almost-dead language.

the absentminded wiping of grease-smears on an old rag.

bellowing laughter; gruff, satisfied rumbling lodged within a throat.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒:

“the scream of thunderbolts overhead; a country that has lost its privileges to quiet skies. the deafening patter of raindrops crashing onto tin roofs. there’s a presence in the junkyard hidden amongst the piles of scrap. sparks that are unpleasant to touch. a thousand flesh-eating sea kings swarming the coast, keeping you at bay. fingertips smudged with pencil lead from designing blueprints, so many of which are torn. your first successful invention, and short-lived moments of joy. pride swells in your chest.”

"a storehouse of restless discomfort and emotion. static stammering beyond your rabid snarling, the rushing of blood giving rise to the fine hairs on the back of your neck, disobedient and unlistening. a tense jaw that’s starting to go sore from gritted molars. everything about you is so loud. they won't part from you, uninjured. they'll speak of spite as though they'll understand it half as well as you do."

“being too good at these war-games. at collecting broken teeth and lacerations on your knees. a narrowed set of copper eyes — alight with animosity, dangerous and unnerving. it should hurt each time they knock you down; yet you don't quite feel it anymore. no love for the frail. you're about as angry as a bruise can get."

"your pull, magnetized on the outside, commands the creaking of the earth’s core. all iron folds to your will. you have little interest in playing god; despite what they say. you don't believe in transcendence, only perspective. so you continue to climb, tireless: a sentient contraption of mismatched parts continuously breaking down in the pursuit of strength. you’re an unburied artefact, terror on hooves. a rampaging minotaur lost inside the remnants of a once-great civilization. the wild shrillness of your best friend’s laughter, reeking in sacrifice and hardship, makes your residual limb flare up in turn. the pressure upon your shoulders remains heavier than any monstrous prosthetic you wield. you’ll protect everyone who’s counting on you: you’ve no other choice. you glint in spite of the rust."

"you were a boy once, turned man too early. you cling to survival like a hungry dogchild, thinking he can feast on raw bones alone, hurting yourself on every splinter. your stomach pierced; you, swearing you're never going to die. this is what it means to be the underdog. this is what it means to have the mettle not to recoil when you were made to stand in the living room of fear. you dread nothing and no one."

tagged by: @gumpistol (thank you, love you lala) tagging: @raidpink, @goddslayerr, @ryusokcn, @meowgiciann, @sozokami (ahmya or any of your op muses!), @melodysian (for uta my best girl, ofc), @primamirage, @ravarui (if you've already done this for shanks, do it for tony!), @akagamiko, @code01746, @chronocide (katakuri), @chillin-at-partys-bar (benn beckman), @seaoftales (mihawk), @wiinchgreen, @waraxarcana, @ncfertari, @swoonji

[allegrasilva]

Oh, is that ALLEGRA SILVA? I heard the THIRTY-THREE year old is DAUNTLESS. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also IMPETUOUS. Makes sense seeing how they are a GETAWAY DRIVER in the SOCIETY.

pinterest

full name: allegra isabella rubi silva

nicknames: spitfire, dodge, whip, coyote, correcaminos (road runner), big al, al, ally, alba, legs.

faceclaim:  ana de armas

birthdate: april 19th

alliance: the society

gender: cis woman

pronouns: she/her

occupation: mechanic getaway driver

hometown: sancti spiritus, cuba

sexual orientation: pansexual

relationship status: single

height: 5"3

the rainbow slick of oil on tarmac, red lines of pleasure scratched down your shoulder blades, the ringing of slot machines, a floor length scarlet raw silk gown with nothing underneath it, neon lights reflecting off wet asphalt, engine grease smudged on your nose, punching nitros and feeling your entire body sing with adrenaline, applying red lipstick in the rearview whilst reversing at high speed, a hand wandering up your inner thigh beneath the table, dancing to guajira over a tinny radio with sunlight pouring through the blinds, sweat glistening on bronze collarbones, the pop and spray of champagne, the feeling of your body nearing g-forces.

Basilio and Catalina were an unlikely pair: one a street rat drag racer, who learned everything he knew from the solares of Havana and the other, a decorated army engineer. Their love was instant chemistry, petroleum kissed match, a passion that burned bright and quickly but gifted them three kids.

Allegra spent the first few years of her life bouncing between military bases until her parents separated and Basilio got the career opportunity of a lifetime. He was to be provisionally training some pit crews at Monaco for the Grand Prix, after spending a couple years in his youth experimenting with mechanics on the Indy 500.

After that the stability of the base never felt adventurous enough for Allegra, who spent at least the entirety of race season living with her father overseas, her other siblings remained with Catalina. Endlessly curious, Allegra would sneak out to where her dad was working and start picking up the skills that brought her to the Society.

Basilio saw that wild streak that he had in himself in Allegra and knew that fighting it would only mean losing her entirely, so he indulged her. Teaching her how to hotwire, allowing her to help him experiment chemically with fuel systems. Allegra grew up grease stained but happy.

She loved her mother but they fought endlessly and she always ended up in trouble for getting into the hangars on base and tinkering with the heavy 4x4s and tanks. Allegra was a constant flight risk. These exploits were aided by her being a competitive gymnast since she was six and her taking up free-running when she spent time in London with her dad before races at Silverstone.

Sensation is everything to Allegra, anything that gets her blood up or adrenaline running is something worth doing.

Organised a simulated Italian Job Scavenger Hunt for her fifteenth birthday party with her car meet friends. The real way to win was to be the last car of the night to be caught and arrested. She very nearly ruined her entire future but just managed to get off by the skin of her teeth.

The champagne and glitter of the Formula One circuit, kids of millionaires becoming Allegra's earliest playmates. She terrorized and captivated them in equal measure; they were fascinated by this little Cuban girl causing so much trouble, she taught the children of diplomats ring of fire, how to take their tequila and how to get out onto the track at night. This is where she got a taste for the finer things, the high life and after that she was used to a certain kind of lifestyle and was going to do anything to maintain it.

Her brother and sister began visiting far more and in turn Allegra would spend a portion of the Winter back in Cuba. She was something of a stranger and something of a legend to friends she had in Havana, she'd been accepted for a mechanics apprenticeship under Ferrari after being caught elbow deep in one of their older models just at the Gran Premio d'Italia at Monza circuit. Another brush with the law that could have ended everything. Though even over the winter she still raced, she still broke into old mansions, llegaypones and bajareques with her friends, setting off firecrackers and doing the usual hoodrat shit.

Basilio was considering sending her back to Cuba permanently as her antics could reflect poorly on him, something she knew she'd despise. She needed newness, travel, novelty, excitement. Ferrari sent her to school, a strange combination of mechanical, electrical engineering, chemistry and physics that for the first time actually challenged her mind instead of leaving her bored and disruptive in the classroom.

Giselle, her sister, had slowly morphed into an alternate universe mirror of Allegra, without the mascara smudged last night's party raccoon eyes and the acting out. A perfect slick back bun, ROTC, her mother's miniature.

Then Elle was dead, just like that, her entire family that had just about sustained equilibrium again shattered in every direction. Allegra's father had just bought a house in upstate New York, much to his employers chagrin, he had turned to her and muttered under his breath 'Never move to Indiana, mija'. Now they could barely talk to each other.

Allegra was sixteen and put her head down and got to work. She drifted through the race circuit for almost eight years until she started to get her spark back, her love for the work, her inspiration. Unfortunately, even if you don't experiment with fuel types and engine parts on the race site or race team's HQ, being a mad mechanic scientist reflected poorly on the company and Allegra was dumped on her ass with a small bag of belongings, no fixed address and no village to return to. She completed basic training for the Army but got thrown out after knocking her drill sergeant out, luckily Basilio got her out of Cuba and back to the US. Authority had always had to earn her respect or get nothing.

Worked in a few small garages in NY; Rochester, Carmel, before realising she'd never carve out any respect there and focused her sights on the city.

One thing Allegra had learned in her time with F1 was how to network, so for the first three weeks she hit every bar and club she could remember, using any social leverage she could to get in to see old familiar faces and schmooze her way up. She landed a personal valet, driver position, when posed as having a beautiful thing in the driver's seat would be some kind of novelty for the very rich client and his esteemed guests.

Ingratiated herself fully with the New York car meet and drag race scenes, this is where one of The Society saw her race for the first time and quietly passed her information up the ranks for contact. [ Wanted Connection ]

Names all the cars she's ever driven and 'knows' their personalities. Speaks to them like she's riding a damn horse. Who cares if she gets results. Laments that she never got to go back for 'Hugo the Yugo' that she drove once in Indianapolis.

So what if when she took Society leaders for a test drive so they could see what she could do she very seriously asked: Danza Kuduro or Gasolina? Pick one. She got the job, even if she overexplained the horrendous fate of a young Scandinavian water carrier from early F1 and how she had trained on their simulators and cars which regularly hit 200mph so reacting to obstacles and pedestrians was everything. How blinking could end it all.

Allegra has a range of playlists you can choose when you get in her ride: 80s power anthems, reggaeton, speed metal, punto cubano guajira, classic rock, 2000s sleepover, rap, hip hop, techno trance, an entirely Pitbull playlist entitled 'Pledge Allegiance to Mr. Worldwide' and many, many more.

Uses her devil-may-care reputation to make sure people underestimate her and don't think she's capable of deeper machinations, she's extremely intelligent, even if she also happens to spend a lot of her time at the Ruby Casino chatting up boring, ugly clientele. She can slip on a new character every night, they don't get to meet her.

Doesn't have an appropriate fear response at all, instead of becoming serious or fearful when afraid she often laughs like crazy, sometimes scaring those not familiar with her particular brand of gearhead. Drifting at 40mph with a maniacally giggling driver is an experience. Though she can seem flippant and capricious to those unfamiliar with her, when it's time to work she flips into a mode that is all steel.

Most often seen cruising the city on her KTM 1290 Super Duke GT motorbike, or in her 1970 Dodge Charger, she loves classic cars.

In her element when she's in her garage come laboratory space, a pair of welder's goggles perched on her head and gesticulating wildly with a wrench, yet few see that, instead they see the polished young lady in a perfectly tailored suit or a raw silk dress sat in the driver's seat.