#like low key and high key would pay to be in between that sandwich.

[elvisabutler]

@satninbeaulieu look at the first gif. just look at it!!

[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

[romanianwilkinson]

MONSTER CAMP QUOTES STARTERS

A collection of sentence starters from the game Monster Camp. Feel free to change words and pronouns as desired. CONTENT WARNING(S) FOR: Monster Prom/Monster Camp spoilers, suggestive, cursing, crude content

“ I just have it here because [NAME] insisted that I offer it, as a marketing stunt. ”

“ And lastly, super-horny-type players no longer get a charm buff against tsundere types! ”

“ War machines don’t turn me on or anything! ”

“ I don’t wanna be weird, but do you mind if I climb inside of you and play around with your main turret? ”

“ A wine to DIE for, you say? Well, darling, don’t threaten me with a good time! ”

“ This one just says ‘ hmu with that reaper dick, daddy ’. ”

“ You on your phone, as always! Probably making blogposts on your Tik Tok page. ”

“ Yeah, you really don’t want to witness a repeat of the last time [NAME]’s diehard fans went without a selfie for fifteen minutes. My tailbone still hasn’t completely healed. ”

“ Now hold still, this will only hurt for a moment --- ”

“ Yay! You found a shenanigan! ”

“ My poems all have two or three emotions in them, AT LEAST. ”

“ CRYING IS OBVIOUSLY A COMPETITION TO SEE WHO CAN SQUEEZE THE MOST WATER OUT OF THEIR EYES! ”

“ No way, really? The way to WIN at poetry is by LOSING at life? ”

“ I dunno, maybe fall in love with someone who’s married and develop an opioid addiction? ”

“ HELL YEAH, SPEEDRUN! ”

“ It’s morbid, but... kind of romantic? ”

“ GASP! Google+? Are you kidding me? The psychopaths behind that global tragedy are here?! ”

“ Prison has changed me, [NAME]. Would you like to trade me some cigarettes in exchange for my fundamental dignity? ”

“ Undermining the laws of reality, subverting life and death, that’s the kind of stuff my followers expect. But CHEATING? No way. ”

“ Though we are imprisoned in chalk jail, we are free in our hearts. But our hearts are also imprisoned in chalk jail. ”

“ Um, no, I am NOT groveling. I am posing a dignified query to [NAME] that just so happens to be performed on my hands and knees. ”

“ I didn’t know you condoned playing the friend card to get free labor, [NAME]. ”

“ Ah, but saving the world doesn’t put avocado toast on the table. We indie seancers and necromancers need to pay our rent too, you know. ”

“ And as you know, I am illustriously Internet-famous, so if you could shower me with adoration and give me the pizza that would be fabulous. ”

“ Do you wanna fuck the pizza or not? ”

“ Are you ready to go swimming? I must admit, darling, I’ve always wondered what you would look like while... wet.”

“ Did you turn this date into an orgy without consulting me? ”

“ Gosh, I love it when you insult me! Please do it more! ”

“ Now who wants to make a baby? ”

“ What if she puts a curse on me that makes me magically forget the location of the clitoris?! ”

“ Hey, don’t knock wacky decisions that endanger us all! That’s how I always manage to stay a step ahead of my nemeses! ”

“ Oh gods, I’ve killed so many monsters, just for being monsters. This is making me question my entire moral foundation. I NEED MORE THERAPY. ”

“ I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: fish give better pedicures than people! ”

“ You’re not tricking me into parenting a stupid egg. I’ve never fucked even ONE chicken! The egg is not my son! ”

“ You came to visit me at camp, Daddy! ”

“ Don’t be ridiculous, I know your brand of horny, [NAME], and this ain’t it. ”

“ I thought we both agreed to be nothing but vague and haughtily aloof about our past dalliances. ”

“ Point EAST, compass! EAAAAAAAAST! You dumb fuckboot!!!! POINT! EAST! ”

“ One time I was told a soul’s worst fear was bugs and I inadvertantly sent The Beatles. It happens to the best of us... And the worst of us. ”

“ SOMEDAY I SHALL DEFEAT YOUR FIVE STRANGE FEET! ”

“ Why do you keep suppressing your monster half? Embrace your true nature! ”

“ Wow. I didn't think this was possible, but I guess I was... wrong? About social media? Oh dear God, is this how grandparents feel?!?! Am I a GRANDPARENT?! ”

“ I don’t know! I was relying on my friends to cover up my bold and idiotic statement! ”

“ ... I ate the oars. ”

“ PSYCHE. The ocean can eat my ass. ”

“ So pucker up, [NAME]! I'm about to declare mouth war on your FACE! ”

“ YOU FOOLISHLY FOOLISH FOOL! You're showing our inexperience! YOUR HONOR, THE ENTIRE LEGAL TEAM PLEADS THE FIFTH! ”

“ That's right. I'm talking about a classic Transylvania Hot Tub, a Seth Brundle, and a REVERSE Reverse Romanian Wilkinson. ”

“ Sorry, I was in your ribcage seeing if I could use it to cut strips of crepe paper into confetti and then I got lost in your kidneys. ”

“ There's nothing sexier than a doomed romance between a dating sim player and a hot fictional character. ”

“ That's right! I secretly replaced one of you with a bear while no one was looking, to teach you a valuable lesson about the art of disguise! ”

“ Enchant my armor. I’m going into the lake. ”

“ For VIOLENCE REASONS! ” 

“ This stupid lake monster called me short the other day, but I was too low level to crush him like he deserved. ”

“ That dumb wet dinkhole won't know what hit him! But it will be me! I will hit him! ”

“ No, YOU'RE a fuckshark! Also, what does that even mean?! ”

“ You seriously didn't notice the enormous needles those interns jabbed into your veins as soon as [NAME] got here? “

“ It all makes sense! The Camp Dome is just an elaborate ploy to distract us from the giant mouth that eats campers! “

“ This is the BEST show I've ever seen in my life, which is now at an end! “

“ Am I high, or did he just tell us EXACTLY how to foil his evil scheme? “

“ What, like a few severed heads and visions of my grandpa screaming in horrendous pain are gonna freak me out? Where I'm from, you can buy that stuff at IKEA. “

“ ERROR: Due to the sixth mass extinction, the slaying of leprechauns is inadvisable. “

“ Then why do I have half-finished scarves, decoupage, pot-holders, friendship bracelets, and a taxidermied rabbit in my skeleton? “

“ The wang elemental. ”

“ I also have an uncle who works at Nintendo as a copy machine! “

“ What flavor of ice cream AM I?! Now I gotta know. HA! You know what I should be? 'Pistachio.' Because my outside is HARD, but I'm full of NUT. “

“ I mean, life is a bit like... this sandwich! No, stay with me, I'm going somewhere good with this. “

“ A survival situation without any sexy fun time isn't worth surviving in the first place. “

“ Rut the RUCK?! ”

“ The ' ambulance of the heart ' is just a regular ambulance! Ambulances treat all organs! ”

“ Yeah, that's why I made sure that my so-called ' emotional armor ' was also ' actual armor '. “

“ And being yourself is the key to living your dreams, which is the key to self actualization, which is the key to being really good at sex! “

“ So hot I'd buy that even without free shipping. 10/10, call me some time. “

“ Hi, quick question: does it count as kidnapping if I'm abducting you so you can help me do a thing you already agreed to help with? “

“ I could be wrong, but are you just upset because you DON'T have a skeleton that's inside your body? “

“ I'm gonna get SO FUCKING RELAXED MY HEAD WILL EXPLODE! “

“ Whoah, whoa, hold up. You're fucking my grandma? “

“ No, [NAME], that is a popcorn bag full of more dynamite. Put it down. “

“ I hear that at least 70% of people on Patreon aren't murderers! “

“ If you want cash, just rob banks like the rest of us! “

“ Did it work? Do you feel any less horny? ”

“ FUCK YEAH, LET'S PUNCH THAT MOUTH IN ITS MOUTH! “

“ Yes... incidentally, we are no longer allowed to enter Italy. “

“ Is anyone else turned on right now? ”

“ Yes! Yes! I know what you're feeling! I suddenly see how marrying a corpse isn't okay! “

“ JUST LET ME IMPROVE YOUR SELF ESTEEM, MORTAL! “

“ Look, choose whatever you want, but I'm not responsible for whatever you put in your mouth. ”

[wri0thesley]

Since requests are open, what about some poly gyjo headcanons? Sfw or nsfw is fine!

Life is never boring, sandwiched between both Gyro and Johnny. The two of them - despite loving each other, of course - live in a constant state of one-upmanship. They turn many things into a friendly competition, and your affection is not immune to that - who can give better kisses, who would you rather cuddle at night, which one of them has made a better breakfast. If you don’t want to be caught up judging, get involved in their little arguments and competitions; if you win, you’ll get a reward from both of them. 

They provide different things in a relationship. Gyro is always there with a laugh and a smile to pull you out of dark places - he does it for Johnny just as much. It’s not that he isn’t capable of being serious, but more than his outlook on life is simply more optimistic - Gyro brings a cheerful air to days when the two of you might be feeling more morose. He doesn’t believe in waiting around and wallowing in sadness - being with Gyro means sometimes you don’t want to go out but he’s dragging you and Johnny up anywhere, already crowing about the fun the three of you are going to have. 

Johnny is slightly more level-headed. He’s often the voice of reason. He gets dragged down by his darkest days, but your presence near him is soothing and comforting. You find yourself, often, playing the peacemaker between the two of them - tamping down Gyro’s too-high spirits and lifting Johnny’s too-low ones. 

Gyro is always doing weird things to get a rise out of you both - he loves the widening of both of your eyes, the sighing, the exasperated cry of his name. Johnny is quietly intimate with you - he likes to be beside you, likes to wind your fingers through his and remind himself that you and Gyro are both still there. 

Both of them are jealous. They’re not necessarily jealous of one another - their competition in that regard is mostly good-natured - but if somebody pays you too much attention when you’re all out together, they’re tensing up and ready to fight. Both of these men would throw hands for your honour - Gyro has always had a strong code of ethics and wanted to protect people, and now that Johnny has so much to care about he doesn’t want anything to risk that. 

Both of them have a tendency to spoil. Johnny has the prize money of the Steel Ball Run and all that came afterwards at his disposal, and Gyro is used to the finer things in life - as is Johnny, actually. If you haven’t had access to the same things, they’re going to make sure you get absolutely everything you want from therein out.

(nsfw)

The competition extends into the bedroom, of course. They want to see who can please you better - who can give you more orgasms in a row, who can wring the loudest cries from you, whose fingers and cocks you want to work you up into a frenzy. They tend to gang up on you - but if you suggest that say, you and Gyro work together to bring Johnny to a gasping, whimpering peak, they will switch allegiances immediately. 

Johnny still has lingering phantom pains from his accident; as such, you three learn and experiment with various positions to make sure he’s as comfortable as possible. It also means a collection of things in your bedroom to aid in your sex life; experimenting is fun, when you have all the funds you want to purchase new aids. 

Johnny and Gyro both like being pushed around a little bit. They’re switches, definitely - Johnny likes being called a good boy and kissed and petted and taken care of, though, and Gyro doesn’t mind rougher treatment. If you pull his hair and scratch your nails down his back, Gyro groans into you and tells you to go at him harder. 

(Gag Gyro; Johnny likes him being shut up so he can get a word in edgeways, and Gyro just likes being told what to do.)

Will put on a show for you, if you ask them - Gyro especially likes to show off, and both of you think it’s cute watching Johnny go red and hesitant. It’s not that he doesn’t know his way around a bedroom - he’s a former playboy, after all - but that with you two, everything is just so much more real. 

They have a low-key scent kink. Perhaps it’s from spending so long on the road for the Steel Ball Run and not being able to shower, but they often nose into your hair and breathe you in. If you come back from a ride and you’re sweaty and messy, you can expect to be pushed against a wall by Gyro immediately and fucked, if Johnny doesn’t get to you and get you on your back first. 

Even though they don’t mind being disciplined, they also love disciplining you. Gyro loves being physical with you; bending you over his knee, spanking you, manhandling you roughly. Johnny is - for someone who can be so shy at other times - very good at dirty talk, and hearing him coo about how cute you look stuffed full of their cocks in a low Southern accent peppered with pet names like ‘sugar’ and ‘darlin’’ and ‘honey’ is often enough to tip you over the edge. 

[libraryofloveletters]

Sober Feelings, Drunk Words

In which, Luke returned home lost and alone, he turned to the bottle for help and you for recovery. 

Luke Alvez x Reader 

Warnings: Fem!reader, self destructive tendencies, consumption and mixing of drugs (sleeping pills) and alcohol, being drunk, the use of alcohol as a coping method, help to induce throwing up and vomit, 2 cuss words lmao, a bit of arguing and sadness (that's it I think ? lmk if I missed anything) 

Category: Angst to the max 

Word Count: 4.9k

Author’s Note: this hurt my heart to write, I was feeling very angsty for some reason idk :/ didn’t use the whole song either but major thank you to ishi for all her help with this! <3 @iconicc​

Major Disclaimer: this is purely fiction, if someone does mix alcohol and pills, call 911. Don't do what y/n did. 

Song: Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High ? 

----

The mirror's image, it tells me it's home time

But I'm not finished, 'cause you're not by my side

And as I arrived I thought I saw you leavin', carryin' your shoes

Decided that once again I was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you

Home didn’t feel like home anymore. 

Luke had been gone for quite a while, he sat in his empty apartment with nothing around except for the tv on the floor. He laid on the floor, his clothes scattered across the room with no intention of being put away anytime soon. 

Things didn't feel normal anymore. 

There was no will to do anything or even attempt to do so. Luke sat there feeling empty and hopeless. The urge to drink hit him, it wasn't something he indulged in very often but found himself doing a lot more since he returned home. 

The journey to the bar felt a lot slower than usual, he took in the sight, smell and sounds around him. A couple on a walk with their dog, a family’s laughter coming from their opened kitchen window, the smell of freshly baked cookies which he could only assume was coming from the bakery he was passing by. 

Stepping into the bar, the atmosphere changed. The dull lighting, the smell of cigarettes and booze and the drunk men sitting at the counter aimlessly hitting on the bartender. 

“Hey you” the woman behind the counter smiled at him, “your usual?” Luke just nodded, feeling a bit shameful that he had visited so frequently that he now had a usual. She slid a glass over to him, “let me know if you need anything else hun” he mumbled a thanks before picking up the glass. 

Okay just one drink and then I'm going home

He thought to himself before downing the contents of the glass. The woman behind the bar, whose name tag he’s now reading for the first time despite being there so often, came back over to him. 

“One more or you’re heading out ?” she asked him 

“Just bring the bottle over Sherry” he mumbled, she nodded before going to get the bottle

Luke’s head hung low, he poured glass after glass until the bottle was empty. He wasn’t sure what time it was but he couldn't bring himself to get up and leave the bar. “Sherry?” he called out to her, before lifting his head to find an empty bar with Sherry at the other end. 

“We’re closing in 10 minutes sweetheart, do you need something ?” 

“Could I get one more ?” 

“I can’t serve you anymore sugar, bar’s closed. I can get you something to eat if you’d like?” she offered him, he shook his head. 

“I’m gonna head out” he fumbled through his pockets, pulling out some crinkled bills and tossing them on the counter. 

“I could call a cab if you want ?” 

“I’m okay, thank you” he smiled at her before pushing himself up off the bar stool. He stumbled but caught himself on the edge of the bar, he headed out and took a deep breath of air. It was cold but not freezing, he wasn’t that cold considering how much alcohol he had just drank. He stumbled down the street, his hand against the wall to steady himself. 

Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?"

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?"

A woman walked past him, she seemed oddly familiar. Maybe it was her perfume, or perhaps the way she walked, but she reminded him of someone he held close so many years ago. 

With his back up against the wall, he fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts. The light from his screen was quite literally blinding him because of how bright it was. 

Her number was still there. 

After so many years, it was still there. 

Here's the thing about her, she loved Luke and Luke loved her but they never told each other that. They lost contact after he deployed but little did she know, but he thought about her all the time. When he finally got to lay down, when it was his birthday, whenever the holidays rolled around, 

his mind wandered back to her. 

When Luke returned home, he got a new phone, a different number but he somehow got to keep everything on his phone. Her number happened to be in there. 

Now he wasn’t even sure if she had the same number or if she’d even pick up. All these things crossed his mind before hitting the green button. 

Ring 

Ring 

Rin-

“Hello ?” her voice filled his ear. 

“Y/n” he whispered 

“Who’s this ?” she asked 

“Don’t tell me you forgot about me after you just walked past me princesa” 

Then and only then, did she realize who was on the other end of the call. 

“Luke ?” 

“Hi” 

“Are you okay ? Where are you ?” 

“Uh..” Luke looked around, before answering her “Main and Park, but you know that. You just walked past me” 

“What ? I’m at home” 

“No no I just saw you, y/n” 

“Luke, stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.” 

Luke didn't object, he was rather excited to see her. Luke could feel the sleepiness start to set in, he braced himself against the cold brick wall in hopes that it would wake him up. 

After what felt like an eternity, the sound of a horn startled him. His eyes snapped up to see a woman getting out her car, he blinked a few times to see y/n making her way over to him. She stood a few feet from him, she wore a pair of sweatpants and a paint covered t-shirt. She hadn’t changed one bit, she was still as beautiful as she was the day he left.

“Hi Luke” 

“Hi y/n” 

He stepped towards her, she mirrored his actions. Luke’s arms stretched out towards her before she finally closed the gap between them. 

God, it felt so good to have her back in his arms. 

“Luke, no offence but you literally reek of liquor” she stepped away from him. 

“Oh” he pouted

“Let's get you home” her arm looped around his waist helping him walk to her car. Luke stumbled his way into her car, managing to make himself comfortable for the time being. 

“What’s your address ?” she looked over at him

“Dunno” he replied 

“Can I borrow your phone ?” 

“Mhm hm” 

She reached over to get his phone, he grabbed her hand and started to fidget with her fingers and the rings on them. She ended up picking up his phone with her other hand and scrolled through to find his address. The drive to his place was short, Luke still fidgeting with the rings on her hand. 

“Alright, in we go” she got out and helped him out of the car. Luke fumbled with his keys before she took them and unlocked the door. 

The apartment was.. sad. 

There was a bed and the tv on the floor but other than that, it was empty. “Home sweet home” Luke stumbled his way to his bed, y/n shut the door before making her way over to Luke who was laying face down on his bed. Rolling him onto his back, he sat up. 

“I’m hungry and my feet hurt” he mumbled right as he fell back against his pillows.

“Take off your shoes and I'll find something for you to eat” 

You left Luke on his bed as you headed to find something in his empty kitchen. There was a loaf of bread on the counter and some stuff in the fridge that you could put a sandwich together for him. Just the smell of him alone told you he had a lot to drink and you knew he’d be sick if he doesn't eat. 

Luke’s footsteps filled your ears until you felt his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. “Heyyy” he hummed with his chin on your shoulder. “Hey,” you put the sandwich together for him, his hands rubbed your hips.“Come eat” you turned and handed him the plate, he sat on the floor in front of the tv and you made your way over with a glass of water for him. 

Luke laughed along at the joke Spongebob made in the show, you smiled at him. He finished and left the plate and glass on the floor. 

Men, I tell you.

Luke made his way back to his bed, “stay with me?” he looked at you from the bed, scooting over and making space for you.

You never could say no to him. 

Luke rested his head on your stomach and pulled your hand to his hair, you chuckled. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging slightly as you went, a satisfied hum left his mouth. 

“I didn't forget about you” he mumbled, he was half asleep so you didn’t pay much attention to his babbling. “I always remembered you. You got me home princesa” you listened to him talk. 

The steadiness in his breathing told you that he was asleep, you shifted his head onto his pillow making him groan. Your weight lifted off the bed and Luke’s eyes opened slightly before a small “stay” left his mouth. “I’m just going to the bathroom” you pushed his hair from his forehead before walking to the plate and glass Luke left. You picked them up before putting the glass in the sink, the plate was in your hand when you opened the trash can. 

There was at least a case worth of empty beer cans and a bottle or two of scotch in the trash. Your eyes shifted over to Luke who was peacefully sleeping in his bed. 

Maybe he just had friends over.

You brushed off the thought of Luke having an actual issue but the feeling of guilt hit you. 

What if something was actually wrong ? He was drunk on a Tuesday night and he didn't even realize it wasn’t you that walked past him. 

You made your way back to bed, you sat beside Luke who rolled over to you. His hair had grown out a bit, his curls were starting to show again and he looked so peaceful and so innocent right now, just like how he did when you had first met him. You could never even begin to imagine what he went through when he was away. 

Your fingers ran through his hair as he slept, your glaze focused out the window thinking about Luke and everything that had happened to bring you back to him. 

Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite

I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?

It's harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

Something rested on his chest, his head was pounding. Luke barely moved enough to see the head of hair on his chest. His hands found the person’s shoulders, he couldn't remember if he had bought someone home from the bar last night. 

“Hey, wake up” Luke shook the person gently, not wanting to scare her. “mhm no” she groaned, clinging to his side. Her voice seemed so familiar to him, he shook her again. 

“c’mon, don't you have somewhere to be?” 

“ugh okay, I'm up” the woman groaned, finally sitting up. 

Luke took a moment to look at the woman sitting in front of him, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. 

It was y/n 

“Y/n ?” Luke had a confused expression on his face. “Morning sleepyhead” you replied, laying back beside him. 

“Wha- how did you get here?”

“You called me last night, I picked you up and drove you home. You were drunk, do you not remember ?” you glanced at him 

The memories of his half asleep confessions of never forgetting you flooded your mind. You chose not to mention anything simply because if he didn't remember calling you, he surely wouldn’t remember saying that. 

Luke shook his head before getting up. “God, I have a horrible headache” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I got it” you got up and walked to the kitchen. “Which cupboard has the Tylenol ?” you reached for a cupboard door and went to open it. By the time Luke had looked to see which cupboard was opened, you took a step back. 

The cupboard was filled to the brim with liquor, you turned and looked at Luke. “What’s going on Luke ?” he pushed the door closed, “nothing’s happening” you didn’t believe him. You knew Luke better than that, he barely drank but you couldn't blame him or jump to conclusions. You didn't know if he was going through something. 

“You should go” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. 

“Luke..” 

“Y/n, please.. just go” 

You looked at him, his back was turned towards you. Opening your mouth to say something, you changed your mind last minute and made your way to the door. You looked at your friend one last time, 

“I'm here if you need me Luke” was the last thing you said to him before leaving. 

Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?"

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?"

8 missed calls and 7 missed text messages from Luke. 

From Luke: hi 

From Luke: mis yo

From Luke: y/n

From Luke: r u mad

From Luke: no be mad

From Luke: hell0

From Luke: y yu not ansrweing 

The spelling got progressively worse as they came in and he didn’t leave any voicemails, you decided to call him back. The line rang out, you got his voicemail, “Luke, it’s y/n. it’s 8:58 and I'm leaving work now, I got your texts and calls. I’m coming over to check on you. Text me so I know you're okay and I won’t come, okay ? bye” 

Your fingers tapped against the wheel as you drove to Luke’s place, every possible situation running through your mind. The last few weeks had been good, he called the day after he kicked you out to apologize, you invited him over to your place and made dinner. The two of you talked and he told you about his time in Iraq. You knew he hadn’t told you everything and you knew he wouldn't, but pushing him to talk wasn't going to do any good. 

Luke quit drinking, well at least for the last week and a half. He didn’t want to go cold turkey, and you didn't blame him, you sat with him, stayed up and talked with him, went for walks with him in the middle of the night just to distract him. 

You knocked on the front door when you arrived, no answer. “Luke ? it’s me!” you knocked again, no answer. The mailbox sat on the wall beside the door, you stuck your hand in and felt around, you pulled out a key and unlocked the door. 

“Hun? Are you home?” you called out, shutting the door and making your way further into the house. Luke’s head rested on the armrest of his couch, his hair all of the place. “Luke ?” you called once more before making your way over to him. He was asleep, two empty bottles of vodka on the floor in front of him. You sighed, your hand rested on his cheek. 

Things had been going so well, what happened ? 

“Wake up” you shook his shoulder, Luke stirred and rolled the other way, his back now facing you. “Luke get up” you shook him again, he groaned and ignored your pleas to wake up. You were starting to lose your patience, you shook him once more, he would not wake up. Deciding to leave him be, you picked up the bottles and threw them in the trash before making your way to the bathroom. 

An empty pill bottle sat on the counter, the label read temazepam in bold letters.

Sleeping pills. 

The bottle fell from your hand as fast as you had picked it up. You needed to wake Luke up now. You couldn’t believe he took them and drank, you knew he knew better than that, why did he do that? 

“Luke,” you pulled on his arm to try and get him to sit up. “Get up honey, you can’t sleep right now” you tapped his cheek hard enough to wake up but not hurt him. “Luke c’mon, please get up” you tugged on his shirt and sat him up. His back now against the backrest, he’s still asleep. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, what the hell are you going to do ? if you called 911, they would most definitely put him in a rehab program and he would never forgive you for letting that happen. 

The light from the window shined through, hitting the sink faucet, the glare catching your eye. You tumbled through the cupboard to find the biggest bowl you could and filled it to the brim with cold water. You rushed back over to Luke, not caring if it spilt all over the floor.

This better work. 

You poured the water on Luke’s chest, hoping the coldness would startle him awake. You now realized that wasn’t the smartest plan as it could have ended in his body freaking out over the sudden coldness and causing an entirely different outcome but you couldn’t bother right now. Luke’s eyes were open, his eyes still heavy with sleep. You tapped his cheek a few times to coax him out of his sleepiness. 

“Luke, honey, come on” you called out to him while helping him stand up. He started to come to, “y/n what are you doing here?” he mumbled. “You called me Luke, I found you asleep and you drank after you took your pills” you told him, dragging him to the bathroom with you. Letting him down in front of the toilet, you sat beside him, his head leaning back on your chest. 

“Come on, you need to throw up” you rubbed his back, he groaned “no” he mumbled, “don’t wanna” his eyes began to shut again. You pinched his arm in an attempt to keep him awake. You knew there was no way to get him to throw up on his own, you leaned him forward towards the toilet and did the only thing you could think of. You stuck 2 fingers in his mouth, reaching as far back as you could until you heard him gag. Luke ended up emptying the contents of his stomach all over your hand, floor and toilet. 

Luke leaned against the tub, you washed your hand off. Grabbing the towel from behind the door, you soaked it in cold water before pressing it to his head. 

“Why ?” you asked

“Hm?” Luke looked at you 

“You mixed your stuff, I know you know better. Why ?” you asked again 

“I just wanted it to stop” he leans his head against your chest. 

“For what to stop ?” 

“The voices” 

“Which ones ?” 

“The ones taunting me, I couldn't save everyone and they won’t let it go” he rubbed the side of his head. 

You didn't say anything and helped him up. Luke wobbly made his way to bed, you helped him change his clothes before getting a glass of water for him to drink. You sat beside him on the bed while he sipped on the water. “You know you can talk to me ? Right ? About anything. I know I won’t always get it but I'm here if you need to get it off your chest” 

Luke didn’t say anything to you, his eyes focusing on something other than you.  Resting your hand on his chin to pull his focus on you, he pushed your hand away roughly. “What’s wrong with you?” you asked, Luke had an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Luke what’s-” Luke’s yelling cut you off. 

“You think I didn't try to talk to you? God y/n, I tried so hard, so fucking hard. Every time I find the courage, I lose it because of you.” Luke’s expression had changed completely, you were able to see the sadness all over his face. 

“I couldn’t talk to you y/n, I couldn't bring myself to talk to you about this. I didn’t- I never wanted you to see me this way.. and I'm sorry that you had too” 

Your heart broke, your best friend sat in front of you with his heart on his sleeve and his feelings out in the open, you reached up and your hand cupped his face. “Luke, I understand okay? I would never focus you to tell me if you weren't comfortable” you told him and he nodded. He got up off the bed and went to his closet, you watched as he reached up and grabbed a box. 

Luke returned to the bed and placed the box between the two of you. Glancing at the box and then at Luke, you waited for an explanation. “These are from all the times I wanted to talk to you but I couldn’t” he lifted the lid off the box, there were at least 50 envelopes in the box addressed to you.

“I thought about you every day I was there y/n, I never forgot about you but I couldn't do that to you.” Luke whispered, his eyes focused on you. 

“Do what to me ?” you asked, your eyes on the box. 

“I didn’t send these because I knew you’d wait for me and I wouldn't let you put your life on hold for me” 

You reached for his hand, “I'd always wait for you Luke, always.” 

Luke pulled away his hand, “no. no, stop.” Your brows furrowed, “stop ?” you questioned him, “don’t wait for me. Y/n, this is the reason I didn't send them, I don't want you to wait for me.” 

“Luke, what the hell are you talking about ? it was my choice” you rebutted, earning you an annoyed look and a groan.

“Just leave” Luke looked away, avoiding your eyes, not wanting to see the heartbreak he’s caused. 

“Seriously ?” you scoffed, “you know what? This isn’t even worth it. You clearly can’t make up your mind Luke.” you stormed out, slamming the door on your way out. 

And I can't see you here, wonderin' where am I

It sort of feels like I'm runnin' out of time

I haven't found all I was hopin' to find

The window was left open overnight, a cold breeze blew through his bedroom. Luke groaned and rolled over to the other side of the bed, his arm stretched over the left side of the bed, the side of the bed where you’re supposed to be. 

His phone screen lit up, the light catching his eye. It was 5:27 in the morning, most of his night had been spent tossing and turning, rethinking the events of last night. 

The phone buzzed a few times, Luke picked it up to see messages from you. 

To Luke: I don’t know why I'm even texting, I suppose for some sort of self closure but you need to know this and if I call you, you’re just going to interrupt me. 

To Luke: I didn’t wait for you. 

To Luke: I wanted to, but I didn't. I found someone else, his name was James and he was so sweet and loving and everything I could have ever wanted in a partner. 

To Luke: Do you know what the problem was Luke ? 

To Luke: He wasn’t you. 

To Luke: After James, I promised myself the I would wait for you because you’re the only one for me 

To Luke: But it’s clear you don't want the same things as me, so that’s fine. I understand. 

To Luke: Goodbye Luke. 

Luke’s heart felt as if it dropped to his stomach after reading that. 

I was the only one for her ? God, what did I do to her last night. 

He did the only thing he could think of, he got up and headed over to your place. See the thing was, Luke had no idea where you lived. He didn't know if you moved or if you were still where you were before he deployed but he thought, at least he would be trying. 

When he arrived at the door, he knocked once but there was no answer, so he knocked again, and again, no answer. Luke began banging on the door, “y/n, please. it’s me! Open the door” 

An older woman opened the door, she looked as if she had just woken up. “Oh ma'am, I'm so sorry. I must have the wrong door” Luke said to her, she smiled sweetly at him. “That's alright dear, can I help you ?” she asked, he nodded. “Do you know the girl that lived here before you ? y/n?” 

“oh yes, she's very sweet. She stops in and checks on me” 

“Do you know where she lives now by any chance ?” 

“Uh, I don’t want to just give her address out to strangers dear” the older woman smiled at him. 

“Oh.. I understand. thank you anyways” Luke turned and headed back down the stairs. 

“Wait!” she called out to him, “Maple street, that’s all I can tell you” she said, Luke smiled at her, “Thank you” 

Luke ran down the stairs, and ran as fast he could to maple street. 

Fuck, why didn't I drive ? 

Luke walked down Maple street, his eyes looking over every driveway to find your car. There it was, 46 Maple street and you stood at your front door, your back to Luke. 

The rain began to pour out of nowhere, like a full on thunderstorm. You stepped back inside and Luke made his way across the street to your driveway. 

When you stepped back outside with your bag, Luke stood on your driveway. 

“What are you doing here ?” you asked him, he looked like a crazy person just standing on your driveway in the pouring rain. 

“You waited for me ?” he asked, his hand ran over his face to wipe the water off but it made no difference. You made your way down the steps, you stood across from Luke now. 

“I did” you answered him, you too, were now soaked from the rain. 

“I’m sorry” he told you

“For what ?” you asked, you knew why he apologized but you needed to hear him say it. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you last night. I shouldn't have acted the way I did.” he stepped closer to you. 

You watched Luke’s movements, his hands rested on your hips, his face inches away from yours. You’re absolutely sure that anyone who looked outside must think the two of you are out of your minds to be standing in the pouring rain, just having a conversation. You didn't say anything to Luke, you had already said what you needed too. 

“Y/n?” Luke looked down at you, you looked up at him, “Luke ?” 

“I love you.” his hand cupped your face, making you look at him. 

“Luke I..” you sighed, as much as you wanted to tell him you loved him, and you did, you weren't sure if you could, well you weren't sure if you should. 

“It's okay, you don't have to sa-” 

“Luke I love you” 

Luke’s expression changed, there was now a smile on his face. “God I love you so much” Luke picked you up and spun you around, making you laugh as you clung onto him. 

“Luke put me down!” 

Luke set you back on your two feet, this time, your hand came up to his face and he looked at you. 

“I need you to promise me something Luke” 

“Anything” 

“Promise me you’ll try and quit, I know it’s hard but I promise I'll be by your side” 

Luke nodded, “I promise, only if you promise to stick with me” 

You stuck your pinky out, Luke chuckled and wrapped his pinky around you. 

“always Luke, always.” 

---- 

taglist: @aaronhotchnerr​ @mac99martin​ @aaron-hotchner187​ @tclaerh​ @luke-alvez​ @iconicc​ @lieberhers​ @pumpkin-reads​ @katexrichardson​ @thelukealvez​ @sluttytears​ @scandinavian-punk​ @haleymalaffey​ @rosesonmyheart​ @shotarosleftpinky​ @mrs-dr-reid​

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam's who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he's not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Read Part 2

---

After everything that happened with the Flag Smashers and the GRC, Bucky thought that laying low with Sam in Louisiana was a good idea. He had been looking for a fresh start anyway. Between losing Steve and making his last amends, New York as of late had only been full of sad memories and regrets. Louisiana was so different- slower paced and fresh, no negative feelings. No feelings at all, actually. Sam was more than understanding, letting him stay with them until he found a semi-permanent place here.

Currently, Bucky was staring out the window, watching the breeze make little waves in the grass as he ate his sandwich. Sarah and the kids had gone out to the boat, making the house feel virtually abandoned. There was too much space and not enough people. For just himself, it was only a reminder that he would continue to stay as he always had- alone.

Sam walked into the kitchen where Bucky was, effectively breaking his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s mischievous smile- or maybe it was a regular one. He always looked like he was up to something, at least to Bucky.

“Great news,” Sam started. “I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She’s moving down here for some work and is looking for someone to live on the property with her.”

“She?” Bucky questioned.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking but before you say anything else, let me explain. So she already bought the house, it’s less than 10 minutes from here so you can still see us whenever you want. The property’s a couple acres so it’s got tons of space. It comes with an apartment over the shed, so you don’t have to share walls. She keeps to herself so she won’t bother you,” Sam said, counting the pros on his fingers as he talked.

“And the best part is: you don’t need to pay rent. I explained the situation, with you being a hero to the world and all, and she said as long as you can help her out with the heavy-duty stuff like taking care of the property and the occasional repair, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Bucky eyed the couch that had been his home for the past several weeks. Don’t get him wrong- being here with the boys was fun. Unfortunately though, he was still in a place in his life where he needed time to think, heal and meditate. The nightmares, although less frequent, were still occurring. Sam was always supportive, but Bucky didn’t want to keep putting him out. Sam noticed the hesitation and spoke.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but she’s moving here in a few days and could at least use some help. She said we could go look at the property now- no pressure though. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Bucky paused a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

---

Sam turned into a dirt driveway lined with low hanging trees on one side and a field on the other. Bucky wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the mailbox on the street.

“See, well this is perfect for you, it’s back in the cut.” Sam said.

Bucky could understand from context clues that that meant secluded. Probably.

It took a few seconds down the driveway before the trees on the left cleared and the water was visible. On the other side, there was a light green house with white trim. With the typical Southern architecture and porch, it was the picture perfect place to live. No neighbors- just trees and water.

Sam whistled as they pulled up at the end of the driveway by the house. Now that they were closer, Bucky could see the large garage on the opposite side of the driveway. It almost looked like another house but much smaller, and with a small dock in the water. The bottom floor of the garage had two large doors that opened upwards, and one regular doorway. The top floor had several windows with curtains in them, shrouding the inside. Getting out of the car, Bucky walked around the car to where Sam was opening the door to the garage.

Going in to inspect the garage, Bucky blinked to adjust to the dim light. He looked around to find several yard tools, some cans of paint on shelves, and a riding mower. On the back wall was a door. Hearing a rustle, he turned to find Sam feeling up on the highest shelf.

“Found it!” He said triumphantly, holding the key to the apartment up.

Walking over to the door on the back wall, Sam unlocked it and pulled it open. Bucky poked his head through the doorway and looked up to the staircase at his left. He turned to meet Sam’s eye, who shrugged before gesturing to Bucky to take the lead. It led up to the top floor of the garage, which was fitted with an apartment that turned out to be nicer than he thought.

It was simple but in good condition. Dark hardwood floor, white trim, pale steel blue walls. Where they had walked up was the living room. Directly across from it was a kitchen area with a veranda to walk out on. The open space then shrunk to a hallway to the left. The bathroom being the first door and a bedroom at the end of the hall. Overall, plenty of space for one person.

“I don’t know about you Buck, but this place seems perfect.” Sam said as he opened the glass sliding door to the veranda. It overlooked the undisturbed landscape, hidden from the nearby town.

“It does.” Bucky responded simply.

He took a moment to walk out onto the veranda with Sam and view the birds wading through the water.

“Well good,” Sam said with a chuckle. “This way, you can stop hitting on my sister.”

Bucky laughed and punched him in the arm. Sam feigned physical and emotional injury.

“Haha, Very funny.”

Sarah was a nice gal, but focused on her life at the moment. Sure, there had been a few sparks, but ultimately she had made it clear that her priority at the moment was her boys and her business. Bucky had been a good sport about it. It just felt good to be back in the game without it feeling forced.

Sam watched as Bucky stared out at the water before switching to a serious note.

“So… You feel like you’re ready?”

Bucky slowly nodded.

“Yeah. This is it.”

Sam smiled wide as he handed the key over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

---

Bucky had very few belongings from New York that came with him. A small wooden table with chairs. A few books. A bed, a couch, a TV. There wasn’t really a whole lot that couldn’t be replaced if needed. He had been able to take the trip to and from in a few days, already moving his belongings into the apartment. The only big thing he had done was bring Steve’s old Harley out of storage. He probably should get a car at some point since it wasn’t the city anymore but he’d figure it out.

After saying goodbye to Sarah and the kids, Bucky opened the door to Sam's truck.

“Promise you’ll visit?” shouted one of the boys before clinging to him.

Bucky smiled and patted the kid on the back.

“Of course, I will.” He said, looking at the other boy before gesturing for him to join the hug.

“Uncle Buck’s not going anywhere boys,” Sam promised across the center console from the driver’s side.

Both boys eventually peeled off of Bucky’s side. He got in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Be good for your mom okay?” He said to the boys as he waved and nodded at Sarah, who smiled back as the truck started.

“Okay, bye!” They shouted until Bucky could no longer see them in side view mirror.

He really would miss those kids.

They drove in comfortable silence until they pulled up to the house where a light blue sedan was parked next to a storage pod that had been delivered. After parking by it, they exited the truck as you were stepping out of your car.

“Sam!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as you went in for a hug. He lifted you slightly off the ground and you laughed, smiling wide. Bucky stood to the side and observed the interaction, giving you a once-over. You were dressed appropriately for the work you were about to do- light-wash high-water jeans, a white t-shirt with a chest pocket, canvas shoes, and hair up in a slightly messy bun with a few gold bobby pins thrown in to hold back any loose wisps of hair.

After Sam set you down, he turned to Bucky and introduced you.

“… and we met during a charity event that Tony hosted. She offered her services free of charge to help us raise money for the VA.”

You held a hand out to Bucky.

“It’s very nice to meet you! Thanks so much for helping me move in, I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiled lightly and nodded as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You smiled and took back your hand before looking at the house.

“Shall we?” You inquired, gesturing towards the storage pod.

“Of course,” Sam replied, opening the door to the pod. As Bucky looked inside, he noted that it was mostly just boxes. The noticeable items were the same as his: the bare minimum- besides a fancy electric piano.

“How’re you gonna fill up this house with a few pieces of furniture?” Sam joked.

“Hey, it’s better than having too much stuff! Besides, don’t guys always say that women have too much stuff?” You quip back as you reach for one of the larger boxes in the pod.

“Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” Sam said as he intercepted you and picked up the box.

“Oh, c’mon Sam. I’ll feel bad if I make you guys do all the heavy stuff.”

“You’re not making us do anything. Besides, I’ll be fine, and the old man could use some exercise,” he said, nodding towards Bucky.

You smiled timidly at Bucky.

“I have a bad shoulder.” You explained while gripping the top of your right arm.

“I get what that feels like,” he sympathized, nodding to his metal arm.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, it’s not nearly as bad-”

Bucky cut you off.

“Don’t be sorry. If it’s hurting you, don’t worry about it. We can handle it.” He said gently, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Or at least I can.”

Sam tilted his head back and feigned hurt feelings while you picked up a lamp base and shook it lightly at him.

“Does this meet your approval, Mr. Wilson?” You asked teasingly.

“Why yes, yes it does. Now come on.”

He walked into the house, you right on his heels. Bucky eyed the two of you together for a moment before picking up a few boxes himself.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on the worn leather couch next to Sam while you went to get them some drinks in the kitchen. You appeared under the white trimmed archway into the living area holding three glasses.

“One sweet tea for the guest, one lemonade for my new neighbor, and a half and half for the gracious host.” You said, holding up your glass after handing the others out.

You three clinked glasses and you sunk into a sage green armchair with dark wood.

“So… how does this work?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm, yes.” You said, swallowing the sip you had taken.

“Uhm, basically whenever you’re not off saving the world with Captain America,” You started, smiling with pride at Sam. “If you could just make sure the grass doesn’t get too long and help me with some of the more physically demanding repairs and jobs around the house, that’d be great. Of course, that only applies if you’re here, and even then, as long as it’s not urgent, you can take your time getting around to it. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He remarked.

“Well, don’t say that yet,” you said while laughing. “The property is huge so it might be more of a challenge than you think. But like I said, there’s no need to rush to anything. Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve done a lot for the world.”

Sam interjected before Bucky could respond, which was okay because he still wasn’t used to accepting thanks instead of apologizing.

“Where’s my thank you for saving the world?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically rattled off a thank you. Bucky cleared his throat after a moment.

“Anything you want me to start working on?”

“Oh, please get settled in first. I have some furniture getting delivered that I might need help assembling in a few days but otherwise, there’s nothing else. If you have any expenses like paint or tools, you can just use this card and let me know.” You said, handing over a credit card.

“We should also exchange phone numbers too. What’s yours?”

Bucky stalled a moment before rattling off the numbers. It was a foreign feeling- giving out his phone number. He was most definitely having PTSD from his therapist chucking his phone at him. He watched as you typed away on your phone. Feeling his phone ping, Bucky looked at it and saw a message from an unregistered number.

“Hi, It’s me :)”

“That’s my number. Obviously.”

Bucky nodded his head in thanks while registering your number. It had been a while since he had added anyone’s number. You and Sam started talking about something else while Bucky exited back to the main list of contacts. There, your name was italicized and highlighted at the top. What a strange feeling.

…

Later that night, Bucky was relaxing, enjoying the peace. It was warm for autumn, and the water was reflecting the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep. Not that that was surprising. He walked out of the apartment down to the small dock to sip on a beer and celebrate his newfound independence. Sitting on the edge where his feet barely touched the water, he leaned back onto his hands and took a deep breath in.

That’s when he heard it.

Just barely, with his enhanced hearing, he could hear your crying. It was like you were wailing in pain. Not a sharp new pain, but an intense never ending one. The kind that you hear from an animal that’s been maimed- the kind you put out of their misery. Whatever you were holding in, it had been building up for an impossibly long time and finally, exhausted, you found a chance to let it out. Being able to hear it felt like a dirty invasion of privacy.

Bucky swallowed and took another deep breath before trying to focus on the sound of the wildlife around him. But it was no use. Here you were. Here he was.

No longer the only runaway seeking refuge.

[stevesharrlngtons]

just a little downhill.

mickey x reader

summary: after a hard day of work, mickey comes home to a very unwelcome and unexpected guest: his little brother.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: mickey and his brother goodness! as briefly discussed, kevin’s face claim is pete davidson (: and if you’re curious, here is another discussion of mickey’s parents. i hope you enjoy and if you do, i’d love to hear it (:

Although Mickey had been out from under his parents order for years now, he never seemed to shake the responsibilities they had assigned him. 

When Mickey was old enough, with a high school diploma under his belt and not much else, he escaped two towns over to flee his parents and their needs. To, at the time, do his best to escape their overbearing asks and assumptions of him. He took very little when he fled in the night; a few articles of well worn clothing; his box of drugs and corresponding paraphernalia; an envelope of mementos of his relationship with you; and you, as well. You both escaped your grim situations with wild eyes and hearts, between flurried kisses and giggles, you made your way to your new lives. 

Now, all these years later, you both were still shacked up in your cozy ground floor apartment, with it’s warped tiles and shag carpets, and Mickey had never been happier. Sure, he worked a demanding manual labor job and he had few future prospects, but he was on his own and living with the woman he loved. To Mickey, there truly wasn’t anything better than that. He suspected he could be forsaken to any living conditions, demands or labor, but as long as he had you by his side, he would be happy as a clam. 

You were the one who kept him sane. The one who taught him how to float instead of thrashing in the water. The one who taught him the gentle caress of love. The one who was the only salve for any and all problems that were thrown his way. 

And when it came to his chaotic life, he needed your healing touch more often than he would like to admit. 

Because while the distance between him and his turbulent family offered excuses for why he couldn’t invariably swoop in and save the day, the milage didn’t often deter his parents from calling on Mickey whenever they needed something. Their expectations still held true no matter the separation.

Mickey was expected to come over and soothe tensions when their fights reached a volume to where the neighbors got involved. 

Mickey was expected to drop everything, no matter the circumstance, to help wrangle their old mutt whenever he escaped and began to terrorize the neighborhood kids.

Mickey was expected to drive the hour to their trailer whenever there was an appliance that needed fixing. Usually after his father had stormed off in frustration when he couldn’t do it himself. 

Mickey was also expected to fix a litany of other things that his parents refused to call in an expert about, but had no problem pawning it off on their son (even if he was no more qualified to fix things then they were).  

But above all, Mickey was expected to look out for his little brother. To watch out for him, and to take care of him when he couldn’t take care of himself. This had always been his most fervently requested task, and possibly the one he resented the most. 

And when he came home to find his fuck to of a little brother with his back against the brick siding of Mickey’s apartment building, a joint between his lips and his head angled toward the sun, he knew his everlasting duty to care for the kid was about to rear its ugly head once more. 

Today was just an exceptionally bad day for this to happen. 

Because before he even saw Kevin’s face, it had been a day where he had just wanted to come home, lay his head on your lap as you pressed delicate kisses to his skin. He needed to be enveloped in your soothing smell and coaxed into relaxation by your voice. He just needed you, because today had been awful. The last thing he needed was to deal with any member of his fucking family.

The day started off with the buddy he carpooled with burning a hole in his brand new seat cover on the way to work. Then it was announced that OSHA would be monitoring their site they were at for the morning, which meant nothing got done and the crew was way behind schedule. When lunch rolled around, Mickey dropped his sandwich on the ground, which caused his coworkers to start an uproar of teasing and laughter whenever he was around. And, of course, after he was already in their crosshairs, his drill decided to stop working, which only fueled the other mens mocking. 

And to make it all worse, his mother had been calling on a loop since noon. He refused to answer, not wanting to deal with her drunk ramblings or vicious criticisms, which just meant that the calls kept coming. Now that he thought of it, he was sure the sudden vibration in his pocket had been the reason he had dropped his sandwich in the first place.

Thanks mom. Fuck you.

“The fuck are you doing here, Kev?” Mickey grunted from around his cigarette as he approached his front door. 

“Didn't Ma call?” 

“I don’t answer her calls sober,” he shoved his key into the lock and pushed the door open with his shoulder.

As the door opened, Mickey cringed as Kevin quickly sprang to his feet and pushed past him into his home. He had expected it, but it still made his stomach drop as it happened. When Kevin planted himself somewhere, he was often hard to peel back up. Last time Kevin had come over to beg for money, he didn’t leave for four days, leaving a permanent lanky body print in Mickey’s couch. 

“Can’t really blame you for that,” Kevin chuckled as he collapsed onto the living room couch in a huff, “we didn’t invent The Scale for nothin’.” 

The Scale referred to the made up increment system the two invented in middle school on how high they had to be to pleasantly deal with their parents. Their mother was usually a Bill and Ted and their father was always at very least Cheech and Chong. The brothers sometimes would still refer to The Scale when they were going through a spurt of getting along. But this was not one of those times. 

Mickey hadn’t seen Kevin on an unencumbered social call in over two years. Kevin used to visit every weekend; to party, play video games or just spend time with his older brother; but now it was only under the guise of extorting money (that Mickey really didn’t have to give) or in a search of a place to crash while he was on the outs with their parents or whatever girl he was currently seeing. 

Because of his mother’s incessant calls and Kevin’s mention of her, he assumed it was the latter this time. 

“Yeah, well clearly you’ve already started,” Mickey grouched, as he tilted his head to the blunt that was still between his brother’s lips. 

Mickey was anything but a prude, but when his deadbeat brother came swaggering into his home with no humility or shame, smoking pot and bogarting his couch, Mickey suddenly turned into a stuffy Christian mother, sticking his nose up and huffing at the mention of any illicit substance. 

“Oh, I’m sorry man, you wanna hit?” Kevin asked, completely oblivious to his brother’s annoyance. 

“What are you doing here, Kev?” 

Kevin’s eyebrows raised at Mickey’s bluntness and whistled low under his breath, before settling back against the couch. 

“Take the stick out of you ass, Jesus Mick,” 

“I’m serious, Kev. What is it? Spit it out, I had a long fucking day. I don’t have the patience to deal with this.” 

“You sound like dad,” Kevin chuckled, smoke billowed from his mouth as he propped long legs onto the coffee table. 

His tolerance for Kevin running thin already, Mickey marched over to the couch and shoved his legs from the coffee table with haste. Kevin’s eyes grew wide with surprise and slight betrayal when he looked at his brother again. 

“I’m not fucking around, Kevin! (Y/N) is gonna be home any minute and I want you gone when she gets here,” Mickey raked a hand through his tousled locks and went in search of his work coat to find a new cigarette. 

“(Y/N) loves me,” 

“Yeah, because you prey on her kindness. Now tell me what it is or I’m calling dad to pick you up.” 

That seemed to scare him enough to reveal the reason for his visit.

“I need a job.” 

And there it was. Mickey let out an encompassing sigh as he turned his back to his baby brother. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had asked for a job, and Mickey doubted it would be the last. 

Others might applaud his brother’s initiative to better himself and search for personal contacts to find him work, but Mickey knew better. He had tried to help him get a job more times than he could count, and Kevin always did something to fuck it up. 

Whether it be never showing up, being high on the clock, failing drug tests or fighting with customers and coworkers, something always went wrong. Mickey had burned many a bridge to defend his brother from these employers, because no matter how insane Kevin made him, he was still his brother and he would be damned if anyone said a bad word about him. Other than him, of course. 

“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Mickey challenged. 

“Talk to Stephen,” Kevin replied simply. 

“Fuck no!” Mickey almost laughed, “Man, I need this job, I can’t have you fucking it up for me.” 

“I won’t! I won’t fuck it up!” 

“Yeah, ok. Whatever you say, Kev.”

“I’m being serious!” 

“No, no way, dude. No, Kev. I can’t lose this job. I got bills and shit, now! Did you know you have to pay for garbage pick up at a place like this? Because I sure as shit didn’t! We can’t even bury it like dad did,” Mickey lectured, “and y’know what? I got a girl, one I’d really like to fucking keep. Which means actually keeping this stupid construction job to keep paying for fucking garbage. I can’t have you gettin’ us both canned.” 

“I’ve changed, Mick. I have!” Kevin reinforced when his brother rolled his eyes, “I’m twenty four now. I got like, perspective on stuff, and shit.” 

“Kev, -“ Mickey started, but didn’t continue as he heard a key in the front lock. 

Seconds later you appeared, hair piled high on your head and still adorning your work uniform. Even with his brother pissing him off and the weight of an awful day on his shoulders, Mickey couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread over his face when he saw you. Worn from a hard day and in your boxy hotel maid get up, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. 

“Hey, baby,” Mickey said as he crossed the living room quickly to greet you. 

“Hi, baby,” you looked up at him, a similar lovesick smile on your lips as Mickey wrapped you in a crushing embrace. 

You craned your head back to capture his pouted lips in a kiss. They will tinged with more nicotine than usual, and you knew something was off before you pulled apart. Your hands had begun to inch toward Mickey’s nape when you heard movement on the couch. When you pulled away, you saw him

“Oh, hey, Kev. I didn’t see you there, honey,” you offered him a kind smile as you moved to rest your cheek on Mickey’s chest.

Mickey tried to keep the scowl off his face as his brother grinned at you. 

“How ya been, (Y/N/N)? Man, it feels like it’s been ages!” his brother charmed, pushing up from the couch to come meet you for a hug. 

When you pulled away from Mickey to do so, Mickey swore you were taking a part of his resolve with you.

“It has, you don’t come ‘round like you used to,” you said, parting from Kevin to smoothe your hands over his broad, boney shoulders. As you inspected Mickey’s baby brother, you spied something new, “this a new addition?” 

You poked the ridge of black ink peeking out of his t-shirt, just below his collar bone. 

“Awh, yeah. Yeah it is,” Kevin pulled down the collar of his shirt enough for you to see the tattoo that joined the ranks of his many others, “it’s the Brooklyn Bridge.” 

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised by the choice, but admiried it nonetheless, “I like it. It’s nice linework. Can’t say the same for the rest of ‘em, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny!”

You winked up at him before you removed yourself from his orbit to return to Mickey’s. Though, on your way back to your man, you saw the firm look of displeasure on his face, and that face was directed firmly at his brother. You stopped in your tracks and traded glances between the two boys, one angry and one bashful, before you spoke. 

“Alright, what’s goin’ on?” 

“What do you think is goin’ on?” “Nothin’.” the brothers spoke in unison. 

You turned your gaze hard at Mickey. He let silence hang in the air for a long beat before he spoke.

“Kev is lookin’ for a hand out. But what’s new?” Mickey scoffed. He planted a swift kiss to the crown of your head before he walked past the both of you to the kitchen. 

“Hey, fuck you man! All I was asking for was help!” Kevin shot back, he turned quickly on his heel to face his brother. 

“I can’t give you any fuckin’ help, Kev! Look what I got,” Mickey waved widley, “there ain’t shit here to give!”

“You could give me your contacts, I could start sellin’ the shit you have left from -” 

“You aren’t taking my contacts and you’re not touching the shit I got from Georgia. That’s mine to do what I please with,” Mickey bellowed, yelling louder than you’d ever heard before, “I don’t need you fucking up the relationship I have with my clients, either.” 

“Clients,” Kevin said in a mocking, posh accent, “their fucking drug addicts!” 

“Yeah? And what the fuck are you, again?” 

“What the fuck am I? What the fuck are you, man?” 

The two had slowly begun to advance toward each other in their squabble, and now were only a pace apart. You knew if they were to get any closer, fists would be thrown. It wouldn’t be a good fight, neither boy had ever been good in physical altercations. The fight would likely consist of misthrown punches and cheap shot kicks, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want either to get hurt or take anything too far. 

“That’s enough!” you shouted over their bickering, “Mick, c’mon. Come talk to me in the bedroom, please.” 

Mickey’s angry expression faltered the moment he looked over Kevin’s shoulder at you, “Baby, I can handle this.” 

“Mickey. Bedroom. Now.” you had already started to head that way, and Mickey knew if he wasn’t right behind you, he’d be in deep shit. 

With a petulant sigh, he followed you down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door behind him when he entered. You had sat on the edge of the bed and Mickey found his place to slouch against the opposite wall. 

“I can’t deal with him, baby. I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore,” he said, defeated. 

“He’s your brother, Mick. You love him. And sometimes the people you love need more help than you do.” 

“But that’s the thing, he needs so much more. He takes and he takes and he takes, and somehow, he still needs more. I can’t give him anything else. No one can. He’s more of a fuck up than I am, and that’s saying something,” Mickey puffed. 

“You’re not a fuck up, Mick,” you frowned, your brows peaking with heartache. 

Mickey gave you a pointed look, “I kinda am. You don’t gotta sugar coat it.”

You stood from the bed and crossed the short space between you two. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and nestled close to his chest. Mickey accepted your embrace easily and gratefully. 

“You are not a fuck up, baby. You have a good job, you have a good life. You provide for me, for our little two person family. And you make me happier than I ever thought possible... you simply aren’t a fuck up because no man I love could be,” you smiled at the tail end of your sentence. 

You propped your chin on his chest like you had minutes earlier and looked deep into his green eyes, both soft and brimming with adoration. 

“I fucking love you so much, you know that?” he smiled, little crow's feet growing by his eyes as he did. 

“I do. And I love you, too.” 

Mickey sighed, relaxation soothing his muscles at the sound of your confession. He gently pressed your cheek back to his chest and reveled in the feeling of your body against his. 

“But really, baby, what are we gonna do about Kev?” you asked after a moment of calm. 

Mickey’s brows furrowed, the pressure behind them intense and blaring. 

“He’s not our problems, baby. He’s an adult.” 

“He is. But he’s also a sweet kid with a good heart, and he just needs some extra help. And I think we should try to help, at least the best we can.” 

Mickey’s head made a thud as he collapsed to the wall behind him, “baby, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep bailing him out. We can’t keep bailing them out.”

The image of his parents popped behind his eyes, both fragile and gray and somehow even crueler than ever. He didn’t want to spend his life being their eternal whipping boy, cleaning up their messes when they couldn’t. And that included the mess they had made in his brother.

“This isn’t about them, alright? Fuck them, you know precisely what I think of your parents,” you frowned, and Mickey felt his heart pick up with pride at your protectiveness, “but you also know what I think about Kevin. He really is a good kid deep down. He’s talented. He just needs a little more support before he’s gonna feel comfortable jumping out on his own.” 

“He still drives me fucking insane…” Mickey retorted.

“He’s your little brother, of course he does.”

“Baby, he really does. You have no idea how much that little shit gets under my skin.”

“Oh, c’mon! You love him! He’s like, sad, high, tattooed Big Bird,” you giggled as you heard a grumble vibrate in Mickey’s chest. 

“Yeah? Well, then what am I?” 

You pulled away from him once more, but only far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“You’re like, strong, sexy, smart Big Bird,” you said, your voice a seductive purr as you placed a few chaste kisses to his jaw, “or Snuffleupagus.” 

Mickey’s face twisted in confusion and slight disgust, “why?” 

“Because he was always my favorite when I was a kid.” 

And his expression instantly extinguished into one of warmth and tenderness. Emerald eyes bathing you in liquid love. 

“You just never stop being cute, do you?” he grinned. 

“Nope,” you said, letting the work pop from your lips. 

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and took a deep breath of your pheromones; your sun bathed skin and your sweet smelling hair. And as he let his lips stay perched on your skull, he realized that he would do anything for you, no matter the request. He had had this feeling many times before; of his overwhelming and striking devotion to you; though it never ceased to rattle his swelling heart in his chest, and remind him the exact reason he was put on this earth: to make you happy. 

So, if you wanted him to try and help Kevin, then he would. It was the least he could do for all the happiness and love you brought to him. 

But, if he was being honest with himself, there was always going to be a part of him that wanted to nurture his baby brother in any way he could. 

Somewhere in his mind and his heart, Kevin would always be the small blushing bundle handed off to him in a dingy hospital room. It was one of his first formative memories, his little brother wrapped in a white blanket as his mother’s groggy eyes looked upon both of them. Mickey had never held a baby, let alone a newborn, and the tiny writhing creature looked very strange to him, red and angry and crying.

A month before Mickey’s mother would give birth to Kevin, their father had stormed out of the house, and by the time her water had broken he had still yet to turn. So pained and afraid, his mother had piled Mickey in the car after her and drove them both to the hospital. A cigarette in one hand, while her other gave the steering wheel a death grip. As she groaned with contractions and cursed at the traffic, she said something to him that he never forgot: 

“You are the real man of the house, Mickey-honey,” she said in her graveled voice, “this little boy is always gonna look up to you. You gotta live up to that.” 

And that message had bounced around between his ears as his mother, alone and in extraordinary agony, gave birth to his brother. Who as he had held him in his tiny spindly arms, Mickey knew that he would keep him safe forever. No matter what.

A part of that soul promise to his blood now seemed to be finding Kevin a job to keep him afloat. To keep him out of trouble and away from falling down the path their parents had. He honored past his past self in that moment, continuing on with the pledge to keep his brother safe. 

“Fine,” Mickey muttered to your skin, “we’ll help ‘im.” 

“Really?” 

Mickey simply shrugged. 

You moved your hands from where they had been secured behind his waist to come and cradle his cheeks, “you’re a good man, Mick.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he played off, eyelids fluttering. 

“The best man I know,” and you kissed him tenderly, the soft feeling of your lips electrifying him.

He hummed when you pulled away, but with more anguish than pleasure. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Mickey said. He quickly untangled himself from you and exited the bedroom before you could even process your post kiss haze. 

“Kev,” Mickey called, finding his brother laying down on the couch now, the television remote in his hand as he flipped channels, “get the fuck up.” 

“Hey, woah, listen Mickey, alright? I’m sorry! I am, I’m sorry,” Kevin began, stammering nervously. 

Mickey could tell that his brother was trying to save face. That he was trying to bargain for his help, and that he believed that Mickey was coming back to tell him to leave and never come back. But he didn’t stop him, Mickey thought Kevin deserved to squirm a bit. 

“I know I’ve fucked up, like really fucked up over and over again. But I got this this time, ok? I’m like, I’m ready for, I don’t know, a fresh start. I’m ready to do better.” 

Mickey simply crossed his arms as his brother stared up at him with heavy set brown eyes. They were flickering around the room, scared to look at his older brother who loomed over him. Mickey was sure he was searching for you, knowing he could always grovel at your feet for sympathy. 

“Fuck! What am I supposed to say, stop being such a-“ but Kevin stopped himself before he finished, knowing it likely wasn’t smart to start name calling the person he was asking a favor of. 

“No, no, continue. What am I being? Hm?” Mickey raised an eyebrow. 

Kevin’s jaw tightened, “.... a really, good guy.” 

His pained voice would have made Mickey laugh if he wasn’t wearing a stoic persona. It reminded him of when Kevin was forced to apologize as a child, their dad’s hand pulling up his ear as he spat out an apology. 

“Imma ask around, alright? Been hearing about some landscape work a buddy of mine has been talking about. I’ll call you tomorrow.” he finally said, putting his anxious brother out of his misery. 

“No shit?” Kevin asked with a suspicious lilt. 

“No shit. And if you get the fuck out of my house in the next five seconds, I might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Fuck,” Kevin exhaled, his body deflated like a balloon against the cushion, “you have no idea-“ 

“Nope, I don’t,” Mickey interjected, “and I don’t want to. Now fuck off, dude. My lady is home and I don’t need you here.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright!” Kevin said as he was shooed off the couch and to the door, “thank you, (Y/N/N), you hear me, babe?” 

You heard the commotion from the bedroom and popped your head out to watch Mickey escorting Kevin out. Stripped down from your uniform and now bundled in a pair of Mickey’s thread bear sweatpants and his favorite Scorpions t-shirt. 

“You look gorgeous, by the way! So good, does Mickey tell you enough?” Kevin had widened his gangly limbs in the door frame to keep his brother, who was shoving him quite hard, to stop him from leaving. 

“He does, Kev. I promise,” you grinned at the brotherly exchange as they threw jabs at each other, “I’ll see you soon, honey.” 

“Bye, (Y/N/N)!” was the last thing Kevin got out before Mickey slammed the door in his face, not worrying about if there were stray fingers left behind. 

“That fucking kid…” Mickey said under his breath, locking the deadbolt with a resound click. 

You pushed away from where you had leant against the wall and walked toward him, “my man… my sweet, strong man who has such a big heart and helps out his family.” 

You plastered yourself to his back, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “my man who provides for me,” you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “for the people he loves,” one to his trap, “who is the best person I’ve ever known,” one to his neck. 

Mickey whimpered under your ministrations, caught up in the whispered pleasure of your lips and nimble fingers that greedily took inventory of his torso.

“You’re really tryin’ to start something, huh?” he chuckled as you began to suck on his pulse point. 

“And if I was?” 

As soon as the last syllable left your mouth, Mickey had twisted around to take handfuls of your thighs to hitch you up around his waist. 

You couldn’t hold in the excited giggle that bubbled from your chest as he marched you both back toward your room in quick succession. His long strides getting you both back between the sheets in no time. All thoughts of  dropped sandwiches and burn holes and faulty equipment and pesky little brothers, gone. Now, there was only you, and that was just the way Mickey liked it. 

if you follow me you know that i have been going through a major writing block and a creativity dry spell, so while i don’t think this is my best work, it is fun and silly and soft and nice to write (:  if you enjoyed, i would really love it hear it <3 ‘til next time!

[sammy-gvf]

We  get along (for the most part) Chapter 5  Lee Bodecker x OC

MASTERLIST FOR OTHER CHAPTERS

WARNINGS: SLIGHT SMUT (18+) , CURSING.

MINORS DNI PLEASE.

Word count : 2,375

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Lee is staring right back at me.

I slowly start to back up and as soon as I start moving, Lee starts moving.

I find myself walking towards Lilly’s room and grabbing my things, walking slowly as I try not to wake her up. Bending over the bed; I tucked Lily in and whispered in her ear  “I am so sorry for leaving.” and I started to tip toe out of her room, starting toward the front door.

I don’t know where Lee is at the moment, he could have easily just gone up to bed.

I make it half way through the living room, look through the kitchen window, it's empty. I walk closer to the door and look out the living room window, empty. 

“Where the hell did he go?” I whisper out loud to myself

Finally, my feet reach the doorway, looking up towards the screen door, I freeze. Being feet away from him makes me feel like my heart dropped out of my ass onto the floor below. 

It's pitch dark in Lilly’s house, so I start to walk backwards slowly, Lee chuckles and opens the door, stepping in, dominating the room and standing in the doorway. His shadow towers over me, blocking any light that I had from the porch light. 

“Maggie, I thought you would have learned your lesson after your little stunt at church.” He says slowly walking towards me with a smirk plastered on his face “Now, I'm going to have to take care of you.” 

“ You need to leave.” I stutter as I feel myself hit the back of the couch, gripping the fabric of the sofa in between my fingers, my breath hitching. 

“Oh, no.” He says in a mocking tone. I see his face slowly come into light from the windows, one strip of light highlighting his eye. “ You're coming with me.” He says as he lunges forward and grabs me by the arm, starting to drag me out behind him. 

No matter how hard I try, his grip is too strong. I cant fight. Not even my feet can resist his strength.

“You and your little pretty friend decided to get my lil’ housewife drunk tonight.” He says in an aggressive tone. “I don't appreciate that one bit” We are already out the door and halfway to his front porch. “Now you're going to pay for that.” He says as he shoves me inside of his front door.

I stumble through the doorway and drop my things, not knowing what to do

I try to move but it feels as though my feet have planted themselves to the ground out of pure fear of what may happen next.

I have officially lost it. 

“I've been watching you, you know,” He says, stepping towards me slowly, looking me up and down and licking his lips as if I’m the prey and he’s the hunter.

My eyes rake his body, he is wearing a white sleeveless tank top that is tucked into his uniform pants still. His belly pokes out a little and his jawline is tense, veins popping out of his neck.

“I- I know.” I say backing up towards the wall, feeling the wallpaper against my back.

“Pretty little thing” He says as he closes in on me, backing me up completely against the wall.

Finally face to face, I can feel his breath on my cheek, hot and . My body starts to feel warm and my cheeks are starting to feel heated. I feel myself breathe faster and I immediately try to calm myself down, taking short deep breaths.

“W-what do you want from me?” I say looking down, instantly his hand is on my chin having me look up into his blue eyes. My breath hitches as he uses his thumb to touch my lower lip, making me quiver under his touch. 

His hand wanders to my cheek, “You.” He says “I want  you.” instantly, he closes the space between us, latching his lips to mine. 

My eyes open as wide as they can, taking in what's going on in front of me. I start to push against his chest to get him off of me but my body's saying something different. 

He pulls away, his lips leaving mine. 

“Maggie, please.” He says in a low voice, looking me right in the eyes. 

“I-” I start to say but his lips smash back down on mine and in an instant, my legs are wrapped around his waist, fingers in his hair and our lips dance together roughly, teeth clashing and our tongues dancing in a rhythm. 

His hands wander my body and my fingers stay tangled in his gelled hair, he lets out a low groan as his mouth explores mine, I can feel his length getting harder by the minute through his dark pants. He starts to move me off the wall with my legs still clinging around his waist. We move into the living room where he turns around and sits on the couch so I’m on top of him, still kissing like the world would end if we stopped. 

Feeling his hardened length under me, I start to grind lightly, a wet patch forming in my underwear. He throws his head back in pure pleasure, giving a low groan, my lips meet his neck and immediately he digs his fingertips into my hips. 

Suddenly, I realize what I’m doing. 

I jump off of Lee, backing up towards the front door breathing heavily. I quickly grab my things and bolt out the door, watching Lee bolt towards the door, I run to my car and get in. I throw everything into the passenger seat and shove my car key into the ignition, turning it on and quickly driving away.

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Tuesday

I roll over and open my eyes to the dim light coming in through my window, stretching and flopping my arms back down to my sides. I look up at the ceiling and just take a minute to think about the events that occurred 4 days ago. I close my eyes and suddenly, the memories come flooding back.

FLASHBACK

 his lips smash back down on mine and in an instant, my legs are wrapped around his waist, fingers in his hair and our lips dance together roughly, teeth clashing and our tongues dancing in a  fast rhythm. 

His hands wander my body and my fingers stay tangled in his gelled hair, he lets out a low groan as his mouth explores mine, I can feel his length getting harder by the minute through his dark pants. He starts to move me off the wall with my legs still clinging around his waist. We move into the living room where he turns around, sits on the couch so that I’m on top, still kissing him like the world would end if we stopped. 

Feeling his hardened length under me, I start to grind lightly, a wet patch forming in my underwear. He throws his head back in pure pleasure, giving a low groan, my lips meet his neck and immediately he digs his fingertips into my hips. 

At the moment, I didn't want it to end. 

I had always thought about how he kissed and touched a woman. For some reason, I was intrigued by the thought. The thought of his hands wandering my body made me tingle, his eyes staring me down with an almost hunter-prey look made me feel a certain way. Hot and needy. To think the adulterer of town would make me weak at the knees was a foreign thought to me. I always act so hard around him but that's because I wanted him to hunt me down. Now, I'm not so sure if I made the right decision to give in.

FLASHBACK ENDS

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I open my eyes and get out of bed to wash up, I grab two towels from the closet and start to undress. I usually wear a nightgown to bed, something light for the almost scorching hot summer nights here in Knockemstiff. 

Stepping in the shower, I let the hot water caress my skin and I take a deep breath as the steam starts to enter my nostrils. I start to reach over to the side of the tub to grab my shampoo and conditioner. I wash my long blonde hair, detangling the knots made from my rolling around on the bed. I start to run my fingers down my body and I feel a certain spot on my hips sting.

“What the-” I say as I look down at my waist.

Observing the area, I see 5 small bruises starting to form.

This is just fucking great.

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Friday was a mistake, I should've just tried to leave as soon as I got into his house. I don't know what came over me to give into his sick fantasy of getting with me. 

I heard before from one of the old ladies at church that they had seen him runnin around town late at night with some broad he had been seeing at the local bar. At this point, I wasn't surprised in the least bit. I decided that I am going to try to steer clear of him, as much as I can anyways.

I have class today, a simple math class but I am god awful at it. I have Lilly help me most of the time because if I didn't, I most likely would be failing. Even when I was in high school, I'd copy off of her.  Not my fault, always asked the teacher for help but no one ever helped. 

I get off my bed and get dressed, simple as usual, nothing fancy. Always a pair of blue jeans with a plain flowy black shirt, hair pulled back in a tight pony on top of my head. It’s a clear sunny day, the blue sky is in plain view. I start to pack up my bag to head out to go to class, grabbing everything I need. I step out of my room to an empty house, I guess they all may have gone out to the market or something. I go to my fridge and grab deli meat to make a quick sandwich as a snack before I head out, I grab turkey and some white bread. Sitting down, I slap the sandwich together and take a bite. I usually don't sit down for meals, unless I’m home early from work. I only work a couple days a week, nothing serious. Just to bring in some money, so that I have spending money when I want something. I don't like asking’ my parents for money, they need it more than I do. 

  Grabbing the sandwich and my bag, I head towards my car and close the door behind me. The area i live in is wooded so it isn't easy to see where my house is. I get in the car, sandwich in hand and my bag to the side in the passenger seat. I turn my car on, put some music on and head out onto the road. The wind is warm, my blonde hair waving in the wind and taking a bite out of my sandwich. I just stare at the road ahead of me, wondering where I could end up if I just kept driving. Lee hasn't been around my house lately, so I've been carefree driving. Blasting my music and just living my life to the fullest for now. I start to turn into town and towards my college, seeing people walk down the street and living their same boring day to day lives. 

 I arrive at the college building, swinging my bag over my shoulder. I take a quick look down the street and see Lee’s car sitting there. Hes leaned up against it drinking what looks like a cup of coffee, looking straight ahead minding his business. I shrug a bit and walk up the dark steps of the building entering through the doors. I look around and find Lily sitting there drawing in a book waiting for class to start. I make my way over to her with a smile plastered to my face and i plop myself onto the couch next to her. 

“ Mags? Where the hell did you go on Friday night? She looks up with a concerned look on her face “ I remember falling asleep and then boom, you were gone.” She says looking back down at her book.

“ I am so sorry I had to leave” I say looking down at the book “ My brother called your house for me, said my parents were arguing” She looks up at me and just shrugs her shoulders.

“ It’s okay, I woke up and didn't remember much anyways from that night anyways” she says, still drawing in her book “ I do remember hearing something coming from Lee’s house the morning after though, sounded like arguing.”

“ Oh, really?” I say, I start to play with my hands nervously knowing that it was my doing. “ What did you hear?” 

“ Not much, he did mention drinking though” She says looking up at me “ I think he knows that we did that to her” She starts to get up, class is starting.

“ Uh, yeah, I think he does” I say gathering my things up to go “ We have to watch ourselves”

“ You more than me, Mags” She says laughing a bit “ He’s already been onto you, now it just got worse” 

“ Yeah” I say, simply not knowing how to reply knowing that what happened that night is nothing she can ever know about.

“ You okay?” She says nudging me a bit “ You seem a bit off” 

“ Yeah, I’m fine, just tired is all” I say, giving her a small smile “ I promise” 

“ Alrighty then” She says, giving me a small smile “ You ready?”

“ Yeah, just give me a minute, I got to go to the bathroom” I say “ Take my bag and put it in my seat, please” 

“ Sure, Mags” She says “ I'll tell the professor you went” 

“Yeah, okay, thanks” I say, giving her my bag and I head to the bathroom looking behind me as I walk. 

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I am SO sorry I took so long to put this out.

More will be coming soon, I’ve been busy.

Dont forget to reblog/like!! <3 

TAGLIST : @not-another-fangirl , @please-buckme , @buckysdolls , @ladyfallonavenger , @youcancallmeishita , @nerdy-depressed , @do-not-pray-for-me  , @writersbuck​

[lustheavens]

A really good fit - Henry Tomasino x reader

Summary: You are working a late shift at the café when your best friend Joe and your crush Henry decides to pay you a visit. Surprisingly enough Henry decides to ask you out but, to your dismay, you later find out that you “misunderstood” him. That is until he realizes his mistake and decides to try and make things right.

Warnings: Fluff, Semi-Angst.

A/N: Hello! I wish everyone a nice Saturday! So, this one is particularly dedicated to the Henry anon who requested this fic on their birthday. I know it’s not your birthday anymore but please consider this a late birthday present from me! I hope you enjoy!

“(Y/N)! Cash register, now!” Your boss shouts at you as he rushes past the women’s changing room where you’re currently getting dressed into your work attire. Your evening shift at the café just started and there is already a major rush going on out there. You quickly put your apron on and tie it around your waist before hurrying out to the cash register. Your colleague who is currently managing the cash register on her own looks stressed up to her ears so you walk over to her and place your hand on her shoulder, giving her a smile as if to say that you’re there to help and she immediately relaxes a bit at the sight of you. “I’ll take it from here. You focus on the coffee.” She nods her head before stepping aside to let you get to work. With time the customers gets fewer and fewer until eventually the long queue has been worked through. You let out a loud sigh in relief as you lean over the cash register. You look over towards your colleague who is leaning over the desk where the coffee machine is, looking as exhausted as you do. The both of you burst out into a fit of laughter when your eyes meet. “Now that’s what I call a rush.” She says before making her way over to you. She holds her hand up, waiting for you to give her a high-five. You smack your hand against hers as gently as you can but hard enough for it to make a sound and she grins at you. “If it wasn’t for you stepping in when you did I would have fainted AND been without a job by now.” You chuckle and shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. We make a good team after all.” The both of you proceed to clean up and organize everything behind the desk from all the chaos earlier.

As the hours go by you’re slowly getting ready to go home for the evening. While you’re busy putting away all the dirty dishes you hear the door opening and the little bell going off. You don’t think much about it until your colleague taps your on the shoulder. “Isn’t that the handsome guy you’ve told me so much about?” She mumbles into your ear as she points towards the door. You turn your head towards the door and your eyes widen slightly in surprise. Joe, one of your best male friends, is standing there with Henry by his side. You raise your eyebrow slightly confused as to what they are doing here but your colleague snaps you out of your thoughts. “It is him cause you’re blushing.” That’s when you become aware of how warm your cheeks are but you just shake your head as if to brush it off. You hand her your washing gloves before walking over to them. “Joe!” You say from behind the café desk and smile wide. He looks over towards you, his smile mimicking yours as he holds his arms out. “(Y/N)! Come over here.” He says and motions for you to come over. You round the corner of the desk before picking up the pace of your footsteps. Once you reach him you walk right into his open arms and hug him tightly, his arms engulfing you in a tight hug as well.

“What are you doing here? We’re getting ready to close for the night.” You say as you pull away from the hug. He grins widely as he looks over at Henry, who is standing behind him a little awkwardly as if he doesn’t know what to do. The sight of him makes you blush a little. You and Henry have been talking every now and then ever since Joe introduced you to one another. Since day one there has been some kind of flirtatious atmosphere between you but you’ve tried your best not to get your hopes up too high even though you’ve shared a few semi-intimate moments together. One thing’s for sure though and that is that he always seems to give you butterflies one way or the other. “Me and Tomasino here were just passing by when I remembered you said you were working tonight so I thought we’d pay you a visit.” You chuckle and nudge his side gently. “Well aren’t you sweet.” He takes his hat off and bows jokingly before you escort them over to an empty table in the corner. They sit down across from each other before you hand them a menu each and pick up your little notebook and a pen from your apron. “So, what can I get you?” Joe instantly starts looking through the menu while out loud talking about all the things he’d like to try and something about how a man his size needs to satisfy his appetite a little extra. “You don’t fool nobody. You’re just constantly hungry.” Henry says as he reaches into his pocket to grab a cigarette as well as his lighter. Joe swats his hand towards Henry completely ignoring him which causes you to let out a light laugh. Henry looks at you with a grin spread across his lips before winking at you as he puts the cigarette in his mouth and lights it up.

For the next three minutes Joe is having an argument with Henry about what to order. Joe insists on both of them getting bigger meals “just in case” while Henry insists on ordering something smaller since they have got places to be.  You let out a sigh, the laugh at the back of your throat beginning to be impossible to hold back. “Guys!” You say, snapping your fingers a couple of times in between their faces. The both of them passively lean back against their respective backrests, both of them staring at you instead of each other. “Sandwich or no sandwich?” You ask with your pen and paper in hand. “Sandwich.” Joe says in a determined ton of voice so you write it down before looking at Henry. He just waves his hand slightly as if to say no to your question. You write that down as well. “Coffee?” You ask, once again turning your attention towards Joe. “Can I get it with milk?” You nod and take notes before looking at Henry again. “Plain black, please.” He says. You can’t help the smile spreading across your lips as you write their order down. They’re acting like little kids and it’s very difficult not to find it amusing. “I’ll be right back with your order.” You say before heading back over to your colleague to prepare everything.

Meanwhile behind the desk you’re busy making their coffees when you catch Henry glancing over at you every now and then. Instinctively you look away as your cheeks redden a bit. You finish making one coffee before glancing over towards their table again. Henry stands up and excuses himself from Joe before making his way over to you, fixing his tie in the process. He leans against the desk and looks right at you before he clears his throat. “Am I disturbing?” You shake your head and smile as you place the finished coffee on the tray in front of him. He watches your every move, a slight smile lingering on his lips as well. “I’m not sure if this is very gentlemanly of me but,” he clears his throat again and you observe him curiously. “Are you free this weekend?” You look at him with your eyes a bit widened not having expected him to ask you that whatsoever. “Nothing in particular, no. Why?” You notice that he’s fidgeting a little bit with his fingers. Usually Henry is acting more low-key and unbothered so to see him a little nervous and soft spoken comes as a surprise to you. “Well I thought maybe I could take you out for dinner?” There’s a warm feeling spreading throughout your body when you see him smile hopefully at you. It makes your heart beat a little extra. You finish the other coffee and place it on the tray as well before nodding your head. “That sounds lovely. When will you pick me up?” You ask, a cheeky grin appearing on your lips. He snorts lightly and raises his eyebrows as an almost unnoticeable smirk shows, as if he wasn’t expecting your question. “Is that how it is?” He asks, his smirk widening a little bit and one eyebrow raised. “A true gentleman would. Besides, a lady has certain conditions that need to be fulfilled for you to take her out.” He looks at you for moment, not saying a word. The intense eye contact between the both of you is probably physically touchable at this point. Eventually he stands up straight and buttons up the middle button of his blazer. “Tomorrow evening, 6 pm. Be ready.” He says and winks at you before turning around and walking back over to Joe.

By the end of your shift you finish your last tasks for the day before saying goodbye to your colleagues and heading into the changing room. You quickly change into your private clothes before making your way out the staff entrance door. The streets of Empire Bay are relatively calm and the sky is starry. As you round the corner to the parking lot you hear Joe’s and Henry’s voices outside of the café. You stop in your tracks when you hear your name being brought up in the middle of their conversation. “It’s nothing like that with (Y/N).” Henry says, his voice a bit frustrated. You peek over to catch a better glimpse of their  body language. “Ah come on, she’d be good for ya.” Joe says as he pats him on the back before taking a puff of his cigarette. “Besides, I know what you prefer in women and she’s got it. What’s the problem?” Joe seems obviously confused at this point. “You think I asked her to dinner because I’m interested in her?” Henry asks as he raises one eyebrow. At this point Joe looks completely dumbfounded at his question. It’s almost like he’s waiting for Henry to realize how stupid his questions sounded himself. “You’re joking, right?” Henry lets out a sigh before leaning back against the wall with his cigarette in his mouth. “I’m not ready for anything serious.” Joe chuckles, almost sarcastically before dropping his cigarette on the ground and stomping on it. “Well pal let me tell ya, inviting her out for dinner isn’t exactly the most clear way of saying you’re not interested. If you wanna get laid there’s a whore house down the street.” By now all different kinds of feelings are bubbling up inside of you. You’re aware that you’re not a couple or anything like that, but after all the times he have been flirting with you and indicating that he’d like to take you out and get to know you better it still kind of is hurtful in a way. Before you’ve realized it yourself you walk over to where they are standing with determined steps. When they hear you approaching they turn around, both of their gazes widening when they spot you. “I should have known you were one of those guys hitting on women just for the fun of it.” You say as you look straight into Henry’s eyes. He’s just looking at you in shock probably embarrassed that you overheard them talking about you. “There are plenty of puzzle heads like yourself. There’s no need to act tough about it, you’re not special.” You say before setting course towards your car. “(Y/N) I-” You hear Henry call after you but you just put your hand up without stopping or looking back towards him. “Do not come pick me up tomorrow!” You shout before getting into your car and driving off.

The next morning you’re having the day off and you’re going through your regular routine when your phone starts ringing in the hallway. You let out a sigh thinking it’s probably your boss calling to tell you to come to work despite your day off. You make your way to the hallway and pick up the phone. “Hello?” You hear a faint gasp and you instantly recognize that it’s Joe on the other end of the line. “(Y/N), hey!” He exclaims happily but you can tell there is something going by the undertone in his voice. You’ve known Joe long enough to see right through his facade. “Spit it out, Joe.” You say. He’s quiet for a moment before sighing. “Henry’s on his way over to your pla-” Before he can finish his sentence there is a hard knocking on your door. Your eyes widen before you smack the palm of your hand against your forehead. “Great. Talk to you later, Joe.” You say before hanging up. You walk over to your door but stop yourself from opening it. You take a deep breath, mentally slapping yourself for allowing yourself to talk to him. You breathe out and open the door only to see Henry standing there with anger, or maybe just pure determination, plastered on his face. “I thought I told you not to-” He instantly cuts you off by grabbing onto your waist and pressing his lips against yours in a deep kiss. In that moment you’re completely stunned. One part of you just wants to push him off and slam the door shut in his face while the other part wants to deepen the kiss and wrap yourself around him. You suddenly feel very torn about your feelings. He backs you into your hallway without breaking the kiss and shuts the door closed with his foot. He continues into your living room and stops when your back is pressed against the wall. When he pulls away from the kiss the both of you are utterly out of breath.

“Calling me a puzzle head was very cute,” he begins, his words coming out very breathily and low. “But if it was someone else I would have beat the shit out of them.” He says, a tad bit of anger prominent in his voice still. “You are though. Are you here to ask for my forgiveness so you can continue acting like a jerk?” You say, raising your voice a bit. At this point you’re not sure if anger is the right term to describe the atmosphere. It’s more like there is a sexual tension between the both of you but neither of you really seem to want to admit it. He furrows his eyebrows and stares into your eyes without a saying a word. You start doing the same, refusing to back down. He removes his hands from your waist and places them on your cheeks instead, cupping them in his hands. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. You can tell it’s hard for him to admit that he did something to hurt you. “I’m thinking one thing and say something completely different.” You raise one eyebrow, confused as to what he means by that. “I’m not very good at feelings.” He says. You quickly nod your head in agreement which causes him to chuckle slightly. “But let me just say that you’ve made me realize one thing.” he says as his hands slide back down to your hips from your cheeks. He leans in closer to your face which makes your heart flutter instantly. “What’s that?” You ask, your voice coming out much fainter than you intended it to do. “You’re not afraid to voice your opinion and tell it straight,” he begins and it feels as if his lips are inching closer and closer to yours every second that goes by. “God damn it, it’s hot.” He mumbles, almost groaning. You can’t help the smile that sneaks its way onto your lips at his words. You bring your hand up to run your fingers through his hair, biting your lip mischievously. “So, you agree with Joe that we’d make a good fit?” He grins widely before nodding his head.

“A really good fit.”

[antoine-roquentin]

NERVTAG gave no details about where in Kent the variant was first located, but the Covid-19 Genomics UK Consortium said that a key sample came from a patient living ‘near Canterbury’. A medical source, who wanted to stay anonymous, told me that the variant was first identified in Margate and came from someone with a weak immune system. Some in Kent jibbed at the prospect that the new virus would be known to history as ‘the Kent variant’, drawing a parallel with Trump’s ‘China virus’ or the ‘Spanish flu’ that didn’t even come from Spain (it first reached epidemic level in military training camps in the US).

It would be difficult to find a place where coronavirus was more likely to flourish and to enhance its mode of attack than Thanet and Swale. As in much of coastal Britain, few of the towns here are still working ports or seaside resorts. What industry there once was is largely gone, taking with it the few well-paying jobs. Of the fifteen most deprived neighbourhoods in Kent, seven are in Thanet and six in Swale. ‘We lost the mining industry and Ramsgate harbour, which was a big employer,’ the Labour councillor Barry Lewis says, lamenting the repeated blows to Margate over the past forty years. The hotel and tourism industries collapsed ‘when everybody started going abroad for their holidays’. The last big manufacturer in the area was the Pfizer plant near Sandwich, which closed in 2011 with the loss of 1500 jobs. The jobs that remain are often on zero-hours contracts. A map showing areas of maximum deprivation fitted neatly over one showing high rates of viral infection.

Everything about the average working life of someone in Swale or Sheppey puts them at risk. Much of this is to do with the need to go out to work. As Jackie Cassell, a public health specialist at the Brighton and Sussex Medical School who grew up on Sheppey, put it, ‘poverty is a mechanism for increasing social contact.’ People on the island are more likely than the population at large to use public transport to get to work, doing shifts of eight or more hours a day in warehouses or on construction sites. And people with little money are more likely to look after sick or ageing relatives. In a study of working patterns, Cassell found that on average someone who goes out to work has twelve prolonged or close periods of contact with people and seventeen brief or distant ones; those working from home have only two close or prolonged periods of contact and two brief or distant ones.

The effect this has in practice depends on the nature of the job and the employer. Riddell, the railway conductor and trade union official, says that the proportion of train passengers wearing face masks varies from line to line, but the stretch from Sittingbourne to Sheerness on the west side of Sheppey is particularly risky for rail staff because ‘between 50 and 60 per cent of people, mostly the young ones, don’t wear masks.’ As a conductor, he is allowed stay in the front cabin with the driver and doesn’t have to check passengers’ tickets. But Sue Saunders, who works as a cleaner on the trains, has to walk through the carriages spraying sanitiser and cleaning surfaces. ‘We have visors, masks and gloves,’ she says, ‘but we fear for our safety and several of my friends have caught Covid.’ The cleaners are often the only official-looking people on a train and, according to Saunders, are frequently stopped by passengers who want information. She says that sanitising could be done when the trains are standing empty between journeys, but the train companies want passengers to see that the cleaners are at work.

Compliance with restrictions on social interaction largely lapsed over the summer. Sharon Goodyer, who runs the Margate Food Club, says that her volunteers sometimes couldn’t safely distribute food in poor areas because they had to push past people sitting in doorways and mixing in the street. ‘I have a feeling,’ she says, ‘that if this new variant started in Margate, then we earned it.’ But she points out that even poor people need to get outdoors: ‘You can’t be too judgmental if you’re living in a nice house and don’t have mice dying under your chair.’ Barry Lewis mentions one street in Margate with two hundred overcrowded houses where residents rent tiny rooms at high prices. ‘It’s almost a prison, so to get out to the front of the house is your normal way of life and to be stuck in one overcrowded room is not possible.’

The arrival of the variant changed attitudes. Vanessa Crick, a mother of three in Herne Bay, a rundown town on the coast between Swale and Thanet, has two jobs, in the local library and in a supermarket. ‘Since last November,’ she says, ‘more people have started wearing masks because they are frightened for their granddad or their nan.’ Charlotte Cornell, who runs a charity distributing laptops for homeschooling to children in deprived areas, says that none of the families she deals with is cavalier about the virus: ‘They are all terrified of it.’

When public health experts were sent to Kent at the end of last year to investigate the reasons for the local epidemic, they suspected that the spread would be attributable to human actions at home or in the workplace. Everything they knew about the lives of people in Thanet and Swale would favour accelerated transmission of the virus. The physical environment was a factor too: decayed seaside resorts have many former hotels with sea views whose faded grandeur make them ideal for conversion into care homes. Last May, seventeen residents died from Covid-19 in one such care home in Margate, but mass deaths in care homes were a scandal all over Britain and hardly peculiar to Thanet.

A more likely reason for the rapid spread is that many people had good reasons for not getting Covid tests. People who test positive but need to go out to work and won’t get sick pay can’t afford to quarantine. ‘Young males in economically deprived areas do not want to get tested,’ Jackie Cassell says of Swale. She points to a study in Liverpool where only 4 per cent of people in one of the city’s poorest neighbourhoods volunteered for a test. Since the pandemic began, the government has been voluble about the restrictions it has imposed but evasive about how far people comply with them. A study by King’s College London showed that, while 70 per cent of people said they would self-isolate if necessary, only 18 per cent did so.

People not getting tested because they can’t afford to quarantine will keep a low profile. But other groups aren’t keen to catch the attention of anyone in authority. Graham Tegg, the director of the Kent Law Clinic, which provides free legal assistance, says there is ‘an underground system’ of migrant workers, many of whom have lived in Britain for a long time, who want to keep their distance from state institutions. Many of his clients are Czechs, Poles and Roma. Some pick fruit and vegetables or work in packing factories; collected by minivans in the morning, they work for ten hours and come back in the evening in the same van. ‘Three or four of them may be living in the same small room,’ Tegg says, providing perfect conditions for the virus to spread.

But most people in Thanet and Swale are ‘disconnected from authority’, according to Barry Lewis: the only time they see authority in action is when the police stop them doing something they want to do. Some of them are third-generation unemployed whose only prospect for making money is in the black market or the drugs trade – described by one resident as the only growth industry in Thanet. ‘What we have here is a whole community who have no investment in society at all,’ Sharon Goodyer says. ‘What do they owe anybody? They don’t. They don’t have a decent education, a decent home, a decent job. Why should they behave responsibly?’

[luna-teeth]

Green | 2, 618 Words

High school is hard enough to get through. But when you have to tutor the quarterback, things could get worse.

Pairing: Dream and George.

Chapter(s): 1/?

“I need help.” Books slam down onto George’s wooden desk with a loud thud. The Brit looked up to find a blonde staring down at him.

“Look, you’re the smartest kid in class.” The taller male started. George blinked up at him.

“I am?” George answered stupidly. The kid rolled his eyes and continued.

“I need you to do my homework for me.”

“For you?” George blurted. The kid nodded. George studied him for a moment. Freckles adorned his face with bright green eyes staring back at him.

“I can’t just do your homework for you.” George’s accent came out thick, causing the blonde to smile.

“What do you want for it? I can pay you?” George shook his head quickly.

“I don’t want to be paid.” The blonde let out a huff.

“Mr. Clay! Take your seat right now!” Their teacher yelled, causing the both of them to flinch. The boy named Clay grabbed his books and mumbled profanities under his breath as he made his way back to his seat. George noticed that he didn’t sit too far away from him. How did he not notice this before. Maybe because he actually paid attention in class instead of looking at cute boys. George mentally shook himself from his thoughts and dragged his gaze back to the front of the room. The bell rang and kids reduced their conversations to a low chatter.

“Alright class. Today we are starting a new project.” Everyone let out a groan.

“Everyone is going to be paired up with a partner.” Kids were starting to look around the room, shouting at one another and waving their hands.

“I will be picking partners.” Another loud groan erupted from the class room. Their teacher always did a good job of ignoring their antics. As she went through everyone’s names, George started to get more and more panicked. His only friends in that class had already been paired up with someone else. Karl giving him a knowing frown. George started to chew on the inside of his lip, tearing pieces of skin off in the process.

“George and Clay.” The Brit heard his name called. He looked up from his desk, being ripped away from his day dreaming.

“Who?” He asked, looking up at his teacher.

“Clay.” She repeated. His eyes scanned the room, falling upon the blonde he had exchanged words with not too long before class had started. Clay was already staring back at him, a shit eating grin on his face. George knew all too well that he was going to be the one doing the whole project.

“I was really hoping we would be paired up together.” Karl said as he set his plate down on the table. George, Karl and Alex all sat down at the lunch table together.

“I was hoping so too.” George agreed.

“Who did you get paired up with?”

“Sam.” Karl shrugged, picking at a soggy carrot on his tray.

“Oh. That’s not bad.” George admitted. Karl nodded his head.

“He at least will help you.” George’s eyes fell upon Clay who walked into the cafeteria with a few of his friends. The brunette let out a light sigh before turning his attention back onto the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was in front of him.

“Yeah. You got paired up with Clay!” Karl couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s not really that funny.” George said before taking a bite from his sandwich. Alex chuckled lightly.

“It kind of is.” George rolled his eyes.

“I’m just not looking forward too doing all of the work. He already tried to get me to do his homework this morning.”

“I saw that.” Karl laughed.

“Don’t be a push over.” Alex suggested, biting into his limp pizza.

“You know. This food is shit.” Alex said around a bite of his food. Everyone nodded.

“It’s why I pack everyday.” George rang.

“Have you even talked to him about the project yet?” Questioned Karl. George shook his head. Karl let out an audible sigh.

“Yeah. You’re screwed buddy.”

“Hey!” The slam of metal next to his head caused George to jump, almost slamming his fingers in his locker. The brunette whirled around to find Clay staring back at him.

“So about that project.” He started. How did George know this was coming?

“I’m a little busy. You know with football practice and everything. So I was thinking that you could do it without me. Plus you’re smarter than I am.” George rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut and ducking under Clay’s arm.

“I’m not doing this by myself.” George stated simply.

“Oh come on!” Clay pleaded, following George down the hallway, stepping backwards carefully.

“Either we do it together or we both get a bad grade.” This little outburst of his surprised not only Clay but himself as well. Usually George didn’t care if he did other people’s homework or finished their projects. But something about Clay irked him.

“I need this grade, though.” Clay pleaded.

“I guess we are going to have to work together then.” George shrugged. Clay’s mouth fell open. George came to a halt in front of one of the classrooms, turning towards the tall blonde.

“We have study hall together don’t we?” Clay raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll see you then.” The taller male opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. It was usually the period he skipped, except for one time which was the beginning of the school year. How did George remember that? The Brit asked himself the same question.

“I…I guess.” Clay stumbled over his words as George started into his next class.

The rest of the school day went by fairly quickly. It usually did after lunch. All George had left was two more classes and then study hall at the end of the day, which was nice because he could relax a little. Clay stepped into the cafeteria and looked around the room at the sea of students. He spotted George, alone, at one of the tables in the far corner. Heading towards the back of the room, he plopped himself down at the table with a loud sigh, frightening the smaller male out of his thoughts.

“What are you working on?” Clay asked as George gasped at the sudden company.

“Geeze Clay! You scared me!” George hissed. Clay laughed, a bright smile on his face. George shoved his books aside and got out his blue folder which was labeled ‘Science’.

“You ready?” The Brit asked, barley glancing up to meet Clay’s gaze.

“Not really but go off.” George rolled his eyes again. That was becoming a thing with Clay. George felt the sarcasm in Clay’s energy. George slowly started to explain the project, trying to make sure that the blonde understood everything that they needed to do.

“So wait,” Clay started, words falling short. George sucked in a deep breath, trying not to get aggravated.

“Basically we have to make a diagram of the star constellations. It’s easy.” Clay nodded slowly and George could tell that he was still lost. He looked up at the clock, the bell for the end of the day was about to ring. Shit.

“Listen. I know you’re busy but I need this grade.” George started, looking at Clay.

“I need it too.” Clay agreed.

“Can we do this after school?”

“What do you mean after school?” George let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I mean like, you come over to my house and we work on the project.” Clay blinked a few times.

“That sounds lame.” He stated. George let out a frustrated groan.

“Shhh!” Their teacher glared at them from the front of the room before looking back down at her papers. Letting out a frustrated sigh, George looked back to Clay.

“Listen, it’s either that or we are going to fail.” Clay pondered for a moment, scratching his stubbled chin.

“Fine. But only for an hour. I’m not throwing away my social life for this shit.” George nodded.

“Fine. One hour. Everyday.”

“Everyday?”

“Everyday.”

The bell rang and kids started to flood the halls. George made his way over to his locker to drop off his books.

“Hey George!” Alex walked up from behind the brunette, leaning against the locker next to him. George turned to greet his friend.

“Hey Alex.”

“Did you want to jump on Minecraft when you get home?” The shorter male asked. George simply shook his head.

“I have work to do. Stupid project, remember?” Alex nodded, pursing his lips together.

“I thought it was a group project? Did you work on it in study hall?” George let out a light sigh as he slammed his locker shut and turned towards Alex.

“I tried.” George admitted. Alex chuckled lightly.

“That bad, huh?” George nodded in defeat.

“And now we have to work on it outside of school because he won’t cooperate.”

“Wait wait wait.” Alex waved his hands in the air, shaking his head.

“You guys are working on it outside of class? Clay, the Clay, is actually doing school work on his free time?” Alex let out a loud cackle.

“You broke him!” Alex followed George as they started for the front door.

“I just told him we needed to do it if we were going to get it done.” George shrugged. Alex let out another laugh.

“Clay doesn’t even do his own homework, let alone work outside of school!” Alex couldn’t stop laughing.

“What? What!?” George was getting frustrated with the shorter male.

“Good luck.” Alex finally said between hiccups. George rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be fine. We could probably finish the project by tomorrow and not have to worry about it anymore.” Alex slowly nodded with a smirk on his face.

“Sure.” He stated simply as he started to brake off from George, heading for the bus.

You don’t want a ride today?” Alex shook his head.

“I told Darryl that I would go with him today.” George nodded.

“Alright. I’ll talk to you later.” George waved his goodbyes before heading for his car.

“I’m home!” George called into the quiet house.

“I’m in here!” His mother called from the kitchen. George kicked his shoes off at the front door and dropped his back pack on the ground near the hallway table that held a small plant and their keys.

“Hey mom.” He simply said as he walked into the kitchen, the smell of cookies filling the air.

“What are you doing?” George looked around the room to find trays upon trays of chocolate chip cookies. His mother turned towards him with flour all over her apron, her shirt, and even splashed onto her cheek.

“Bake sale, remember? It’s tomorrow.” George nodded his head, pursing his lips.

“I think you went a little overboard this time.”

“What? No I didn’t!” She defended. George chuckled lightly.

“And you have a little.” George pointed to his cheek. She pointed to her cheek before smearing the flour across her face even more.

“Nevermind.” George shook his head, a smile spreading across his face.

“Oh hey.” He started, keeping his mother’s attention for another moment.

“I have someone coming over to work on a project with me.” His mother raised an eyebrow.

“You’re working on a project with someone?”

“Don’t make it a big deal mom.” George went into the refrigerator to grab a Coke.

“Well you never have anyone over except for Alex and Karl. It’s neither of them right?” She bent down to grab another tray of cookies out of the oven. George shook his head, taking a sip from the can in his hand.

“No. His name is Clay.”

“Well I’m glad you’re making new friends.” His mother said with a smile.

“He’s not a friend.” George leaned against the marble countertop. His mother rolled her eyes. George reached for one of the cookies, snatching it before his mother caught him.

“Just be cool when he gets here.”

“Cool.” She repeated.

“I mean it mom.” She nodded.

“I can be cool!” She retorted.

“You say that and then you try too hard and scare everyone off! You even scare Alex sometimes and that’s hard to do!” She laughed.

“That is hard to do. Alright I’ll be cool.”

Clay rang the door bell as he bit at his cuticle. No answer so he rang it again.

“Coming! Coming!” A female voice came from the other side of the door. The big wooden door quickly opened to reveal a woman with long brown hair and a thick British accent.

“How can I help you?” She asked, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Yeah, uh, is George here?” Clay stumbled over his words, looking everywhere but at the woman.

“Oh yeah! You must be Clay!” She held out her hand, covered in flour. Clay shook it anyway.

“Nice to meet you.” Very cheery, Clay thought. Just the opposite of George.

“Well come on in!” She ushered Clay into the house before shutting the door behind him.

“George is upstairs in his bedroom if you want to head up there.” She suggested as she headed back into the kitchen.

“Or I can get him for you?” She peaked her head out from behind the kitchen wall to look at him again.

“I’ll go up, thank you.” Clay said, turning towards the stairs. He kicked his shoes off and shrugged his backpack further onto his shoulder before heading up the stairs. George’s room was the first door on the right. Clay knocked on the doorframe lightly, startling the smaller male. George looked up from his desk to see Clay standing in the door frame.

“Oh.” He simply stated as Clay walked into the bedroom.

“What? You didn’t think I would actually come, did you?”

“Honestly, no.” Clay chuckled lightly, setting his backpack down on the ground.

“You already started working on it, didn’t you?” George looked down at his desk and then back at Clay.

“No.” He tried to defend. Clay snatched the paper up from George and looked it over.

“You did!” The blonde let out a loud wheeze. George couldn’t help but smile.

“Give that back!” He snatched it from Clay’s hand and put it back down on the desk.

“Why did you come? Just to harass me?” Clay shook his head.

“No. I need this grade. I’m failing this class.” The taller male admitted.

“You’re failing?” George questioned. Clay nodded.

“Quit paying people to do your homework.” George mumbled. Clay sucked in a deep breath.

“Well I don’t get like ninety-nine percent of the stuff our teacher is talking about!” George shook his head.

“Have you thought about a tutor?” The brunette suggested. Clay fell silent. George could slice the tension in the room with a knife.

“Would you be my tutor?”

“Me?” George pointed at himself in shock. Clay nodded.

“Yeah! Why not? We have to do this stupid project anyway. Why not do both?” George shook his head.

“No.”

“What!? Why not?” Clay questioned, his shoulders slumping. The blonde took a seat on George’s bed with a sigh.

“Because that’s extra work for me.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“What’s with you and paying people?” Clay shrugged.

“It just works.” George rolled his eyes.

“Fifty a session.”

“That’s everyday.” George nodded, a smile on his face. He knew Clay wouldn’t go for it.

“Okay.” George’s mouth fell open.

“You need the help that bad? What’s your grade in this class?”

“An ‘F’.” Clay whispered under his breath. He really had his work cut out for him. The quarter had just started and he already was failing that miserably?

“Fine. But we do things my way.” Clay nodded.

“Fine.”

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH102

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 102: Slaughter Secret Society (IV)

{cw: sexual stereotyping}

When the rain stopped the next day, Qi Leren, who had been exercising at home for half a day, received a banquet invitation from a bat sent by Mrs. Kathleen. Qi Leren put the invitation letter in his inventory and went into the bathroom with deep pain - the make-up.

Yes, this was also a new skill he had mastered in ten days. Except for the red tattoo on the corner of his eye, which was painted with special material and had to be erased with special chemicals, all the other dressings have to be prepared by himself. Of course, these styles were all designed by the Trials Office, and strived to make anyone think at first sight that he was a gay man with a good “yooooo” aesthetic.

Qi Leren did not protest against this, but he insisted that a person's sexual orientation could not be judged from his appearance. Even if he was dressed in a straight style, it didn’t mean that his sexual orientation was straight. However, the court rejected his opinion, and their purpose was to make him look like a gay man. As for whether he was or not, the Court indicated that they couldn’t control him.

Half an hour later, Qi Leren looked at his unrecognizable self in the mirror and felt melancholy.

Although make-up was a good skill to have, a man doing it would be treated as a pervert…

After finishing crossdressing, Qi Leren finally examined himself in front of the mirror. Today's clothes weren’t low-necked and open-navel, but it looked strange after being accessorized with a collar. It was like going to an S&M party with a whip tied around the waist.

Qi Leren repeatedly hypnotized himself. Right now he was Red, not Qi Leren, so he walked out of the house with his head held high. Of course, in order to keep a low profile, he still put on his cloak.

On the way to the party, Qi Leren vaguely felt that someone seemed to be following him, probably from the Court, but he didn't care. Soon he came to the place written on the invitation letter.

The present destination seemed to be a small bar, which was located in the area of the Twilight Township where most NPCs were concentrated. The handsome waiter outside the door asked him if he had an invitation letter, and after seeing the invitation letter sandwiched between Qi Leren's fingers, he greeted him respectfully.

The feeling of being followed disappeared, and Qi Leren followed the waiter through the lively dance floor and walked into a quiet corridor.

"Keep walking along the hall, there is a door at the end, and someone will show you the way," said the waiter.

Qi Leren snorted lightly, stuffed the common currency used between NPCs in Nightmare World into the waiter's collar, and whispered in his ear lightly: "Thank you for guiding me, baby."

The waiter turned red, and some took a step back in a panic. He bowed and left under the teasing gaze of Qi Leren. The speed was much faster than when he came, for fear of losing his virginity if he took a slow step.

Qi Leren’s "evil charm smile" had already reached an advanced level in the business of flirting with straight men, and he walked slowly to the waiter at the end of the corridor... Well, he had already seen the waiter opposite’s face pale. Good, it seemed that this was also a straight man, easy to flirt with.

“It's fun to flirt with straight men” ——BY Qi Leren, who was having bitter fun.

After walking to the waiter and speaking flirtily, Qi Leren smoothly entered the space hidden in the bar’s basement. After the humble door was opened, mirrors and masks were hung on both sides of the wall behind the door. Each mask was beautifully decorated, looking gorgeous and elegant. Qi Leren couldn't help but pay more attention to it.

"Are you Mr. Red? Welcome, welcome." Ashley, the young man who had been saved by Qi Leren, came out from the corner and spoke with awe and excitement.

After being rescued by Red yesterday, Ashley has been thinking about this mysterious predecessor, and he was also very concerned about the man who’d played against Red. He vaguely felt that there was some kind of entanglement between them. After he told Mrs. Kathleen about it, Mrs. Kathleen just smiled and touched his cheek, saying that she also liked to play with the hierophants of the Holy See. Somehow, Ashley's heart was full of acidity.

Across from him Red nodded lightly, not caring about his complicated mood.

Ashley took a masquerade mask off from the wall and put it on his face: "Mr. Red should also choose one. Our party is a masquerade, and everyone will be wearing a mask."

With that said, he secretly looked at the side of Red’s face. He still looked so cold, but so charming, the delicate side of his face and that red tattoo in the yellow light filling him with a sense of colourful desire. With a smile on his face, he squinted at him, and his vapid, feminine voice sounded, "Oh? Why don't you choose for me?"

Ashley's face turned red and he felt overwhelmed under Red’s gaze, and even the wound from being stabbed by the Trail didn’t hurt.

"I... I think this one is very nice and suitable for you, predecessor," Ashley said pointing to one of the masks.

The mask was a half-piece, covering only the upper half of the face and covered with golden wire-drawing. There were two bright red patterns at the position of the tear groove, just like two tears, and the corner of the mask had a moon-like arc, just to reveal the tattoo on his face.

Red stretched out his hand and took the mask off the wall, putting it on his face. The silver mask made him mysterious and elegant, while the tattoo exposed in the hollow part added a few charm points to him. He looked in the mirror on the wall for a while narcissistically, then turned to Ashley and said, "You have a good eye."

"Predecessor is the one who’s won the prize."

Ashley, who bowed his head as he spoke, suddenly saw a white and beautiful hand appear in front of his eyes. The slender index finger lifted his chin. He raised his face in panic and saw Red’s face close to his. The half-mask covered his upper face, but it highlighted the charming curve of his bright red lips. He was so close that he almost touched the tip of Ashley’s nose.

"Don't waste me saving your life. So... How are you going to repay me?" Red whispered in his ear.

Ashley's comely face suddenly rose with crimson, and he glanced at Red in a panic, and then, under his smiling gaze, he closed his eyes tightly, with a shy appearance allowing this to continue.

"..." Play, play it off!

Qi Leren growled in his heart, and stood stiffly in the same place, lying in the trough, talking about a good straight man! He's a straight man pretending to be gay, and of course he only goes after straight men! What's wrong with you, you little gay! He’d only done this twice yet already gotten caught by it?! People shouldn’t respond this well!

Ashley, who didn't wait for the kiss, secretly opened his eyes. The mysterious man who hooked his chin smiled lightly and bit him full on the earlobe: "You’re so cute."

With that said, Red stepped back and blew him a kiss, swaying into the underground corridor.

Ashley gawked at his back, and the earlobe he’d bitten was burning hot. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Obviously he only liked women, but it was as if he’d been poisoned when he saw how attractive and charming the predecessor Red was. Even if he was a man, his heart beat faster for him.

Was it because the predecessor Red had saved him that he had that kind of nestling complex?

Ashley shook his head to dismiss the blushing thoughts and quickly chased after him.

The low-key bronze door opened, loud music suddenly burst out, and gorgeous lights lit the basement, illuminating the room full of men and women having fun. Mrs. Kathleen, draped in tulle and leaning against the Roman column by the door, wore a feather mask and held a glass of bright wine. She showed a charming smile to Red as he stood at the door: "Welcome to our carnival feast. Have fun."

After Red paused, he looked around at the men and women who were dressed revealingly and whispered, "My pleasure."

In fact, at this moment, Qi Leren's heart was broken: Hello, is this 110? Someone here is having a divine feast of the body, gathering people to have sex and wreak chaos. Come and save me!!!

-----

Editor’s Notes: Qi Leren’s just going around the Nightmare World causing everyone to have gay realizations lol. Happy Lunar New Year and Happy Valentine’s Day! <3

-----

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[thejemersoninferno]

Happier.

· Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader.

·A/N: I love Ed Sheeran and I love Chris. Big thanks to @jewels2876​ as always, best BETA out there. 

PS: words in italics are flashbacks.

·Word Count: 2720.

·Warnings: angst, language, mentions fifty shades of grey.

You still remember how your heart skipped a beat when he was around. You still remember how nervous he made you. You still remember the taste of his lips on yours. You still remember the way he used to hold you tight while kissing. You could feel his breath on your skin. His lips on yours. His lips on your neck, arms, chest, stomach, legs. You still could feel his hands reaching for yours. Your heart racing waiting for his arrival. Your heart stopped, worried sick when he was late. Your heart aching being apart from him for work.  Your eyes spread tears down your cheeks on your first time. Your eyes hurt after long days and nights crying after a fight. Your tears of joy after making up. Your tears spread down your face when he asked to move together. The laughter filling every room you two stood together. The laughter lighting the room after a tickle battle. The pain between your legs and his whispers telling you you should stop. His lips touching yours asking for your forgiveness for hurting you. His body shaking above yours. The kissing deepens and your bodies becoming one. The pain when you lost your puppy in a car accident. The pain you felt when he had to go away for a while. And the love. Above all else, you felt his love, his tender and kind heart. Him next to you. You were his and he was yours. You were one.

“What's on your mind today, doll?” Your co-worker tried to have a small chat.

“Mmmh dinner. What's in my fridge?” You joked.

“You can always eat me,” He winked and you both laughed. The bell from the door rang and you both smiled at the new customer. 

“I'm so tired,” Your friend whined, “I want to go home,” He pouted.

“It's been twenty minutes,” You chuckled.

“The longest twenty minutes of my life,” He laughed.

Sooner than later lunch break arrived and you both sat to eat your sandwiches. You chatted and laughed at your jokes. Back at work you both focused and made a countdown to finish the day. You both met up after dinner and went for drinks. 

The next morning you had a day off while he had to work. Your days off usually were lazy, bed, shower or bath, bed, read, eat, bed and well, bed. While your work wasn't as tiring as it could be, during the night you couldn't sleep and stayed awake all night. Some nights you would fall asleep watching a movie or reading, others silence wasn't quiet enough. Some nights music filled your room and some nights not even your breath was heard. Some days you woke up smiling and ready to work and some days you wanted to quit. Some days you brought a milkshake for your friend and you and some days you didn't even say hello. 

You knew he had questions but you also knew he would give you as much as space as you needed. Maybe that's the reason you two become close friends and hang out most of the time. You told him about you, your family and your old friends. Once you said his name, he asked but then quickly changed the subject to your tearing eyes. He was a good friend and you appreciated every second around him. You still remember you both fought over a movie in a charity shop. Later, he invited you over to his house to watch the movie and then he said you could take it with you. You weren't so sure but something about his goofy smile and his superhero top gave you a good vibration about him and three years later you were still fighting over the same movie and whose house was the best to watch the movie.

“So, are you sure you want to watch this movie?” He asked, trying to persuade you.

“Yup,” You nodded sitting next to him and putting the popcorn between you two.

He laughed and nodded “Okay then,” you knew why he didn't want to watch the movie but you just chuckled at his expression and kissed his cheek. He tugged your top closer to him and kissed your temple. 

“I can't believe we're watching this,” he whispered.

“Sshh,” you shussed him, focusing on the movie.

“Can we..,” You interrupted him with a kiss and he smiled on your lips. He pulled you on his arms and you straddled your legs around him. You kissed deeply and your hands travelled around each other's body. A squeal from the TV brought you back and you laughed at the scene. He growled and you kissed his temple.

“It's just a movie,” you told him.

“Just a movie? It haunts me!” he pouted, you chuckled and kissed him deeply.

The sun accompanied by your alarm woke you up. You rushed towards the shower and half an hour later you entered your workplace. The day went through as usual, tonight you were going to celebrate your friend’s birthday and you had to rush over home to get a quick shower, get ready and run to the restaurant.

The night by far has been incredible. The bar wasn't so full and the music and drinks were good. His brother joked about getting him a stripper and you couldn't help but spat in your drink and the people next table looked at you and they laughed their asses off. Every time you met his brother he made you laugh till the point your stomach hurt. These two were amazing. Suddenly, the song changed to Wonderwall and your friends started singing, you joined them and laughed at your friend squealed as it was a high note. By the time the song was finished you needed the toilet, you went for a pee and back to the table in under 15 minutes. There was a small queue. 

“You're my Wonderwall,” He sang before kissing you. The kiss was sweet, kind, tender, full of love.

“And you're mine,” you told him, separating from him. He smiled at you and hugged you from behind. 

“So, are you coming?” He kissed your shoulder.

“Only if you kiss me hard before you go,” you sang this time.

He laughed and spun you around against the wall and kissed you and tackled your side. You both laughed and ended kissing deeply.

“Doll, tequila then?” Your friend asked.

“Yeah, that's fine,” you answered confused.

“Where were you?” his brother raised his eyebrow.

“What?” You asked about drinking the last sip of your rum cola.

“Your mind went away choosing our shots,” he explained finishing his drink.

“Oh, nothing, I was just thinking,” you assured him and looked around the room.

Your friend came back with six shots, two for each of you and he went back for the other drinks. You drank them quickly and the second went right after. You were talking, your friend went to the bathroom and his brother found a young lady smiling at him and he went to chat with her. You waited patiently and both men came back at the same time. You kept talking and drinking, you were finishing your drinks to go clubbing when you spotted him. 

“This is so boring,” You said.

“Don't let him hear you,” he laughed.

“Can we go with the rest?” You asked, kissing his cheek.

“Not going to work, peaches,” he kissed your forehead and you sighed next to him and tried to focus in the movie. You weren't a big fan of this movie, therefore boredom reached your brain after thirty minutes and you wanted to go drink outside with the rest of the team. He was focused in the movie, he was enjoying it and you smiled when he chuckled after the character line you heard. You pulled yourself closer to him and held his hand trying to focus again.

“Next round it's on me,” Your friend's brother said.

“Next round at the club!” your friend clapped. You drank your drink quickly and your eyes went back to the same table. She said something making him laugh. She touched his arm and he strangled their fingers together. From your spot everything seemed empty. The bar looked different. The people went quiet. Your friends weren't paying attention. Or maybe it was you watching him smile, laugh, clap and touch her so tenderly that your heart melt at the sight. 

Your friend startled you with his touch and pulled his face closer to yours to whisper he was going to the bathroom again. His brother was talking with the pretty brunette he met before. You laughed at his invitation to join him and he kissed your forehead before leaving. You turned your head to his brother and then to him. Your eyes met. Your heart stopped until she kissed his hand and he turned to smile adorably at her. 

The next morning your world seemed stuck in time. Every time you closed your eyes you went back at your last Diablo shot your friend brought. Now, fresh and refreshed with cold water you decided your friends taste on drinks was lethal. During the day you kept texting each other about your headaches and how you will never drink again. Like last weekend.

Monday arrived and so did work. After a long day at the office, that's what your friend said, you went for a beer or two. Next morning he was going to Dallas for a new job interview. Just the thought hurt you both, thinking he could be leaving soon made both of you sad. His possible new boss told him they would open a company in Boston and he could stay. The two of you stood positive and kept thinking they'd stay. You were walking back to your apartment, chatting, laughing at silly jokes and his answers to the interview questions, your stomach hurting and some tears spreading down your face.

“But what if I fall for real? Should I play it off or pretend I'm so low-key Ana?” He asked concerned but humorous.

You laughed so loud, “You better take me to a helicopter ride!” You yelped when he tackled your sides.

“So you're my Jose?”  He questioned raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I'm certainly not Kate,” You smiled.

“You're my Ana,” He put hair behind your ear.

“I'm not helping you spank him,” You chuckled. 

A loud laugh escaped his mouth and he hugged you tightly. 

“I rather spank than be spanked,” You both collapsed laughing and tighten your cuddle.

He kissed your forehead and then kept walking. Sitting on a bench there were two men. You knew them. And they certainly knew you. One of them couldn't hide his surprise and the other stroke his arm trying to stop him from doing anything. Your friend said goodnight at them and kept walking. You kept your eyes on him and tried to breath and walk.

“He's cute,” He giggled.

“Uhm, what? You asked.

“The guy over there, he's cute,” He looked behind and smiled.

“Uhm, yeah, sure,” You smiled at him and kept walking.

“She's happy,” He hummed.

“How do you even know? First of all, did you know? You did, didn't you?” The blond tall man glared at him.

“I wasn't sure,” The brunette spoke.

“Of course you did! Now I understand!” He looked at the man sitting next to him, a young happy puppy arrived and licked his fingers but he was lost in his mind. Scott knew something was happening with his brother the night he arrived and laid down with Dodger watching a movie, he wasn't paying attention and he didn't even stop him from switching channels. Scott sighed and looked at the figures disappearing at the end of the road. If he only could do anything. 

Chris, Scott and a playful Dodger walked back home in complete silence. Chris went to his room after filling the Dodgers water bowl. Lisa looked at Scott and he nodded. The family spoke about the events back at the park and afterwards Lisa went to talk to her big son.

“She's happy, ma" The big beefy man whispered sadly.

“My darling don't do this to yourself,” Lisa stroked her son's hand and pulled him closer.

“I know she's happier now,” He cried.

Lisa’s heart broke at her sight. Her son, her baby son was crying again. After all this time he still cried like the first time they broke up. Lisa wrapped her son on her arms, kissed his hair and whispered sweet things to him. 

“Good luck, idiot,” You hugged your friend.

“You're an idiot,” He chuckled.

“You're an idiot,” You tackled him.

“I'll call you once I'm finished,” He kissed your forehead one last time.

You walked down the street listening to music when a cute dog ran around your legs and you laughed. You stopped your music and kneeled to pet him.

“Who's a good boy? How are you doing?” You pet him and he licked your face.

“You're the best boy in town,” You kissed his head and he ran away from you. You saw him run and turn at Park Avenue. You smiled and walked back to your place.

Your afternoon is filled with music and wine. Before going to bed your friend texted you telling the interview went perfectly and the company will open soon in Boston. You congratulated him and settled up your alarm.

You were eating your muffin sitting on a bench waiting for your friend, music running through your headphones. Your muffin fell from your hands and a puppy ate it before you could pick it up again. You chuckled and the dog looked at you and barked. You pet his head and he ran away. 

“So, you're back in town?” You heard behind you.

You turned around and your old friend smiled at you. At first you froze on your spot but then moved to face him.

“Oh, hi there,” You said nervously.

“How are you? Shorthair uh?” He pointed to your hair and smiled.

“I am good, thank you. How are you? Yeah, it's been like this for a while,” You smiled at him.

“It fits you,” He nodded, “So, you're here all by yourself?” 

“Uh, actually no, I'm waiting for a..” 

“Babyyy,” Your friend shouted and hugged you tightly, interrupting your words.

“Hi there,” You giggled.

“I have to ask you something but first,” He faced your old friend, “Hi stranger, I'm Michael”

“Hi Michael, I'm Scott,” He offered his hand and your friend pulled him for a quick hug.

A bark distracted the three of you and a playful puppy jumped on Scott for his attention.

“I'm sorry, gotta go,” Scott patted Dodgers head and held his lace, “Nice to see you again,” He waved walking away.

“So, you know the cute muffin and you didn't say anything?” Your friend asked, offended.

“You never asked!” You laughed.

Both of you walked to the closest coffee shop and sat there until it started raining. You ran back home soaking wet and chuckled at your luck.

“Well, maybe it's true,” Scott said to his family.

“You know her! She would've said something!” The oldest Evans pointed.

“But it's been too long! People change!” The younger woman shrugged on her seat.

“Do not listen a word,” Lisa pulled her son closer and kissed his temple, “I know you were happier with her, I know you both were happier together, you both hurt each other like nobody hurt before, I know someday you will feel it too but for now,” Lisa held her son chin to face him and massaged his temple, “For now my son, you can wait until he breaks her like lovers do, like you did, you can wait for her and love her, that's the only thing you can do, be there for her,” Lisa kissed her sons’ forehead and he hugged her tightly.

“Ain't nobody missing him like you do, ain't nobody hurting him like you do,” Michael whispered in your ear holding you tight and comforting you.

“I was happier with him,” You cried, “What am I supposed to do?” You hummed.

“Love him,” Your friend assured you, “You love him with everything you are and have. You can only love him.”

✿ 

Love, J x

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 02 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

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{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

×

Confessions:

You're up when Bruce comes, a tray in his hand, resting your back against the headboard, playing with your hair.

“Aren't you scared?” You ask him as he locks the door and puts the keys in his pocket.

“Scared of what? You?”

“Of the information I have now. Do you have any idea how many people would pay me to know who's the man behind the bat's mask?” As you speak, Bruce puts the tray on the nightstand. A sandwich and orange juice. You can't remember the last time you ate something so... Normal.

“What? Don't you like orange juice?”

“No, I...” The memories fill your head, like a flood. Tied up to the bed, people hovering over you. But you push it all back. You're a criminal, as dangerous as the Joker or Harley, your beloved sister. You're used to such treatments, and you don't care. “Won't you put all of it in a blender, then feed it to me through a straw? Put it on my nose and push it all the way down to my stomach.” You can't help but laugh at Bruce's face. Disgust, perplexity. “Oh, chill. That's nothing I can't deal with.”

“Haven't you noticed it yet? That I won't hurt you? Or treat you like an animal?”

“Well, you are keeping me here. Against my will. A golden prison is still a prison.” You're trying not to let the food get your attention, but you're starving. And the fact that it's real food makes it even harder.

“I'm only keeping you here because I know that if I set you free, you'll go back to your old life. And will probably end up in Belle Reve again.” Bruce gestures at the tray. “Eat, please.”

“If you ask so nicely.” Taking the tray, you place it on your lap, leaving the glass on the nightstand. Controlling yourself, you take a small bite, trying not to let it show how good it tastes. It feels weird to chew again, almost unnatural.

“I have to say a few things, so pay attention.” Bruce starts, eyes on you. “I'm aware they had you... Sedated... in Belle Reve. And from now on you won't be taking anything else then what I judge necessary. So you'll feel the reactions of the detoxification.”

“I will need painkillers. Heavy stuff.” You tell him in between bites.

“Are you hurt?”

Laying half of the sandwich down, you put the tray away, getting on your knees. “Wanna see how's the skin of a Belle Reve's intern?” Smiling, you lift your shirt, showing him your belly, stomach and ribs. You look down too, eyes observing the pattern of purple bruises, all over your skin. When you look at Bruce again, you don't understand the his expression. It looks like he cares, but there is no reason for him to do so. He's a hero, and you're the villain, his only job is to put you down. He's not supposed to care. “Don't look so surprised, Bruce. I'm used to it. I'm constantly high, so the pain is distant, numbed. Without what they give me... It will hurt.”

“Finish your sandwich.” He simply says, looking away and pacing around.

You decide to obey him just because it does taste good. The juice too. When you're done, you lay the tray back on the nightstand. “So... What now?”

He seems troubled, nervous. “Come and sit here.” He gestures at the armchair. Rolling your eyes, you do as he says. He's seated before you, and you feel like you're in a therapy session.

“May the interrogation begin,” you mutter, crossing your legs and arms.

“I want you to be honest. I just want to understand you.”

“What do you think you can get from that?” Shrugging your shoulders, you lean forward. You try to read him, to understand why is he doing this. Then you remember that he wants to prove a point. “Oh, I just remembered. I'm your project. Your lab rat.” What else could you be in the house of one of the heroes?

“Wouldn't you like to be able to have a normal life? A job you like, your own place, coming and going as you please?”

“I had all that before being thrown into hell on Earth.” As you speak, you feel your head spinning. Is it the detox working on already? You feel a fog in the back of your mind, and you feel your muscles relaxing. Taking a deep breath, you run a hand through your hair. This is not detoxification, this is something else. “What did you gave me?”

“Just something to make you tell me the truth.”

Laughing, you bite your lip. “You're amazing, I have to say.” Your mind is slower, you feel it. You wonder if your body is slower too, or if you could try to escape again. But Bruce is on high alert, you can see it. His eyes never leave you, watching your every move.

“How was your life? Childhood.”

“I know you read my files, Bruce Wayne. Ask something you don't know.” You hate feeling numb. Hugging your knees, you close your eyes shut, trying to shake away the feeling.

“I want to hear it from you.” His voice is distant, like an echo. Is it too much to ask to be left alone? To be awake, fully in control of yourself, your words and feelings... “I'm just trying to help you, and to do that, I need you to be honest. And since I didn't know if you'd cooperate, I had to give you-”

“You're only giving me what you judge necessary, right?” You hiss, face hidden on your knees. “Ask away, Batman. My life is an open book to you and to anyone who thinks to be better than me just because they have the upper hand.”

“Both my parents were killed in front of me when I was a kid.” Bruce bursts out, and it makes you look at him immediately. “I saw their dead bodies, the blood... That night is still a vivid memory, it never leaves me.”

You don't know what he expects you to say. You don't have good memories with your parents to say that you know how he feels. “Bad mother. Dead father, never met him. Harley left home early so I was left alone to deal with a drug addict mother. High School was nice, but that was when I started going out with Harley. Late night parties, dangerous people. I started to learn things, to enjoy those things... Then I knew I wanted that life. It was easy money, easy fun, and people respected me because I was under Harley's protection and she was under the Joker's protection.” It comes out, it doesn't matter if you want it or not. “The story of my life.”

“In the first two years of High School, your grades were high. In senior year, they started to drop. Was that because of your sister?”

“Yeah. I just wanted it to be over, and when I managed to graduate, I left home to be with Harley. But soon enough I built my own place, my own empire, and I didn't need her anymore.” This thing he gave you really works because you're not saying the words you want to.

“Why did you enjoy doing what your sister did?”

“It was so fun... So... Dangerous. The adrenaline is addicting and I never really... I never really...” You bite your tongue, holding it back. You tell yourself to be strong, to get a grip of reality, that you can beat whatever is affecting your mind.

“You never really what?”

You're breathing fast, wondering how long until this damn drug is out of your system.

“You never really what?" Bruce repeat, his voice soft and low.

“I never really had anything else. Anyone else.” It comes out, fast and heavy. “My father died when I was a baby, my mother was a damn drug dealer who made the mistake of tasting her product and I had to keep the few friends I had away from my messed up life and the only way to do that was to push them the hell away.” You feel dizzy, covering your head with both hands. “The more time I spent with Harley and her crew, the more I learned, the more fearless I became and the more they respect me. They feared me.” Why can't you stop talking? Your body isn't trying to get rid of the drug, but it's still absorbing it, making it run through your veins to fulfill its purpose. “I didn't need their kindness, their love, their affection because I could have their fear. I had them do as I said when I said it because they were scared of me. That's the only thing I know!” You're yelling, leaning forward to face Bruce. “I can't be rehabilitated because I don't even know what it's supposed to be like. People don't care about me and I don't care about them. People don't love me, and I don't love them. People aren't kind to me so I won't ever be kind to them. They only do something for me because I have a gun pointed at their faces or because they know I can snap my fingers and have them hurt. This is who I am! This is the mess, the chaos that I am and you're an idiot if you think you can fix me!”

You don't care anymore. You just need to get the hell out of this place. The key is in his pocket, so you attack him. You aim a punch to his face knowing he'll grab your wrist, and when he does, you use the opening to his stomach to kick him hard. You're thrown away, colliding to the side of the bed, but you don't stop to pay attention to the sharp pain on your side. Bruce is standing up now, but his size doesn't scare you. You've fought men like him before. You're used to have a gun, but being unarmed won't make you step down.

Using all your strength, you push his chest hard, succeeding to place a punch in his jaw. He doesn't move much, but it's enough to give you the opportunity to kick his crotch. But Bruce sees what's coming, kicking your leg away and from under you, what sends you hard to the ground. You lay on your arm, and a sharp pain spreads through your left shoulder. Your body isn't working as it usually does. It's slower, it's hurting... The damn drugs they gave you are wearing off. You need to get out of here before they're out of your system.

When Bruce steps closer, you move up to grab his arm, pulling him down as you kick both his legs with all the strength you still have. He collapses the floor beside you, and you take the chance to punch his face again.

“That's enough.” He yells, grabbing both your wrists with one hand, and a groan escapes your lips when he squeezes them to push them away from his face. You're moving to kick his ribs with your knee, but you're lifted up suddenly. You feel pure agony as you violently try to set free. Bruce uses his free hand to grab your legs and throw you on the bed. You're ready to set in motion again, but you're caught off guard by a wave of pain.

You start counting mentally. This is the second day here. It means three days ago you were in your cell, and you remember them injecting the medication. They still wanted you to sleep. But you also remember the slight discomfort that you started feeling a week ago. As if your body was more awaken then usual. It's not like they don't want you to be in pain, they just want you to keep functional, so you can endure more pain without being motionless in a bed for days.

“How long... How long did you have them reduce my drugs?” You ask him, catching your breath.

“Nine days.” He simply answers, fixing his clothes.

“I need something for the pain.” You touch your left shoulder with the right hand, closing your eyes shut. “Shit.”

“Let me see it.” Bruce comes closer, and you open your eyes to see if he'll try anything. He bends over, pulling the arm away from your body. You wince, biting back a groan. “A subluxation.” He pushes your shoulder back, and you hear a crack before a new wave of pain spreads through your arm.

“What the hell?” You exclaim, pushing him away with the other arm.

“It was just a partial dislocation of the shoulder joint. But it's back on its place now, you will be fine.”

“I thought you said you wouldn't hurt me,” you mumble, breathing fast, still holding your shoulder.

“Are you kidding me? Am I supposed to be let you beat me? Because I know what you're capable of.”

“Are you scared of me? You. Six feet tall, a mountain of muscles. What? Can't you take a beating from me?” He can. “I can take a beating from you, hero. I've been taking beatings for a year now, on a regular basis.” You have to push the memories away before they flood your mind. The numbness from the medication makes it worse since you're awake to feel the hit, but the body isn't. You know it hurts, that it'll hurt later, but you keep being hurt. Over and over again, non stop. “I asked them to stop once, during my first week there. Do you know why they were beating me that day?” You stand on your knees, holding your left arm close to your body. Your stomach burns and you feel tears in your eyes, but you hold them back. Tears won't get you anywhere, anger will.

“Because you attacked someone." Bruce seems so sure of it, that it makes you laugh.

“I demanded a coat. A damn coat because it was cold!” You're yelling, fighting back the tears, laughing instead. “I asked them to stop, big mistake. It only made it worse. From that day on I decided to just take it. To endure it because that's what I deserve.” Lifting your shirt to show him the bruises, you feel one single tear rolling down. “See this? I survived through every single one of these.” Why are you crying? You don't cry. Clenching your fist, you bring it against your ribs hard, and the pain that follows is greater than you expected. You gasp, falling forward.

“Stop it." Bruce takes both your wrists, pushing you to lie down “If you do this again, I'll chain you up.”

“Don't worry about me,” you mutter, smiling. “I can take this.”

“I don't care if you can take this, I don't want you hurting yourself.”

“I don't need to hurt myself, everyone else does it for me.” Your voice is weak, and you look away from him. Bruce let's go of your wrists but doesn't move. He's seated on the bed, right beside you.

“I know it's hard for you to understand it, but as long as you're here, nobody will hurt you. I won't hurt you.”

With a hand on your forehead, you avoid his stare. “If it was the other way around... If I kidnapped and kept you in a room, locked... You'd be scared too. You would know I was going to hurt you.”

“It's true. But I didn't kidnap you.” You feel when he stands up, watching as he pulls the armchairs back to their places. “I choose you because I want to help you. If this works, I might get you a pardon. You would be free.”

“I admire your hope, Bruce Wayne, but you just don't understand. I don't know how to deal with people anymore. The only relationship I know is the ones where I give an order and it is obeyed. Anything other than that doesn't exist. Not for me. I'm a criminal, I meant to be hated.” You're not proud of this, not now. There's a part of you, deep down inside, that wish it could change. If only you could go back in time and change things... But now it's too late. You are who you are, the person you built yourself to be. “Give up. Throw me back into Belle Reve before I get used to nice baths and comfortable beds.”

“I'll see you tonight.” He says before leaving the room, and you sigh to hear the door locking.

You're used to the loneliness. Turning off the lights and closing the curtains, you lay in the darkness. You follow the logic of Belle Reve. Since there's nothing to do, there's no reason to keep the lights on. Darkness is where you belong, they say, then live in it. And so you do.

You have a good notion of the time passing, so you count the minutes, one by one. There's no way to know where you'll be tomorrow, if Bruce will accept the fact that this is stupid and send you back. But maybe it's for the best.

No, you have to focus. An opportunity. This is an opportunity to escape, and you need to take it. You can't let anything else get your attention, or distract you. You have to use this chance to go back home. To the only dirty, cold place you can call that.

×

@redwolf-7 @glitterypinkkitty @mybabyboytony @chipster-21

[bethagain]

I saw a post the other day lamenting that Din probably hasn’t felt the sun on his skin in years, and it reminded me that I never did share a tumblr version of this fic.

So, here's part III of my series On From Here. In which Din moves some rocks, eats some cake, and sits in a sunbeam.

Honest Work

The inn has a mechanical lift. It’s a small square box that lowers on a pulley. A thin cable rises from its roof and disappears into darkness above. Din looks at it skeptically and then takes the stairs. They’re narrow and dark, the treads shallow.  

“Leave the key!” the innkeeper calls after him, as he strides across the dimly lit lobby toward the exit. 

Making an enemy of his host here is not a good idea. 

He pauses to lay the key on the counter. The dull brass shank of it clinks against its worn metal fob. There’s nothing in the room to steal, anyway. 

-

The town center consists of a handful of low-slung buildings, all with the same tile roofs. Din pauses at the window of a repair shop. Everything inside looks old, mechanical, un-streamlined. They’d probably know exactly how to fix up the Razor Crest, with its pre-Imperial control system and antique wiring. If there were still a Razor Crest to fix.

Next is a general store, with bolts of fabric, tools, and fresh produce all for sale together. There’s a four-legged riding beast tied outside, a simple saddle on its back. A woman is choosing meemfruit from a bin near the door. She turns to watch him walk by. 

There doesn’t seem to be a proper drinking establishment. At the end of the row is a small cafe, with a handful of tables and a bar at the back. Several of the tables are occupied. Some people on their own, some groups of adults, a couple of families. Most have plates of food in front of them. A shelf above the bar holds an assortment of liquor bottles. 

This place will have to do. 

He orders a glass of whiskey, for the sake of manners, and settles in at the bar to wait. The armor serves as its own advertisement. 

"You're not going to find what you’re looking for here."

He turns toward the voice. The words are from a grizzled man seated at a corner table. 

Din doesn’t bother answering, just squares his shoulders back toward the bar again. Every place has someone who’s hiding. And someone else who wants them found.

The man has come over to the bar, now, and is sliding onto the stool beside him. 

Great.

"This is not that kind of town."

"Every town is that kind of town." 

"Not here." The man signals to the waiter, who pours something from a spigot and sets it down. Tiny bubbles break its surface, making a faint sound of static. He takes a drink. "We didn't hold with the Empire. We don't hold with the New Republic. We live and let live, around here."

"Fine." Maybe if Din agrees, this man will go away.

"You try to bring somebody in, the whole town's going to stop you."

"Look," says Din, "I have no quarrel with anyone here. I'm just looking to earn a few credits."

The helmet’s interface lets him know that someone’s taken the barstool on his other side. The screen fills the gaps in his peripheral vision. It’s a woman, long hair in a braid, sleeveless top and arms of solid muscle.

“Not here,” she says.

The other tables are emptying, more townspeople coming to form a semicircle behind him. Even the children are glaring at him.

Damn.

“All right.” He knows better than to move his hands without a warning. “Let me pay for my drink, and I’ll be on my way.” He reaches slowly for the pouch at his waist, keeping his hand well clear of his blaster. “What do I owe you?”

The bartender names a figure. Din doubles it, setting down the small stack of credits before rising to leave. 

The bartender tries to give the extra back. “That’s too much.”

“You keep it,” Din says. “Payment for the trouble.”

“Hold on.” It’s the man on the barstool beside him again. “You really just looking for work?”

Din waits, standing there by the bar. The townspeople stay there in their circle, but hands are starting to drift away from holsters. The weapons here seem to be mostly slugthrowers. Mechanical things, not blasters with their circuitry and electrics. Interesting.

“Any kind of work?” the man asks.

There are limits, even for someone like Din. “Honest work.”

The man grins at him, white teeth flashing through his unruly beard. “You look strong enough,” he says. “If it’s not beneath you, in your fancy armor there. I need somebody to move some rocks."

-

The job is not at all what Din had in mind, but it does, indeed, sound like honest work. And he’s not in a place to be picky. 

He’s sitting next to the bearded man on a plank across the front of a high-wheeled wooden cart. The cart is pulled by two solid-looking beasts, four-legged and shaggy. Their pace is sedate and steady, the cart rolling easily over grassland. They’re headed toward a row of trees in a valley, between rolling hills. 

The trees mark a stream, the man says, and on that stream is an old stone dam that diverts the water. “We’re opening up new farmland. Need to get that water back in its proper course. Get it down to the right place on the land. My regular crew could do it, but it’s heavy work. They’re not itching to volunteer.”

“Why not use an antigrav lifter?” Why pay a man for a whole day’s work, when a simple machine would cut that down to a couple of hours. 

“We’re not big believers in tech around here. Parts have to be imported. Electric’s complicated to repair. We don’t care to be dependent on anyone, any more than we have to.”

That explains the shop in town, then, with its antique machinery in the window. And the hotel lift, and the drying jets that don’t work anymore.

“That’s why the slugthrowers?"

-

“You noticed. That’s right.” The man chuckles. “Keeps things calmer, too. If you have to forge a new bullet every time you use one, you’re a little less likely to draw.”

The cart trundles along. The sky overhead is a clear blue, the sun warm. Din nudges up the cooling system in his armor. 

They go along a little way among the trees, until they’re beside a narrow stream of clear water. It emerges from a low pile of stones at the edge of a pond. 

From his seat on the cart, the man points to a smaller valley that runs off to the right. “The pond drains over that way, now. Pull the dam out, and it’ll run the way it should again.”

Din takes in the clear stream, the small oval pond, the branching valley. “Who’s using that water now?”

“The folks over yonder were a little too friendly with the Empire,” the man says. “Town asked them to leave.”

“Did they leave?”

“I thought you bounty hunters had a rule about asking questions.”

“This isn’t a Guild job,” Din says.

“Suppose not." The man turns to reach toward the back of the cart, and Din tenses. But he’s just picking up a wooden box by its leather handle. He hands it to Din. "Here's lunch. We're not fancy but our crew eats well. Water in the stream's safe to drink. And don’t worry, there’s no one left to come bother you.”

He waits while Din climbs down from the cart. “You could walk out when you’re done, but it's a long way after a day's work. I'll be back to get you at sundown."

Din watches the cart make its sedate way back through the trees, the shaggy beasts pulling at their traces, the man humming off-key as he goes.

He finds a flat rock to put the lunch box on. It contains a dented metal cup, a stack of wrapped sandwiches, some pieces of a fruit he doesn’t recognize, and a generous slice of cake that smells of ginger and dark sugar.

He closes the box back up again and goes over to inspect the dam.

This certainly isn’t his usual kind of work. But a ship needs fuel and a man needs food, and pushing on to the next port with just the credits he has on hand feels reckless. Unwise. Plus, being in debt to Boba Fett is like a deep itch under his skin. It’s not comfortable. He wants it gone. 

Din is no engineer, but piloting a ship means he’s used to thinking in three dimensions. He considers the shape of the dam, the way the rocks are stacked atop one another, the chinks where the water flows through. The thing looks like it was hand-built, the stones large enough not to move with the water but small enough to be picked up. The original stream cut a gully into the soil, but it’s shallow, the dam itself only a bit over knee-high. 

The forest floor here is carpeted with broad, leathery leaves. Wide-trunked trees are spaced far apart, with little undergrowth between them. Their canopies cast shade across the ground. Here and there, a few sunbeams find their way through. 

If he starts at the far side, removing the rocks in vertical columns, the stream should come slowly back to life. His gloves will protect his hands from the roughness of the stone. His boots are already sticking in the mud at the edge of the water. They’re water-resistant, good for a while in a rainstorm, but they’re going to be soaked through by the time he’s done. 

At first, muscles complain at being asked to move in ways they’re not used to. This steady pattern of bend, lift, bend is very different from the sudden, sharp quickness of a fight. His daily workouts are rigorous but they’re precise, prescribed patterns. Each of these stones has a different shape, a different weight. Keeping his feet out of the water, keeping his balance on the slight slope makes each one its own physics problem, its own little challenge.

Soon enough, though, he’s settled into the rhythm of it. He remembers to use his legs when lifting, to save strain on his back. He kicks up the cooling system again, as sweat begins to gather under the armor. 

The armor’s physiological monitors are simple, but they register heartbeat, breathing, temperature. Normally, he ignores the ping that says it might be time to take a break, to drink some water and catch his breath. Because normally, when that ping goes off, taking a break would either be desperately stupid--in the middle of a firefight?--or stupidly desperate, like during the hours walking the Tatooine desert back to Mos Eisley, carrying the wreckage of a speeder bike, no water at all on board.

This time, he gets the dented cup from the wooden box and carries it over to the stream. It’s already flowing faster, but his work has kicked up sediment. Din goes back to the box, grabs one of the wrapped sandwiches, and sets out to find the pond’s other outlet. 

It’s not far. The other stream burbles over a few rocks at the edge of the pond, then curves through another shallow gully and off down a gentle slope and away. One of the great trees rises nearby, a couple of its wide roots undercut by the water. 

He’s starting to feel chilled as the cooling system interacts with sweat-dampened clothing, so he switches the cooling circuits off. The helmet’s interface tells him the air outside is still warm. 

Din considers, sandwich in one hand, cup in the other. There is a sunbeam crossing over the tree roots, making the water sparkle.

The forest around him is quiet. 

Decision made, he dips the cup in the stream, then chooses a spot to sit on one of the wide tree roots, back against the trunk. He balances the cup on the leaf-covered ground, sets the sandwich down beside it. Then he lifts the helmet from his head, setting it in his lap as he rests his head on the tree’s rough bark, eyes closed against the brightness of the sun.

When did he last feel sunlight on his skin? It’s been a while. Before he picked up the child, surely. It hasn’t been safe to let his guard down. How long before that, though? He thinks back, but it’s a blur of work, the halls of the Nevarro covert, the streets of strange towns. 

Din knows better than to stay in the sun for long. Skin that’s always covered has no defense against UV rays. After a few minutes he shifts to the shade, sitting crosslegged on the forest floor. The water from the stream is sweet, with a slight mineral taste underneath. The sandwich isn’t bad either, fresh bread dotted with different kinds of grain, slices of some kind of tender meat and crisp green leaves with just a hint of bitter.

He makes his way back around the pond to continue the work. Wiggle each stone free. Lift, carry. He’s building a sort of stone cairn, setting each one down neatly, just because it feels good to see the thing take shape. 

His gloves are soaked by now, as he has to reach into the water to get at the lowest rows of stones. The water can’t be good for the circuits in the vambraces so he sheds those, too, setting them down on the flat rock beside the wooden lunch box, where his helmet already sits. 

He could keep the cooling system running, but it’s not designed for this kind of exertion. The constant movement will keep the power cell charged, but he’s sweating in spite of it, and the chill from the beskar is a distraction instead of a comfort. 

He’s already vulnerable without the helmet and the vambraces. He lays out cuirass, pauldrons, hip and thigh plates on that flat stone. His hand pauses on the blaster, but if it’s waterlogged it’s not going to work at all. 

He looks down at the thick fabric of the flightsuit, already wet at wrists and ankles. He's got another layer underneath it. May as well leave that too. 

He makes a detour through another sunbeam on the way back to the dam. 

Without the armor to filter the outside world, he’s aware of the warmth of the sun on his back. Of the change in temperature between sun and shadow. 

Without the helmet’s interface, he marks time by how the patches of sun creep slowly across the forest floor. 

When a rush of water takes him by surprise, soaking him from elbow to wrist and chest to hip, he sheds his shirt, laying it out on the stone cairn to dry. 

The air is still warm. The water that splashes his wrists is cool. He pauses again for food, then sets back to work. At one point he cups his hands in the running stream and drinks, then runs wet hands through his sweat-soaked hair. 

Clearing the last few stones means sinking his hands into mud to wrest them free. When he’s carried them over and set them atop the neat pile, he looks down and finds he’s covered in mud from chest to waistband. 

His employer said he’d be back at sunset. Din looks up, judging the height of the sun in the sky. Late afternoon, he guesses, edging into evening. It’s unpleasant fitting the helmet back on over wet hair, his face still damp with sweat, but he does it. The chrono built into the interface tells him there’s a good two hours until sundown. 

He turns a slow circle, heat and motion sensors overlaying his vision, sound turned up high. There’s birdsong high above him, but otherwise the forest is still. 

He fetches his shirt, piles the armor and flightsuit into his arms and carries it all to the edge of the pond. Then, thinking what the hell, he shucks boots, socks, and leggings and wades on in. 

Din doesn’t know how to swim. It’s not a skill he normally needs in his work. It’s not a skill he particularly needs now, either. But the mud is pleasantly soft against his feet, the water soothing to tired muscles. He ducks his head under, scrubs at the dirt on his chest, rinses away sweat. 

For the second time today, he uses his shirt to dry off. The approach of evening is bringing a slight chill to the air, so he pulls his other clothes back on, fastening the flightsuit over his bare chest this time before setting the pieces of his armor in place. 

Back at the flat stone he considers another sandwich, decides on the cake instead, and then sits there a while, licking sugar from his fingers and watching the stream at its full strength now as it sparkles its way down the valley. 

True to his word, the man is back with the wagon just as the sunbeams finish fading. He takes note of the neat cairn, and of the unfettered stream. “I wasn’t sure you’d really do it,” he says. “Guy like you. Work like this.”

Din just looks at him, impassive behind the helmet. He’s pretty much done with dignity these days, but this man doesn’t need to know it. 

“Well,” the man says. “We’re clearing more land tomorrow. If you want another day’s work.”

“I’ll take my pay for this one.”

“Of course.” He counts out the amount they agreed on and drops it into Din’s hand. “I mean it. We can always use a strong set of hands.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Where are you staying?”

Din names the inn. 

The man nods. “I’ll drop you there?”

“That would be fine.”

-

The first stars are out by the time Din steps down from the wagon, credits in his pocket and the last two sandwiches in his hand. He picks up the key from the innkeeper, climbs the narrow stairs, locks the door of the room behind him. He hangs his wet shirt in the shower room, lays out his wet gloves and socks to dry, strips off the armor and sets it carefully on the floor. His skin smells faintly of mud and minerals, but he can’t be bothered to shower. He sits by the window to eat, watching more stars emerge from the clear, dark sky. 

The money in his pocket won’t buy much. It’s a little more fuel, another day or two of getting by. 

He’ll leave in the morning. Probably. 

He still has no idea where to go.

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker-First kisses

Plot: Peter Parker’s and yours first, or five, first kisses.

Warnings: drug use, tiny bit of angst (nothing important), extreme fluff.

The first time he kissed you was in kindergarten. Peter and you had just met, you two being little kids with chubby cheeks and small feet. He was that kind of child who gets along with every other, and you were no exception. Since you were neighbours and your mother was good friends with May, you went to kindergarten together. One day, you were sitting in the play yard when Peter sat beside you, his little hands empty and his cheeks tear stained. He hugged his small knees and hid his face in them, as if he wanted to disappear.

“What’s the matter?” you asked him, your mouth full of sandwich.

“Flash took my lunch” Peter mumbled, his voice shaky. You looked back to see the kid laughing with his ‘friends’, in his mouth the cookies that May had prepared for him with so much love.

You frowned and looked back to Peter, who had his head out of his knees and was looking at the ground. His big brown eyes were full of tears, and you felt angry for your friend. As carefully as a child could cut a sandwich into two halves, you gave Peter part of your sandwich. It was smashed and his part was smaller than yours. Still, Peter’s eyes filled with happiness and pressed his lips against your food-full mouth.

“Ugh, Pete, that was gross!” you stuck out your tongue and pressed a hand to your mouth, wiping it furiously.

“It wasn’t gross!” he showed you a big smile. “Aunt May does that when uncle Ben does something good.”

“I don’t want to do that ever again” you shook your head and scoffed. “If you do it, I’m taking my sandwich back!”

Peter laughed and took a bite of his new food, half of them staining his t-shirt. Needless to say, you did that again.

 -

Your second kiss was a little bit different. Peter and you were starting high school, both of you still friends, as in the first day you met. Only that time, Ned and MJ were also there with you. Chemistry was probably your less favourite class, but it was the one that Peter loved. It was bearable if he was around. That day, he wasn’t in it. He had been missing for two days in a row, not sending you a text or calling you. Aunt May had told you that he was sick and that he was locked in his room, with high fever. So, you decided to pay him a visit.

“Peter?” you asked when you entered his apartment, using the keys May had let you.

Inside, it was dark and silent, but you heard faint cries coming from your best friend’s room. You ran towards there, expecting to see Peter crying because of the pain, because of the fever or because he needed help. You expected a lot of things, yet none of them was seeing him hanging from the ceiling, with his head upside down, while his tears hit the floor under him.

Of course, you screamed. You spent a few seconds screaming, as Peter moved his hands up and down in front of him and tried to talk through the sobs. When you were calmer, you managed to ask him.

“What-How the hell are you doing that?!” you almost screamed. Honestly, you were ready to faint.

“I-I don’t… I don’t k-know Y/N” he let out a sob. “There-There was… a s-spider, and then I-I, this, and n-now I don’t… I don’t k-know how to g-get off!”

Pushing your surprise aside, you stepped slowly until your noses were touching, and awkwardly locked your hand on his back. The idea was to pull until he touched the floor; two scared and panicking teenagers couldn’t really understand that gravity wasn’t on their side, so when he finally fell you ended up in the worst position you had even been.

His body had carried yours to the floor too, and his face was awfully close to your breasts. Stuttering and blushing, you stumbled away from him, and Peter wiped his tears away. Taking a few seconds to calm yourself and that strange thing that had just happened in your stomach, you talked again.

“What is this about?” you asked, sitting on the ground in front of him. “How-H-How did you get…there?”

“Promise me you’re going to listen to me” he took both of your hands between his, and squeezed them. “I’m not- it’s not a lie. But please, promise me you’re going to listen.”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Peter told you how, a week ago, he had visited a strange place with his uncle Ben, and a spider had bitten him. What started as improved senses, then was the ability to stick to walls. He confessed to you that he hadn’t told anyone, and that he was scared. While he talked, tears started to run down his cheeks, and his breathing became irregular.

You knew that Peter had problems with anxiety. He had always been a very nervous boy, and usually didn’t know how to handle his emotions. So, when he raised a hand and placed it against his chest, you started to panic. Either May or Ben were always there when something like that happened, ready to give him his inhaler; but they weren’t there.

“Where is your inhaler?” you looked around and got up. His bed was empty, his drawers were full of clothes and in his desk were a lot of weird books about fluids. Yet his inhaler wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Peter, I can’t help you! Where-Where is your inhaler?!”

When Peter looked up, you couldn’t believe your eyes. His inhaler, along with a lot of random objects, were on the ceiling, trapped by small white webs that reminded you to a spider house. You blinked surprised, finally realising the mess in your best friend’s room. There were test tubes, spoons, jars an vials. All of them filled with the weird white substance.

“Are they-Peter!” you dropped to your knees when you saw his face starting to get blue, his eyes wide and red. His throat didn’t let him get air, and he was drowning in anxiety. You did the only thing you thought about.

Technically, it wasn’t a kiss. It was just you joining your mouths and breathing in his. You had seen it done thousands of times in the films Peter and you liked to see on Friday’s night. Your hands gripped the ends of his hair, and you closed your eyes awkwardly.

It wasn’t beautiful; it was as messy as that room. When you parted, he was breathing again and you were as red as his future suit. His arms were around you in a second, and you hugged him tightly. That night, you slept on his apartment, with the permission of your parents; and you repeated again and again the same sentence.

“I’ve got you, no matter what”

 -

The third kiss was much more sadder, and held much more meaning. It was Tuesday morning and, against what people liked to tell in that kind of situations, the sun was high in the sky and the birds sang. Though no one was happy.

You were standing between Ned and MJ, looking down to the coffin in front of you. There were people crying, talking and some of them were in silence. All mourning the good man that had gone too soon. Excusing yourself softly, you walked towards your parents, who were talking with May. Peter was by her side, his hands hidden in his pockets and his head hung low. He wasn’t crying, but you knew he wanted to. After a sweet hug with May and a short goodbye to your parents, you took your best friend’s hand and started walking.

Peter kept quiet all the way, letting you lead him through the mass of people in the funeral. Once you reached a seclude place, you let go of his hand and looked at him. He had dark bags under his eyes, and since you were shorter than him, you could see his cracked lips and red nose.

“Did you sleep at all?”

The previous day, he had gotten a call from the police saying that Ben had been killed in an unfortunate accident. Your parents had told you that night, and Peter had told you that he wanted to be alone for a while. In that moment, you didn’t know if it had been a good idea.

Peter shrugged, not looking at you.

“Eat something?” you asked again, receiving the same answer. You sighed before talking again. “Did you, uh, went out?”

He knew what you were talking about. ‘Patrolling’, as he liked to call it, was dumb to you, so you had told him that you would talk about it as going out.

“For a bit” his voice was rough, and he had to cough after talking. You were the first person he had talked with.

“And did you get hurt?” you wondered. Peter’s attention was short, and if he was thinking about other things while swinging, he used to hit a wall or the ground. He shook his head before taking a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glossy.

“I miss him already” his bottom lips trembled, and you were glued to your best friend in a second. You wrapped your arms around him and he hid his head on your shoulder. At just fifteen years old, a huge height difference separated you.

“It’s going to be okay” you whispered, hearing the first sob breaking through. “It’s going to be okay, I’m here.”

Peter cried and his body shook, the peace around the trees breaking at his sobs. He soaked your nice and new black blouse you had wore that day and wrinkled it’s back, but you didn’t say a thing. You just gripped his curls tighter and repeated the same sentence again and again.

“I’m with you, no matter what”

Later that day, when everyone had already left the place, you found yourself in the same position. Your feet hurt and you arms were staring to feel tired from being up so much time. May and your parents walked towards you and stopped when you shook your head softly, telling them silently that you would meet them later. Peter needed that.

After what felt like two hours, Peter lifted his head between hiccups. He had his brown eyes swollen and his face was a mess. Still, you felt at odd feeling in your chest. His bottom lip quivered again, and he broke eye contact with you.

“I don’t want to go home” he whispered. “I don’t- May, she will be there… a-and I don’t w-want to face her.”

“That’s alright” you put a hand on his cheek, offering him a side-smile. “We can get something from Mr Delmar and eat in a rooftop. If you promise not to drop me”

Peter let out a sad laugh and nodded shortly, still not meeting your eyes. Another tear rolled down his cheek, and you got on your tip toes to kiss it away.

Because of being shorter than him, you didn’t really get to the tear, yet placed your lips awfully close to him. Actually, and if someone asked him, it was on his lips. You caught the tear with the corner of your mouth, and felt his chapped lips with the rest of it.

Peter’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, not fully understanding what had happened. He tried to say something, but you were faster and you started making stupid excuses about it. With a furious blush, you hit his chest a few times and screamed at Peter that it had not been you fault, that it had been an accident he needed to forget about. Some hurtful words, as ‘I would never kiss you’ or ‘That was disgusting’, left your mouth; both of you knew that you didn’t mean it. Peter shut you up with a kiss on the cheek and gripped your hand, guiding you to where he had left his backpack with the suit.

The whole way, Peter and you had stupid smiles on your faces and fast beating hearts in your chest.

 -

Your fourth kiss didn’t actually happened, or at least not that the two of you remembered. It was late, Friday night and Flash was having the party of his life. Officially, Peter hadn’t been invited, but you had begged to your boyfriend to let him come; and that if he didn’t, you would cut one of his balls. They were good years, or at least they were for you. You were Flash’s girlfriend, and that had allowed you to give Peter an easier life. No more beatings, no more throwing the books to the ground, and no more ‘Penis Parker on your watch.

Besides, Flash was a good guy deep down. He liked to mock Peter because that was the only way to forget about the absence of his parents. His behaviour with you was sweet, caring and kind. But something was missing. As in every relationship or crush you had, something was missing.

That was probably why you ended up sitting by Peter’s side, not Flash, who had an angry pout on his face since the beginning of the game. You were too drunk to notice, and Peter was too drunk to not flirt with you.

“I think that’s enough drinking” Flash muttered. He had been the one daring Peter to drink, and he was regretting his decision. The boy thought he would leave you alone if he was drunk, but even after a bottle of whisky Peter was stuck with you.

“I think…” you raised your arm in the air, demanding silence. Eleven teenagers, who were sitting in your circle, looked at you with expectant eyes. “…it’s time for spin the bottle!”

Your proposal was met with shouts of approval, and you laughed, throwing your head back. You looked at Peter, who was trying to put the bottle on the ground and keep balance. The guy who was sitting on his left, who was as high as the ceiling, pushed him to the side, and he fell on top of you. Instead of apologising, Peter fell into a fit of laughs that made Flash leave angrily, muttering things under his breath.

“I don’t understand why you date him” Peter’s voice was slurry, it was the first time he had alcohol and his spidey senses were making it worse. He heard people around him starting to spin the bottle, but he could only focus on your eyes.

You squeezed them and smiled brightly at him, and he had to restrain himself from cupping your cheeks.

“He’s a good guy” you shrugged. “Besides, it makes him stay away from you.”

“You don’t-You don’t have to do that for me” Peter frowned, not really understanding your words.

“I do it if I want to do it” you stated; in your mind, those words had much more sense. “I like seeing you happy.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks turning pink. He looked back to the floor, where a girl named Laura was getting rid of her t-shirt as a part of a dare. Some of the teenagers there cheered for her, others just laughed. Peter decided to stay quiet, flying to his own thoughts.

While Peter got lost in his mind, you kept playing to that stupid game. It was that girl turn, and she flickered the bottle. It moved in circles until, slowly, the blue end faced you.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” Laura asked, propping on her elbows and making her breasts pop out. You knew the deal, you had heard the ‘truths’. They usually asked about who would you fuck in that group or who was the most attractive person.

You liked to think that you didn’t say truth because Flash wasn’t there and you wouldn’t fuck anyone apart from your boyfriend. But, the problem was that you didn’t know if you would be able to lie with that much alcohol in you system.

“Dare” you said out loud, and received some cheers. Until that moment, only Laura and you had chosen dare.

Laura smirked and called two of the boys over her side, where she whispered something on their ears. While they talked, you put your knees on your chest and looked around. They weren’t a lot of students left, only your group and another twenty, so you decided that it would be your last round. Besides that, Peter looked awfully tired.

“Alright” Laura’s voice startled you, and the boys went back to their places. “Y/N Y/L/N, I dare you to give Peter a shotgun kiss. Of weed.”

Your eyes widened and you gasped, not believing her words. Alcohol was something you had had before, and you knew how to handle it. But drugs, they were a different story. And you didn’t like one bit that the dare included Peter.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” you exclaimed. “Peter-It’s my dare, not his. Why are you putting him in?”

“Y/N-“

“Because we haven’t seen neither of you high!” she laughed. “Come on, is just a small drag.”

“Laura, we are talking about weed.” Peter talked, looking at her with a small frown.

“And? Look, if you don’t want to do it, I can change the dare.”

“Yes! Change it” you smiled.

“Then, Y/N Y/L/N, I dare you to smoke a whole joint by yourself” she looked through her purse until she found what she wanted.  A joint that could be as long as your finger.

“What?!” Peter shouted beside you. “That must be even lethal!”

“Then, do the shotgun kiss” she shrugged. “I don’t care.”

There was no way you were smoking that, and Peter knew it. You had never had drugs, and you didn’t want to end up in the hospital the first time you did. So, you took the joint and lighted it up with some difficulties.

Peter turned his body so that he could face you, and you did the same. Silently, you asked him with your eyes if he was okay with that. If he wasn’t, you were more than ready to take his hand and leave the place. Yet you were both drunk and secretly enjoyed the idea of being close to each other, so he repeated the words you had said to him two times in his life.

“I’m with you, no matter what”

Everyone around you was quiet, and you could hear Peter’s rushed breathing. He was as nervous as you, both of you for the same reason and it was not because of the joint. You gave him a shaky smile before leaning towards him.

Peter Parker had the kind of body-smell that was just nice, and that made you try to sniffle as many time as possible. You had been close to him in many occasions before, yet neither of them got you that nervous. Your eyes travelled from the collar of his t-shirt to his neck, then to his cheeks and finally to his eyes. Had they always been so beautiful, or was it the alcohol?

Breathing through your nose, you took a long drag and put your mouth next to Peter’s. The world seemed to stop.

You felt his breath on your mouth, his eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. His nose brushed with yours because of the proximity, and he gripped your hand where none of those boys and girls could see them. He ran his tongue across his lips as you finished your drag, putting the joint down. Peter tilted his head a little so that your noses didn’t get in the way, and you opened your mouth when his wet lips touched yours.

A white and dense cloud of smoke travelled between that inexistent space and entered into his mouth, the teenagers cheered when they saw it. But you didn’t hear them. The joint made your head feel on cloud nine, and Peter’s body seemed warmer than ever.

It pained you, but once it was over, you came back to your place. Not knowing if the joint was what caused that strange fuzzy feeling in your chest.

 Your fifth-first kiss was a few years later, the weight of that forgotten touch on the lips hanging from your shoulders since then. The memory of it might had been blurry, but the feeling that rose with it weren’t. For a few months, your relationship was awkward; both of you were stuttering and blushing mess and didn’t know to look at each other to the eye. But you survived that, and Peter became again the little boy who had smashed his mouth to yours in kindergarten, and who had a pair of your favourite bed sheets in his room.

That day you had been there, laying on his bed with your head on your hands and earphones in your ears. A film was playing on his computer while he worked on the webs, wanting to make them stronger and longer. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice how a frown made its way to your face. Soft music was playing on the background when you took one of the earbuds and stopped the film.

It made you think.

The princess and the swan was an old movie, a child’s one. You had wanted to remember your childhood and made the bad decision on watching it. Probably, that you were on your period didn’t help the cause.

“Pete?” you called him out.

He was scrunched on his table, books and sheets scattered around it. He had big glasses on his head, and was wearing a wide, old sweater. You almost forgot your question looking at him, at the adorable face you had become accustomed to look at. MJ said it was proper stalking, but you preferred to call it ‘admire’.

“Parker!” you shouted, making him drop the pencil and jump in the chair. Immediately, he turned off the music and looked around, waiting to see May in the door or a curious neighbour on the window. He hadn’t still said to anyone who he really was.

“What? What?” he asked, his eyes finally focusing on you.

“I’ve got a question.”

“Should we appeal the ‘no judgment’ clause of our friendship?”

“Not this time” you chuckled. “It’s a serious one.”

“Okay, shoot” he turned back to his work, thinking it would be another dumb thing. “If it’s about area 51, my answer is still-“

“What do you like about me?”

The room became quiet and Peter slowly turned around, his eyes wide and his mouth hang open. He didn’t expect that question, not at all. Peter Parker had a lot of answers to it, actually, yet he didn’t think he could say out loud any of them.

You were frowning at him, your head tilted to the side. You were wearing his t-shirt from NY,  and a pair of his boxers. An outfit that made his answer a lot more complicated. He sighed and moved the wheeled chair until he was in front of you, his legs crossing.

“What is this coming from?” he looked towards the screen, and rolled his eyes. “I thought we said no Disney films on your period!”

“I know, I know!” you defended yourself. “But I couldn’t help it, it was my favourite movie. And you haven’t answered my question”

“Why do you ask me that?” Peter scratched his chin and pouted slightly.

“Because” you looked to your right. “when Flash and I broke up, you told me I deserved more. When Brad stood me up, you told me the same. When I didn’t get the college I wanted. And when my parents got the divorce!”

“And? It’s-It’s…. something you say. S-Something I said without meaning it” Peter’s words were rushed.

“I know you’re lying, Pete”

When, in the film, Odette asked the prince what he liked about her, he told her she was beautiful; nothing more. You expected Peter to give you the same answer, and you were already angry at him without a reason. That was what usually happened when you spent the night at his house; stupid arguments that solved up with pizza and playing UNO until late night.

Not in a million years would you have expected his answer.

“I like, I like about you that you stand up for yourself. Like, when someone is being unfair, you’re the first one to step up” Peter smiled shyly, blushing; still, he didn’t meet your eyes. “Not a lot of people do that, and certainly not everyone would date an asshat just so that he stop messing with their best friend.”

“Peter” you hit his arm playfully. “Flash was a good kid, just too boring”

Peter rolled his eyes and mumbled an annoyed  ‘whatever’, still not over the fact that you dated him. He coughed softly and fixed his eyes on the floor.

“I-I, you’re… you’re unique. You make me laugh like nobody else, and you have this personality that outshine everyone, in a good way. Funny, outgoing, nerdy and still the most amazing girl someone could dream about” Peter let out a breathy chuckle. “And-And, let’s talk about your face. Like, you have the cutest face! And facial expressions. You, damn, you can make a stone smile.”

Peter kept rambling about how he liked too the way you talked, your perks and a bunch of other things. A faint shadow of pink covered his cheeks all the time, and he messed up with his words sometimes, letting out short apologies. Both of you discovered that Peter Parker could spend hours talking about you and not getting tired.

Suddenly, his meaty hands and chubby cheeks came back to you; Peter kissing you in kindergarten, and you running to your mum that day and telling her you were getting married to the boy in the play yard. His shaky breaths and frightened eyes, and the way he kept thanking you for a month for doing what you did. Peter’s suffering because Ben’s death, your lips on his and he still saying sorry for something he didn’t did. And the boy you thought you loved smoking for the first time weed and getting a huge scolding from Mr Stark just for you.

“… and, besides all of that, I think you’re really pretty” Peter finished just then, finally meeting your eyes. When he saw your shocked face, his smiled dropped. “A pretty friend! What-What did you thought, idiot? I-I…wh-what I like th-the m-most about y-you is that you’re, hm, you’re a r-really good friend.”

Peter finished his sentence with a loud and awkward laugh, as he tried to get away with the wheeling chair. On the other hand, you weren’t willing to let it go. So you gripped the armchair and pulled him closer, until your faces were inches apart.

That time, you were aware of his heart beating in chest, and he was conscious of your ragged breathing. Your noses touched just like that night in the party, and you felt his breath on your mouth.

“I can say a lot of things that I like about you too” you mumbled, moving your eyes between his and his mouth. “I, I think I… well, I just like you. Not as a pretty friend. As, I don’t know, if you want, like a pretty boyfriend?”

Peter’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, not believing your words. Your hands started to shake nervously against the armchair, and you bit your tongue to avoid any tears falling down.

You didn’t want to loose your friendship with Peter, that was more important than any feeling about him. You had enough with those stolen kisses, so why the fuck do you have to say anything, you fucking nuts. When your eyes started to get glossy and your stomach was turning and tossing like crazy, Peter took the initiative and kissed you.

Slowly, he tangled his fingers into your hair, making you move forwards and kiss him back. Your lips quivered into a happy smile as his moved over yours. It was soft, it was lovely and it was perfect. When you teared apart, neither of you moved from your spot, just stared at each other with stupid smiles.

“I would like you to be my pretty girlfriend too” he muttered against your lips, his own touching them with every word.

“I would like that too” you kissed his lips quickly, as he moved his hands and cupped your cheeks. “But, are you-“

“I’m with you, no matter what”

With that, you shared your second (or sixth) kiss.

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