#never heard of halo 5

[djzazzles]

💜 to my favorite series on the planet

[calumfmu]

Baby, No Attachment

Reluctantly, you met Steve's eyes, that stupid smirk ever present on his lips as he drank you in. If you could melt into the floor at that moment, you absolutely would have, his stare burning into you, reminding you of that cool, summer evening you first met.

"Are we going to do this or not, Harrington?"

or; the 5 times Steve Harrington was an asshole to you, with the 1 time, he revealed his true self.

cw: 18+ mdni; smut, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, cream pie, squirting, angst (what's new), mean!Steve, Steve talking you through it once again, slight Eddie x reader, 13.7k+ words. (+ part two) (+part three)

The boy you knew as your neighbor was quiet, yet quick in your neighborhood. Always on the go, never home, only when his parents were gone did you see him moving behind the windows of the two story Harrington home. Girls were reoccurring, a different one every week, countless times you’d seen the flash of a different bra-clad blonde or brunette in between parted curtains.

He was known as Steve, King Steve, the enigma of a man you only knew personally through rumors floating through the halls of Hawkins High. His cocky ego shining through shitty friends, the closest you would know to the truth behind the rumors.

Your first interaction with him was quick, the silhouette of his body dropping from his window as he tried sneaking out for the umpteen time that week. You heard a low groan as he landed wrong, curses escaping his lips as he found his way to his feet.

You were leaning against the vineyard covered wall of your own backyard, watching him through the cracks in the wooden fence separating your properties. A cigarette lay in between your fingers, the heat of it reaching your fingers as it continued to burn in your grasp.

“You good there, Harrington?” You asked, taking a slow drag as you saw his mop of hair pop up over the fence. A grimace was covering his face, a bruise over his nose and right eye. That’s different.

“Yeah, yeah, just perfect,” he replied, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. He barely glanced at you, running his fingers through his mane, settling it back into place. He brushed off his shoulders, muttering curses under his breath as he smoothed his clothing. You stared at him, cocking your head as you took in the sight before you.

You hummed in response, exhaling smoke as he seemed irritated in the moment. He didn’t know what to say to you nor you to him, as it was the first conversation you ever had since you’ve moved next door. It had only been a few months, but he had been the only one you heard anyone speak about.

“Aren’t you a little too young for that?” He asked you, stretching a hand over the fence as he signaled for you to hand him the pack. He seemed like a concerned father figure in this moment, irritation crossing his features even further than they did previously.

Looking down at the box between your fingers, you shrugged, feeling the cool, summer wind hit your body. The sun was setting, the golden rays casting a halo around his perfectly set hair.

You crossed the small distance between houses, pressing your frame to the fence as you held eye contact. You saw his throat bob, gulp barely audible as you centered your ground. Placing a cigarette between his outstretched finger tips, you smiled at him.

“Never too young for a little fun, Harrington,” you muttered, tracing your eye line over the fresh bruises. The cigarette gets placed between his lips, damp red meeting the yellow toned paper.

Steve rolled his eyes at you, patting down his pockets as he searched for something.

“Light?” You questioned, waving your own cigarette in the air around you. His eyes followed the movement, another sigh escaping from him.

“Yeah, come on, sweetheart,” he mumbled, craning his neck over the fence as he awaited your next move.

Smirking, you leaned forward, pressing the burning end of yours to his unlit. Faces inches away from each other, he took a few quick breaths, his cigarette slowly being lit from your own as he guided his eyes over your features.

His deep brown eyes bore into your own, a dark bruise beginning to set right on the bone. Strange enough, he seemed pretty with it, the contrast of colors and tones bringing out flecks of amber hidden in the iris.

Pulling away, he took a deep breath, smoke filling his lungs as he draped his arms over the wooden boards.

“Haven’t seen you around much,” Steve said, fingers tapping out ash. You watched as it floated in the wind, slowly walking backwards until your back hit the brick wall you previously stood against.

“Can’t stop seeing you,” you replied, squinting as you gestured up to the second story of his house. He followed your point, noticing how his bedroom window was directly across from your own. A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You’ve been stalking me, princess?” He asked, tongue darting out to run across his exposed teeth. You flushed in your face.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now,” he continued, parting his lips to take another puff of the tobacco. Grumbling, you hid the smile that was threatening to burst out at his flirtatious behavior.

You snubbed your cigarette out, Mary Jane pressing into the concrete as a small billow of tobacco smoke pooled around the leather.

“I’m just making conversation, Harrington. We are neighbors after all.”

He nodded, eyes trained on you as they roamed over the length of your body. Only suddenly now did you feel self conscious over the short plaid skirt you wore.

“Say,” he began, lip briefly being sucked in between his teeth. “Let’s just bypass all that, and you could get to know me more as a … friend. A close friend.”

Closing your eyes, you laughed aloud as your head hit the brick behind you. The rumors of this Steve were materializing right in front of you. You opened them, only to be met with Steve’s gaze, smirk on his lips and cigarette pressed against his bottom lip as he slightly covered his face.

“Is that what you’re gonna call it?”

Two could play at this game, you figured.

“9 pm? I know a real nice spot by the lake,” he winked, making an ‘okay’ gesture with his thumb and forefinger. “Ladies love it, or so I’ve heard.”

“Or so I’ve heard,” you mocked him, laughter bubbling out of you. He followed your laughter, chuckling low as the breeze picked up around you.

“I could show you a real nice time, sweethe-”

“Steven!”

His head suddenly turned towards his open window, a woman’s voice calling out to him from somewhere deep in the house. It sounded like Mrs. Harrington’s voice, the memory of it from moving day when your parents forced you to bring over that homemade cherry pie. The smirk dropped from his face as he took a quick hit from the cigarette before flicking it somewhere behind him.

“Gotta go, princess,” he ushered, running a hand over his hair. He backed away from the fence, turning to duck on the side of his house.

He made it a few steps before quickly returning to his previous spot.

“Don’t wait up,” he called out, causing your smile to falter slightly. You covered it up, hoping to go unnoticed by him. “I might be a while before coming back, so don’t get your hopes up, princess.”

And with that, Steve Harrington was gone. The only evidence that he had even been there were the sounds of his footsteps crunching the gravel and the faint start of his BMW in the distance.

It shouldn’t have hurt you as much as it did when you didn’t hear from him that night. 9 pm came, then 10, then 11, next thing you knew, it was past 1 am with your window cracked open. You didn’t know what you were waiting for, a rock thrown at the glass or a whisper from below or for him to even burst through the bedroom door, anything to signal that he was to be true in his words.

He had told you after all to not wait up for him, to not get your hopes up, so it wasn’t his fault that you were feeling the way you did.

It definitely shouldn’t have hurt that much when you woke up in the middle of the night, still in your clothes (that you definitely did not pick out for him), to the sounds of a girl giggling. You squinted at your alarm clock, noticing it was nearly 3 am, the only light filling the room from the moon shining in the sky.

You crept to your window, straining your eyes in the darkness to see Steve and another random blonde making out with a fever as his hands snuck beneath her top. Her back was turned to you as his mouth licked into her, only separating to pull her top over her head before pressing his mouth to her neck.

As his teeth grazed a spot on her skin, his eyes fluttered open, making eye contact with you. They seemed to light up, an upward quirk of his mouth.

You pulled your curtains shut, heart beating rapidly as you realized he had completely seen you watching him. His stalker joke earlier ran through your mind, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

Fuck you, Harrington.

A few weeks had passed before your next interaction with Harrington boy, the summer hours ticking by slowly as you searched what to fill your days with. People watching in downtown became tiresome, the same groups of people making their errands around the same hours. The town was so mundane to you, atypical families with their 2-3 kids, the most action that had happened was a 12 year old stealing from the Mini-Mart on 3rd.

You refused to acquaint yourself with the people in town, finding the same interests in them something you would never have in common. That is, until Eddie Munson came around. Town freak, ostracized by many, quirky, over dramatic, seemed like a theatre kid despite never stepping on stage a day in his life.

He did his thing, sold whatever to whoever, while you sat in his van and looked pretty, listening to the rock music he was so drawn to. You didn't have much in common, but you really didn't need to. What brought you two together was the fact that Hawkins did not really accept either of you. You were still the new girl who had transferred at the end of junior year, and he was the super senior, one that did not seem like he was leaving Hawkins High anytime soon.

You sat in the front seat of his van, feet up on the dash, hands resting up by your head as you reclined low in the seat. He drove recklessly, barely paying attention to the road as his fist came up to bang at the stereo, music skipping periodically.

"Come on, man," Eddie muttered, cursing low under his breath.

You laughed at him, shaking your head at his antics, a thing you had gotten used to during the last few weeks. Trees flew past you as he made his way down winding roads, blurs of greens and yellows barely visible. The roads grew familiar, the route he normally would take when he was bringing you home at 4 am.

Squinting, you sat up in your seat, bringing your feet off of the dash.

"Where are you going, Munson?" A familiar building past you, next thing you knew, he was pulling up on your street. He flashed a wicked grin your direction as he threw the van in park, your house in the near, yet far distance. "I'm serious, Eddie."

"I'm making a special delivery," he winked at you, eyes wide as he reached towards his black aluminum tin. Glancing out of the window, you searched for any sort of noise, normally used to the 'special deliveries' being towards parties.

"Here?"

He gave you a 'mhm' in response, hoping out of the van as he made his way towards your house. You sat in shock, mouth dropped open in confusion as he swiveled around, waving his arms at you as you sat frozen.

"You coming or not, Yn?" He shouted, causing you to scramble out and shush him. Whether or not you were ostracized by the town or not, you had a profile to keep up. Rumors of hanging out with him were one thing, but being seen on one of his deals was another.

You jogged to catch up to him, arms crossing over your chest. Glancing down at your outfit, you realized what an odd pair the two of you made. Eddie, in his black ripped jeans, leather jacket and jean vest. You, in your mini skirt, maroon colored Mary Janes over socked feet, and cream sweater, cut off right below your elbows.

"I swear if you're delivering to my little brother, Eddie, I will kill you," you muttered, shaking your head as you struggled to keep up with his long legs. He cackled at you, shaking his head as the two of you continued on the trek to the house.

Your porch light was on, mirroring Steve's house next to it. There was no way your brother was that bold with your parents car in the driveway.

"Try again, Skipper," Eddie mocked you, finding humour in the way you often had to practically skip to keep up with him. You continued following him, jaw dropping as he walked over the Harrington lawn, converse scuffing over the tiled walkway.

"Oh, there's no way, Munson," you protested, shaking your head vehemently as his hand rose to knock at the door. He furrowed his brow at you, stopping his hand in his tracks as he stared, confused at your apprehension. You dropped your voice to a whisper. "I'm not going in there!"

"What's the big deal?" He dropped his voice to match your volume, glancing around him as if he was expecting someone to be eavesdropping.

"I just- I can't do it," you muttered, stepping closer towards him. Your voice was barely audible at this point, "Steve's in there."

His mouth was parted as his features were drawn up. His fist was inches away from the door about to knock, and pure confusion was written all over him.

"What?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes, "I said, Steve's in there." A red flush covered your cheeks as you dropped your gaze.

"And why are you being weird about it?" He asked, knuckles rapping at the door quickly as you yelped. Before you could make a run for it, the double doors swung open, the devil himself making an appearance. You turned around quickly, turning your back to him before he could meet your eyes.

"Munson." You heard Steve greet him, Eddie humming in response as you felt like disappearing. "Oh, hey there, princess."

"Princess?" Both you and Eddie spoke at the same time, nerves present in your voice and disgust in his. You turned around on your heel, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as Eddie glanced in between the two of you.

Reluctantly, you met Steve's eyes, that stupid smirk ever present on his lips as he drank you in. If you could melt into the floor at that moment, you absolutely would have, his stare burning into you, reminding you of that cool, summer evening you first met.

Opening your mouth to reply, you couldn't help, but immediately close it, losing all words to say. You noticed how his bruises had healed, revealing perfect skin and those big, brown eyes.

"Are we going to do this or not, Harrington?" Eddie's patience had run thin, voice irritated as he shook the tin in his hands. The contents made a loud noise, breaking up the tension in the air between the two of you. Steve rolled his eyes, cutting his gaze to the long haired teenager.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Munson," he muttered, stepping aside to let the two of you in. Following Eddie, you walked in, high on his heels. Hearing the giant door shut behind you, you took a look at the house, it being much bigger than your own upon entry. You and Eddie followed Steve as he made his way into the living room, a small group of teenagers you recognized sitting in various spots around the room.

"Party's here!" Steve joked, urging a crowd of cheers from them. As Eddie went to make his deals with the other teenagers, you found yourself standing in the corner of the room, hands clasped in front of you as you were unsure of what to do.

That was the difference between you and Eddie, while you were both awkward and quiet, Eddie had a way of being himself through and through. He could blend into any social situation, his loudness faking confidence that allowed people to either love or hate him. You preferred silence and politeness, normally standing in the background of your parents in their social gatherings.

"Didn't take you for a drug dealer, sweetheart," you heard Steve's voice behind you, causing you to jump where you stood, heart racing in surprise. He laughed, hand coming up to rest at your shoulder. "No need to be nervous, 's just me."

You glanced down at his hand, noticing the way it fell to his side the second your gaze landed upon it.

"I'm not," you answered, taking a small step back as this man was so deep in your personal space. "I'm just friends with Eddie."

"Hmm," a thick hand came up to scratch at his chin, and you couldn't help, but watch it as his fingers stretched out. A watch covered his wrist, the metal stretching over skin as a few loose hairs poked out from beneath his sweater. "Never knew the freak's first name."

Rolling your eyes, you turned towards Eddie, watching as he sat there flirting with a blonde girl. She was recognized as a cheerleader, her high ponytail swinging as she cocked her head, laughing at one of his jokes.

"Yeah, well, his name's Eddie, so..."

You didn't know what to say to this man, your last conversation flowing through your recent memory. His empty promise of hanging out with you that day sat in the forefront of your mind, that day being when you swore off the thought of entertaining the idea of him. Thinking of the memory had your fingers itching, the need for nicotine having your mouth water as your nerves got the best of you.

"We could have a smoke in the meantime, while he, uh," Steve seemed to read your mind, glancing over at Eddie continuing to make his deal. He was making a fool of himself, trying to impress that blonde. It seemed to be working as she giggled, tucking a strand of her bang behind her ear. "He, uh, finishes up."

"I've been trying to quit," you said, shutting down the flirtatious tone in his words. Steve quirked an eyebrow at you, smug look on his face.

"I see you smoke every night, sweetheart," his voice was low as he took a step towards you. You couldn't maintain eye contact, pursing your lips to stop the smile forming.

"You've been stalking me, Harrington?" You shot his own joke back at him, noticing the way his eyebrows shot up at you, recognizing the line. He laughed, shaking his head as he held up a finger at you, shaking it side-to-side in a 'No'.

"Nuh uh, sweetheart," laughter evident in his voice. "But I could, if that's what you're into."

You giggled out loud this time, hand coming up to cover your mouth. Your elbow rested at a hand that covered your chest, toe digging into the ground below you as you felt his eyes graze over you.

"Come on," he said, grabbing your hand as he began to lead you towards the sliding glass doors that led to his backyard. A red head girl made a low whistle towards the two of you, causing Steve to lightly smack her on the side of the head as he passed her. "Shut it, Carol."

The air was cold as the two of you stepped outside, summer breeze gently flowing through the layers of your clothes. You breathed into your hands, rubbing them together in hope that warmth met you. He led you towards that same side of the house where you first met, the memories from that first evening flooding back even more as your bedroom windows sat above the two of you.

Steve pulled a near empty carton of cigarettes out of his back pocket, opening it to pull one out. Placing it to his lips, he lit it, taking a deep inhale as the tobacco hit his lungs. His shoulders dragged in relief, as he exhaled, smoke swirling in the air around him.

"So, where've you been, princess?" Steve questioned, passing the cigarette to you as you looked around the backyard. It was much bigger than what you could see from your bedroom window.

"I could ask the same for you, Harrington. I've been around," you looked towards your bedroom window, the light still being on, just as you left it, and the window ajar as your curtains were slowly drifting out into the wind.

"Oh, you know, here, there," he wiggled his eyebrows at you, stepping closer to you as he welcomed the cigarette out of your hands. "Why stay home, when the world is at your fingertips?"

Rolling your eyes at him, you watched as his mouth parted, allowing smoke to flood in. He watched you under hooded eyes, tongue darting out to trace over his bottom lip. Your heart skipped a beat, ringing present in your ears.

"You could make yourself sound like a real pretentious douchebag sometimes, Harrington," your tongue mimicked his own, a quick glance at his plump lips.

A slow smile came across his lips, "You're into that, though?"

You shook your head, losing all words as he stepped closer to you. His hand came to rest at the wall behind you, his broad shape towering over yours as he looked down at you. The hand with the cigarette rested under your chin, pushing your head up so your eyeline paralleled his own.

"Then why are you here, princess?"

You fluttered your eyes shut as he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours as you felt his breath over you. The soft touch of skin had your heart racing, the only thing in your senses was the scent of Steve, tobacco and cinnamon.

Parting your lips with his tongue, Steve pushed his figure into yours, mouth covering yours. He tasted sweet, like cherry cola as his tongue found its way into your mouth. Your fingers fisted at the front of his sweater, pulling him further into you.

A breathy moan escaped him as he pressed you into the wall, his leg parting yours as you leaned up on your toes to reach his mouth. You felt him flick the cigarette off somewhere to your left, his now free hand resting in your hair to bring you in closer.

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, a low grunt coming from his mouth as your hand dropped to his lower abdomen, lightly rubbing at the area as you dared to press lower. His hand dropped from your hair, resting at your waist as he pushed the material of your sweater up, exposing the tiniest amount of skin.

You gasped into his mouth, as you felt his fingers brush the skin there.

"Really, Skipper?"

Eddie's voice had you jumping away from Steve, your body pressing into the brick of his house as he reluctantly took a step backward. He looked smug, thumb coming up to swipe at the wetness of his bottom lip. You brushed your hair into place, yanking down the rise of your sweater.

Steve let out a laugh, shaking his head as you hurried over towards Eddie's side. Eddie was looking at Steve in disgust, eyes squinted low as he reached up to wrap his arm around your shoulder. The cool leather of Eddie's arm contrasted the warm cashmere of Steve's sweater, you noted, it felt off.

"We gotta go," Eddie muttered, dragging you away from the side of the house. You felt like a little kid being chastised by your father, embarrassment replacing any other emotion you felt previously.

Eddie led you through the house, arm on your shoulder as Steve followed behind you two. You didn't know what to say as you avoided the curious gazes of a few teenagers in the living room. Their eyes were red with intoxication, the thick smell of marijuana filling the room.

Eddie swung open the front door, urging you out as he sighed heavily, the dramatics beginning to come.

"Eddie, don't start," you breathed, rolling your eyes as he gaped at you.

"You fucking kissed, Harrington, Yn," he flailed his arms around, aluminum tin swinging around with them. "Steve! Steve Harrington!"

"It's not that big of a deal, Eddie," you blushed, chewing on your thumb nail as he continued to shout Steve's name at you.

"Oh, but it is, princess," Eddie mocked Steve's nickname to you, rolling his eyes as he huffed at you. The front door was still wide open, if he didn't keep his voice down, you were sure he was going to hear you. "You don't know him like I do, Yn. Steve isn't--he's not that type of person."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" You rose to your defense, irritation beginning to pool in the pit of your stomach.

"Just believe me when I say it, Yn. He's just-" Eddie took a deep breath, rushing a hand through his long curly hair. He seemed to hear something that moment, ear tilting towards the open door as you stood impatient. "Just listen."

"Listen to what?"

"Listen!" He shouted to you, pointing in the direction of the house. You could hear whistles in the background, small cheers from the various teenagers in the house.

You could hear Steve's voice amongst the others.

"Finally, you got your hands on the newbie." Your heart dropped, not recognizing the voice. Meeting Eddie's eyes, his dark brown were filled with a stone cold emotion.

Steve's laugh echoed through the room, "Tommy, shut up."

"Before you know it, Tommy, all you're going to hear is 'Oh, Steve, yes, yes, yes!" the same high pitch squeal from the red head from before was mocking the tone of your own voice. Her laughter drowned out the sound of your own heart beat in your ears. "She'll cave like every other girl in this town. Remind me, Steve, how did I escape the Harrington charm?"

Eddie tugged at your shoulder, urging you to move from the scene back to the comfort of his beat down van.

"Come on, you don't need to hear the rest of it," he muttered, shaking his head as he took a few steps down the entry way. You shook your head, feet planted, hoping once more that Steve would come to your defense, even though you had no reason to believe so. He had left you hanging up on your first meeting, disappointment becoming your best friend.

"I don't even know her name. Hanging with 'The Freak' Munson, don't think it matters."

Those words from Steve were all you needed to hear before you were storming down the path, Eddie's hand loose in your own as you dragged him down the driveway. The clicking of your shoes on the pavement echoed through the air, Eddie quickly behind you as he was the one that struggled to keep up this time around.

You pulled at the door handle of the van, lips pressed in a thin line as Eddie took his time unlocking it. Swinging your body in, you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to make eye contact.

"Look, Yn," Eddie began, key hovering over the ignition. "Your house is right there, if you want to just..."

"Just go, Eddie. I don't want to be here right now."

You turned your body towards the window, ignoring the silence that filled the air. Sucking your teeth, you pressed your forehead against the cool glass, closing your eyes. This time around, you could forget about Steve, he wasn't that type of person as Eddie had put it, whatever type of person you thought he was. That much was clear.

"Mom, I look ridiculous."

You pulled at the pink dress you wore, its itchiness scratching at your neck. The billowing sleeves screaming at you as you took a glance at yourself in the reflection of the car door.

Your mom was standing next to you, adjusting her earrings as she leaned over to look at herself in the passenger side mirror. She rubbed her ring finger over her red lipstick, sucking at her teeth as she made sure her teeth were clean. She stood up to look at you, swiveling around to place her hands on your shoulders.

Giving you a once over, she hummed, pinching your cheek.

"You need just a little color in your cheeks, and you're perfect," she made a kissy face towards you, smiling in her infamous 'fake-rich' smile, as you called it. "Doesn't she look perfect, honey?"

Your dad hummed in response, locking the car as he made his way around the vehicle. "You look beautiful, darling."

Rolling your eyes, you looked down at the kitten heels on your feet.

"Why doesn't my brother have to come to these?" You complained, sighing as your mouth pulled at a few strands of hair that framed your up-do.

"He's hanging out with those kids he met at school. That young boy with the oddball mother, Joyce, I think her name is," your mother smacked at a piece of mint gum, focused on the fly aways that hung around your face. You smacked her hand away, grumbling as she titted at you. "Ah, Yn. Behave."

"I'm not 12, Mom, I don't need to show face at these events."

"I do realize this, darling. But if you ever want to make friends, how do you think it'll happen?" She turned away from you, following your father as she made her way across the pavement. You reluctantly followed in her footsteps, stiff in your movements as your feet hurt from the heels.

"I do have friends." Your face flushed a deep red.

"Uh uh, Yn. That one boy does not count, I do not want you hanging around him anymore," your mom continued, hand coming up to fluff up the back of her hair. She constantly adjusted herself, worried about the whispers of other stay at home moms and gossip mills of people her age. "Ever since I walked in on the two of you doing Lord knows what-"

"Mom!"

"You were doing what now?" Your father raised an eyebrow in your direction, your eyes avoiding his strict gaze.

Your mom ignored him, patting at his arm as she stepped in front of him, making her way up a driveway.

"We had clothes on, you're so embarrassing," you grumbled, crossing your arms as she turned to knock on a front door. She turned towards you, knocking your arms down as you rolled your eyes once again.

"Barely, darling. I don't like to think about it, it gives me premature wrinkles," she quipped, attitude dropping as the door swung open. "Mrs. Hargrove! Lovely to see you!"

You made a face, mocking her fake excitement as your parents stepped into the house. Immediately, you were met with the scent of flower scented perfume, cigarette smoke, and champagne. It was a soiree of adults around Hawkins and their teenagers they had dragged out, celebrating the middle of summer as the more unwelcoming months sat lingering in the distance.

You kept close to their sides, taking a glass of champagne in open arms as Mrs. Hargrove offered you all a few glasses. In public settings like this, you were 'allowed' to drink as long as you kept it to a few glasses.

Time passed by slowly, you introducing yourself to a few families, fake laughing at their jokes, lying to their faces about questions of college, and promising to come over their places, in which you knew you would never end up baking them that ever famous cherry pie your father raved about.

Escaping your mother’s side had you letting out a breath of fresh air, finding solace in the foyer where a tray of champagne flutes sat. A few groups of couples stood around having conversation that didn’t pay you any attention.

You felt a hand pull at your elbow, knocking you back slightly as you reached for your third glass of champagne that night. Looking at the person, you raised your eyebrow in confusion.

It was a blond with long, curly hair, a split in his eyebrow and a light dusting of facial hair over his face. His silver earring caught your eye, tucked deep in the curls that hung around his face.

"Want something a little stronger?" He questioned, flashing you a glimpse of a flask in his pocket. You looked around quickly, corners of your mouth quirking up as he wiggled his eyebrows to you.

"You're going to get us in trouble," you laughed, lowering your glass as he poured some of the contents in it. He glanced around as he poured, winking at you before putting it back in his pocket.

"From the looks of it, you like a bit of trouble," he smiled, grin wide as he showed his pearly white teeth towards you. He chewed on a piece of gum, tongue darting out every now and then. He shot out a hand towards you, waiting for your grasp. "Billy."

You took it, not breaking eye contact as it felt firm in your grasp. "Yn."

"New girl, right?"

You nodded, fighting the eye roll that came at the words. Ever since your last interaction with Steve, you couldn't stand the words to describe you. It had been nearly half a year since you came, so you figured these words would have warned off by now.

"Me too," Billy sighed, shoulders square as confidence exuded off of him. "My family just moved to this shit hole last month. You know, welcome party and all."

You hummed, agreeing with him as he described the state of the small town. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't your favorite. It was just like any other fake mid-town American city you had visited before.

Taking a sip out of your flute, you grimaced at the taste, the strong liquor overpowering the softness of the champagne. It earned a laugh from Billy, his cologne wafting off of him. The urge to find out more about this boy piquing your curiosity.

Before you could say anything, a hand came to snake around your shoulders. Snapping your head, your heart sank, that ever familiar scent of cinnamon and tobacco covering you. Steve smiled down at you, cockiness in his movements.

"Hey, princess," he kissed the air in your direction before settling his eyes on Billy. Immediately, you saw the change in demeanor, two alpha males seemingly in an attempt to intimidate one another.

"What are you doing here, Harrington?" Billy straightened up, voice low as he addressed the teen. Steve licked his lips, tightening his arm around you.

"What? Invitations cut off at the Harrington home?" Steve questioned, rolling his eyes at the blond in front of him. You pushed at Steve's side, heart fluttering at the way his grip tightened on your shoulder as you did so. His scent was overwhelming, cologne making you nearly lightheaded.

"Why don't you go fuck off elsewhere, Harrington, find someone else to bother," Billy stepped closer to the two of you, your alarm bells going off as you realized this stand off was a little more personal than you. Your eyes widened as Steve's smile dropped from his face, arm coming off of your shoulder as he stepped closer to Billy.

"Make me, Hargrove."

The two of them stood in a silent stand off, searching each other's eyes as no one dared to make a move. You stood back, admiring the view of the two men. You had to admit they were attractive, their display of dominance having you slightly blushing. Taking a sip of the strong concoction in your hands, you eyed the two men, waiting to see who would cave first.

You didn't have to wait long, your mom intercepting herself.

"Oh, Billy, sweetheart. I think your mom needs something in the kitchen," she smiled, patting at his back as he broke eye contact from Steve. The confidence that flowed off him earlier was broken, anger filling his blue eyes.

"She's not my mom," he mumbled, shoving Steve out of the way as he pushed past the two of you.

Your mom frowned, eyes trailing his path. "What an angry, handsome young man."

Steve snorted, his own gaze following the direction in which Billy made his way. Your mom reached over to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Smacking at her hand, you mouthed 'mooomm' at her, embarrassed if Steve had noticed.

"You're the young Harrington boy," your mother beamed at him, hand reaching up to brush against the single curl that hung over his forehead. Steve's height even towered over her, his head ducking down to meet her grasp. You flushed even further at that gesture, your hand coming up to rest at the heat of your forehead.

"And you must be Yn's sister, nice to finally meet you," Steve grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. Your mom was blushing at this point, the Harrington charm having its effect on her.

You rolled her eyes at the two of them, your mom swatting at his chest as he laughed politely. Tuning them out, you took another swig of your glass, fighting the grimace as Steve attempted to flirt with your mom.

He had your mom laughing, giggling like a school girl at his comments about her beauty. It was like you weren't even there, your mom forgetting she was a married woman as Steve charmed her.

"Yn!" Your attention was brought back to the conversation, your mom's voice drunk off of Steve's attention. "Why didn't you tell me you had dropped that goth boy for Steve here?"

You were confused, eyes flitting back and forth between the two. You had obviously missed a part of the conversation, key information that had you wondering. Steve brought a hand to your waist, pulling you into him. You stiffened in his arms, hand coming up to rest at his chest as you managed to keep a little distance between the two of you.

"What are you talking about?"

"Steve! He said he was taking you out tomorrow night!" Your mom gushed, clasping her hands together at her chest as she looked between the two of you. You knew she wasn't excited for his words or the fact that it was Steve, she was excited if it meant you didn't associate yourself with Eddie anymore. She never had a strong affliction for his long hair or his rock music or loud van that pulled up too late in the middle of the night.

"He is?"

"I am, princess, remember?" Steve questioned, rubbing small circles on your lower back. Your knees almost buckled under you as goosebumps stretched over your body. His eyes glanced at your mouth briefly, not going unnoticed.

"No, refresh my memory, Harrington." You shot back, irritated at the reaction your body had.

"Yn." You heard your mom's voice warn you about your tone. You ignored it, focusing on the tall boy in front of you.

"Me, you, tomorrow night. 7 pm, if it's alright, Mrs. Yln?" He briefly addressed your mom, gaze shooting to see her eager nod. Returning his eyes to you, he began to smile. "There's that new movie out that I know you've been dying to see. You couldn't tell me enough about it."

"Oh, is that right?" You kept your words short as Steve's hand dipped lower on your waist. His fingertips brushed over the top of the curve of your ass, earning a small gasp out of you.

"That's right, sweetheart," his eyes wrinkled at the corners as he smiled down at you, dragging his fingers even lower. His gaze didn't falter as he waited for a reaction out of you.

"Aren't you two the cutest. Little love birds," your mom enthused, reaching up with both hands to pinch at your cheeks. She turned on her heel, walking away from the pair of you to engage with a couple a few feet behind her.

As soon as she was lost in the crowd, you pushed Steve away from you, ignoring his laugh as you stormed towards the front door. You needed to be away from him, he was an ass, lying to your mom like that, lying to you like that. You made your way out of the door, fresh air hitting your hot, flushed face.

Letting out a choked exhale, you closed your eyes, running your hands through your hair. You ripped out the clip that held it up, shaking it out as you caught your breath. Your arousal at the earlier situation pooled in your belly, heart beating fast as you were met with conflicting emotions.

"Yn?"

Swiveling around, Steve was standing behind you, hands tucked into his pockets.

"You're such an ass, Harrington."

He shook his head, looking down at his feet as you glared at him. Continuing your words, you couldn't help, but want to hate him in the moment.

"What the hell was that? All that lovey dovey shit in there? Scaring off Billy?"

Steve's eyes shot up in your direction, face turning up at your questions.

"Billy's a real piece of work, Yn. You don't want anything to do with him," he said, dragging his eyes over your chest. You looked down, pulling up the collar of your dress as it dipped down, exposing a little too much of your breast bone. He wasn't helping his case much.

His words reminded you of your conversation with Eddie that night, his warning of the type of person Steve was.

"Like you aren't? Because I want something to do with you," you retorted sarcastically, beginning to walk towards the end of the driveway. Steve's footsteps trailed behind you, irritating you even further before you huffed and leaned against a random car. He stepped in your space, shoes almost brushing your heels as you looked up at him.

He made a quick glance in the direction of the house before leaning in, pressing his mouth to yours. His hands found your hips, hoisting you up on the hood of the car before finding his place between your hips. Moaning into the grasp, you were caught off guard.

Your mouth moved against his, hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck as you pulled him against you.

Pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Wear something pretty tomorrow, princess," he pressed a quick kiss to your mouth before pulling you completely away, making his way towards the house.

You sat there dumbstruck, cool metal of the car seeping through the material of your dress. Lips tingling, lower belly wanting more, you squeezed your eyes shut, thinking about how stupid you would be if you believed Harrington for the third time in a row.

Eddie’s voice was low on the phone as you sat in your towel, window wide open as you felt the cool air of the night makes its way in. Madonna played on the stereo in the back, her voice blending with the sound of chirping crickets.

"You sure you can't come over tonight?"

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you listened to his whine.

"No, I can't, I'm under house arrest," you complained, rolling your eyes as you flipped onto your back. The phone cord wrapped around your wrist, your free hand coming up to twirl at it.

A static-filled voice came through the phone line, you recognizing it as your moms, "No, she can't go tonight, Edward."

Heat filled your cheeks as embarrassment pooled in your chest. You pulled the phone away from your ear, covering the end.

"Mom! Get off the phone!" You screamed, hearing your mom scream something back at you from downstairs. The phone line clicked as Eddie laughed, a deep chuckle echoing through your ears.

"She really hates me, doesn't she," Eddie said through his laughter. You closed your eyes, tightening the towel around your chest.

"No," You lied, gritting your teeth. Eddie didn't need to see you to hear the blatant lack of truth in your words.

"You're such a liar, Yn. I recognize hate when I see it," he said, you could hear the eye roll in his words. You tried not to think of his words, the mention of hate being a word he was so so familiar with.

"She just doesn't like your tattoos," you said, stretching your limbs out across your bed. Your towel peaked open slightly, exposing your upper thigh. The air felt cool against your skin, urging your eyes shut as you relaxed into your sheets. "And maybe your van or your long hair-"

"Or the music or the trailer or the drugs," he continued, laughing as he heard your giggle through the line. You heard something at your window, distracting you from Eddie's continuation of his speech.

Before you knew it, a mop of hair popped up at the open window, Steve's brown eyes glancing around your room. You gasped, sitting up as you gripped onto the thin towel that covered your body.

"You okay, Yn?" Eddie's voice brought you back to the phone, your eyes focused on Steve falling through your window. He hit the ground with a thud, a low groan escaping him as the wind gets slightly knocked out of him. "Yn?"

"I gotta go, Eddie." You said, pulling the phone away from your ear. You heard his rushed, 'wait, who is that?' before you put the receiver on the hook.

Your fingers gripped your towel, squeezing your legs together as Steve rose to his feet.

"What are you doing, Steve!" Your voice was low as you heard your mother making her way up the stairs. Eyes trained on the door, Steve followed your gaze, rushing over to lock it quickly. The knob jiggled, your mother's concerned voice sounding through the door.

"Honey? What was that? Are you okay?"

Steve had his palm pressed to the wood, eyes wide as he looked at you.

"I'm fine! Just dropped my ... bag?" You said, flipping Steve off as he furrowed his brow at you. He mouthed, 'really?' in your direction.

‘Shut. Up.’ You mouthed at him, ignoring the way he looked at you incredulously.

"That Edward kid better not be in there!" Your mom yelled, doorknob jiggling again.

"Mom!" You screamed back, closing your eyes in frustration.

"I mean it, Yn!" She said before you heard her footsteps walk away from the door. Steve waited a few beats, before turning to you, hands on his hips. His eyes roamed your body, the air feeling a little too cold as you realized you were just in your towel.

"Well, well," he said, smirk toying at his lips.

"What are you doing here, Harrington?" You avoided eye contact with him, standing up to grab the closest piece of clothing you could drape over your body. You opened your closet door, blocking the view of him as you slipped the item over your body. It was a sun dress, albeit on the smaller side as you meant to return it next week.

Stepping out from behind the door, you rubbed the towel against your damp hair, cheeks flushed.

"I said 7 pm, remember?" He looked at his watch, wrist raising up as he tapped on the small screen. He pursed his lips at you, eyebrows raising as you realized it was a quarter past the time.

"I didn't think you were serious," you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as your nipples began to harden in the cool breeze of the room. Steve's eyes followed, slowly dragging his eyes away to return to your face.

You sat on the edge of your bed, tightening your frame as Steve made his way to sit next to you.

"I always keep my promises, Yn," He whispered, hand coming up to rest at your thigh. You gasped as you looked at him, barely noticing the bruise forming underneath his right eye. Your thumb came up to brush against it, his hand stopping your movements just as you made contact with the skin.

"What happened?" Your voice was a low whisper as he held eye contact, a more solemn look on his face. You could recognize a specific look in his eyes, something he tried to cover up with his confidence and flirtatious advances.

"Don't worry about me, princess," he muttered, leaning into you. His scent filled your airways as his lips kissed you. His mouth was soft, making you melt on the spot as he licked into your mouth.

Moaning softly, you welcomed his touch, feeling the way his fingers tangled into your hair. His tongue ran over yours, lapping inside of your mouth as your breath became more and more heavy.

He pulled away, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. Arching your neck back, your hand came to curl up at his hair, fingers digging into his scalp, eliciting a moan out of the man.

"Steve," you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as his mouth made a trail of marks down your jugular. Each touch felt like heaven's kiss, warm breath soothing the harsh marks he made. He pulled away from you, you pouted at him, dropping your gaze to the plump, redness of his mouth.

"I think that's the first time you called me my name, princess," he whispered into the air, hand coming to cradle the back of your head. A soft smile, different from his cocky smirk, crossed his face. He looked nice like that, you figured.

Returning his mouth to yours, he pushed you down on the mattress, towering over you as he maintained his assault to your mouth. The kiss became more rushed, Steve panting into your mouth as he hovered over you, hand slowly pushing up the material further up your thigh.

His fingers danced at the crease of your groin, your legs opening wider before you could even think about it.

"So eager, princess," He muttered against your mouth, reveling in the way you moaned his name. His fingers ran up the length of your slit, his smile at the wetness he was met with. "Already?"

"Shut up, Harrington," you grumbled, rolling your eyes at him. His eyebrows raised at you, his mouth dropping open to mirror yours as he pressed a finger inside. Holding eye contact, you moaned at the feeling of him inside you, his thick digit sending shock waves through you.

"I know you love it, princess."

His words added fuel to the fire, his finger moving deep within you as he searched for that sweet spot inside of you. Not taking long to find it, your back arched up into him, a loud moan escaping you.

"Shhh," he said, leaning on his elbow to press a hand to your mouth. Your face twisted up in pleasure as he fingered you, another digit pressing at your entrance as you opened up for him.

"Don't want mommy coming up here and finding you like this," he continued his taunts, your eyes fluttering shut as his fingers hit that pleasure point over and over. Whiteness pooled through your system, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

As his fingers stretched you out, you felt him rut against your thigh, thick jean-covered bulge urging more wetness out of you. The idea of him being turned on by this was bringing you closer to the edge than his fingers were.

His thumb came up to rub at your clit, a breathy sigh against his palm escaping. Your thighs were shaking at his point, his fingers quickening as he realized how close you were.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" He questioned, smirk coming back to watch the look on your face. You nodded rapidly, mewling under his touch. Small moans came out of you, hips moving in sync with his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"Bet you want to cum on me, huh, sweetheart? Feel fucked out against my cock, baby?"

He pressed you, bringing you closer and closer with each thrust of his fingers.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, baby. Make you forget all about that Munson kid," he whispered against your ear, voice dripping with arousal as his circled your clit. Your fingers gripped at his forearm, half moon shapes forming as your nails dug in.

"Would you like that, sweetheart?" He asked, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt the tension building up in your belly, warmth filling you as you came closer to your release. "You want Steve to fill you with his cock? Fuck you until you can barely remember your own name?"

You came with a shout, guttural moan coming out as his arched into his grasp. He laughed as you rode yourself through it, fingers covered in your slick as he pumped them into you the last few times. This man had done nothing to you other than finger you, but you felt like you ran a triathlon.

He sat up on the bed, removing his fingers from you as you sat there, legs open, dress pushed up to your waist. He held eye contact with you as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, tongue darting out as he sucked the digits into his mouth.

You moaned at the filthiness, not believing that Steve was as bold in bed, as he was outside of it. The smile around his lips was condescending as he watched you watch his tongue, lapping up your slick on his hand.

Glancing down his body, he was hard in his jeans, small patch of wet pooling in the front. You reached towards it, fingers just grazing the rough material as you heard a knock in the far distance.

Steve looked over towards your window, your eyes following the movement.

"Steven," His mother's voice was faint, his bedroom window wide open. "Nancy's here!"

You couldn't help but feel like you do this to yourself at this point, irritation not even something you could be bothered with feeling. Steve removed his hand from his mouth, standing up as you readjusted yourself.

"Gotta go, princess," he whispered towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth. It lingered, his hand briefly coming up to rest at your wild hair.

"Don't wait up," he winked at you, swinging his leg over your window sill. Arousal and anticipation pooled in your belly, remnants from earlier.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Harrington," You muttered, briefly wondering how much trouble you would be in if you just pushed him right off the ledge. He disappeared before you could even think of it further, the curtains fluttering as his hand disappeared out of sight.

He was going to be the death of you.

You had distanced yourself from the Harrington boy, not wanting to fall victim to his flirting again after the incident in your bedroom. Summer nights spent inside of your bedroom passed the time as your mom insisted you weren’t grounded, just not allowed to go out. You didn’t even know what you were under house arrest for, nothing significant enough happening that you would be in trouble for.

Whenever you had asked, she brushed it off, giving you some lame excuse that fell under the ‘more family time’ umbrella.

You hadn’t seen much of Steve lately, his bedroom light off and BMW missing from the driveway. You had heard rumors of him and Nancy being the IT couple around town, Eddie telling you over the phone. You insisted you didn’t care, complaining that he only told you because he wanted to rub it in that Steve “wasn’t that type of guy” even further.

Your little brother even had a life, spending his nights with the younger boys from town, you hearing him speaking on a walkie he had inherited from somewhere.

Tonight was your night to sneak out, finding yourself downtown as you passed by the local theatre.

You are searching for a store to buy your cigarettes from, the previous clerk you went to insisting that there had been a new law pushed urging 21 and over only. The lack of nicotine had you itching, mouth watering at every scent of the drug that passed you.

“Hey, new girl!” You heard a familiar voice behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Turning around, you recognized Tommy, his stupid, freckled face, smiling at you. Behind him, Carol and Steve stood, his arm around a young brunette you recognized to be known as Nancy.

You glanced up towards the night sky, wondering why you had never gotten into religion. Maybe then there would be something that would listen to you.

“New girl,” he taunted again, stepping closer to you. Only a few feet away, you could see all of the groups eyes on you, wondering where Tommy was going with his calls.

“Tommy,” you greeted him, hands shoving into your coat as you looked for an escape route. He took a step closer to you, urging you to come closer. You noticed a cigarette in his hand, your eyes flicking down to his grasp as your addiction took over any logical sense in your mind.

Taking a step towards the group, you nodded a greeting at the girls, avoiding Steve’s eye line all together. You had nothing to say to him, not even a greeting as he left you high and dry on your last interaction.

You had been successful avoided him for the rest of the summer, you definitely weren’t going to start now a week before school starts again.

“Long time no see, sweet thing,” Tommy’s nick name for you had you cringing, his annoying voice not even doing a portion of what Steve had done for you. You shook your head, ignoring the way your heart fluttered at the memory. It had been almost two months since you last heard him call you that.

“I’ve been around,” you said, squaring your shoulders as you eyed the tobacco in Tommy’s fingers.

“Still hang out with that freak kid?” He asked you, slapping his fist against his palm as he questioned you. You quirked an eyebrow, wondering what he was getting at.

“What kid?” You asked, knowing exactly who he was talking about. You knew where this was going, but didn’t have the energy to play along with his game.

“Munson, the freak, devil worshiper, whatever you wanna call it.”

His laugh was loud in the air as Carol followed, giggling into her jacket as both Steve and Nancy looked uncomfortable.

“What about it, Tommy?” You sighed, wanting him to get straight to the point. His laughter came to an end, looking for Carol for confirmation before his next question.

“What do I have to do to get a little something from him?”

You raised an eyebrow, dragging your eyes over his freckled face. Nodding, a smile crossed your face.

“Oh, Eddie doesn’t swing that way. He’ll pass,” you smirked, hearing the way that Steve snorted at your comment. Glancing in his direction, you couldn’t help but notice the way Nancy held her gaze on you, unfaltered.

“No, dumbass,” Tommy rolled his eyes, snapping at Steve who immediately quieted down. “I meant weed.”

“I mean, I guess I could make a call,” you looked down at your feet, shifting your weight side to side as you debated your options. You had no obligations to this man, but you felt the need to do a favor if it meant helping out Steve in the same breath.

“Perfect, you know where Steve lives-”

“She does?” Nancy’s voice was soft as she questioned the open air. Nobody answered even though the answer of you two being neighbors was simple.

“-so just come by and drop it off when you’re done making that run.” Tommy was casual in his orders, barking them off as if he was used to running things.

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “And when do I answer you?”

“I think you’ll do it if you even want a chance of a social life next year, babe.”

His threat seemed empty to you, not intimidated by the chance of your ‘social score’ being ruined. Eddie was the first friend you made in Hawkins, it was ruined before it even happened, and everyone knew that.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed in his direction, “I don’t even have a way of getting there and back.”

“I’ll take you.”

Steve’s voice caused all of you to look at him, Nancy taking a step back to look at her boyfriend. Blushing, you didn’t know how to answer.

“Go ride with them, Nance. And I’ll meet you back over there,” he coolly replied, taking a step in your direction. She opened her mouth a couple of times, seemingly embarrassed at the way she had been tossed to the side.

“Steve, w-what?” She asked, confusion written all over her features.

“I’ll be back,” he said, stepping into her as you felt uncomfortable at the interaction. He looked like he was going to kiss her for a second, only to pat a hand on her cheek before stepping in your direction.

A hand was pressed to the small of your waist as he led you to the maroon colored car. It was a few streets down, the group of teens behind you getting smaller as you watched Nancy with her pair of eyes on you. You felt guilty, even if you hadn’t done anything to her.

“You’re even a dick to your girlfriend, Harrington,” you said, as he opened the passenger door for you. You took a look at him before sliding in, tucking your feet in as the door slammed behind you. He made his way to the drivers seat, settling in as he smirked at you.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he replied, key pressing into the ignition.

“You might want to tell her that,” you quipped, head turning towards the window as he took off down the street. The lights of downtown faded in the background as you made your way towards the desolate part of Hawkins.

You were confused as more and more trees appeared, the way to Eddie’s trailer becoming more and more clear.

“How do you know where he lives?”

Steve glanced at you, turning down the stereo so he could hear you better. You repeated the question, eyes trained on the trees becoming more sparse as you approached the lot.

It might have been the first time you saw Steve blush, “Oh, Nance’s litt- Nancy’s little brother’s here all the time, playing a dumb board game or something. I drive them sometimes when they don’t have a ride. Your brother’s there too, sometimes.”

You rose an eyebrow at the slip of the little nickname, humming as you turned towards the window. Trailers began to pass you, Eddie’s appearing with his van parked right out front.

“She’s so your girlfriend, Harrington,” you muttered, getting out of the car before you could hear him say anything. You didn’t want to linger on the thought that Steve had been taken by someone, a truly good girl, no matter how much you liked to pretend you were. No connection had truly been made between you, but you did enjoy that cat and mouse chase you had going.

You made your way up to the stairs, knuckles rapping at the door. Eddie appeared, confused as he stood there in a tight black t-shirt, exposing the bottom of his stomach.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, not even saying hello. His eyes squinted as he noticed the headlights of a car pointed in your direction. “Is that- is that fucking Steve?”

You grumbled, pushing him back into the trailer as you shut the door behind you. You felt Steve’s eyes on the two of you, you didn’t want him to see the interaction.

“I thought you couldn’t come out. House arrest or some other bullshit,” Eddie complained, crossing his arms over his chest as he sat down on the couch. You shrugged, eyes trained on everything else but the man in front of you. “And yet you’re here with Steve fucking Harrington.”

Eyes widening at the harshness in his words, you scratched behind your ear.

“We need weed,” you said, avoiding his statements. Eddie shushed you, finger pointing to his ear. “I didn’t even say it that loud, dimwit, I just need some.”

Eddie pursed his lips at you, staring, unmoving as you mirrored his stance. Hip cocked out, you placed a hand on your hip, tapping your toes against the floor.

“Why would I give Harrington some of my stuff?” He asked, defensive even as he stood up to make his way to his room. He was grabbing the tin anyways, making his way out back to where you stood.

“Because you love me and want good things for me,” you said, but it came out more like a question. Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbing a random baggie before shoving it in your grasp.

A smile crossing your face, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you, Munson.” He face filled with color as he glanced down at the floor.

You turned around to make your way out, Eddie’s hand darting out to grab you.

“I’m doing this for you, okay? Not Harrington, not Tommy H, not anyone else, okay?” He asked, eyes set deep into you as you nodded along to his words. The serious expression in his face made you want to cry, he had never been so stoic around you. “Whatever you’re doing, just … I warned you, okay? Please be careful.”

“Always will be,” you muttered, watching as his eyes searched yours once more before dropping to the products in his hand. He didn’t say anything else, so you took that opportunity to run out of that trailer, making your way back to the beemer that sat in front of the property.

Steve jumped as you made your way into the car, singing along to some random song of the radio. He raised an eyebrow to you, questioning if you got the stuff. You pulled it out of your pocket, showing him the large amount he had given you.

“Holy shit, Munson,” he laughed, shaking his head as he started his car. He high-tailed it out of there, car speeding over the empty streets as he made his way towards population.

The drive had you thinking, wondering what the hell you were doing in the front seat of this car. Steve’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, the rhythmic noises urging you to think of the reality of the situation.

Him and you would never work out, he was always doing something, somebody, never gave you a considerate time of the day. You were lucky if you got more than 20 minutes with the asshole.

He couldn’t be thinking of you, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that he did whenever he left his bedroom window open.

“Yn?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, his hand waving in front of your face. He was pulled into his driveway, another car, one you recognized as Tommy’s, parked next to it. You heard shouting coming from the backyard, the splashing of a pool as Carols voice screamed.

“Sorry, just … thinking,” you muttered, grabbing the bag off of your lap to hand to Steve. He looked confused as you reached for your seatbelt, clicking it off of you as you reached for the door handle.

“You’re not coming in?” He asked you, voice a lot softer than you ever remember it being. Your hand stopped on the handle as you turned to face him. You weren’t sure what he was getting at.

“I can’t?” You asked, voice careful considering your next words. “Nancy’s here? And I’m sure Tommy and Carol want me dead.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head at your answer.

“They don’t hate you, and Nance is not my girlfriend,” he said, hand coming out to rest at your thigh. His thumb dipped onto the inner muscle, butterflies flowing through your stomach. “Just come in, for a little bit.”

You shook your head, noticing the way he leaned closer to you. You felt his breath against your lips, the scent of spearmint gum coming from him.

“Just a little bit,” he whispered, pressing a small kiss to your lips. You leaned into it, hand reaching across to rest on his own leg.

Parting from you, he took a small breath.

“Or we could maybe have a little fun here?” He asked, running a finger to the heat between your legs. The material of your dress was pushed up as his fingertips danced over the material of your underwear.

Your legs opened, inviting him in as he rubbed circles over your heat, watching the way your underwear became stained with your wetness. A whimper escaped your lips, eyes fluttering shut as he began to massage your sex.

“What’s wrong with a little fun?” He whispered, pulling back your underwear at the waistband, just to let go, smirking at the way you jumped when it snapped at your skin. “Nancy doesn’t have to know everything.”

Your face dropped as you pushed his hand off of you, straightening your clothes as you felt a sting at the back of your eye.

“Woah, Yn,” he said, putting his hand up in surrender as you pulled your jacket over your frame, shielding the exposed skin your dress had to offer. “What happened?”

Crossing your legs, you didn’t dare look at the Harrington boy.

“Is that what this is?” You questioned, hearing Eddie’s words in your mind from earlier. Steve sputtered, confused at the sudden change in mood.

“What are you talking about?” Apprehension clear in his tone, he tried touching you again, only to be smacked away.

“Am I just a distraction for you whenever you’re bored?” You began to raise your voice, annoyance prickling at your tone. “Whenever you want something a little different from Nancy?”

Steve sighed, pinching his nose bridge as he processed your words. Silence lingered in the air for a moment, the only sounds present were the distant ones of the teenagers in the backyard.

“Did you honestly think it was anything more?”

His words had you snapping your head in his direction. You couldn’t believe his words, jaw dropping as he stared at you.

“W-what?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, Eddie’s face appearing in the back of your mind. His words were crystal clear now, the false hope of Steve Harrington tarnishing your ideals of him. You knew he was with the brunette girl, you knew he was in a relationship, you had heard it all summer. Even as he denied it earlier, you felt it inside of you that they were together.

“I’m sorry if you thought it was anything more,” he answered you, uncomfortably adjusting his hair. This would be the moment where he pretended like he had been loyal to his girlfriend the entire time. “I think I’m, like, with Nancy now.”

You rolled your eyes at him, not choosing to answer as you stormed out of the car. You slammed the door shut, crossing the lawn to your own house, not caring that you were knocking on the front door, even if you had snuck out earlier. Your mom answered, confused at you presenting yourself, when you should’ve been in your room the entire night.

“Yn? What’s going on?” She asked, glancing behind you to see if she saw anyone. If she saw Steve, half way out of his car, staring in your direction, she didn’t say anything, instead inviting you in as the tears began to come.

She didn’t say anything as you threw yourself in the house, closing the door behind you before you hugged her, letting out a tear as you buried your head in her arms. Your mom was confused, but her motherly instinct kicks in, silent as she was wrapping her arms around you as you sobbed.

You didn’t want Eddie to be right, but he had been the entire time. Admitting to being with Nancy wasn’t the worst part of it all after denying it all night, it was just how he had made you feel important even if it was for a split second. Deep down, you knew he wasn’t to be true in his words, but for the moment, you liked to pretend. He slipped into the role so easily, it made you feel like it was natural, him being the missing puzzle piece inside of you.

Steve wasn’t the person you had thought him to be, he was much worse.

The school year had began, three months and now deep into the winter season, and you had kept your distance even further from everyone else. Eddie had been bothered by it at first, wondering why you were even ghosting him when it came to your isolation. He knew it was Steve related, but he didn’t press the situation, choosing to give your space as you needed. He knew you would come back around eventually.

You heard rocks hitting your window at night as you kept it closed, Steve’s own window ajar as he hung half way out of it. The only response you had was to turn up your stereo, ignoring him as you felt your story was over. Being a pawn in his game wasn’t the way that you wanted to live your life in this town, waiting for the school season to be over until you could make it to college.

You chose to sulk in your room, realizing the self loathing and isolation weren’t going to get you anywhere, but you could pretend as long as it brought you inner peace. You shouldn’t be this upset over someone like him, but you couldn’t help it.

Steve's window across the way was lit up, curtains drawn as shadowed figures moved behind it. You crossed the distance of your bedroom floor, closing the journal that you scribbled in. Two shadows danced in the swaying of the pulled curtains, you figured it was Steve with Nancy, a normal occurrence you saw in the late hours of the night. His window was cracked open, the curtains being sucked out of the opening as the harsh weather made its claim over your part of town.

Just as you went to turn around, you saw a hand strike up, hitting the smaller one next to it. Gasping, you covered your mouth, not believing the sight in front of you. How could Steve hit Nancy like that? You didn't realize he was that type of person, an asshole in every aspect of his life.

The smaller figure fell out of view of the window, presumably on the bed as you saw a small bounce of the shadow. You chose to run out of the room, nearly knocking down your mom as you descended the stairs.

"Honey, what's going on?" She called out to you, but you ignored it, throwing open the front door as you hurried across the lawns. You couldn't waste any time, pounding your fist against the wooden double doors.

"Nancy?" You called out, fist rapidly pounding. All of the Harrington cars were in the driveway, you knew they had to be home by the way each light on the first floor was on. Nobody answered, your fist began to hurt with the force of each blow to the door.

Your face was flushed as it flew open, Steve's mom standing there with her perfect, chestnut hair, styled down to her shoulders. She held a dishrag in her hands, wiping wetness off of it as she looked you up and down, curious.

"Oh, hello, Miss Yn. Is everything okay, darling?" She asked you, peaking her head out to glance around you. She looked for something as you took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say.

"I just- your son," you took a few deep gasps, trying to look around her for signs of the Wheeler girl. "Is Nancy okay?"

She pursed her lips, hand coming up to rest at her hip. You saw a spitting image of Steve in that moment, now knowing where he got it from.

"Uh, Nancy?"

"I saw- She, uh... She fell," you breathed, head shaking as you struggled over your own thoughts. "I don't know what I saw."

You felt crazy as Mrs. Harrington took a look at you. Her gaze slowly traveled over your body, her head nodding slowly as she glanced briefly behind her. She seemed at the same loss of words as you.

"Nancy's not here, darling," She said, beginning to close the door. "You should go home."

Your hand shot out, stopping the wood from closing. The woman gasped, shocked at your bravery in doing so.

"No!" Taking a step towards the home, you couldn't just leave it as that. You were in the doorway at this point, craning your neck to look behind her as you searched for the brunette. "I saw her."

"Honey, I don't know what you saw, but you need to go-"

"Yn?" Steve appeared behind her suddenly, confusion draped over his eyes. A small gasp escaped your mouth as you realized you had the situation so, so wrong.

His eye was yet again bruised, a small cut on his mouth as he ducked his face towards the floor. His body was covered by his mom as he stood behind her, hand coming up to grip the frame of the door. Mrs. Harrington took a look back at her son, not phased by the injuries on his face.

"Steven, go back to your room," she said, shaking her head as placed a hand on his cheek. He flinched away from it, eyes not leaving you as he moved around her. She protested, annoyed at the fact he followed you outside, stepping out of the warmth of the home. "Steven! Before your father-"

"I'll be back," he said, hands on you as he slowly pushed you away from the entrance. He spared a look back at her as his hand found yours. "Please, don't tell him."

The older woman looked at him in his eyes, a silent conversation occurring between the two of them. Glancing at your clasped hands, she took one look behind her before nodding, closing the door with a soft thud.

"Steve? What's going on?" You asked, feeling the warmth of his hand as he led you towards his car. He shushed you, pushing you inside as he unlocked it. The smell of old leather and tobacco invaded your senses, fear shaking your bones as you did not know what to take from the situation. You watched as he settled into the driver's seat, key in ignition before pulling out onto the main road.

Silence overtook the two of you, the only sounds being the small beginnings of the pitter-patter of rain hitting the windshield. The look on the boy's face made him look so young at this moment, his big, brown eyes blinking away the stinging of tears, hand coming up every now and then to touch the red on his lip.

"Steve?"

He didn't answer you, instead pulling over to the side of the road as deep throes of trees surrounded you. He rested his head in his hands, fingers running over his face as the rain continued to grow heavy.

Your hand came to rest at his back, uncertainty in your movements as you weren't sure what you were doing here.

"Steve?" You tried once again, his gaze finally meeting yours, lashes wet with tears. The bruise over his eye had swelled at this point, his fingers coming up to shield the majority of the injury from your wandering look. You moved your hand to grab his, leaning over the center console. It left his face as your grip tightened, fingers intertwining in the darkness of the car.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he muttered, looking down at your chin as he dropped eye contact. The Harrington you once knew was gone in this moment, replaced by a younger version who seemed scared of even himself.

"How long has he...?

Your voice trailed off as he shook his head at you, your question answering itself.

"You don't deserve that. No one does, you shouldn't have to deal with that."

Steve's laughter cut off the rest of your words, he looked up at the roof of the car, shaking his head.

"Little miss perfect, telling me how to deal with this," he tapped his knuckle on the driver's window, other hand dancing on the steering wheel. Heat was on your cheeks.

"I'm just trying to help, Harrington."

He nodded, eyes flitting in your direction as you shrank down in the seat.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly said, hand coming out to rest at your knee. "I... he-he wasn't always like this. It's whenever he drinks too much, and in case, you haven't noticed, I'm not the best as staying silent."

Your hand covered his in your knee, rubbing in small circles as his grip tightened. The warmth flowed through your body, small shock waves of electricity tingling at your spine.

You snorted at his comment, rolling your eyes at the memory of all the little quips Steve had given you since you met him.

"I promise I'm okay, it's not as bad as it looks," he continued, turning his body towards you as you leaned into him. His hand came to rest at your cheek, thumb rubbing at the skin on your cheekbone. "I'm okay, princess. I promise."

You wanted to believe him, you really did, but Steve hadn't been the most trust worthy person you had met in the town. This time, his lying benefited the situation, you weren't sure if he had lied for his own sake, or for yours.

He leaned in slowly, lips hovering over yours for a moment, before they lightly pressed in. A slight copper taste of blood was on his lips, masking the mint taste he so often had. You nipped at his lip, earning a hiss from him as he pulled away slightly.

"Watch it, princess," he laughed into your mouth, fingers lacing in your hair as he pulled you into him. You nodded, breathless sigh opening your mouth, letting his tongue find dominance over yours.

Suddenly, you saw the Wheeler girl, her brown hair against Steve's shoulder, arms wrapped around him in your memory. Pulling away, you placed a hand on his chest, elbow resting on the center console.

"Wh-what about Nancy?" You said, licking the taste of Steve off of your lips. His eyes traced your tongue's movement, his own tongue darting out as he attempted to lean in again.

"She dumped me," he shrugged, glancing up at you.

"Steve!" You exclaimed, eyes widening at his admission. This boy was hurting in more ways than one, all of it being dumped on you on this unexpecting night.

He shook his head, eyes rolling. "She said my mind was too busy on someone else."

His voice was low as he spoke to you, features dark. Heart kicking up a few notches, the hand on his chest began to pull at the fabric, exposing a few hairs by his collarbone.

"I was too distracted by you," he whispered into the air, mouth returning to yours as his thumb parted your lips. His tongue was warm and wet, gliding over the muscle of yours as he leaned over you. The sound of the leather crushed under you, Steve halfway out of his seat as passion was exchanged in the kiss.

"Get in the back, sweetheart," he muttered against your mouth, pressing small kisses to you. You leaned your head back, moaning at the way his wet mouth began to suck and lick at your neck.

"I'm not going to fuck you, Harrington," you rolled your eyes in pleasure, pants coming out of your lips. He nipped at the skin harshly, leaving teeth marks at the plump skin.

He unbuckled the seat belt that strapped you in, guiding it so it didn't harm you as it slid back into place. He reached down, patting at your ass as he urged you to crawl over the seats.

"It's okay," he said, voice low as his hand grazed over your hip. "I'm going to fuck you, sweetheart."

His words sent heat straight to your core, you jumped up at his words, hearing his laughter as you crawled into the back, ridding yourself of your shirt before he could utter the words. He followed you movements, long limbs tripping over himself as he struggled to manage his height in the back. He settled his weight over you, hips planting over yours as he returned his mouth to its previous place, sucking at the junction of your neck.

His hands found your waist, fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs before working on his own clothes. The windows began to fog up, small squeaks of the BMW echoing into the rain of the night.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you, baby?" He said, pulling his jeans off of him before crossing his arms at his waist, hunched over to pull off the material of his button up. Your fingers went up to graze over his chest, feeling the dusting of hair under your touch.

The lack of light in the car allowed you no mercy, the glint of dimmed moonlight catching his eye. Your mouth was dropped open, feeling his heavy weight per you as his clothed manhood rubbed over your core.

Returning his mouth to your neck, he began to kiss down the expanse of your skin, goosebumps in its wake. You gripped his tendrils of hair between your fingers, moaning as he pushed you up the seat.

Your head was pressed against the glass, eyes closed in bliss as he pressed small kisses to the space below your belly button. His breath was hot, tongue darting out to lick against the pubic bone, his finger tips stretched over the plane of skin.

Your underwear was pulled down, your hips being ushered upwards as the material slid down your thighs. A kiss was pressed to your clit, your thighs opening as a gasp escaped your mouth, head smacking against the glass once more.

"Look at me, princess," you heard Steve whisper into the night, you shaking your head as your eyes were squeezed shut. You felt him breathe against the heat between your legs, Steve pressing another kiss to you.

"Sweetheart..." He warned, moving to sit up in the vehicle. Before he could make a move, you shot open your eyes, looking down into his dark brown. A smirk was present on his face, eyes filled with arousal as he nodded in approval at the eye contact.

His tongue darted out to lick at you, running languidly as it dipped between your folds. You mewled under his touch, struggling to keep your eyes open as he continued to please you.

His face grew more and more wet, his tongue dipping in and out of your sex as he maintained eye contact. Hand leaving your hip, he pressed a finger to your entrance, dipping it in as a shout escaped you. One of your hands pawed at the window, hips moving against his face as your chased the pleasure he was giving you.

"Steve," you drawled out, grip tight in his hair as you pulled his face further into you. He sucked at your clit, pumping a finger in and out of you at a steady pace.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he whispered against you, slopping up your wetness as he moved his head side to side. White began to cloud your vision, another finger slipping into you as he picked up the pace.

The spot inside of you ached so good, being hit repeatedly as his fingers curled inside of you.

"Steve, I'm gonna-"

He removed himself from you, fingers still moving, paces slower. You whined, the white hot feeling leaving your gut. A smirk covered his face as he leaned up to kiss you, chin wet from your slick.

"Not yet, sweetheart," his kiss was sweet, the taste of you and Steve mixing together as his fingers slowly curled inside of you. It was enough to tease you, keeping you on the edge of your orgasm, wanting more of him in every way possible.

"Steve, please. I need- I need-"

Your words were rambling, as you pulled him into you, fingers scratching at his back. His gaze was almost mocking, eyebrows raised as he took in the pleasure on your face.

"What do you need?" He asked, daring to press a third digit to your dripping entrance. You arched into the touch, feeling the way it poked at you. The burn was harsh, pleasure tickling at your spine, earning another wave of wetness to pool at his fingers.

"I need you, Steve."

"How bad do you need me?" He asked, pushing in the digit even further. Your eyes rolled back, breaking the stare between the two of you. Steve angled your downward, hovering over you as your hair fanned out below you.

His teasing made you even more sloppy, whimpers spilling out of your mouth, fingers clawing at his skin, wetness pressing at the corners of your mouth.

"So bad, Steve." Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, his fingers leaving your heat as he settled between your thighs. One of his hands hooked under the curve of your knee, angling it upwards as your foot draped over the back of the leather seats.

He kneeled over you, pulling down his own underwear as he took a hold of himself. Pumping slowly over his length, his head prodded at your entrance, teasing you as you fluttered around him.

"I don't think I heard you, sweetheart."

You huffed at him, trying to angle your hips up to ease his way in. A hand shot out, pushing you back down into the seat.

"You're such an ass, Harrington."

"And yet you're still here," he laughed, pressing further against you as he began to push into you. You stretched around him, hands shooting up to grip at anything around you as he moaned deeply.

His breath grew short, small pants escaping his lips as his hips stuttered, pressing his full length into you. Forehead pressed against yours, he leaned down to kiss you, moaning helplessly into your mouth.

Steve was big, his cock nudged deep inside of you, aching as it pressed against your cervix.

He slowly rolled his hips inside of you, cock nudging deeper and deeper as you groaned, hands gripping the globe of his ass. Rearing his hips back, he moaned before snapping them back in, the entirety of the car shaking with the force of it.

He urged animalistic moans out of you, red scratches on his skin as his teeth left bite marks on your skin.

"Feel so good, baby," he moaned, licking over bites marks that he left. The sound of slapping skin echoed through the car, humidity leaving your skin damp.

"So fucking good."

He began a string of words of encouragement, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You felt a feeling like no other bubbling in your core, pressure that felt like exploding as he fucked into you.

So pretty, princess.

You feel so good around me, look what you're-fuck, look what you're doing to me.

Gonna cum so deep inside of you, sweetheart.

This pussy's all mine, baby? All mine.

You moaned at his words, his thrusts becoming more sloppy as your wetness became a slip and slide that he struggled to keep up with. It came to a point where you only felt his head hitting against your sweet spot, blinding white pleasure clouding your mind.

Steve moaned loud, you felt a burst of his warm release inside of you, filling you up as he rammed inside of you.

"Cum for me, princess," he moaned, continuing to fuck you even through his own over stimulation. You screamed out loud as you exploded, wetness spurting out of you as he coughed out a loud, shocked laugh, hand reaching down to rub at your clit.

Arching your back, you moaned through it, feeling extremely lightheaded as he massaged you. His seats were a mess, dripping with your own release as you pushed him away from you. Removing himself from you, he sat back, admiring the way you laid there, spent.

"Well, that's a first," he laughed, reaching down to grab his underwear to wipe down the liquid. You blushed, hand coming up to cover the redness at your cheeks.

"Shut up, Harrington," you giggled, breathlessly as you felt him wipe you down. He pulled you up to a sitting position, pulled into his side as you winced at the soreness in your legs.

He frowned, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he rubbed the palms of his hands over your arms.

"You alright, princess?" He whispered into your hairline, covering you with his discarded sweater. You nodded, leaning your head back so you could look into his eyes.

They were filled with a warmer emotion, much different than the previous look he had. His hair fell over his forehead, bed head wild as he scanned your features.

"Does this mean we're friends now?" He asked you, smile tugging at his mouth as his thumb found its way over your cheek. It pushed at your bottom lip, parting your lips as it pressed inside, lightly brushing against your tongue.

It was your turn to laugh, rolling your eyes as you took a good look at him. He was spent, bruised and breathless, hope lingered in his eyes as he awaited your answer.

"You tell me, Steve." You said, pressing a kiss to his mouth again. He moaned again, cock stirring once more as your lips met. You both pulled away to look down at it, the dripping head leaking as it began to harden again.

You laughed, noticing the way his chest began to rise and fall shallowly.

"Fuck, princess," he groaned, head leaning back against the seat. His eyes fluttered shut. "You're going to fucking kill me."

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open.

AN: I love mean!Steve, I am sorry. I promise I'll have him as a sweetheart one of these days. This took forever for me to write, so let me know what you think?

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (1)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Rating: Mature

Square filled for @stuckybingo Round 5: free space - mafia au

Square filled for @anyfandomgoesbingo: Free Space

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of illegal activities/mafia business/murder, strong reader, mentions of breeding/surrogate, wish for children, shady deals, shitty boyfriend, reader doesn't take shit from no one, tension, sexy mobsters

Words: 1,5k

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“Babe, how do I look?” Your boyfriend asks, almost stumbling over his words as the men he was hoping to meet at the fancy party walk inside the room. 

Well, they don’t walk like normal people. They are stepping inside the room, stopping in their tracks to look at the people in the room. It looks like the crowd parts like the Red Sea to form a path only for them.

Steven Grant Rogers. James Buchanan Barnes. – Two names you must know if you ever heard of New York City and its mob.

They are as good-looking as they are dangerous. A deadly combination of beauty and the beast hidden behind blue eyes.

If you don’t want to end up six feet under, you don’t mess with them. Or even look their way too long.

“Did you put on the underwear I told you to?” 

“What has this to do with the party?” You sigh, as you still don’t know why Scott brought you here.

You’ve been dating for a few months, and you had hoped that tonight, he’d do more than the bare minimum. He’s not a bad guy, but an awful partner.

A criminal too. Not a criminal mastermind, but you already figured out that the small business he runs is far from legal.

“It’s important, babe,” you roll your eyes at the awful pet name. You hate it and told him so before. “Okay, don’t say anything stupid. Or, just look pretty and don’t say anything at all.”

“What?” Now you square your jaw. You don’t understand what has gotten into Scott until you lift your eyes off him to meet two pairs of blue ones. “Oh…”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes,” Scott looks pathetic when he bows for the heads of the mob in town. “I’m honored to meet you again. Thank you for having me.”

The men ignore Scott and his offered hand. Instead, they look at you. Steve almost shoves your boyfriend aside as he holds out his hand to take yours.

“I see you followed our invitation,” he lowers himself to press a kiss to the back of your hand. You shiver. He seems so polite, and kind. But behind his blue eyes, you can see the beast wanting to break free.

“Stevie don’t scare her off right away,” you are a little overwhelmed when James Barnes turns his attention toward you. He takes your other hand and kisses your knuckles, glancing at your ring finger. “No ring, doll? He didn’t ask you to be his forever?”

“No-“ You’re usually not shy, or meek. But these men crowd you like prey and have their hands on you. You know they are in a relationship, but right now, they look at you as if you are their latest meal. “We’re only dating for a few months.”

“A shame,” Steve cups your chin, making you whimper. You never felt like this before. Confused and aroused at the same time. These men are strangers, but oddly you feel safe in their presence. “What do you say? Shall we lead this to a more private area?”

You don’t know why they are interested in leading you and your boyfriend to a private area, but this can’t be good. People like them never have good intentions, and you assume Steve and Bucky are no exception.

“I’m good here…I mean. You should enjoy your party. Don’t you have to greet all the people you invited?” You nervously babble. 

“Doll, they don’t care if we greet them or not. They are only here to show respect to us,” Bucky runs his index finger up your arm. He smirks as you involuntarily shudder at his touch. “Let’s lead this to our office.”

“Scott,” you dip your head to glance at your boyfriend. He looks up at Steve as if the man is carrying a halo on top of his head. “Scott!”

“Babe don’t be rude. We should follow them to the office,” your boyfriend is no help. He’s wringing his hands while staring at Steve Rogers. God, he’s such a pathetic little boy. You just see it now when you watch him interact with two real men.

“Fine,” you snap at Scott if only to end his pathetic act. “Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, please lead the way.” 

“Do you want a drink or a canapé doll? We can ask the maid to get you something you’ll like,” Bucky sits next to you on the couch, one hand running up and down his thigh, the other creeping toward your thigh. He brushes his metal finger over your exposed skin, barely listening to what his partner has to say.

“Buck, did you listen?”

“Seal the deal,” the brunette clicks his tongue, “I’ll take care of the main act in the meantime. You know I don’t care about the conditions. We already negotiated them. You can take care of the details.”

“I want to take over more important tasks,” Scott suddenly says. He glances at you, and then he looks at Steve. “Sir, I agree on the terms. I’ll do anything to prove that you can trust me.”

“Does she agree on our terms too?” Steve dips his head to watch you stop Bucky’s hand from stroking your thigh. “Buck, we are talking here.”

“I know,” Bucky huffs. “All you do is talk to that slimy little bastard. Give him what he wants so we can get what we want.”

“Mr. Lang, you know that if we seal the deal, that you cannot break it. We have rules for a reason.”

“She will agree,” Scott hastily says. You snap your head toward your boyfriend, wondering what he’s talking about. “Right, Y/N? You’ll help me with the deal.”

“I told you that I’m not going to do anything illegal,” you hiss at Scott. “I looked the other way when you sold stolen phones to my colleagues, but I won’t actively help you. I’m not a criminal.”

“You didn’t talk about the deal with her?” Bucky suddenly jumps up to fist Scott’s jacket. “You dare to come to our house and lie to us?”

“I didn’t lie, Sir…Mr. Barnes. Y/N said she finds you hot, and all. She even talked about ending up between the two of you to her friend.”

“You sick fuck spied on me and Maria?” You growl at Scott. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes…I’m sure she’ll help you have a baby and all…”

“Baby what?” You furrow your brows. “Okay. This is getting ridiculous. What is going on here?”

“Well, we want you to become our surrogate. Bucky and I love each other dearly, but I cannot give him what he needs, nor can he give me what I want. A baby…an heir. We were looking for the perfect woman, with the perfect bloodline.”

“I-what?” The room suddenly caves in. You feel dizzy and grab the edge of the couch. “You want me to be your breeder?”

“No, doll,” Steve walks toward the couch to crouch down in front of you. “We want you to spend time with us…or rather between us.” He grins. “I want you to have my baby. And then you’ll have Bucky’s. We haven’t figured out whose allowed to breed you first.”

“Breed me?” Oh. God. Your pussy just clenched around nothing. If not for the anger taking over, you’d gladly jump Steve’s bones to have all the babies he wants. “Are you fucking insane? I’m not a piece of meat you can just buy!”

“We believed he talked about the deal with you, doll. Please, don’t be mad at us,” Steve purrs, and runs his hand over your cheek. “We only wanted what we deserve. The perfect woman having our babies.”

“She will agree…” Scott nervously says. He looks at you, hoping you’ll agree to whatever the two men holding his fate in their hands want. “Right babe?”

“I hate it when you call me that,” you jump up, and push Steve aside. “What did you believe will happen when you bring me here to offer my uterus and pussy to these two? Huh? That I’ll just bend over the desk and let them have their way with me!”

“I-uh…kinda…yes…”

“Pathetic,” you click your tongue as you glance at Bucky. He cracks his knuckles, ready to rough Scott up a little for messing with them. “I knew you were no good. I should’ve listened to my gut instinct.”

You dip your head to watch Steve walk toward his partner. They are looking at you, like lions ready to pounce. Those two men set their eyes on you, and you are not foolish enough to believe that they’ll leave you alone.

If you end up in their clutches, you’ll make sure they only get their hands on you to your conditions. “You want me and my womb?”

“More than anything,” Bucky purrs. He steps behind you to place both of his hands on your belly. “And I can tell, Stevie, and will love filling you up.”

Scott hopefully looks at you. This is the moment he was waiting for. He’ll be a made man soon, and his ex will see, he's more than the loser she sees in him. 

You look at Steve, holding his gaze, “I’ll be yours if you get rid of him…”

Part 2

[hyperions-light]

woAH I heard people are hating on Neve which is super cringe! Neve positivity time!!

I am in love with her because

1. She has an impeccable sense of fashion, she never misses, could make a paper bag look good

2. Docktown sucks so bad, like major Kirkwall vibes, and she loves it SO MUCH

3. If you give money to the people asking for it on the streets in Docktown, sometimes Neve will check in with them and make sure they have a place to stay it’s so sweet !!!

4. She cannot cook at all. Only eats fried fish. Boils her coffee. Zero domestic skills, completely perfect

5. She loves Bellara so much, she’s such a good friend ;-; She finds all her serials and helps her try to work out the mysteries! She gets her goat cheese! She comes to Cyrian’s funeral ;-;

6. If you wander around Docktown with her in your party you can stop and talk to her regular contacts and she will check in with them <3

7. She works alone because she’s scared that the people who try to help her will get hurt =(

8. She’s not afraid of Spite and she refuses to see Lucanis as a monster or treat him differently, even after he almost kills Illario.

9. She helps Taash figure out their gender stuff and she is so supportive and helpful <3

10. The WAY she talks to people who are hurting… like even though she’s so cynical, personally, she never tells people to give up on others, she’s never sarcastic or scathing when people are in pain. I took her on Taash’s final mission last time, and her voice ;-; She wanted to help so badly, but she couldn’t do anything. She reminded them that everyone was there for them. She loves SO much, so intensely.

11. She does not expect anyone to help her, and especially if you don’t save Minrathous she’s skeptical, but she’s so thankful for Rook’s help when they give it. She’s so fucking lonely, man! She thinks she has to do it all herself, because everyone else in the world and especially in Minrathous has shown her over and over that they don’t care about the people she loves, the people like HER. She’s not rich, she’s not famous or powerful or well-connected, she’s just using what she has to try and help people!

12. Manfred canonically doesn’t like nicknames, but he lets Neve call him ‘Fred

Neve Gallus, the woman you are <3

Edit: When I posted this someone immediately made some rude comment so here’s some more stuff to love about Neve Gallus!

13. She investigated the mystery of the candlehops and she was so serious about it! Just like the wisps in the Lighthouse!

14. When she was a kid she didn’t know what she wanted to be when she grew up and she HATED it lol

15. She got her best coat as a gift from a grateful client!

16. She keeps her tiny little apartment because they gave her a good deal on the rent and she doesn’t want to lose it

17. Halos keeps trying to give her fish for free but she insists on paying him <3

18. That joke she made to Lucanis about having an extra leg if he needed one lol

19. She misses the sound of the ocean, and sometimes when she wakes up in the Lighthouse she hears it for a moment

20. The way she explains everything so patiently to Taash about Tevinter and Docktown and the way status symbols work; the way she is always trying to use her skills to help the other members of the team!!

21. How she makes sure to check up on that kid whose father was doing demon summoning stuff and make sure that he’s alright ;-;

[hedoublehell]

BITE

Damien Haas x f!reader

You wake up from a dream about Damien, only to find out reality may be better than anything your imagination could come up with.

SMUT -- 18+ ONLY!!!

Warnings: p in v, oral (both male + female receiving), degradation kink (slut + whore is used a lot), praise kink, spanking, dom/sub, dom!Damien, sir/master kink

Note: this is my first fic in about 5 years, so it may be a little rusty. but i hope you all enjoy!!

Tags: @agnewbones, @pedropascallme

“You’re this wet for me already?” 

Cold sweat dripped down the middle of your back outlining the edges of your spine. Reality came back as the pitch black darkness engulfed your vision, replacing the blurs of skin, purple hair, and that one smile that seemingly haunts your every moment whether you’re asleep or awake.

Fuck. Another dream about Damien.

You shifted from underneath your duvet, cold air freezing the damp spot between your legs that was not there when you originally settled in for the night. While you loved living with Damien, your body could not handle the consistent proximity of your bodies. Whenever you wanted food, he was already in the kitchen preparing something that he was going to surprise you and your fellow roommates with. If you needed to shower first thing in the morning, you would come out of your room only to hear Damien’s singing over the monotonous rain of the water pressure. Even at work, you could not shake him, often going out for coffee runs together in between shoots. The only aspect of your life that he was void from was the one that your subconscious craved him in the most. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you slid up your silk sheets into a sitting position. A subtle blink of baby blue light emitted from the digital clock that rested just off to the right of your bed. 3:47 am. 

The ache of need still pulsed in your core, even as real-life came creeping back in. It pounded against the inside of your thighs as the slickness of your excitement dribbled down your panties. Whatever Dream Damien did,  your body wanted more, and knowing that Real Damien was only two doors away made it even worse. Thankfully the room just before his was the bathroom. A cold shower was desperately needed, no matter the time.

You stumbled out of bed, your ragged graphic tee hitting just above your waist leaving your baby pink boy shorts exposed. Considering it was 4 am, you didn’t see a reason to bring a change of clothes, or even a pair of pants, to the bathroom. It was literally the next door down the hall, and no one else should be up.

The house was eerily still, something that you weren’t used to while living with half of the Smosh cast. That, along with the fact that you were always the first one asleep, quiet was never something that you were able to fully experience. The only thing that interrupted it was the soft padding of your bare feet against the wooden floor, the coldness of it sent shivers up your shins. This silence continued until you got closer to Damien’s room.

A faint mumble of voices emitted from the other side of the door. You tiptoed closer, trying to decipher which anime he had decided to throw on as background noise. However, as quickly as you heard it, it stopped. The stillness returned.

Damien’s door swung open. His purple hair was illuminated by the fluorescents behind him, which created a lavender halo around his head. All he had on was a ratty grey undershirt and a pair of thin black and white plaid pyjama bottoms. Your eyes immediately darted to his biceps, admiring the way they flexed as he held the frame. The muscle rippled against the taut skin that encased it. Hair trailed down to his armpit, leaving speckles of black on the underside. A moan threatened to spill out of your lips at the sight, but you held it in. 

“What are you doing up?” His 4 am voice was rasper than you anticipated. Genuine concern spread across his face, knotting his eyebrows. 

“I- I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might have a shower to try to relax.” Which wasn’t a lie, but it sure as hell wasn’t the full truth. Dream Damien’s doing ghosted your memory, the stickiness of your desire still glued between the crook of your thighs.

His eyes wandered down your frame, stopping a second longer at the heam of your shirt before continuing onto your naked thighs. Shit. Heat spread across your bare skin as his eyes fluttered across the nudeness that defined your lower half. A similar warming sensation welcomed itself across your cheeks as he returned to your face. 

“I didn’t think anyone else would be up…” You trail off.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” he whispered, not daring to look away from you. “I was just watching Demon Slayer, I only got up ‘cause I had to pee. Do you want to join me before you go back to bed? Totally cool if not. I get how hard insomnia can be, though.” 

Before you could stop yourself you were nodding. You knew it was a terrible idea, going into his room right after waking up gasping for him, but you didn’t care. Damien slid out from the doorway, allowing you to tiptoe into his space. Behind you he shut the door, followed by the patter of his feet descending down the hall.

Alone in Damien’s room, you were able to notice more than you ever had. The muted light of his lamp in the far corner illuminated the grey walls which were littered with posters from various projects he had worked on over the years. A television was mounted directly across from you; it was still on Netflix, but it had resorted to playing a slideshow of upcoming titles while it waited for the show to be resumed. His sheets were softer than you remember, the fabric of his duvet caressed the back of your legs as you pushed yourself up against his headboard. His Snorlax plush leaned against your torso as it reacted to the new weight on the mattress. Everything smelt like him. Everything was him. 

Moments later a creak echoed throughout the space as Damien returned. Silently, he walked to his bed and let himself flop beside you. As soon as he hit the mattress, a visceral craving for skin contact twisted your gut. Whether it was from lingering lust or exhaustion, you didn’t know. However, you remained composed, your fingers interlacing with themselves in an attempt to prevent yourself from reaching out and running the tips of them along his exposed skin. As if he could hear your inner dilemma, he cleared his throat.

“Are you okay? Did you have a bad day, or a rough dream?”

Dream? Your cheeks flushed with warmth as the word came out of his mouth just above a whisper. Did he know? Your heart pounded at the thought of him hearing you moan his name in your sleep moments earlier. Flashes of Dream Damien created a mosaic of colour inside your mind as your pulse began to creep its way down to your core. Your eyes remain glued to the ceiling, afraid that if you looked at Damien it would undo you right then and there. He couldn’t know. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” You manage to choke out. 

Weight shifted on the mattress, Damien’s dip coming closer to yours. His hand ghosted the inside of your arm, goosebumps erecting in its wake. His fingertips stilled in the crook of your elbow, lingering for a second before Damien retracted them back and shoved them underneath his head, interlocking them with the other set. As the coldness returned to the skin, a subconscious exhale escaped your lips. 

You glanced over at the purple-haired man beside you. The dull light softened his features, blurring them with the wall behind him. A 5 o’clock shadow speckled across his jawline and his chin, which emphasized the natural pout in his lips. Both the top and the bottom were baby pink and seemed extra kissable with the rest of the world asleep. A piece of dead skin hung from the top, slightly sticking beyond the rest of the pink surface. Your hands found their way to your knees and gripped them tightly, knuckles turning white. No one would have to know, right? 

“Hey Damien?” You whispered.

“Yeah?” 

“Why are you awake?”

Silence spread across the room once again. You could hear his breathing- somehow deep, yet ragged. Hesitation lingered in the air as Damien shifted in his spot, readjusting the position of his arms behind his head.

“It’s stupid, but I can’t stop thinking about how many takes it took me to do the intro to the new video properly. I tried so hard to be funny, but it felt like it kept on falling flat. I don’t know, maybe I had an off-day.” Damien sighs, keeping his eyes on the roof. You could feel his body tense up in fear of what your next words might be. 

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re the funniest person on Smosh. In fact, you’re probably the funniest person I know. It’s so fucking hard to not ruin takes when you’re around, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I promise you your humour lands. It at least does with me.” You shift down his headboard to lie down, turning onto your right to fully face Damien. A wave of his cologne hits your nose while you do so, leaving traces of pine, cherry blossom, and something spicy that you can’t quite place. The whiff of the scent subconsciously causes you to lean closer into him, in search of more. Notes of aftershave joined the mix while wetness began to dampen your panties once again, but you fought to ignore it.

His face brightened at the creation of eye contact. A smile erupted on his lips as he let himself take you in for a second. You could feel the movement of his eyes across your bare face while he attempted to memorize every detail of you, from the way sleepiness smoothed your features to the pimple patch that covered an outbreak on your cheek. Very rarely did he get to see you like this, in your most authentic form, and the sparkle that flickered in his eye let you know that he wanted to absorb every moment.

“Thank you, it means a lot to hear you say that.” He chuckled, a blush settling onto his cheeks. You reached out your hand subconsciously, letting it rest on his bare forearm. The heat of his skin seeped into yours.

“Sounds like we’re just two overthinkers tonight. I was so worried that you would’ve somehow known that I woke up because I had a dream about you.” 

Panic sets in as soon as it slipped out of your lips, the hand that was resting on Damien’s arm immediately flying to cover your mouth. Fuck. Damien automatically pulled himself closer to you, his eyes darkening with an unfamiliar cloud. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“What kind of dream?” He growled into your ear. 

Need shot to your cunt as Damien moved himself on top of you, one arm on each side of your frame. His knee inched between your legs, the fabric of his pyjama pants rubbing against the thin layer of cotton that covered your core. A groan fell out of your mouth. 

“I think you already know the answer to that, Damien.” You purred needily. Your pulse erupted at the thought of what was about to happen— whatever it was. 

“Are you okay with this?” He murmured. 

For the second time within 20 minutes, you were nodding before you could give it a second thought. Desire dizzied around your thoughts and coated the space between your thighs. All you knew was that Real Damien was here and that he wanted you. That’s all you could ever need.

However, he didn’t move. You were pinned between his two arms, his biceps brushing against yours, sending electricity down your spine. His eyes seemed to consume you as he took you in, letting himself fully linger on the tightness of the grey shirt around your breasts before lowering his gaze to your baby pink boy shorts. 

“Tell me about your dream. Please.” He whined, want dripping in each syllable of his ask. 

“Y-you and I were fucking, Damien,” you groaned, “you had me on a table, legs open and I was dripping. So wet. So wet for you. I needed- no- need, you. Please.”

Your legs wrapped around the knee that rested between them, attempting to gain any form of friction, any form of relief. Damien sat up, shooting his hands around your thighs to prevent you from getting any satisfaction. He shook his head, eyes darkening even further. 

“Not yet, needy girl. I need to know more. I want to know exactly how you imagined it. Don’t you want your dreams to come true?” He cooed, his mouth curled into a smirk. Your eyes widened as you became delirious with excitement at the fact that Damien was in front of you- that he wanted you just as bad as you’ve been craving him.

”I don’t remember a lot, but- but you were fingering me. God, they were so filling. I was naked, marks everywhere on my chest from your lips. I woke up needing you more than I have ever needed anything, please. Please, Damien.” You whined, jutting your lower lip out. Damien’s eyes remained locked with yours as he leaned in closer, his hands dragging up your thighs.

“Don’t you want to see a man up close?” He whispered, his breath dancing along the nape of your neck. 

All you managed to get out was a “please ki-,” before Damien’s lips were against yours, devouring every inch of your mouth. Hints of toothpaste and mouthwash lingered on your tastebuds with every swipe of his tongue. His hands moved from your thighs to your shoulders, gently pushing you to lay down while he remained on top of you. He shifted around, moving his knees on either side of your legs. The hardness of his growing cock grazed against your inner thigh, causing wetness to begin to re-dampen the spot that Dream Damien left. 

The new position allowed him to let his lips explore, a trail of kisses left along your neck in his wake. Once he hit your collarbone, he began to suck ever so slightly. His teeth nipped at your skin, leaving a light purple mark in the middle of the skin stretched around the bone. A breathy moan escaped your lips as he sucked a new spot at the crook of your neck. Your fingers laced into his purple locks, gently tugging at them. In response, he looked up, concern painted across his face.

“Are you okay, am I being too rough?” He said, frozen in place. You shook your head.

“I promise I’m fine,” you breathed, “I just- please. Please use me, Damien. I need you to fuck me, use me like a toy. Let me make you feel good.” 

Darkness returned to his eyes immediately at the sound of your begging. His hands shot to the hem of your shirt while you arched your back, helping him take it off of you. 

“Oh my poor little thing,” he cooed while bending down to lick a stripe between your tits. “You need my cock more than you want to admit, don’t you?” 

Want surged through your core at the sound of his raspy voice mentioning the thing you’ve been wanting. You nodded, shivering at the thought. Gently he raised your ass, letting you shimmy out of your underwear. Wetness coated the inside of your thighs, droplets hitting the mattress underneath you as the cold air hit your cunt. Damien’s fingers tiptoed down your stomach, landing right above the dip towards your pussy. His other hand grabbed hold of your chin, jerking it toward him. 

“Say please,” Damien barked. 

“Please. Pl—”

His middle and ring finger plunged into your cunt. You let out a yelp at the sudden fullness. Slowly, he rocked them back and forth, letting the tips of his fingers brush against the spongy spot at your core. Moans spilled out of you as your fingers dug into his shoulders. As fast as it had started, he pulled his digits out of you, leaving you stretched and wanting more. A frown knotted your eyebrows in frustration while Damien was on the other side of the emotional spectrum, excitement lighting his features as he inspected his two fingers. 

“You’re this wet for me already?” He groaned, bringing his ring finger into his mouth and twirling his tongue around it, attempting to get every speck of your sweetness onto his taste buds. 

You squirmed in response, your eyes stuck to his digits in his mouth. Hearing Real Damien say the only words you remember from your dream overwhelmed your senses– this was a dream coming true.

He hollowed his cheeks against them, moaning as the tanginess of your desire flooded his tongue. After thoroughly sucking on them, he slipped them out of his mouth, creating a V shape with them. Bringing them back to his lips, his tongue darted out, tasting the last bits of you between his fingers. A hum of satisfaction escaped his lips as he looked up mid-swipe, catching you stare, mouth agape. 

“You like what you see, baby? You like watching me suck your juices off of my fingers?” He smiled, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. 

“Yes sir,” you whispered, unable to look away from the man in front of you. 

Nothing else seemed to matter but the way his every motion affected your heart rate. All you wanted was him, any and all of him that he gave to you. Damien leaned down again, pressing kisses to your mound. 

“You’re not the only one who dreamed of this,” he muttered between nibbles, “I’ve been dreaming about having you since you moved in. Finding you not only outside of my room at 4am, but half-naked outside of my room at 4am almost made me to cum on the spot, baby.” He pushed your thighs apart before he dropped to kiss the inside of each, gently sucking up the stickiness that lined them. “I’ll worship this pussy as long as you let me. God knows how badly I’ve been needing it.”

His words shot straight to your cunt right as he dove in, parting your lips to connect his tongue with your clit. He slowly began swirling it around the spot, sending shockwaves down your spine. Curses spilled from your lips as he picked up the pace, your hands resuming their grip on his purple hair. Two fingers nudged at your entrance, still damp from the combination of your want and Damien’s saliva. He easily slid them in before starting to pump them in and out, matching the pace of his mouth. His digits hit the spot that you desperately craved, destroying the last bit of self-preservation that you had within you. Your walls tightened around them, desperately trying to get every inch of satisfaction possible from his mouth and hands. Nonsensical strings of words tumbled out of the slight part of your lips as the familiar swirl of pleasure circled around your core. Tiny sparks began to electrocute your clit with each flick of Damien’s tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. However, as soon as your orgasm was about to spill, his fingers and lips were gone.

“You don’t think I’m really going to let you cum this fast, do you baby?” He smirked. “I’m not even undressed yet, and here you are, whimpering for my touch like the whore you are.” 

Your hands moved from his hair, letting him stretch straight up from between your legs. Your fingers reached for the hem of his tanktop at once, trying to get the fabric off of his torso. Damien took the hint and tugged each strap of the shirt before yanking it over his head and throwing it behind him onto the wooden floor. Without thinking, a gasp exited you. You’d seen Damien shirtless many times, whether in the dressing room or while grabbing your morning coffee from the kitchen, but this was different. Specks of black hair sprinkled his chest, concentrating in the middle of his two pecs. Lust surged through your veins as you devoured the sight in front of you, taking in every inch of Damien. Never had you seen a man be so easily beautiful, and it nauseated you how badly your body ached for him. 

Without breaking eye contact, Damien shuffled to the end of the bed. His thumbs dipped underneath the waistband of his pyjama pants and pushed them down to the floor, taking his boxers with them. 

“Holy shit.” You mumbled, your eyes surging down to the new part of him exposed.

His cock stuck out from between his legs, the tip of it glistening with excitement. All you could think about was how to get it between your legs as fast as possible, and how its girth would fill you so perfectly. 

“Damien, I need it. Pl-please sir.” You whined, glancing back up at his face. 

He stumbled back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot between your thighs. However, this time he remained sitting. His shaft rested on your lower stomach, causing your mind to short circuit with how close it was to where you had dreamed of it being for months. Heart pounding, you reached out, letting the tip of your index finger brush against the head. He visibly shivered in response, goosebumps spreading down his arms as a tinge of pleasure shot down his shaft. 

“I know you can touch my cock better than that, baby girl. Don’t be afraid.” Damien grunted, his eyes slightly closed in anticipation. Without a second thought, you sat up and spit in your hands. Greedily you grabbed his cock, fisting it. Your hands glided over the smooth, taut skin in a steady motion, occasionally flicking the tip with your thumb. A melody of grunts dripped from Damien’s lips as his hips matched your rhythm. 

Slowly you leaned forward, lining up your mouth with his shaft. You darted your tongue out between your lips, gingerly flattening it against the tip. 

“Is this okay?” You whispered, pulling back.

“God, yes.” Damien interlaced his fingers in your hair, encouraging you to continue what you had started.

Eagerly you wrapped your mouth around his shaft, hollowing your cheeks around it after it hit the back of your throat. You pushed it back out with a pop, a strand of drool attaching his head to your bottom lip. A smile crept onto your lips momentarily. This was not a dream, this was real. Damien’s cock was twitching with desire for you, nobody else. He was muttering your name under his breath as you licked a line from the base of his shaft to the very tip. Paying extra attention to the sensitive strip of skin at the connection point between the base and the head, you traced every inch of his cock with your tongue before returning it to the inside of your mouth. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. What a good little whore you are.” He sighed, grinding his hips into your face. 

Lightheaded with happiness, you gulped up the salty pre-cum that was dripping out of Damien’s cock. Momentarily forgetting about your own pleasure, all you could fathom was the feeling of his erection in your mouth and how pornographic the slurps were as you took as much of him as you could with each of his thrusts. Your cunt leaked with heat while you glanced up at Damien to see him slack-jawed, his eyes stuck on how your tits bounced in sync with his pushes. If you could frame moments, this would be your first choice.

Damien pulled his cock out of your reach, rotating his hips away from your mouth. 

“I think your pussy deserves to be used properly now, do you?” He asked, putting his hands under your armpits and shoving you back onto the bed behind you. 

“Yes, sir! I promise I-I’ve been so good,” You begged, subconsciously spreading your legs as you settled into the far side of the bed. 

Damien reached out with his right hand, letting it caress your cheek. Tears welled up in your eyes while excitement, desire, and anticipation danced through your mind. Damien leaned over to your left, fidgeting through his nightstand to find a tinfoil packet. He held the corner with his teeth and used his index and thumb to rip it open. Returning to the bed, Damien kneeled directly in front of you, lining up the condom with his cock. Slowly, he began to roll it on, letting the latex surround his stiffened shaft.

“L-lemme help, sir. I can help.” Your hand reached out, brushing his knuckles with the tip of your middle finger. With his free hand, he swatted your attempt at help away. 

“I don’t think so, baby. Master can handle it himself,” he chuckled, finishing the job. 

Leisurely, he thrust the tip of his cock into your cunt. With every centimetre of him, your brain flooded with fog, nothing else seemed to matter but the way his cock fit so perfectly inside, as if you were made to please him. Each muscle in your abdomen adjusted to the welcomed fullness that came with Damien, the pressure of satisfaction immediately building as he situated himself in you. 

A deep groan erupted from Damien as he flicked his hips back, fully taking his shaft out. As soon as the tip exited, he slammed his cock back in, letting himself bottom out in your pussy. 

“Fuck- Damien!” You cried. A pleasurable pain rippled through your cervix, sending shockwaves to your clit. Damien’s right-hand shot to your mouth, cupping it over your lips.

“You have to be quiet, whore. We can’t wake up the whole house with the noises you make while I fuck you.” 

His words shot right to your core, your whimpers muffled by the palm of his hand. Saltiness flowed down your cheeks as Damien continued to push and pull himself fully in and out of your heat. His presence was simply overstimulating, and all you wanted was more. The way his chest heaved as he plowed you was memorizing, its rhythm matched his thrusts inside you. Your fingers found their way to his ass, squeezing it tightly as he plummeted into your pussy. His shaft pushed deeper in response to your movements, causing both of you to hiss in satisfaction. 

“Oh fuck, you feel so good, baby. Fit me so perfectly.” Damien growled, throwing his head back, eyes glazing over. 

The vibrations of his voice darted to your clit, increasing the speed of your demise. The stubble of his pubes rubbed against your sweet spot, hitting it at a perfect angle. Damien’s hands wandered to your tits, giving your nipples gentle squeezes with his middle and thumb before rolling them. Mumbles of his title repeatedly spilled from your lips as you arched your back, letting his cock reach the soft spot inside. Sparks flashed in your vision while you came crashing down. Your cunt pulsed around Damien’s cock, extracting every ounce of pleasure from his force. Simultaneously, nothingness spread throughout your mind as you rode out your orgasm– the only thing that grounded you were the whines of pleasure escaping the man fucking you into oblivion. 

As you came back to reality, the only thing that you managed to get out was “more.” 

Without letting his cock leave your dripping pussy Damien immediately grabbed your waist, flipping you onto your stomach. With one hand he shoved your face into his mattress, the other looping around your hips to arch your back. 

“Good girl, knowing we’ve only just started.” His breath tickled your cheek, causing you to tremble. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

Without warning, his cock nestled deeper into your aching heat before fucking you with fervour. The mattress underneath squeaked with each rapid thrust, harmonizing with the slapping of skin against skin. Loudness no longer seemed to be an issue as Damien slapped your ass, the noise echoing throughout his bedroom. He continued to rub the reddened spot, circling the rough skin with the pad of his thumb. Your brain shortcircuited with each jolt of his cock, the way it was still managing to stretch you was all you could focus on. 

“S-so good, sir. Know how to fuck me so good. Love your cock.” 

With another smack on your behind he bowed down, his head now behind yours. 

“I know, ” he kissed your hair before tangling his fingers in it, pulling your head to become parallel with his. “Needed it so bad you couldn’t go a night without dreaming about how well I’d feel, huh? You’re that much of a greedy slut?” 

A whine fell from your lips as you brought your eyes to his. Through your lashes, you could see a wild smile painted across his lips, happiness radiating from his dilated pupils. Never had you seen a man look so beautiful while doing something so inherently filthy, and your cunt throbbed at the realization of it all. 

“I can’t be-believe this is real. I’ve been wanting this so bad, Damien.” More tears dampened your cheeks, the familiar tightness in your core forming once again.

In response, Damien leaned down, sloppily pressing his lips to yours. A mixture of saliva, spit, and tears smeared across your chin as he deepened the kiss, his tongue rushing out to collect traces of the salty combination. Damien’s free hand wandered down to the front of you, pressing his index finger to your sweet spot. 

Sobs fell out of you between each breath while a woozy wave of lust swept over you. The rewarding drop of the pit in your stomach broke through the dizziness. Deepening the arch in your back, the swirling sensation in your clit hit its breaking point. Your hands gripped the sheets in front of you in a frenzy as gratification washed over you. The walls of your pussy clenched around Damien’s shaft, the pulse of his cock hitting your g-spot as your body convulsed. 

“You’re such a good slut for your master, baby. G-gonna make me cum.” 

As your orgasm fizzled out, Damien continued to haphazardly rock himself in and out of your aching heat. Overstimulation stung your core, but you pushed it aside. The only thing that would stop you from riding this out would be if the world ended. All that existed at this moment was Damien, who was behind you, smacking his hips into yours as he chased his high. His grunts filled the empty air between you. With one last nudge, a rush of warmth spread through your cunt as Damien cried out in relief. His head hit the middle of your back as he crumpled, letting his orgasm take over. 

“Jesus, that was amazing.” He whispered, pulling out of you. Your pussy ached with both fulfillment and emptiness as you adjusted to the lack of him. 

You rotated onto your back, craving the view of Damien’s post-O face. He looked hazy, a dopey grin plastered to his face as he gently pulled the condom off before tying it and placing it on his nightstand. Immediately he reached down to you, enveloping you in his arms as he lay beside you. His scent had slightly altered from when you first entered his room, the smell of sex and sweat now intertwining with the notes of his cologne. If you could bottle that, you would without hesitation. 

“Thank you so much, really,” you smiled. “It wasn’t my intention to have this happen when I walked by your room, but I’m glad it did.” 

Damien placed a soft kiss on your lips. Unlike the previous ones you had shared, this one had a pureness to it. Your heart jumped a beat at the romantic undertones as the moment overtook you completely. Your head buzzed with contentment as the past 45 minutes settled in your brain.

“Me too, baby,” he mumbled against your lips. “I hope I made your dreams come true.” 

“You did, I promise,” you giggled, “but now I definitely need to shower.”

[sacrednova]

Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 5

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!! Start reading from the beginning: Part 1 | Part 6

Back to that night, (morning to him), Simon barely had time to process the call, dripping water onto the floor as he wrapped a towel around his waist. Her number flashed on the screen, but the voice on the other end wasn’t hers—it was one of her friends, slurring and calling him “Uber.” He was about to hang up, shake off this bizarre interruption to his night, when he heard her laugh in the background. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he missed.

And just like that, the memory flooded back—the way she had looked lying there in her bed, still half-dreaming, the way her hair spread across the pillow like some kind of halo. Her eyes, when they met his, had held something he couldn’t ignore, something that lingered long after he’d driven away that morning.

He closed his eyes, took a slow breath. Why was he even entertaining this? There was no denying it: he was interested, if only a little. But enough to look for her, to chase her? No, not exactly. Still, this was an opportunity, wasn’t it? A coincidence that didn’t require him to make any choices, just… to drive, to be there.

As he finished getting ready, he shot a quick text to Johnny, letting him know he’d be running late to base. Unsurprisingly, Johnny was quick to pick up on it.

Simon huffed at the message. He could practically hear Johnny’s smirk.

And with that, he slipped on a face mask, pulled a black cap low over his eyes, and buttoned up his uniform. He wasn’t about to make a habit of this—but one more night? That he could handle.

As he pulled up to the curb, he could already hear her friends talking—half-laughing, half-teasing. Their voices carried that messy excitement of a night spent a little too deep in the bottle, and he could hear his name on their lips, thrown around in a way that would have made most men’s egos soar. But when he saw her there, cheeks flushed, head ducked as her friends nudged her with conspiratorial glances, it felt… different. Pride crept up on him, sure, but it wasn’t the familiar, shallow kind he usually felt in these situations. She wasn’t just another face in a line of passing encounters, and the idea of seeing her as a one-night fling felt wrong. Somehow, he knew she’d never fit into that category, not for him.

Still, he felt the pull—the impulse to admire her, take in every detail, imagine the things he was barely allowing himself to think about. But more than that, he wanted to hear her talk, to get lost in the way she rambled and blushed, her boldness dipping in and out like a tide. It was maddening and frustrating, but even more, it was addictive.

“Right?” he thought to himself, as if needing the reassurance. I just want to hear her talk. Right?

Then again… maybe that wasn't all. He clenched his jaw, fighting off the surge of thoughts that threatened to pull him down a familiar path.

And when she slipped out of his truck, the look on her face settled like a weight in his chest—a fleeting disappointment, a shadow of hurt. He hadn’t meant it that way; he’d just been honest. He didn’t do well with calls, or texts, or… whatever this was supposed to be. Keeping distance was safer, for both of them. But somehow, seeing that expression made him feel like he’d fumbled it all.

Bloody hell, he thought, dragging a hand over his face. He was trying to keep things simple, keep his boundaries intact, avoid this tangled mess he knew he’d only ruin. But the second those words slipped out—“I like bourbon”—the guard he’d tried so hard to hold was gone.

Why did he say that? Why couldn’t he just let her leave with a clean goodbye? He should have known better. He did know better. But she’d left something unsteady in his mind, a tug he couldn’t shake. He wanted her close, yet something dark and heavy in him kept holding him back, whispering the same, cold refrain: You don’t deserve a good thing.

For a man who thrived on control, this was chaos. And maybe that was what scared him most—how badly he wanted her, despite everything that told him he shouldn’t.

He gripped the wheel tighter, jaw clenched, as if forcing himself to stay grounded could untangle his mind. Get it together, Riley. But her message kept replaying in his head, “It’s a date.”

His pulse jumped every time he thought about it, a strange thrill running under his skin that he couldn’t explain. Adrenaline was familiar—this wasn’t that. It was something sharper, laced with a damn feeling he’d barely let himself acknowledge. Anticipation, maybe. But did she actually mean a date with him? What did she see here, in a man like him, someone who came and went, who’d never had more to offer than a night or two and a silent exit?

He shook his head, almost laughing at himself. You’re thinking too far. But it nagged at him—some reckless part of him considering more than a single night, something deeper. Get a grip. He shouldn’t be thinking about seeing her again, about anything more. Yet somehow, the thought of something real with her felt like a dangerous promise, and he wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of letting her down… or of wanting it for himself.

The days that followed felt like a haze, each one blending into the next as if time itself had twisted around them. She was nearly losing her mind in disbelief, clutching her phone every so often just to make sure she hadn’t imagined their exchange. A date with him, she thought, her heart racing each time she saw that simple, blunt text: “It is.”

On the other end, Simon was in his worst mood all week. He’d been restless, short-tempered, and on edge—a state Soap noticed immediately. Every comment, every offhand remark seemed to hit him wrong, and the last thing he needed was Soap’s relentless needling.

Late Wednesday night, Simon had just returned from a brutal day—one that included nearly getting himself buried alive thanks to a reckless mission. As he tried to settle his mind, Soap’s text popped up.

Simon stared at the word, letting it sink in, and he felt that twinge again. “Ghosted me.”

It hit harder than it should have. He clenched his jaw, then tapped back a quick reply, unable to shake the memory of her voice, almost uncertain but trying to laugh off the sting when she’d said it.

Soap’s response came immediately, and Simon could almost hear his laugh through the screen.

Simon scowled, but the explanation hit home. He didn’t mean to disappear on her. He just… hadn’t known how to continue, how to deal with whatever was stirring up inside him. He was used to being here one day, gone the next—no strings, no complications.

But it was her voice, that small crack in it, that was stuck in his head. And something about the thought of her feeling hurt, thinking he’d just dismissed her, made his chest tighten with a strange guilt.

He shot another reply to Soap.

Simon stared at his phone, that unwanted little spark of irritation pricking at him. Soap had always had a knack for prying at the worst times. But this time, Simon didn’t answer. Instead, he sat there, his thumb hovering over the screen, his thoughts circling back to her words.

The days leading up to Friday felt like a fever dream. She couldn’t focus, her mind looping back to him at the worst times. She was texting Lottie about outfits all week, messaging in frantic bursts:

Lottie’s replies came just as fast:

And then Friday came. The second she opened her eyes, her stomach was tight with nerves. She was sweating through her day, fussing over every tiny detail, trying to push away the flustered feeling every time she thought about him. Why was she this worked up over a guy like him? He wasn’t anything like the men she usually went for, and honestly, he was a mystery—never showed his face, never even gave her the faintest hint that he might be interested. But… maybe, just maybe she’d missed the little signs he had given.

Because that thing about bourbon—was that a sign? And the fact that he actually drove her and her friends home that night?

Maybe, in his all-serious, closed-off way, he was giving her hints. And maybe, she just needed to be a little patient, to take things slow.

She wanted this. Wanted him. And maybe, against all her own warnings, she wanted it to be more than just one night.

By 19:00, she couldn’t take it anymore—she had to text him. Nerves made her fingers fly over her phone as she typed:

Before she could spiral any further, his reply came in, simple and to the point.

She bit her lip, eyes narrowing. Of course, he was that dry.

A pause, then his reply came back just as blunt.

God, he was so direct. So dry. And she couldn’t help it—she loved it.

Next [6]

@sleep101

I am posting this story on AO3 too; CLICK HERE TO SEE IT! (I always post here first)

[the-kr8tor]

Talking Iron

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW blood, TW death, CW guns, CW injury, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, CW violence. Cowboy AU, old west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 2 >>> CHAPTER 3

You haven't been this close to him in 5 years. Breath to breath, heart to heart, you watch yourself in his jade eyes like how one sees themselves for the first time.

“I've finally found you.” Eyes shining, smile brighter than the sun bearing down, you grasp his face tenderly—as if your own eyes deceive you, as if you're dreaming. “Hobie?” You call for him when he doesn't move an inch above you.

Hobie's green eyes just stare at you, or through you. Mouth agape, breath stuck in his throat. To get his attention, you place your thumb softly over the corner of his eye, rubbing gently like you always did when he needed to wake up from a daydream.

For a split second, he leans in your touch. But as fast as he leaned in, he flinched away just as quick. Hobie scrambles away on the dusty ground like you've burned him. You might as well have when he felt how cold the golden band around your middle finger is. Soil dirtying the thick leather he wears, he stands up shakily. With the sun behind him, you have a hard time seeing his face, seeing the face you've longed for. A shadow cast around him, a halo of light around his head, the shadow blanketing him, as if you're not allowed to bear witness to all his glory.

Instead of ‘I love yous’ or ‘I miss yous’ falling on his lips, harshness flows out of them. “What are you doin' ‘ere?”

Hands bound, you try to sit up but fail. “Looking for you of course!” You say cheerfully, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is to you, for him, it's the most confusing statement.

“Why?” Hobie's hands clenched into fists. He's not going to hurt you, he'll never hurt you—but he really wants to punch something. Just when he thought the past won't haunt him, just when he pushed the past behind him, you came to him like some miracle.

You almost scoff. “W-why? To see you, just like you wanted me to.” Finally succeeding to sit up, you huff. “Five years of no communication,” you say forlornly, “of course I'd come and see you the moment you sent word.” You smile again, and he looks away. Anywhere, anything else than the curl of your lips.

“Sent word?” He shakes his head. “I've never sent you anythin'” His words would pierce your heart but your excitement and relief triumphs over the feeling.

“A-are you sure?” You blink slowly, reaching up with your bound hands. “Can you help me up, please? I'll show you the letter.”

“Letter?”

“Can you stop asking and just help me up, Hobie? Please, the ground is hot.” With a quick nod, eyes still glancing away from you, he grabs you by the rope around your hands, avoiding touching your own; lifting you up rather quickly. The moment you're back on your feet, he yanks his hand away from you, to which you're too happy to even notice. “It's in my skirt pocket, the right.” You instruct him since you can't reach it with your hands tied. Hobie reaches to your left, hand roaming around your empty pocket, careful not to graze your thigh. “My right, Hobs.” He freezes in place, he hasn't heard that nickname in years. Without another word, he takes his hand back, then he searches for the neatly folded paper. “I've never pegged you to be a law man. Are you gonna turn me over, sheriff?”

Hobie scowls at the title, “not even close.” He sees how much it's been folded, like you've read it a thousand times. Opening the letter, scanning the contents, the pause gives you time to admire him fully. The whole ‘american cowboy’ shtick suits him, you think. You ogle him unabashedly.

Each word has his jaw tightening. It's in his writing, he remembers the exact words that's full of longing and sadness. It's full of the words you expect him to say. Yet, he wasn't the one who sent it. He's sure he didn't, especially that it was written when he was drowning in his amber filled glass. “Where'd you get this?” His eyes flick over to you, your smile faltering for only a second.

“A mail carrier?” You chuckle, “it was delivered to me.”

“I didn't send this to you.”

“Oh.” Your smile crumbles but you fix it back up almost immediately, optimism winning. “Maybe you just forgot? Remember when you forgot to put on a sock that one time and—”

“This isn't some sock, Y/N.”

“You didn't ask for me? Was it forged?” You ask quietly, heart shattering with every question.

Hobie shakes his head, sucking in his teeth, he pockets the letter. Taking the rope that hangs on your bounded hands, he tugs you back to the shop. “C’mon.” Boots thudding on the ground, he's going to do what he's good at—his job.

“W-wait! I haven't seen you in five years and you're seriously taking me to face charges? Not even a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you doing?’” You yank back, heels digging in to stop him.

“Hello, you're not goin’ to jail, I need the ten bucks. You seem fine so ‘m bringin’ you home.” Dragging you inside, the shopkeeper grins and even claps at the sight.

“That is so much worse! Hobie—” You plead, you don't remember ever pleading with him before.

“Good job, Mr…?” The moustachioed man asks, ten dollar bill in hand.

“No one.” Hobie snatches the bill, then immediately dragging you towards the front of the shop. The bells chime as he opens the door, but you're too polite to not say sorry to the man.

“I'm sorry for pointing the gun at you, but you shouldn't have shot at someone who cannot shoot back. It's rude—!” You get yanked outside, the man looks confused at your words.

“Don't apologize to him.” Hobie says, hands placed on your hips, a feeling that isn't foreign to you, but something you missed dearly.

You grin at him, expecting him to say the words you long for. Instead, you get lifted up. Yelping, connected hands flying to his wrists, he places you on his horse. Hitching your hands around the horn of his saddle.

“I think we're good, Hobie, you got his money. Can you untie me now?” You start to get nervous. The brilliant black horse looks over his shoulder, black marbles staring at you, paying you no mind. “Hi, I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure.”

“The horse doesn't talk, lov—” He stops himself before he could complete his sentence. Hobie lifts himself up, sitting behind you, legs next to yours, arms cageing you in while he holds the reins. “Thought you'd know that. Or is it because the horses back in England learned to talk after I left.” You still have no idea why he left, you're waiting for the right time to ask, for now your main concern is why your hands are tied.

“I know horses can't talk.” You roll your eyes, “I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm sure you're close to your horse, correct? You were always fond of animals.”

“His name is Buckeye.” Hobie says, with a slight kick and a click of his tongue, he holds the reins precisely, steering Buckeye towards the train station further out of town.

“Cute!” You exclaim despite the hunger, you're still happy that you found him. Or he was the one who found you. Hobie always has a knack for that it seems, whether you're hiding away or can't be bothered to be perceived by anyone but him, he always finds you. Always. “It's a cute name. Buckeye, fitting name for a horse that's as gorgeous as you, huh?” You lean down just in time for Buckeye to look back at you. He neighs like he understood you. “Yeah, you agree.” You giggle, the dark horse looks like he enjoys the attention.

Hobie is baffled by the whole interaction. “Stop cooing at my horse.”

“Why not? He seems to like it.” You touch his mane as best as you can with your hands still tied. “Right, Bucky?” The horse has an extra pep in his step with you figuring out his nickname. You continue to giggle, Hobie has no idea how Bucky warmed up to you so fast. “Where to, Hobs? Home?” You ask excitedly.

“Yes, your home.”

“Wait— What?!” You almost fell off with how fast you looked back at him.

—

All your questions were left unanswered, but you still think he's playing some sort of joke on you, a joke that is getting older with every tick of the giant clock that hangs above the railway station. A tumbleweed passes by on the train tracks, a warm breeze passes by the near empty train station. Hobie stands next to you, leaning on a pillar, eyes roaming around the barren place. He's far enough that you can't reach him and tell him all the words you wanted to say to him since he left. Yet, he's close enough that you can admire all the physical changes.

From the scruff of his growing beard, to the peeking scar around his neck—he looks like he grew up. The smoke from his cigarette curls upwards to the brim of his hat, parting ways down the middle like theater curtains that show his chiseled face. His jade eyes are as green as the grass at home, as green as the fields you used to run around with him. It reminds you of home, and at the same time, it reminds you of the years that went by without those green eyes by your side.

“You look really good.” You finally say something that isn't a question. Fingers playing with the gold band around your middle finger. “Seriously, what's your secret?” Your behind hurts from the hard wood of the bench. Travelers are sparse and far in between, you notice them staying away from you.

As predicted, he doesn't answer.

You copy his voice and demeanor just how you remembered it last. “Well, love, the secret is to bathe in cow's milk at least once a week. And to stay away from the sun.” You keep your smile despite the silence from your companion. “That's probably what you'd say.” He barely even looks at you. “Well, five years isn't that long,” you lie, it was an eternity without him. “I always thought you'd age well—”

“Five years is a long fuckin' time, Y/N.”

“Finally, a word from your mouth.” You reach towards him, impatiently showing him your tied hands. “Can you untie me now? I can't run from you, with my ankle still hurting and the fact that I'm starving and dehydrated, I won't be doing any running for a while.”

“You're starving?” There's a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

“Yes,” you almost exclaim. Hobie takes one step towards you, instead of untying your binds, he takes your bandana that hangs around your neck. You flinch in response, an act that has him questioning what happened to you in those five years he left.

Hobie kneels in front of you, more careful of any sudden movement, a vision of a younger him passes over your mind's eye. He lifts your skirt up, enough to show the wound on your ankle. Gloved hands wrap gingerly around your foot as he places it on top of his thigh.

“The bleedin' stopped,” not once has he looked in your eyes. While you stare at him affectionately, a soft smile on your tired lips. Hobie wraps your bandana around the wound, tying it with a knot that you're familiar with. You grin at the memory of him using it all the time. “There,” just as you thought, he taps your foot three times, a habit of his that you're fond of. Hobie realizes what he has done subconsciously, straightening up, he takes a wrapped biscuit from his pocket. Grabbing your hand, he places it unceremoniously on your palm like your skin burns him like a sinner to holy water. “Your people will be here any minute.”

“We've been waiting here for two hours. And who—? What people?”

“The people who want you back home.”

You almost drop the biscuit. “But I don't want to come home! I want to stay with you—!”

“Why are you really ‘ere, Y/N? Hmm? Great aunt not givin’ you enough allowance?” He flicks the cigarette butt away.

Your heart cracks, voice as small as a dormouse. “Why are you being like this?” Hobie inhales sharply. “I told you, I came to see you because of your letter where you wrote that you missed me and wanted to see me. I–I have so many of mine right here—” A train whistle rings out before Hobie could reply.

The smell of burning coal itches your nose, blackened smoke billowing out of the metal beast that creaks and shrieks on the steel tracks.

A small crowd exits the train once it fully stops. You notice Hobie standing closer to you, hand placed on the back of the bench. His eyes search for someone amidst the travelers while you take big bites of the dry biscuit, desperate to satiate the rumbling of your stomach. Damn all the etiquette lessons drilled into your brain, you're starving.

“Can I have some water?” You cough out, palm covering your mouth for some decency. “Hobie?” His head is on a swivel, eyes scanning the stranger's faces. You tug at his coat, he curses under his breath so you retract your hand quickly. “I'm sorry.” Your small voice startles him.

“What?” He looks down at you, your eyes are glued on your lap, palms up like you're waiting for punishment. His jaw tightens, knuckles shaking. What happened to you after he ran? “‘ere,” passing a canteen of water over to you, he places it on your open palms gingerly.

The cool metal of the canteen hits your skin, instead of stinging pain. “Thank you,” you take a drink, Hobie doesn't miss how your hands shake, almost spilling water all over yourself.

“Stop sayin' that.” He says it through a softer tone, “don't be so polite.” He's not trying to chastise you, but you don't know the difference.

“Sorry—I'll stop.” You close the lid to the canteen, giving it back to him without lifting your head up.

As the crowd thins, Hobie controls his breathing. It was better when you were looking at him, at least then he could see how happy you were.

“No one's here.” He finally says, the hands on his sides stretching, joints aching from the previous tightness of his knuckles.

“Because no one's looking.” You hope that was the case. Or at least it was just her looking for you, not him too.

“The reward on your head says otherwise.” Hobie wishes he didn't say everything that passes by his mind when you look at him like a heartbroken fawn. “C’mon.” He takes your arm, helping you stand up. He's ill equipped to handle emotions right now, especially if he can barely control his own.

“Where are we going?” You ask, shoes thumping across the floorboards.

“The post office, it's right around the corner.” Sure enough, the post office is connected to the railroad station. Convenient, you thought. Stopping next to Bucky on his post, he neighs at the sight of you. You smile at him, even though he can't possibly understand your expression. Hobie taps his saddle, subtly asking your permission to lift you up. You nod once, as if you could say no. With one strong lift, you're back on Bucky's saddle. “Right, stay ‘ere, scream if you're in trouble.”

“You're leaving me here?”

“No, I need to check my telegram. I can see you through the window, yeah?” He points at the foggy windows of the post office. “I'll be back in five.”

“What if someone comes?”

He's already halfway to the office. “Scream.”

An old woman with a cane and a trendy dress passes by, seeing your bound hands, she tosses Hobie a look of disapproval.

“It's fine, she's my wife and she likes to roleplay.” Once upon a time, he thought that he'd call you that for real. That was a different time. “Ain't that right, sweetheart?” He opens the door for the woman who looks at you for reassurance.

You give the stranger your best smile. “Yes, my love.” His finger twitches, breath hitching. “Don’t worry about me, ma’am, it's all good.”

The older woman scoffs, muttering a ‘the youth and their weird sex fantasies.’ She enters the office first while Hobie gives you an approving nod.

“The excuse wasn't even good.”

“It worked right?” With a smug smile on his lips, he enters the office while you settle on Bucky.

“Your rider's weird.” You whisper to his horse who huffs in response.

Hobie grabs a form on a table placed near the windows. He has the perfect view of you chatting with Bucky. A smile creeps up on him, to which he tamps down immediately. Writing all the necessary information, with a fake name and address of course, he gives it to the man at the counter who wordlessly reads it and searches in the back for any letters for him.

He watches you smile at his horse, desperately trying to remember how your laughter sounded. A real one where you would almost choke at your own spit because of a joke he told you. The smile curls around his lips once again.

An envelope slides out of the slot, his fake name, Larry Smith, is written in neat writing. He rips it open immediately, eyes skimming the contents. The words ‘change of plans’, ‘moved south’ that are followed by an address that he's familiar with in the southern area has him taking his hat off, hands rubbing along his hairline from how crappy the situation is. Judging by all the detail on the letter, it would take him weeks to get you there, months if something unsavory happens on the road. He has a feeling that something would happen based on the reward increase that's listed next to the address. From five thousand to six.

Your piercing scream rings all the alarm bells in his body, bolting straight away, he sees you try to fight off a couple of men that are quickly riding off with you. They're moving three ways from Sunday, their laughter fading out. Hobie's blood boils.

Buckeye neighs loudly, waking his rider up from his blind anger. Hobie unhitches the dark horse, long leg swinging over the saddle, boots immediately placed inside the stirrups, hands tightly curled around the reins. And off he goes, leaving the railroad station in the dust, galloping incredibly fast.

He hears you yell his name just before you were abruptly cut off by a cloth shoved in your mouth. “Y/N!” Desperately calling for you, anger rolls off him like an avalanche in the winter. Taking his pistol out, with one hand he aims. But with the speed and the jostling around, he can't aim straight—especially if there's a chance of him shooting you instead.

The phantom pain around his neck aches.

Adrenaline rushes through him, he sees reason, aiming at the other man that isn't holding you. With a click, and a squeeze of the trigger—he shoots. The bullet whizzes by with a piercing sound, hitting the man's shoulder, turning his insides out, spraying warm crimson everywhere. The pained yell he let out would haunt your dreams. Moreso of the sorrow filled scream his companion let out.

With a thud, the limp body falls, his own horse running him over. You shut your eyes, mind crawling back to the one place you were happy staying forever in, Hobie's tiny flat back home. Back when afternoon tea consists of him rambling about some new invention he thought of, back when his hands would roam over your skin softly. Back when you held him close to you as he whispered promises in your ears.

Now it's all rough leather against your hand, jade eyes avoiding your own, mouth permanently etched into a frown. You know him, deep down the Hobie who would press feather light kisses on your lips is still in him. That deep down he has built a façade to survive this lawless land, and it's hard for him to break that carefully made façade in one day. You'd find his softness again, but you have to survive this first.

The horse you've been thrown on has finally stopped running. Your chest hurts from all the jostling, you were placed stomach first on the saddle—where the jagged leather uncomfortably rubbed against you and the spine of the horse hit you over and over again. The strange man yanks you away, now you're completely standing up with a gun pressing on your temple. A cry inches up to your throat, the cloth in your mouth chokes you. The man smells of cow shit and iron.

You watch as Bucky halts to a stop, dust flying around like the fireflies back home. The hat on Hobie's head hides the anger in his eyes, trigger finger itching to shoot again.

You cry, his name muffled by the cloth. You didn't mean to cry, but everything hurts. The warm barrel of the gun digs into your skull, whilst your hands grip the stranger's arm, your nails hopelessly trying to claw him away from you. The stranger smells like death.

“You killed my brother!” The man screams in your ears, breath rancid, warm air tickling your cheek. Amidst the loud rushing of your blood in your ears, you hear hurried footsteps behind you. They sound like there could be dozens of them, all pointing their guns at the man you loved. Still love, even now.

Hobie doesn't get off his horse. He sits still, frozen like a bronze statue. The only indication of him being alive was his labored breathing.

“What's happenin’?” A gruff voice asks from behind, thick southern drawl making him stand out from the rest of the gang. “Who's this, Jacky?”

“The broad, the broad from the telegram. Henry and I recognized her, thought we'd be rich. We saw her first!” Jacky acts like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Where's Henry then?” The older sounding man asks.

“With a bullet in him,” Hobie's voice is calm, cold and calculating, none of the warmth you were used to. “He's laying in a pool of his own blood a few ways from ‘ere. I bet the coyotes have him now.”

“You fucker!” Jacky presses the gun closer, you cry out in pain. Hobie's hand twitches. “I'll fucking shoot her! I swear I'd shoot!”

“Do you think that's worth it? Getting her blood all over your nice camp?” Hobie's unfeeling tone makes you weep harder. “Killin’ your mark? My mark?” He speaks commandingly, teeth gritted.

You look up to the heavens, blue sky engulfing your vision. A part of you wants to go home, a part that regrets running away in the first place. But there's a bigger part of you that's glad that you saw him again, even though you face your imminent death. It was worth it, you suppose. At least now your heart can rest after seeing him alive. You close your eyes when the pistol next to your head clicks.

“You talk big, a life for a life then.” A tear slides down your cheek. Hobie aims for your captor's head.

“Wait a damn minute!” You hear footsteps come from behind, the older man steps between them. “I know I remember ya from somewhere.” He tips his hat at Hobie, just in time for you to see him stare at you back intensely. “Yeah, I know ya. You're the one who took out Culver's men in one night, ain't ya? Thirty fuckin’ men all dead in one night.” Gasps are heard from the dozen or so people from behind. You hear whispers of the name ‘spider of the west’ behind you. “Christ, you're him.” With his hands right next to his head in surrender, he looks over his shoulder over to you, you see fear in the old man's eyes. “Let the little miss go, Jacky.”

“An eye for an eye, Arthur—!” Jacky pleads.

“Let her go or I'll be the one putting a bullet to your head, boy!” His scream has you flinching.

Jacky reluctantly lets you go, you almost crumple to your feet but you still stand, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. Your hands tremble as you take out the musty cloth inside your mouth.

Arthur walks over to you, hand ghosting over your back. “‘m sorry about that, sweetheart.”

You walk with your head held high. “Don't say sorry.” Your tear filled eyes flick over to the bearded man. “You’re not the one who hurt me.”

“Still, I'd like to say sorry on behalf of my belligerent men.” He looks up at Hobie who's still sitting on his horse passively. But the older man seems to know the deadly storm brewing behind those emerald eyes. “I apologize for the…miscommunication. If my men knew who you were, they wouldn't have tried anythin'. Jacky and his brother are too big for their breeches. ”

“The next time I see any of you on the road, I won't hesitate.” Hobie says, eyes bright, burning like greek fire.

“As is your right. You take care now.”

You silently lift yourself up on Bucky, with the help from Hobie, hand sliding away the moment you successfully tug yourself up behind him. Hobie doesn't see how vacant your stare is. You refuse to hold on to him, you're afraid of what he did, not of him. He thinks it's the other way around, it's his worst nightmare.

As you both gallop away, the last thing you heard above the hoofbeats is the unmistakable sound of a gun going off.

—

You're getting further and further away from the town you were in. The sun sets next to you as you look at the blood caked under your nails. You no longer shake or cry, just numb.

Buckeye passes by a lone graveyard, metal fences jagged and angled awkwardly. The dilapidated chapel cracks and falls under its own weight. Crows have made a home on the old tombstones, their cawing and beady black eyes raise the skin on your arms. The names of the dead are barely readable on the tombstones—rotten pots of flowers lay on the bed of graveyard soil, black petals going back to where they came from. You look away, afraid that if you don't, you'd see yourself among them.

The large rock formations loom overhead, jagged lines curved and sculpted by time. The holes dotted along its large walls act like a thousand eyes watching over you. Beady limestone eyes twitching, bleading, and crying. The sun fades away behind the horizon, cold replacing warmth, shadows replacing light.

Everything aches, your legs are still shaking from the encounter, the rustling tumbleweeds makes you jump. Eyes frantic, breath quickening, hands going numb—mind reeling back to the bloodied dead man.

“Stop.” You say too quietly. “Stop the fucking horse!”

Hobie reigns in Bucky, halting to a stop. You slid off ungracefully, knee hitting the ground as you scramble away. Bile rises in your throat, acid expelled out of your mouth because of your near empty stomach.

Familiar footsteps walk behind you, you wait for him to close the distance, to hold you close like he has always done five years ago. Yet, he stays far, stopping just a few feet away from your trembling body.

With shaky legs, you stand up, back still facing him. You wipe your mouth clean with your sleeve, Hobie's hand twitches for the handkerchief inside his pocket. He doesn't give it to you. He doesn't know why he didn't. Sniffing, you cough, eyes still stinging.

“Did they hit your head?” He finally says something, his words echoing in the vast empty space.

“No, I'm fine.” You pass by him, hands braced on Bucky's side.

“Y/N—”

You whirl around, “I said I'm fucking fine!” Heaving, chest aching, you rub your tired eyes. “I'm fine, don't worry about me, okay? Can we go?”

“We'll camp ‘ere.” With Hobie's statement, you look back at where you came from. Your captor's camp is miles away from you now, but you swear you can still feel the barrel of his gun digging into your skull, and the rotten smell of his mouth. “They won't follow us.”

“He knew you,” your eyes don't shine with the same optimism he was greeted with. “He looked scared when he remembered you. Hobie, W–what did you do to get him to fear you like that?”

“A lot of things you shouldn't worry about.” He walks past you, grabbing his pack from the saddle. “The less you know, the better.”

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. He's not the old Hobie you remembered. He would've told you, he used to tell you everything. The gold ring in your finger feels heavy. And all the unsent letters you've hidden inside your skirt feels empty, the flowery words you've written inside are unrequited.

As day fades away to night, the moon shines bright as the stars twinkle above you. The warmth of the open fire settles into your fatigued bones, the pads of your fingers slowly regains feeling. The air is crisp, breeze blowing your lashes, cooling down the hot can of beans in front of you. The scene in front of you reminded you of the time you used to sneak out into the woods to meet with Hobie. He'd light a small fire and huddle close to you while you point out constellations. The beans are new, you wish they were bread instead, like the ones you used to nick from the kitchen.

This time, he sits across from you, far away from you as the fire cackles in between you both. The flames dance in his green eyes, a beautiful sight that you love—yet, you can't help but stay away from it.

“Cold?” He asks, hands properly warmed up from the hot can.

“No,” you answer flatly, legs tucked into you, chin placed atop your knees while you watch the embers flicker away into the dark. The cold helps, it helps numb you down.

“Alright.”

In another time he would've offered his coat, not just the shabby itchy blanket thrown over your shoulders. It all seems like a lifetime ago now.

You have no idea what caused him to leave without a goodbye, whether it was you or your unfeeling family, or for a pursuit of something better—but you know in those five years he has changed, you know he's still the Hobie you love, but you can barely recognize his heart anymore. You came to the new world for a new life with him, away from your predetermined life, because through and through you still love him. The promises he once whispered into your skin repeats in your head like a broken record. It's what's keeping you warm, sane, and in the present.

He eats silently, while you wallow into yourself. You've braved the ocean to see him, rode a dozen trains to get close to him, lost so much and gained so little just to see him alive. Was it all worth it? Worth all the calluses on your feet from all the walking? Worth all the tears you shed just to realize that maybe he doesn't love you anymore? That he fell out of love in those five grueling years?

Does he know that you still love him?

The man sitting across from you is a stranger. Not the one you promised your heart to.

“Hobie?” You call for him, heavy eyes staying on the ashes in front of you.

“Hmm?” He hums, barely audible for you. You silently wish that you don't get used to all his halfhearted replies. You need to hold on to a part of him from five years ago or you'll go crazy and run off into the barren lands of the west.

Against better judgment, against the screaming voice in your head, you finally look at him right in his eyes. “Why'd you leave?”

He quietly sighs, “I had to.” Those green eyes you love so much swirl with unsung emotion that you're not privy to. “Why'd you run away from home?”

“I had to.”

Hobie nods once.

You take your dinner in your cold hands, biting down the bitterness and the feeling. With an inhale, you smile through the pain of your realization. It's better not to dwell on it, or you might lose yourself. Instead, you take the opportunity to live in the moment with him—Relish your time with Hobie or whatever time you have left with him on the journey home.

[thesensteawitch]

About Your Future Potential Partner!🌹❤️

Pick A Pile Reading

~valentine's special ✨

(Left to Right - Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls! 🌹

Thank you for the love you gave to my last blog! I am so grateful for all the reblogs!✨

Now, this reading is about your future potential partner.

This reading is purely based on your current energy. So the partner that comes out is based on your current energy/life situation.

Valentine's day is coming and if you wish to attract the right kind of love then book “finding true love reading” only at $10. Below I am sharing the links:

💌Booking Form|My Rate Card|Tip My Blog💌

Pile 1

Tarot Cards- 10 of cups, The Wheel of Fortune, 3 of Cups, 4 of Wands, 10 of Pentacles, Judgement, 5 of Wands

Hello, my beautiful, pile 1. I literally have tears in my eyes right now! I AM FEELING SO SO SO HAPPY FOR YOU! What I am about to say might feel unbelievable to you too. I just saw 10 of cups I was like wow. And then I saw 10 of pentacles and there was another wow. And then I read in a card, “You're very close to achieving your goals!” And currently, I hear, “I have waited long enough to finally say ‘I do’.....I swear I always knew. It's always been you!” There are other favorable cards too in this pile. So I see one thing very clearly an old relationship or a situation where you already knew this person is being renewed!!!!! My God! And I'll tell you why I had tears in my eyes. It's because I feel you had no hope. For you, it was over. Some of you even felt like or still feel that you have been on a waiting period for a very very very long time now. And even if it hasn't been that long it did feel that way. This person is going to bring the world to your feet. They will be looking for stability and something long-term. You've been in this period of recovery and finding yourself. I see rebirth! Wheels will be turning again and this time will bring a book into your love life. You'll finally have this partner for the long term. The only thing that I feel may stop you is the thought of the past because I see that things didn't go so well with this person in the past. You have so many doubts. You aren't capable of trusting them again. 10s and 20s may be significant. Everything will fall in place with this person again at divine timing. (If any of you guys' relationship has been toxic and you don't want them back in your life then this is not your pile my dear. I suggest you to choose another one.) For some of you, I also see that in the past there was third-party involvement and insecurities from one or both ends. Now let's talk about this person. Though I don't think that I have to tell you about who they are still I'll tell you about their intentions. They are looking for a family with you. They see both of you as an end game. I also sense that they are very emotional. I also sense that they are hardworking and care a lot about financial stability. If nothing's happening right now then know that they are exhausted with their life. But when their true nature is quite playful. I think they are going through something challenging right now and are trying to resolve some things in their personal lives. You're being advised to not think too much and surrender this situation to God. Energetically you need to let go of something from the past to let something new enter. I also hear, “They didn't even put up a fight. They didn't even make a sound. I found a way to let you in but I never really had doubt. Standing in the light of Halo I got my angel now.” You're just not supposed to do anything about this situation. Just focus on yourself. That's what the universe wants you to do. Don't even stay in the waiting energy. Just surrender! Book a reading with me if you want to manifest your true love. The reading is only for $10.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards- The Devil, Knight of Swords, Queen of Swords, 2 of Wands, Page of Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles

The first thing I heard was that your future potential partner is not going to make you wait at all!!!! They are going to be so assertive and will follow you like crazy. Don't worry they won't stalk you, haha! They will have pure intentions! But I see they love to talk and love to say things out loud. They will be the kind of person who is always up to something. They will just see you and they will know that you are their person. You will travel with them a lot. They will be someone who takes no pride in going after what they want. They won't be egoistic at all. They can be quite blunt or brutally honest at times. But as quick they will be it will take a lot of time for them to finally have you. Their manifestations take time to come to fruition. They are someone who will have big dreams! They will be quick learners and will have a lot to talk about. They may also be drawn towards spirituality or their path will take them that road. I also sense that they will be someone who is always outdoors, enjoying life. They are so so so outspoken! Their talk will just blow your mind and your heart will race listening about their wonderland. I also hear a message from them, “If we go down then we go down together! We'll get away with everything let's show them we are better.” So I also sense that they won't want anything casual with you. Everyone will know about you and them. Participating in their wildest fantasies might scare you off or put you off guard. I also sense that deep down they have this fear of being left alone. That no one will ever join them in their crazy ideas. They won't be delusional. They will be someone who wants different things compared to the crowd. And it will be a quite transforming journey for you if you join them and I don't think you'll regret it. Their view of the world will be quite different. Though they will be fond of the sun there's a sun burning within them that lights up any room they enter. The challenge for you will also be to understand their wounds because that is what will make you irreplaceable in their lives. I also hear from them, “Nobody ever knows. Nobody ever sees. I left my soul back then and now I am too weak.” Their past relationships were too damaging for them. They can be someone with abandonment wounds. But I see they'll work through all their wounds they just need genuine connections. Because deep down they hold a lot of past wounds and they know what losing people truly means. Nevertheless, they will be a full package of love and light. Book a reading with me to manifest your person. The reading is only for $10.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards- Ace of Wands, Page of Wands, 6 of Cups, Ace of Cups, The Devil, The High Priestess, Wheel of Fortune

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. Silence by Marsmello is your future person's vibe. They will have strong water placement. They are so stuck in their past! They just hold onto what happened to them and only reveal bits and crumbs of their life. They will also have trust issues. I hear from them, “How do I love? How do I love again? How do I trust? How do I trust again? I stay up all night. Tell me I am alright...Every night I am dancing with your ghost.” For some of you, I also sense that this is someone who knows from your past. This future person can be a past life partner too. (If you were attracted to pile 1, do read it. I think it may have a message for you.) This person will look for escape rather than facing their wounds. They will be someone deeply wounded. A wild panther who has been hurt by many people. They can also be an overthinker. They'll be overflowing with emotions but won't know where to navigate them and how to express them. Some days they may burst out with sentimental words and then the other days they may just waste overthinking about every action of yours and theirs. Honestly, they'll be too naive when it comes to love. They will be so lonely and maybe someone who would give in to temptations or will just put themselves into lots and lots of work so that they can run away from their true emotions. You should be cautious dealing with this person, pile 3. There may be parts of yourself that you need to heal to not let this toxicity consume you. Because for some of you, I see that you may end up talking to them because they will be someone from the past, someone who was dear to you. No matter what their experience has been nobody deserves to take in other people's toxicity. So they can be someone who just pulls back their energy as soon as they see a single sign of danger. I do see major shifts happening in this situation when they enter your life. A lesson that you may need to learn from this person will be surfaced. It's very specific but I see that they can be someone who sings or something about their voice will be very captivating. I feel that you'll be someone who will be a blessing from the universe in their lives. They may or may not recognize it. Choosing you will make their lives better but ghosting you and avoiding you will only mean that they are missing out on a blessing they wished to have when they were at their lowest. What a tragedy! You've got nothing to do. You just be yourself. Walk away immediately when you're not valued. Keep yourself elated. You are the light that the world needs perhaps that will be your role in their lives. Wish them well but never let yourself down. Honestly, your light will trigger them because they would have been in darkness for such a long time. Just a warning, that they will change their mind often and you're not supposed to keep getting into on-and-off situations with them. Be very clear while communicating. They may even self-sabotage (already warning you). But it's okay. At least you'll know your answer and walk away. To attract the right kind of connection either through this same person or from someone else book “Finding True Love” reading with me only at $10.

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 17

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 |-| Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs @ginabaker1666

A/N: I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE, TURN IT UP!!!

The hut door was thrown open with a slam, sunlight flooding inwards in a long, warm streak, forming a halo around Frankie's head as she marched inside, still stained with an unsightly combination of sweat and oil after a long morning's work. Rosie and Croz were stood around the end of a bed, arms folded and paying close attention to the familiar blonde as he rose to stand. At her arrival, the three turned, a grin creasing Cleven's cheeks.

"He-hey!" She cheered, arms outstretched as she reached him, enveloping one another in a tight embrace. "Didn't think I'd be seeing your ugly mug around here any time soon."

"Frankie!" Buck let out a low chuckle, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Holdin' down the fort, I see. Although, I've heard I'm supposed to be callin' you Sergeant Rosenthal now?"

Loosening their grip on one another, she glanced back over her shoulder to where Rosie was sporting a self-satisfied smile. "Eh," Frankie shrugged teasingly. "He'll do."

Croz let out a snort at this. But they could talk about these things later - for now, there was a much more pressing matter at hand. Ponytail rolling over her shoulder, Frankie turned her head this way and that, scanning the bunks for another familiar face, one she was desperate to see more than anything.

"Where's Bucky?"

'Cleven's back', they'd told her.

She'd never imagined he could have come alone.

It had never been the way of things - Buck and Bucky, they came as a pair, always. It was losing Buck that had driven Bucky away on that final flight, losing Buck that had sent him to share his fate. After all that, the thought hadn't even occurred to her that one would make it back without the other.

But the room was empty.

"Frank," Harry sighed. She felt Rosie's hand on her shoulder, instinctively reaching for it, but it wasn't until she saw the look on Buck's face - brow furrowed morosely - that she truly realised her error.

"... Oh."

"He got turned around," Cleven frowned. "Took down a guard before he could stop me from runnin'. He's the reason I made it back at all."

"That sure sounds like him," Frankie forced a chuckle, her smile never reaching her eyes. She hadn't quite realised how deeply she had missed her friend until, for a moment, she'd thought he had returned. Now every moment without him felt like torture. "... He's ok though, right?"

"Yeah, when isn't he?" Buck shrugged.

They mirrored the same, grim expression.

He wasn't fooling anyone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You sure you're all good about this?" Rosie asked the next morning, standing beside her at the sink in the mechanics' hut, holding one of her filth-covered hands in his as he splashed some more hot water across her palm, scrubbing at the dirt. The first time he'd tried to do this, Frankie had laughed, finding the ritual of it somewhat ridiculous. But she had to admit, an extra pair of hands got the job done much better.

"About you helping to prevent the Dutch from starving? Pretty good about it, honey," Her brow furrowed, reaching for the brush to get at the grime beneath her fingernails.

"About me flying over while the Krauts aren't stickin' to the flak truce," Rosie stated, and she could feel him staring at the side of her face.

After he'd been shot down, she had refused to step foot inside a plane, only returning to her regular work the week after the wedding. Nothing felt the same anymore, not when it was almost impossible to look at the bombers without imagining that terrible moment when Rosie realised he was going down - that if he didn't jump, he'd never survive the fall. Having him here, beside her again, made it bearable, but she couldn't find that love she'd once had - that passion for planes she'd discovered as a girl, propelling her all the way here, to the job that brought her all of the very best people in her life. That was heartbreak in itself.

And now that there was a chance he could go down again? She wasn't entirely sure how she was managing to breathe.

"Y'know," Frankie sighed, skin growing slightly sore as she scrubbed hard at it - he was always gentler. "I wasn't gonna tell you this in case it went to your head, but Kidd told me once that you're the best B-17 pilot he's ever seen. Ever."

Rosie smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. "Well, baby, you didn't need Jack to tell you that," He teased.

"Thank you for always proving me so right," She huffed, delivering a quick, casual peck to his lips, so fast that he was still tilting his head into the kiss by the time she'd pulled away. "My point is - you always come back. Every single time - it doesn't matter what's happened, you've always made it back sooner or later. You told me once that you thought I was the reason you're still alive. D'you still think that?"

"I married you, didn't I? Gotta keep my good luck charm," Rosie tugged her freshly cleaned hand away from the sink, bringing it to his lips as he pressed a long kiss to the back of her still-wet palm, soap bubbles clinging to his moustache. Frankie laughed, tearing her hand from his grip to wipe them away, too distracted to notice the way he beamed at her - the way he always did.

"Get outta here, go do your job," She chuckled, shaking her head slightly.

"Yes ma'am," He grinned, cupping her cheeks with dripping wet hands as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. As he began to walk away, she splattered a handful of water at him in retaliation, leaving dark patches across the back of his jacket as he let out a laugh of his own.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The jeep radio hummed softly, muffled by the general buzz of the airstrip nearby. George and Frankie sat silently, arms folded across their chests, feet propped up against the dashboard, watching on silently as they sipped from a shared flask of tea.

"... How long does it take to get there and back, d'you think?" Frankie asked after a while, piercing the quiet.

"Fuck if I know. Never been to Holland," George shrugged, picking at a slight fray in the cuff of her jacket.

"We should go on holiday together when this is over."

George snorted. "Oh, yeah, 'cause we get paid so well - we can definitely afford that."

"You forget I'm married to a hotshot lawyer now," Frankie smirked.

A glint shone in George's eye. "... I like your thinking, Rosenthal."

She was about to speak again, when the familiar humming of plane engines split the air, her brow beginning to furrow. It wasn't even close to when she'd expect the mission to return. Furthermore, the plane that gradually came into view was definitively not a B-17. A frown creased Frankie's expression.

"What the...?"

Beside her, George had begun to grin. "What's that face for?" Frankie prodded.

George's cheeks were flushed red as she sat up straight, turning in her seat to face her. "Ok, please don't be pissed at me for not telling you about this, I just... I really wanted to see your face."

"George, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Will you just go over there?" She scoffed, turning to watch the runway as the plane came in to land. "You're so bloody clueless."

Frankie's frown seemed a newly permanent fixture on her face as she clambered from the jeep, glaring at George all the while as she wandered closer, footsteps thumping against the tarmac. The plane had rolled to a stop, the hatch flung open as men began to pile out, each one more bedraggled looking than the last. At first, they seemed a sea of equally unrecognisable figures, but as she drew closer, their features began to come into focus.

... Is that DeMarco?

"Shortcake?"

Frankie turned at the voice, eyes wide.

And there was that familiar head of curls again.

The sound that escaped her throat was some kind of terrible, bird-like screech, but neither of them found time to dwell on it as Bucky bounded towards her, sweeping her clean off the ground as they leapt into an embrace, spinning until they were dizzy.

"Holy shit!" Frankie laughed, face burning as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. He didn't care.

She fell suddenly quiet, pausing for a moment before she wrenched herself out of his grip, stumbling a little as she landed back on the ground. "You didn't write me!" She cried, shoving him by the chest. "Motherfucker!"

Bucky's eyes widened into saucers, mouth flapping open and shut like a dying fish. "I-... I thought you were mad at me."

A look of abject horror contorted Frankie's expression for a moment before she let out an outraged huff, throwing herself back into his embrace. He accepted without a moment's hesitation, arms pressed against her so hard she thought she might burst.

"John Egan, one day you are gonna make some lucky girl very very irritated," She huffed, burying her face into his shoulder as a chuckle vibrated through his chest. "... You smell like shit, by the way."

"Thought so - at least it's me and not you this time, huh?" Bucky teased, grinning as she slapped him across the shoulder.

"You don't still have a bed... but you can shower in my hut, it's closer anyway."

"Show me the way, serge," He nodded, following alongside her as she beamed up at him, almost giddy at the prospect of having her friend returned to her.

"George!" Frankie yelled across the tarmac to where her friend was chatting with some of the mechanics. "I'm stealing the car!"

"I'm driving," Bucky stated.

"Hey, I've gotten better!" She protested.

"I didn't make it all the way back here to die at your hand. I'm drivin'."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The sound of shower spray echoing from the bathroom at the end of the hut cut off suddenly, and after a few minutes, Bucky reappeared, fresh shirt clumsily buttoned, tousling his hair with one of the towels. They were the only people in the hut, and Frankie waited patiently, sitting propped up against the headboard of her bed, feet tucked beneath her. As he reached her, he let out an exhausted groan, collapsing backwards onto the mattress with such force that she was almost catapulted upwards by the springs, a laugh escaping her throat.

Bucky lay there for a moment, damp hair leaving a mark on the sheets before he pushed himself upright, sitting cross-legged at the other end of the bed. The jacket he'd left behind was strewn across a chair in the corner, and she could tell he'd noticed it when he opened his mouth to speak before suddenly falling silent.

"... Is that my jacket?" He asked.

"Mhm," Frankie nodded, resisting the urge to smile at the way his eyes slowly narrowed.

"Do you... want it back?"

"Yes," Bucky nodded, bolting from the bed as he hurried to grab it, wrapping the familiar sheepskin around his shoulders.

"You kept this thing the whole time?"

She shrugged. "Cold winters."

"Tell me about it. Try Germany."

Frankie smiled up at him as he resumed his spot, hands folded in his lap. It was far too warm to wear the jacket today, but it seemed the novelty of having it returned was still too fresh for him to realise that.

"Catch me up, then. Gimme the highlights."

"Alright," She grinned, leaning back on her elbows. "Uh, ok... Y'know Rosie?"

"Rosenthal?" His brow arched. "Yeah."

"Well me and him, uh..." Frankie trailed off, shooting him a look as if to say 'y'know'.

Slight disgust distorted his expression. "Oh, Jesus Frank. I wanted you to make friends with the guy, not sleep with him."

A sharp guffaw escaped her. "In that case, you're really gonna hate my other news."

Reaching over to the nightstand, Bucky's gaze followed her hand as it dipped into the drawer, pulling out a plain wedding band tied to the end of a loop of ribbon.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He blurted, glaring at the ring as if it had personally insulted him. "You got married without me?!"

"Well, I wanted you there!" Frankie protested. "But in fairness, love, it wasn't really about you."

"Oh, that's just rude. You should redo it."

"You want me to divorce my husband and re-marry him just so you can watch?"

"I think so, yeah... Does this mean everyone calls you Sergeant Rosenthal now?"

Frankie chuckled. "Well, it is my name."

He frowned. "Disgusting."

She let out a laugh, yanking away one of the pillows from behind her and swinging it at his head, making contact with a muffled thump. Before Frankie had time to think he'd swung it back, smacking her in the face as she let out a faint shriek, the pair sniggering at one another, hair standing on end from the static.

After a moment of this, she sobered, smile fading. "... I'm sorry, John."

Bucky's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For what I said to you before you left. For making you feel like you couldn't write to me."

He sighed. "That's not why I didn't write to you."

"... It's not?"

"No. I didn't write to you 'cause I wanted you to remember me like I was before. I knew being in that place was fucking me over, and I didn't want you to think of me like how I was in there."

Frankie didn't quite know what to say to that. Pushing herself up on her knees, she leant forward, pulling him into another hug, his arms wrapping around her without hesitation.

She felt him suck in a deep breath, the air brushing against her neck as he readjusted his arms to hold her tighter, cheek pressing against her shoulder.

"Love ya, kid," Bucky muttered, so quiet it was hard to hear.

"I love you too," She assured him, rubbing a comforting hand against his back.

"Ah, this is so great," George's voice suddenly echoed, the pair leaping apart in surprise, brows raised as they turned to face her.

"How long have you been standing there?" Bucky asked.

"We should go to the pub tonight, when the others get back from Holland. Get the gang back together, yunno?" She declared as she crossed the room towards them, utterly disregarding his question.

"Oh, good idea," Frankie nodded, simply going along with the intrusion as if nothing had happened. "We'll invite Ken, and Harry - oh, you should see if DeMarco can come-"

"Benny ain't comin'," Bucky shook his head.

"Why not?"

"After eighteen months away you couldn't pry him away from his girl at gunpoint. Trust me, he's busy."

Frankie chuckled. "Fair enough. Just bring Cleven - drinks are on me."

"Yes ma'am."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The table they'd gathered around in the corner of the pub was scarcely big enough for half of them, but they made do - chairs pressed in so tightly it was near impossible to stand up, empty pint glasses filling every available space on the tabletop as they spoke over each other in a cacophony of chatter.

"- and so I spent two days pulling bird feathers outta the grille," Ken explained, the others laughing along with his story.

"Frank, you told me you'd gotten better at driving!" Bucky cried, shooting her an accusatory look.

"I have! Not my bloody fault that pheasants can't look where they're going!" She protested, oblivious to the way Rosie had met Egan's eye, shaking his head to confirm that she had not. His arms rested across the back of her chair, knuckled brushing against her back every now and then, their chairs forced so close together that she might as well have been sitting in his lap.

Nothing would ever be the same as it was. Every person at that table had changed in one way or another, for better or worse - but deep down, weren't they all the same? Weren't they all still the people they'd first met nearly two years ago, still the friends and family they'd fallen in love with? Their faces were tired. Their stories were of wartime, not the before. But they could still make each other smile. And as long as they could always sit at a little table like this in a dingy old pub and laugh together, what did it matter?

Frankie leant back in her chair, feeling Rosie's arm sling across her shoulder as she tilted herself towards him. Bucky's food brushed against her own beneath the table, and she met his eye with a smile. Ken told another stupid joke, the table erupting into laughter as George whacked him across the head with a flimsy cardboard coaster. A guilty, selfish part of her almost didn't want this all to end - didn't want them all to go their separate ways, knowing they'd likely never sit at a table together like this again once it was over.

But even if it was different, the love would always be the same.

[minustwofingers]

i need to tell you something

pairing: ellie williams x reader (no pronouns used for reader)

summary: you muster up the guts to confess to your best friend when she gets bit, but things go an unanticipated direction when she has a confession of her own

warnings: violence, ANGST!, swearing, painful yearning, ellie was low key maybe not the best gf to cat (???)

a/n: yeahhhh so i just wrote this rq. the poll is irrelevant now bc i'm posting this anyway. sorry that it's not enemies to lovers!! i thought best friends was calling for me to write it instead. physics tutor au may be more aligned w that kinda vibe. anyway enjoy x

wc: 1.9k

tags: (so sorry if i missed anyone, i'm being a little bad about adding tagged stuff but i promise exoplanet will have updated tags!)

@intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower​

It happened so fast. One moment, you and your best friend were goofing off and joking around as you checked one of the abandoned cottages in the outskirts of the woods. You were pretending not to notice the way that your shoulders brushed as you went through the doorway, pretending like you didn’t yearn for a touch from her that was for once intentional.

The next, you were lying on the ground next to the same best friend, swallowing back the scream in your throat as you stared at the fresh bite mark on her shoulder.

The air smelled of damp wood and blood, the decrepit sitting room of the cottage dark and sheltered from the sun outside.

It was sunny outside. The world was cruel like that. You’d never be able to see the sun again without thinking about losing Ellie.

You’d thought you’d checked everywhere. You were sure of it. But then when you were goofing off trying to raid the cabinets and steal some extra CDs that you two could watch together later, you heard Ellie’s shriek and a crash. 

It was the worst sound you’d ever heard in your life. Your vision went red as you saw the bedraggled, barely-human figure of a stalker crouch over her, digging its disgusting hands into her skin and snapping at her. You fired off 5 shots in succession, not stopping until it was limp. 

Even while you were dragging it off her, praying to any God that might’ve been up there that she hadn’t been bitten by that thing, you were still hoping that maybe you’d been quick enough. Maybe you’d been fast enough, smart enough, strong enough to save her. 

You knew it had been a pipe dream. You knew, but the sight of the blood pearling at her freckled skin in the shape of a mouth and her torn shirt still made you gasp in horror and drop to the floor next to her.

“No. No, no, no, no.” For some reason that was the only word you could bring yourself to say. 

She was panting, her chest rising and falling with exertion from the fight. 

Or maybe she was turning. It was a shoulder bite, after all. Those didn’t take long.

“I’m so, so, sorry.” Your hands found her face and cupped her jaw, letting your eyes meet hers. 

“Y/N, wait—”

“I should have seen it,” you continued, shaking your head. “This is my fault. I’m so sorry. It should’ve been me. You don’t deserve this. I’m not going to leave you.”

As you spoke, tears slid down your face, blurring your vision until Ellie looked fuzzy.

Her hands wrapped around yours, pulling them from her face and intertwining your fingers as she laid them in her lap. “No, Y/N, don’t—”

“I can’t go on without you,” you said between choked sobs. “I won’t do it.” 

The warm sun coming in through the window pane above you felt like a nasty joke. The golden light lit the back of Ellie’s head, reflecting off of her auburn hair like a halo. She’d never looked more beautiful. And she never would again. 

“I need to tell you some–”

“Wait,” you interrupted, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping her hands tighter. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you go in a minute. I just—I need to tell you something too, okay? Before…before…”

You hiccuped and tried to shrug your shoulder to your cheek to catch the waterfall of tears and snot on your face. 

“You’re freaking me out,” Ellie complained, resting her head against the wall and sending you a weak smile. 

Her casualness, her fearlessness, her overall Ellie-ness made you nearly crack again, but you had to keep it together. You had to get this out. She couldn’t leave without hearing this. 

“Listen,” you began, your voice wavering, “I, uh…I don’t know how to say this. I’m sorry if this isn’t something you want to hear. Oh, god, actually, this is really selfish of me. Nevermind.” 

Because it was. These were the last few moments of Ellie’s life, and you were making it all about you. She didn’t see you like that, that much was clear. You’d once thought otherwise—but that was before Cat, before you saw her smile the same way with her and let Cat kiss her in front of everyone whenever you saw them around your friends. 

So maybe it would be better if you just didn’t say anything. That way she wouldn’t look back on your memories together as creepy.

Ellie swallowed, then discreetly cast her gaze down to her right arm, just for a moment. “You can tell me anything, you know. You always could.”

The words brought a renewed wave of tears to your eyes, and you did your best to valiantly fight off the lump in your throat long enough to get the words out. 

You supposed that if she was asking for it, she deserved to know the truth. 

“Look, I—I really—” The words died in your throat.

Ellie was still and quiet, patiently waiting for you to finish and letting you hold her hands in a vice grip. She was always like that—so stoic and strong.

“I don’t know how to say this,” you repeated, turning your gaze back to your tangled fingers. “I don’t want to ruin the way you remember our friendship.”

“You couldn’t do that if you tried,” said Ellie, her lips pulling up. “I like you too much.” 

It was stuff like that that made you want to rip your hair out and scream into your pillow. 

I like you too much.

Just when you thought life couldn’t get any crueler, the purgatory of queer yearning always had a funny way of proving you wrong. 

“I don’t want to keep lying to you.” Your voice wavered as you looked anywhere but her face. “I’ll always see you as a friend. I know that’s what I am to you. And I promise I wasn’t, like, being gross about this when we hung out.” The past tense made your stomach churn. Hung out. You’d never get to spend time again with her after this. Speed it up, Y/N. You’re running on borrowed time. “That’s to say that I really do love being friends with you. I always have. It’s just that—” 

This had to be the most painful confession in the history of the world. Maybe you should just ask Ellie to bite you to put you out of your misery. 

“I’ve always wanted more with you,” you forced out. “Like—more than friends. Ever since I met you.”

Ellie was suspiciously quiet for so long that you began to worry that she was already turned. You dared to peek up at her through your lashes. 

She blinked twice in rapid succession upon meeting your eyes, her face otherwise void of emotion.

“I need to confess something too,” she said slowly, her voice significantly more even than you’d expect for someone preparing for their death.

If she was going to say that she felt the same way, you weren’t sure how you’d ever get over this. 

“I’m immune.”

Oh.

“What?”

Then she laughed at you—actually laughed at you, her eyes crinkling.

“I’m immune,” she repeated, her lips stretched into a wide smile. “I was trying to tell you—but god forbid you let me finish anything I want to say—”

You tried to snatch your hands away from where they were entwined with hers in her lap, but her fingers refused to let up. “How do you even know that?!” She had to be lying. 

“Because I’ve been bitten before,” she said. Her eyes were sparkling with mirth. “Twice, actually. And that was years ago. And look at it. It doesn’t look like other bites, right?”

You reluctantly gave it a closer look. True to her word, the tell-tale growths of the Cordyceps were nowhere to be seen, something unheard of for a bite so close to the head after a few minutes.

It was the real deal. She really wasn’t going to turn. 

You never knew it was possible to feel this mortified. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you snapped, finally succeeding in freeing your hands and pushing yourself away so you weren’t touching her. “You barely even tried to tell me. You let me embarrass myself.”

She shrugged, amusement still pulling at her mouth. “I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to hear what you had to say.”

“Well, that was very impolite of you.” You crossed your arms and looked away from her, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Just forget I said anything, okay?” 

“Hey.”

There was a hand at your elbow, pulling you so you slid across the hardwood until your knees knocked together.

“Look at me,” said Ellie. Her voice was soft, almost gentle. You rarely ever heard her like this.

When you didn’t comply, the hand that wasn’t at your arm came to your chin, tilting it so she could see your face. 

Ellie was still smiling, but there was something else in her eyes—something that wasn’t just amusement, 

“It’s the same for me,” she said. Her skin was warm against yours. “Ever since I met you.”

Your heart stopped. “What? But what about Cat?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t think you saw me like that. I thought seeing other people would help.”

“And did it?”

Ellie winced. “Obviously not.”

“Poor Cat.” You weren’t sure how else to respond.

“Poor Cat,” Ellie agreed. 

Shyly, your hand came up to brush back the piece of hair that had escaped from her bun, letting your fingers rest on the back of her neck.

You’d never touched her there before. You’d never had an excuse to touch her intentionally. Doing so felt almost criminal, like you were breaking some sort of unspeakable barrier. 

But then she pulled you in and kissed you, and you forgot all about arbitrary rules and the now antiquated platonic label that defined you two.

It lasted for just a moment, her lips brushing against yours as you leaned into her, your fingers tangling into her hair. The gentle warmth of the sun hit your hand, and you twisted it so your forearm lay flat against her. 

It was a mistake. Ellie cried out, startling you as you wrenched away from her. There was something warm and wet on your arm—which, upon further investigation, was the blood from the bite you’d accidentally pressed into as you maneuvered your hand.

“Shit,” you said. You’d totally forgotten that she’d still been injured regardless of her immunity. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ellie said, though you could tell she was hiding the pain. “Sorry. It didn’t hurt that much.” 

“Let’s go back,” you said, standing up as you held out a hand. “We’ll get that cleaned up.”

You’d been worried that kissing her would change things. Maybe she’d decide that she didn’t actually want you after all and that she didn’t even want to be friends. 

But once she’d grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together as you both walked down the road back to Jackson, you found that there was nothing to worry about. Not anymore. 

final a/n: im gonna be so real and say i love the premise of this but this was a littleeee bit of a flop in my book i didn't know how to end it but i hope you all enjoy this as a way to hold you over while i finish p5!

[staplegrapes]

Bust a Move (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader)

Description: Omaha convinces the squad to go line dancing. For as much as you enjoy dancing by yourself, you can't seem to peel yourself off the wall. You hope to be am invisible bystander, but that doesn't fly with Bradley Bradshaw.

Word Count: 2.6K

TW: None

A/N: It is implied the reader is either a pilot or WSO but it does not go into detail. No use of Y/N.

✨Gender Neutral Reader✨

When Omaha suggested line dancing after training today, you were fully convinced the pilot was joking. Never, once in your months of working with him, had he mentioned it before. Sure, he was from the Midwest, it made sense, but still. You would never have guessed that 5 hours later you would be watching Omaha absolute kill it on the dance floor.

You had heard of Dixon's Country Bar in passing. Even having never been through these doors before, the wooden floor, cowboy memorabilia on the walls and the dim lights didn't surprise you one bit. What surprised everyone is that it appeared Omaha was a regular here given the remarks thrown his way the moment your crew walked through the door.

"Neil! Good to see you bud!"

"Hey! Save some chicks for the rest of us!"

"These your pilot friends?"

When did this man have time? You wouldn't claim to know everything about him, but it feels like you should have known this. Makes you wonder what you don't know about the rest of the squad. But at least now you knew how well they danced.

Rooster, Payback and Fritz picked it up without any issues. You knew Rooster and Payback could dance, but there's a difference between just dancing and picking up choreography as fast as they currently are with no practice. Or maybe they did have practice? Were you the only one who didn't line dance on the weekends? Well, obviously not.

Harvard, Yale and Fanboy were doing their best to keep up with the other three. A little stumble here and there was pretty normal, but they were doing well enough you were slightly impressed. But if a dance had too many spins or was too fast, the three of them often excused themselves off the floor to grab another drink.

And then there was Bob.

Oh, Bob.

You could have predicted this, but Bob was... struggling. Despite both Phoenix and Halo attempting to help him out, it was a battle. He seemed to always get the hang of it by the end of the song, which seemed frustrating. You couldn't tell by his face though. He was having a blast and that is all that mattered.

Coyote was quite good at this as well. Early in the night his smooth moves were catching plenty of looks. Yet, you didn't see much of those moves later on. He was now on the sidelines cashing in on some of those looks, trying to "pick up some digits" as he would say. Same with Hangman, except he barely tried to dance, just flirt, as usual. You barely saw the man step foot on the dance floor unless it was to follow some girl.

Not that you could judge honestly. Your crew had already been here an hour and you had yet to even inch near the dance floor. And it seemed odd, since you've always liked dancing alone in your kitchen. The unfamiliar environment and your lack of knowledge of these dances created some sort of invisible glue between your shoulder blades and the wooden wall. You should have realized you were gonna be the stick in the mud tonight. You should have stayed home. But no one seemed to notice too much. They were all having a great time, so you continued to sip your drink and enjoy the show. So there you stand, homing all the drinks, past and present. That was to be your excuse if anyone were to ask.

Harvard downed his third beer as he headed back for the dance floor. You looked back down to your drink. It was slightly cooler than room temperature now. You weren't the designated driver, but you also just didn't feel like drinking here. If you were gonna dance, which you kept saying you were gonna do you weren't gonna be able to do it well, inebriated.

You weren’t having a bad time. Watching your colleagues drunkly dancing was quite amusing. Watching Bob have the time of his life was nothing short of joyful. Still, something was uneasy in your chest. You felt like a burden for not being able to leave the wall. Either way, you stayed and watched, breathing through the slight anxious feeling in your chest.

It was well into the night, despite this, Rooster was still wearing his sunglasses. He felt they added to his ensemble. It also made it easy to keep stealing glances of you from the side. Something about the way you were standing there was setting off alarms in his head. He could tell something was off. Not that you were one to cut loose often and be the center of attention, but you didn’t seem genuinely content in your spot. Maybe you weren't feeling well? Maybe something or someone made you uncomfortable? Maybe you were tired? Was training rough on you today? Whatever it was, he saw through the facade.

Between songs he decided to go check on you. Slapping Payback and Omaha on the shoulder as he passed by, he slips off the crowded floor. As the lights changed between songs, growing brighter, even with his aviators he was struggling to see you as he got closer.

You saw him making his way over. Oh boy, you knew he was gonna tease you about this. You just didn't have the same ability to let go and relax like he did. That's what you liked about him. You always worried your inability to do just that was what he didn't like about you. As he gets closer and out of the lights, he pulls his aviators off and hooks them onto the collar of his tank top.

"That wall heavy?" He asks in a raised voice as the next song begins to blare over the sound system.

"Huh?" You're not sure if you heard him right. He walks up next to you, not quite so close to the wall, but close enough to hear you over the crowded room.

"I mean, you're holding that wall up. It's a pretty big wall, with all that wood paneling..." He nods towards the wall.

"Oh shut up." you chuckle.

He smirks as he takes another sip of his drink that's been keeping you company at the table. Looking back to the dance floor as the song hits it first repeat, he turns back to you.

"So, what's the song?" He questions, looking down to you without dropping his head. His expression is one of pure intrigue. As if whatever the answer is, is something that he's been dying to ask you. Yet, you don't even know what he means.

"What song?"

"What song is gonna get you out there?" nodding towards the floor.

You shrug. "I dunno. I don't really know any of these, let alone the dances."

"You wanna hear a secret?" He whisper-yells (the softest he could possibly speak and you'd still hear him), leaning down to you. You tilt your head in his direction.

"Me neither." He smiles.

"Yet, somehow you're nailing all these dances?" You retort unconvinced giving him a playful smack on the side of his face which he attempts to block with a grin. He nods his head laughing.

"I wouldn't say I'm 'nailing' them all. Did you see me during that Watermelon one? I had no clue what was happening."

"You're telling me you've never done this before?" you press further.

"Well," he leans back against the wall, "not never, but it's been awhile." his silence is not enough for you and he catches your expectant look before shrugging and continuing. "I had a few friends college who'd go out line dancing once or twice a month. I tagged along occasionally. The songs are different now."

You hummed as your eyes wandered back towards the dancing. A few minutes of silence holds over the two of you.

"So what is it then? You're shy?" He looks down into his drink. You shrug, not knowing if he sees it or not, but silence would answer his question, so it is just as well.

"I dunno, Rooster. I just can't seem to peel myself off this wall."

"Well, is there room for two?" He leans closer to you in an endearing manner.

"No, Roos, go back, you don't have to stay up here with me."

"I've been dancing for an hour. I want a break."

"Suit yourself" you mumble into your drink.

"You want me to keep dancing when I claim to be exhausted? What if I pass out?"

"I'm sure someone will give you mouth to mouth." you smirk. He smiles turning back to face the crowds.

"I'm sure you would."

You blush. How was he so casual about throwing comments around like that? Your comment implied he was getting attention, nothing more you made sure of it. Did it not phase him that he just implied the two of you... Bradley Bradshaw. "You’ve been hanging with Hangman too long." you say, diverting your face away from his gaze as casually as possible.

He laughs. A full laugh. He has such a good laugh. It puts you at ease. For a moment, you're able to forget you're blushing at his comment and this feeling of overwhelming anxiety from this whole night. It's just you and him joking as usual.

You two stand there for awhile more. Some of the crew tries to pull Rooster back to the floor, but he just shakes his head. You can't stop the small feeling of joy when Rooster chooses to stay with you. Makes you feel your company cannot possibly be THAT bad.

"You dance though, don't you?" he questions

"Uh yeah, once in awhile. Why?"

"Your foot is tapping right now." he quips, his gaze dropping to your foot.

You freeze up, realizing he's right. He pushes himself off the wall with his shoulder to get a better look at you offering you a hand.

"Alright, you're gonna dance at least once. Deal?"

You wanted to say no just to avoid the situation. But the way he had come up to check on you, the way he's staying with you without actually making you feel guilty, you couldn't leave him hanging. You take his hand and shake it.

"Um, sure." You mumble. He smiles as he goes back to lean on the wall again.

"We'll wait for a good one." He notes with a wink as the two of you watch some girl reject Hangman for the third time that night. It was just not his night.

Your situation aside, you and Bradley were marveling over the fact there had yet to be one song Omaha didn't know. Every song he breezed through it like it was as easy as reciting the alphabet. The two of you could pick out the other regulars, but most of them had certain ones they were less familiar with. That was not the case with Neil "Omaha" Vikander. His consistency was popular with the crowd for sure. It was endlessly entertaining to see this new side of him.

"Alright, here it is." Bradley says, shaking you from your thoughts a few songs later. He grabs your (finally) empty glass placing it on the table along with his, grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the floor. In that moment you finally feel your shoulders leave their contact from the wall and it felt great, still your stomach was doing backflips in an anxious response. You would have likely felt more anxious if it had not been for Rooster's firm but comforting grip on your wrist as you two navigated the crowd. Eventually he found a spot near the back edge of the floor. No one would be trying to walk through there, or hopefully look back there. You were nervous enough as it was.

As you attempted to calm yourself, you realized you recognized the song.

"Footloose? Really?" You ask him, as the extended intro played. He beams at your familiarity with the song.

"Of course! It's a classic. One of my mom's favorites." You didn't miss how his smile lit up a little more when he mentioned his mom.

"Isn't this song fast?" You question.

"It's not that bad. It's pretty easy. Just follow me ok?" you nod as your eyes dark around the floor but Rooster slaps your arm lightly to grab your attention. "Don't worry about the people around us. They're doing their own thing.” And you then noticed how he had put you in the spot closest to the corner, that way you only had one person in front of you and him next to you. You appreciated the less pressure of this spot and he probably knew that. Before you could think too hard about it, the song started to pick up.

"You ready?" He smiles to you doing a few hops shaking out his shoulders.

"No clue." you shrug with a smile. No going back now.

And he was right. The dance itself really was not too hard to pick up. Were you a natural? Not in the slightest. Yet, you felt like you did much better than you had actually expected. Some of the moves weren't far from what you did in your kitchen. When you do mess up you look to Rooster who starts you talk you through it with a smile and a string of encouragements "There you go!", "That's it," "A natural, what did I tell ya?". It calmed you just enough to pick up the moves before the next verse. Every few moments when you were actually getting the moves, you'd dare to look over to Rooster who would be looking right back at you with a wide grin splitting his face. When the song ends you can't help but laugh looking back to him

"Hey, that was great." He raises his hand and you give him a high five. The two of you are just smiling at each other before you're interrupted.

"Aye, you finally made it down here!" Payback calls out, making his way over. "C'mon give it another song!" He does a little shimmy and you smile. Once you got out here it was easier, it was just that initial push off the wall. So that's what you did and yes, you were not good. But having Payback and Rooster beside you, it didn't feel like you were being a bother. Both of them were just glad you were on the floor. The whole squad, minus Coyote and Hangman who are still trying their best to not leave here alone tonight, migrated their way towards the three of you and it was a good time.

Eventually the night comes to an end as 2 AM hits the clock. The crew, including Coyote and Hangman, heads outside and after saying farewells heads in different directions. Of course, Bradley and you are the only two who are parked in the same direction. So you walk in a comfortable silence down the street.

"Thanks for helping me get out there tonight." you thank him after a few moments.

"I didn't do much. You just needed a push." He shrugs.

"Yeah, but if you hadn't, I wouldn't have had as much fun as I did."

He nods silently. A block passes by and he finally breaks his uncharacteristic silence just as your car comes into view.

"Hey, if you want to, we can always go again." he adds nonchalantly.

"Yeah, I kno..." but he cuts you off before you say any more.

"Just the two of us." he finishes.

You pause, processing what he just said.

"Figured maybe that would be less pressure." He shrugs, obviously trying to ease the tension his last phrase just created.

"I might have to take you up on that." You smile, having a hard time looking up from the ground the closer you get to your car, feeling his eyes are still on you.

"Hey," He calls and you know he's trying to get you to look at him, which you grant him that silent request.

"I hope you do." He tilts his head down in sincerity.

"Have a goodnight." He smiles and pats the side of your upper arm, as he spins around and heads back towards his Bronco.

"You too! You smile standing by your car.

He turns back as he continues walking.

"Already did." he chimes with a wink.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Every summer is gonna be a Top Gun summer from here on out.

[frozenrose20]

One-shot title : His Face

Characters: Will Solace and Artemis

Description: When spending her night with her hunters Artemis runs into a face she hasn't seen in years.

Word count :1,723

Note: this is the first oneshot I have ever written so it may not be the best. If you all like it though let me know I may write more in the future I have an idea for a sequel to this one-shot featuring both Apollo and Leto so let me know if you all would be interested in that as well. <3

In her thousand years of living she always found the nights of quiet to be the most impactful. After all it was a serene night like this one when she found her  lieutenant Zoe. Her poor Zoe, she was such a broken girl back then once filled with so much love only for it to be shattered by a monstrous man. She couldn’t  help but snarl at the thought of that brute.

  She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the noise of whimpering. She looked over at the tents full of her hunters but they were all seemingly asleep. The noise couldn't be from one of them so she looked out into the trees to find the intruder. She summoned her bow ready to strike the creature. Happily ready to kill the man or monster who dared to approach her camp, who dared to disrespect the goddess of the moon and hunt. Drawing her bow she hid behind a tree to shock the creature and once she heard the snap of a twig she jumped out to shoot the creature down.

 She stopped before she could shoot however because she saw a sight she would have never expected. She was met with a face she hadn't seen in centuries. Before moving to America, before the Trojan war, before she was even an Olympian. She couldn't help but hold her breath because staring straight at her was the face of her baby  brother Apollo, with his. Short curly hair that glowed like a halo in the sun, his blue eyes that shone with the knowledge of the future,and his tan skin as if he had been touched by midas himself,but that was impossible. Her brother hadn't taken this form since he first left Delos. She couldn’t help the ache in her heart at the thought, back then it was just them and their mother hiding from the Hera and the rest of the gods. They were so young and joyful a content family, but then her brother left swearing vengeance on the snake that chased their mother across the earth. He left their  life on Delos  as a sweet and innocent child and came back a silent yet shaken man. It was the last she ever saw of this face.  In the years since Apollo has changed his form thousands of times his curly hair was now straight to match with  what he claimed to be America's beauty standards, his eyes while blue didn't shine like they did in their  youth now constantly covered in whatever sunglasses were quote  ‘in at the moment.’

How could his face be staring straight at her? She began looking over  his form and noticing the slight differences. The freckles that painted his round checks like the stars in the night sky and the fear in his eyes. Apollo never looked at her with true fear, maybe a look of wariness when he realized she was angry but never true fear. It looked wrong on his face. It tarnished the face she had kept so close with her. She noticed, In her shock, that her bow was still drawn and with a painful twist in my heart she realized she was the one he was scared of. quickly, she dropped her bow and got on her knees to be eye to eye with the boy.

The boy who couldn't have been her brother yet had his face couldn't be any older than 5 years old. She began to search his essence to figure out who he was. She discovered her brother's essence mixed with another, a mortal. He was a demigod that wasn't too special. Her brother had many lovers over the years, plenty of which sired children but, if they ever took after him they looked like the form he had taken when he met their mortal parent never did the kids look like his first form. She used to be happy about this. It was something special between her brother, mother, and she. It was something that Olympus and the fates could never take, yet this child was wearing a face he didn't deserve. She felt rage at the fates to steal such a precious memory from her,but at the same time she wished for nothing more than to take him away and cherish him with her mother watching his face grow up into what Apollo could have been. The life Apollo had taken from him. To be the big sister she failed to be. This child had so much potential yet the other gods would look at him and see nothing special, only another pawn for their game. This face would change. She wasn't her brother so she couldn't see to what extent. Would he have scars running across his face ruining his freckles? Maybe, his eyes will lose their brightness like his father or, Perhaps, he would have a frown permanently etched into his skin traumatized by the Horrors of this world.

She was drawn out of her thoughts at the sounds of whimpering. How long had she been staring at him? She tried smiling at him but she could still tell he was scared of her. It occurred to her  he must have been lost after all the forests were no place for a five year old boy so she asked him.

“Hello little one, what are you doing out here?” He looked at her with a calculating look, the same one her brother would have when trying to determine whether or not our. Half-brother ,Hermes, was being truthful to him or playing another trick. It's a look he will give often in the future when his life's on the line a voice whispers in the back of her head but she shakes it away. After a pregnant pause of silence filled only with the ambient noise of the forest he mumbles his response.

“I was at my mama's concert but then I saw a deer. I tried following it but I got lost.” His voice was sweet  like a bird's morning call or a crickets nightly tune yet it only cemented how he wasn't her brother. The boy's voice was  that of  a soft melody while her brother even as a child was one full of power, a ballad that could move mountains,a lullaby that could bring long dead constellations to tears. She thought it ironic that her own animal brought him to her. Perhaps the deer knew and wanted to lead him to her. But at the mention of his mother she knew she must have been looking for him. Apollo always fell for the  most kind hearted of mortals. It reminded her of her own mother ,Leto, how she would stay up at night worrying for her brother after he left or how she would worry when he was turned mortal. Despite her desire to give this boy the life the fates stole from her brother she could bear the idea of having a woman feel the anguish her mother felt.

She smiled at him and said, ”tell me about her.”  she began walking to the edge of the forest hoping he knew to follow. He did and he began to animatedly tell her about his mother.  He rambled on about her caring hand and calming voice how she always knew how to fix a problem like a good mother would. His voice held a tone of admiration as if she was his divine parent rather than her brother. A tone both her and her brother used often when speaking of their mother as if she were queen of the gods and not Hera. The others will return him to her in a shroud the voice snarled in her head. She pushed it down though as she realized they were nearing the edge of the forest.  Their time while short had to come to an end as he was a Demigod boy and she was the goddess of the hunt, not a nephew and an Aunt. They will likely never see eachother again much like the sun and moon in different worlds only meeting once in an eclipse every few millennia. She turned to him and smiled.

“It looks like our time together is coming to an end. I do not know if we will cross paths again little to one but know if you are lost look to the sun and the moon to guide you and you will be safe.” he looked confused at first but then he nodded with a look of understanding you wouldn't expect from a child perhaps he held her brothers gifts of prophecy and knowledge unlike her or perhaps he was simply a trusting child  who had yet to see the horrors their world will bring to him. They began walking again. After a while she heard the voice of a woman calling for a Will; it must have been the boy's name. No, not the boy, her nephew, Will. As soon as he heard the woman's voice he smiled and broke out into a run. She  laughed. At his enthusiasm she followed him and watched as he leaped into his mothers arms. She had tears in her eyes and began telling him to never scare her like that again. The mother  looked at  the goddess and met her eyes. In the mother's eyes was a look of recognition. She knew who she was either she was a clear sighted mortal or her brother had told her who he was. it didn't matter to her. She looked down at her nephew. While she did not know what the fates had in store for him she could keep this moment with her and remember the look of joy or both her brother and her nephews face.  She decided that whatever the fates had planned for him had earned him her brother's  face. She met his mother's eyes once again, smiled and ran back into the forest to her hunters.

~

Years from now the boy will be lost again he will finally discover what the fates had in store for him when gifting him his face but there will be no sun or moon to guide him like the woman once promised for not even the gods would dare go into the pit.

[audrey-carr1]

The Heiress and the Lady of the House (part 5)

A/N: I finally updated! Yay!

word count: 3.3k+

warnings: fem!reader, Hettyxreader, some kissing and other things but no smut

Want to read on AO3?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

The morning of NYE

Hetty was always the first one to wake. She says she enjoys watching the sunrise and seeing the sunlight enter the room to illuminate my beauty. I am always the last one to fall asleep, naturally as I am the one running the business, but also because I wanted to be sure Hetty slept. More than once, I have heard Hetty talk about how she does not sleep well or at all. Since she has begun to sleep in my bed, she has slept very peacefully. As she enjoys watching me sleep in the morning, I love to watch her sleep in the evenings. Her face relaxed and free from anxieties. Often times I find myself twirling her hair between my fingers. Sometimes I would have to keep myself from laughing when Hetty would begin to snore softly.

Now Hetty and I lay cuddled in bed enjoying the peace of the morning. Almost an hour ago, I had set up the Wii for the ghosts that were awake to play Just Dance. It was not a game I thought they would enjoy, but they took it up very quickly. I, along with everyone else, was surprised to find that Thor was very good at the game often getting 5 stars on his first try on every song. 

Even though she rarely played with them, the only person Thor could not beat was Hetty. She was always just a couple of points ahead. I had never seen Hetty enjoy herself more than when she finally got the hang of the game. At first, she complained that the music was horrible, but over time I have heard her humming the lyrics to the songs. Ofcourse I would never tell her this, this was a moment I’d keep to myself. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are? Especially in the morning,” Hetty says placing a kiss on my forehead.

“Every morning since we’ve been together, but I will not tire of hearing it,” I say placing a kiss on her lips. Hetty greedily accepts the gesture. 

“Get up here,” Hetty says in a sultry voice as she moves to lay on her back and brings me on top of her to straddle her. 

“Hetty, everyone is up they could hear,” I say sitting up. My hands lay on her chest, and her hands began to caress my upper thighs.

“Well, maybe you should work on being more quiet,” Hetty teases. Hetty takes a moment to marvel at your beauty. Your positioning on the bed allows the light to cast around you almost like you have a halo around your body. “My personal angel” Hetty muses to herself. 

My giggles turn into whimpers, and soon my whimpers into soft moans.

“Quiet remember,” Hetty whispers in my ear, her grip on my thighs tightening. I nod biting my lip to keep silent. 

One of her hands continues its journey up your thigh and getting closer to the place I wanted…no, needed it most. 

“(Y/n), can you touch the Wii remotes again?” I hear Trevor ask through the door.

Hetty’s hand stops abruptly, and I slump against her in defeat. “Oh, so close,” I sigh to myself.

I sigh outwardly and Hetty chuckles, “You are going to have to give those boys a curfew on that game machine. No gaming hours that could interrupt our morning activities,” Hetty says letting me go, so I can get up. 

I quickly wrap myself in my silk robe, and look for my slippers which I quickly find near the door.

“Is this what parenting feels like?” I ask

“Honestly, I haven’t the slightest idea. I let the nanny take care of that aspect,” Hetty says waving off the question. 

I laugh as I slide on my slippers, “I love them, but I am almost at my wit's end being called. I’m about to push Riley or Nadine down the stairs so they can see everyone too.”

“That wouldn’t be the worst idea, how about Nadine?” Hetty asks a bit too eagerly. 

“Behave, Hetty. She is still my friend,” I reply

Hetty smirks to herself and turns to lie on her side. 

“Hurry back,” She says waving me away.

“Trust me I’m trying to,” I say leaving the room. 

I head towards the room with the Wii, and I’m met with Pete and Trevor waiting for me. I could almost laugh at the picture. 

“Oh, good morning!” You hear Pete say, “We hope you weren’t sleeping,”

“No she and Hetty were trying to get it on,” Trevor says making a gesture. 

“Trevor!” I say swatting his arm. I try to keep from laughing, as I blush from being found out. 

“What am I lying?” Trevor defends himself, “Honestly I do not blame them, Hetty and I-”

“Please spare me the details of what you and my girlfriend used to do,” I interrupt.

“Girlfriend? You two are using titles now?” Trevor asks. A grin spreads across before laughing, I even hear Pete chuckle a little bit. Trevor enjoys being able to tease you about something. 

“Oh no, I mean…where are those stupid remotes,” I say scanning the room. I spot the remotes on the couch. I grab them and give them to Pete and Trevor. Before leaving the room I touch the rest of the Wii remotes in case the other ghosts wake up and decide to play.

“ Hopefully that’ll buy me an hour...if we’re quick,” I tell myself.

 I hurry back to my room turning the sign on my door to do not disturb before entering. 

“Took you long enough,” Hetty says in mock boredom. 

“You are very impatient this morning,” I say crossing my arms. 

“I come from a time period of sexual repression, and of the 130 years I have been dead it was not until year 126 that I discovered my own sensuality via broken washing machine,” Hetty says in an unamused tone, “I have a lot of time to make up for.”

“Washing machine?” I ask. 

“Yes, a washing machine. Now lover, if you could please,” Hetty gestures for me to come back to bed. 

“Well since you asked so nicely,” I say untying my robe. 

I discard the robe at the door leaving me in my silk nightgown. Sauntering over to Hetty I try to keep a serious face, but I cannot help the smile that threatens to break. I reach the bed, and Hetty grabs a hold of my waist.

“Even when you are being silly, you make it sexy,” Hetty says, beginning to pepper my chest with kisses and making her way up to my neck. While I try to focus on the moment, I cannot help but think about what Trevor had said earlier. 

Hetty helps me back onto the bed and moves me to straddle her lap once more. Her lips resume their kissing but this time on my neck. I feel her teeth graze against my skin, but my mind is elsewhere. I barely offer an auditory acknowledgment of the gesture.

“Darling, when I said you had to be quiet, I did not mean statute silent,” Hetty mumbles against my skin noticing my lack of enthusiasm. 

“I am sorry Hetty, I’m just not in the mood anymore,” I say climbing off of her.

“What?! Why?!” Hetty whinged. 

 “I mean what happened? Is something wrong?” Hetty quickly corrects herself and sits up in bed trying to fight the pout forming on her lips. 

“When I left to go fix the remote situation. Trevor said something, and actually…do not worry about it. Forget I even said anything, I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast,” You close the door to the bathroom.

Hetty sits on the bed in disbelief. She hears the shower start to run, and she knows that the moment is ruined beyond repair. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Hetty says leaving the room on a mission, “Oh, Trevor!”

------

The rest of the morning and into the early afternoon goes by quickly as we all prepare the house for our New Year’s celebration. After a while, I head upstairs to take a nap. I tell Alberta that if they need anything to wake me up, and she sends me on my way telling me not to worry. 

“Hetty have you noticed (y/n), lately?” Flower asks. 

“I tend to notice her a lot,” Hetty says not knowing where Flower could be going with her impending line of questioning. 

“No like her complexion, she looks a little…different,”

“I hate to brag, but I might have something to do with that new glow she has been sporting,” Hetty smirks to herself. 

“No, Hetty not like that. She looks a bit pale and she has been more tired than usual. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed,” Flower says.

“Well it is the wintertime, and Sam and Jay always say they lose so much color in the winter. Maybe her trip to the beach will bring her back to life. Do not worry you’re pretty little head about,” Hetty says beginning to get worried herself. How could she not have noticed these changes, and she sleeps right next to you? 

“Worry about what?” Flower asks. 

——————-

Still thinking about what Flower said, Hetty begins to get even more worried and sets out to find you. After searching what seems to be the entire house, she finds you still asleep in your room. Hetty smiles softly to herself at the sight and comes over to brush your hair from your face. Hetty does notice that you do look a bit pale, but she tries to tell herself that it is due to the change in season. Hetty places a kiss on your forehead and leaves the room. Hetty wonders if she can get Alberta to ask the Alexa a couple of questions about your symptoms.

When I wake up from my nap, I groan and hold my head in my hands. I feel as if my head were about to split in two. I take a couple of steadying breaths before standing on my feet and going to the bathroom. I  rifle through the medicine cabinet to find some kind of medicinal relief. I gulp down a couple of pain pills with a glass of water, and I press the cold glass to my chest, now feeling a bit overheated. 

“I better not be getting sick,” I say out loud. I refill the glass and gulp down the rest of the water before heading downstairs. 

I am surprised to find that the entire house is quiet. I look around the house, and I finally find the ghosts huddled around the Alexa. 

“Hey guys, why so sneaky?” I ask the room. Everyone jumps at the sound of your voice not expecting you to be awake. 

“Nothing, we just wanted to settle a debate,” Alberta quickly says. 

“A debate? A debate about what?” My eyebrow quirks up as I cross my arms. I knew they were up to something, but I could not tell what. 

“If hotdog is just hotdog or if hotdog disguised as a sandwich,” Thor says quickly. Everyone looks at him, and he just shrugs. 

“Well, what did you find out?” I ask, playing along. 

“How about instead of quizzing us, we figure out how we are going to throw this New Year’s Eve party that you keep talking about,” Hetty says emerging from the group and to my side. 

“But Hetty,” I begin to say. 

“Ah ah ah, as Lady of the house, I demand we talk of party plans,” Hetty leaves the room, and I am sure I am expected to be behind her. 

“Is she always this bossy?” I ask them slowly making my way to the door.

Everyone nods while Trevor says, “In ways you can’t even imagine.”

“Shut up Trevor,” You hear Hetty say from the hallway.

-------

New Year’s morning

Hetty and I try to finish what we started yesterday morning, and we are off to a good start. The room is filled with soft sighs and moans. 

“My nape, kiss my nape,” Hetty begs. 

I do as told, and she arches her neck to allow me a tiny bit more access. I begin to urge Hetty onto her back. As soon as her head hits the pillows we hear my name being called…again. Hetty curses under her breath while I offer an apologetic look. Once again I do the same routine of adjusting my gown, tightening my robe, and putting on my slippers. 

“I’m getting blocked by ghosts, this has to be my worst nightmare,” Hetty groans. 

“Just imagine how Jay feels,” I laugh knowing this has likely happened to him on more than one occasion. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” I say standing on my feet. I push myself off of the bed, and I bring a hand to my head to ward off the dizzy spell that just came on. The other hand grabbed the footboard of the bed. I stand still for a moment hoping that the room will stop spinning for one moment. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Hetty asks sitting up, ”(Y/n)!”

I try to answer her, but instead, I feel my knees collapse and I hit the ground.

——————-

I groan as I open my eyes, my head throbbing just a bit. I’m thankful the curtains are drawn to keep any bright light from entering the room. The only source of light comes from my desk lamp.

“Finally, you are awake. There is a glass of water next to your bed, dear. On your nightstand,” Hetty says softly. 

Without looking in her direction, I gulp the glass of water in one go. I set the glass back down on the nightstand, and I slowly sit up in bed against the pillows slowly.

“Maybe we need to convince Sam and Jay to add an extension to the house,” Hetty suggests. 

“I would still be called, Hetty,” I say holding out my hands. Hetty smiles to herself and comes over to me. 

“Well need to figure out how to extend this power of yours. I very much would like to have some interrupted time with you. As well as moments where you are not fainting because of what I assume is stress,” She says. 

“Hetty, you have plenty of uninterrupted time with me,”  I say adjusting my position a little. 

“Next time you are called, you are not answering,” Hetty says sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. She helps move the pillows to make me more comfortable. 

“Is that an order from the Lady of the House?” I ask.

“Yes, it is, and it would be wise for the heiress to heed that order,” Hetty replies 

“Hetty what if it’s an emergency?” I ask.

“Well Sam and Jay are back for a while, they will figure it out,” Hetty responds. 

We sit in silence for a moment before I speak up again.

“You are fretting dear,” I say. 

I see Hetty squint in disapproval, and I know I have hit a sore spot.

“You are having night terrors, you barely have an appetite, you are pale, and now you are fainting,” Hetty points out.

“Hetty I always have night terrors, some nights are just better than others. As for my appetite, I am just not hungry all the time. It just happens,” I brush of Hetty’s concern hoping that she would drop the subject soon. Then I remember this is Hetty, we will not be dropping this anytime soon. 

“I hope you know that I do not believe you. Even more so since you still have yet to explain the fainting,” Hetty says standing up. 

“Point proven,” I say to myself.

“It was one time! What can I say? I fall for your beauty every day,” I say hoping to lighten the mood. 

“This is serious!” Hetty declares.

“Fine. What is it that you would like me to do?” I ask crossing my arms. 

Hetty does the same, “I want you to go see a doctor.”

“Fine,” I say a bit exasperated. I’m in no mood to keep this going back and forth.

“You aren’t going to argue about it?” Hetty says a bit taken aback. 

“I would not call this an argument. Do you want to argue about it?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow. 

“No, you just have a stubborn streak. Therefore, I was expecting you to fight back a little,” Hetty says, her hand cradling my chin. She tilts my head up to meet her gaze. 

“Well, we could argue, as you say, or we could kiss which could lead to some other things. I think a little love may be the best medicine I can get,” I prompted.

Hetty laughs brushing my lips with her thumb before getting up and leaving the room. 

“What? So no kiss?” I sputtered. 

—-----

Over the next week, my headache does not get any better. Now that Sam and Jay have returned, I do not have to worry about being up and ready to work as much. After hearing of my condition, Riley and Nadine were more than happy to help cover my hours. 

Now I mainly lay in bed, and Hetty stays with me tending to my every need however she can. It is mainly her telling Sam that I need something, and then Sam bringing what was requested to me. 

“You seem to have quite the motherly instincts,” I say. 

“And if you tell anyone, I’ll cut your tongue out,” Hetty says. She continues to brush my hair.

“You wouldn’t, you like my tongue,” I say sticking my tongue out.

“Oh great, now you’ve gone delirious,” Hetty says no doubt rolling her eyes. Her arms wrap around me and sink back into her. I close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped in her arms.

“When do you have your appointment?” Hetty asks.

“Early tomorrow morning, Riley and Nadine are going to take me,” I respond.

Hetty hums in response. 

“I am worried about you,” Hetty says quietly. If I weren’t so close to her, I probably would not have heard it.

“I know,” I say.

“I do not want to lose you,” Hetty says. Her voice is a bit thick, and I can tell she is fighting back tears.

“You won't,” I replied kissing her hand, “I promise,”

————————

The next morning, I wake up feeling slightly better than in previous days. I find it unusual that Hetty is not awake with me, but I let her rest. She was probably up fretting over me all night anyway. I get ready, and before leaving I leave a kiss on Hetty’s head. I whisper an “I love you,” and smile when I get soft snores in response. I quietly leave the room, and head down the stairs. 

Riley already has my coat in hand ready for me to put it on. I slip into it, and Nadine helps to adjust the collar. 

“You two are acting like I’m dying or something,” You whisper trying to lighten the mood. 

They barely crack a smile, and I scoff. 

“Guys I am fine. We are going to get me checked out, and they are going tell me I am fine, and then we will come back and live a life so good it could be a sit-com,” I say, “Now let’s go before everyone else wakes up and looks at me like I am going off to war and never coming home,”

That causes a snort to leave Riley and Nadine to laugh softly. 

Riley offers to drive, and Nadine lets me sit in the back so I can sleep if I want to. The car starts, and I try to ignore the uneasy feeling that appears. I've had this feeling before, like a panic attack, but it feels way stronger this time. Instead of the usual impending sense of doom, I have an overwhelming sense that something horrible is about to happen.

“I’m fine,” I assure myself.

I take a steady breath, to calm myself.

As the car moves closer to the gate, I feel a build-up of energy. Almost like static electricity all over my body. My body begins to feel pulled almost as if I am being split in two different directions.

Then everything goes black.

-END-

[cheeeeseburger]

Dream girl Part 5

Next part

Sidney Crosby x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: Two parts in two days, who am I? Anyway, English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes!

He likes seeing your lipstick stain on the coffee mug. It’s nice to see your earrings next to his watch on the counter. Your small shoes look adorable next to his. His coat starts to smell like your perfume. In sum up, he adores the familiarity of it all.

But of course, none of it is real. It has been three weeks since you have moved in his basement, and it has been hell and heaven for Sidney.

It was heaven because he had access to you nearly all the time, but it was hell because you were never alone. It wasn’t that bad, because Sidney preferred crumbs of you rather than no you. At night, he replayed your small interactions in his head, like when you laughed at his jokes over dinner or when you made him a cup of tea because he said he had troubles sleeping. His bed always felt too big when he was done replaying the day.

How cruel was it for Sidney that he had his dream girl living under his roof, yet he was not allowed to do anything about it. He wished you would wake up in the middle of the night and leave your boyfriend’s bed for his. He would open the blankets for you and scoop you in his arms. There would be no nightmares with him, only sweet dreams. The sun would shine on your hair in the morning like a halo, and he would whisper softly in your ear to wake you up. After that, he would worship you like you deserve to be worshipped. And he would do it all over again, every single day.

Having to see you be the perfect girlfriend to and undeserving boy hurt like hell. How he ached to be the one receiving your sweet smiles and homemade snacks with cute notes written on the bag. Instead of throwing the notes out like the rookie did, he would pin them to his locker. He would be so fucking proud that his girl took good care of him like that. He wouldn’t jump at every occasion to flirt with another girl at away games. He wouldn’t say he was single behind your back. He wouldn’t give his number to anyone. He would be your dream man, unlike your current boyfriend.

Sometime, every time, actually, Sidney allowed himself to think of you while he took care of himself. You living under his roof gave Sidney plenty of opportunity to daydream and fantasize about what it would be like if you were his. That time you bend over the table to set up the silverware and you moaned as you reached for a knife? Yeah, that was always in his mind.

Even though he knew it was wrong, Sidney always looked forward to going back home after a trip because you and your boyfriend would definitely have sex. Every time, he got comfortable on his couch and waited to hear that first perfect sound coming out of your mouth. He always pretended he was the one you were making the sounds for, and deep down, he thought you felt the same. Otherwise, why did it feel like you were holding out from slipping his name out?

Those were the good times, but tonight was a bad time. Sidney and the rookie had just come home from a week away to play in Canada. After an awkward dinner where you made no efforts to look at your boyfriend except to give him stares colder than the ice in Edmonton, you both disappeared downstairs in the basement. That’s when the screaming started.

So you had seen it. The famous picture of the rookie with some random girl on his lap. It broke Sidney’s heart when he heard the hurt in your voice. The young defenseman was trying to come up with an excuse, but it wasn’t enough to get you out of your fury. It seemed like the walls in the house were trembling from your screams and his meaningless attempt at defense. At one point, the screams were so bad that Sidney wondered if he should go down to check up on the situation, but they calmed down soon after.

If he thought the rage was bad, the tears were even worst. The desperation and the sobs he heard coming from downstairs felt like he was being stabbed. He imagined a pool of tears at your feet and you drowning in them. This was not sadness. This was misery. It seemed like nothing would stop you from crying your heart out. He wished he could comfort you somehow, but it was not his place.

Eventually, everything got quiet again. After a while, Sidney got in bed, and he tried to chase the sound of your heartbreak away. He hoped your boyfriend would drown in the guilt. He was nearly asleep when he heard the front door opening, then closing. Immediately, he put on some shoe and grabbed a hoodie while heading outside.

When his eyes met yours outside, you looked like a deer in headlights. “What are you doing?” asked Sidney. He was full of worry for you.

“I’m just waiting for a cab. I’m going to stay with a friend for a while.” Sidney hadn’t even though about that possibility. Usually, when your boyfriend fucked up, you forgave him, but it seemed like tonight wasn’t the case.

“What? No way. If anything, he should be the one to leave. You’re the one who’s welcome here, not him.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to get closer to you but you didn’t let him, instead using your overnight bag as a shield. Sid was basically panicking. He didn’t want to let you go, but he wanted you to feel safe.

“Don’t make this more difficult, Sidney. I know damn well why I’m welcome here. What happened, or at least what nearly happened the other night was a mistake. If anything were to happen between us, I would be no better than him.” Your eyes welled up with tears again. This time, you let him wrap his arms around you as your bag fell on the driveway.

“Shhh. I promise that I won’t make any other move on you unless you want me to. You’re welcome here because I care about you, and I want you to be safe. I’m sorry that I made you upset. Why don’t we talk about this in the morning? I have another guest room that you can use.” Tenderly, he brushed your hair while you sobbed on his shoulder. You two were in your very own comfort bubble.

“I can’t stay here, Sid. I can’t see him again. The condo will be fixed in a week. How am I supposed to go back to living with him after all he’s done?” He tried to calm you down, but you were so miserable it nearly made you hysterical. His mind was running with a thousand solutions but none of them sounded good enough.

“You could live with me for a while. Or with another friend, if you prefer.” It hurt like hell to say the words but for your sake he did it anyway: “Maybe in a week all of this mess will be fixed, and you’ll be happy to move in again.”

You looked up at him with hopeful eyes and your next words crushed him right there on the spot: “You’re right. Maybe all will be well next week.” He gave you a weak smile.

“That’s the spirit, kid. At least let me drive you to your friend’s house, okay?” You nodded and he helped you get in the car, bag in hand.

When Sidney dropped you off at the front door with the promise that he was only a phone call away should you need anything, he felt you slipping away. And there was nothing he could do about it.

[hughiecampbelle]

Dependence Pt. 4 (Roy!Sibling x Roy Family)

((SUCCESSION SPOILERS))

Character/s: Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan

Word Count: 2,538

Warning: addiction, drugs, alcohol, death, grief

Inspired By: I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: This was one of the best and one of the most heartbreaking episodes I've ever seen. That being said, omfg. All I could think of was Baby Roy. My heart broke for Roman. It was beautiful and an honest portrayal of grief, but I was not ready at all. I wasn't planning on writing anymore parts, but I just couldn't help myself. This episode was too good to leave it be. I'm really happy with how it turned out! this has been my favorite series to write, Baby Roy is so fun to write and it makes me so happy to know you guys like it too!!! Thank you!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Dependence Pt. 1 / Dependence Pt. 2 / Dependence Pt. 3 / Dependence Pt. 5

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt One.

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt. Two

You can still taste the whiskey in the back of your throat. It’s a familiar burning. It’s something you shouldn’t welcome with open arms, but when have you ever turned away from a love that could kill you? When have you been shown any other kind of affection? Their hugs always came with a stab in the back, right between your vertebrae. They were always intentional with their strokes, never wanting to waste a moment, a movement. What you wouldn’t give for a drink right now. Salted rim. Ice. Something bright, something colorful, something to make this all go away. You were so close last time, tip toeing on the edge. Where he fell, you flew, dragged back by the skin of your teeth. You didn’t want to be saved, you wanted to be free. The memories are hazy, but your throat was scratchy, voice patchy, as if you’d been screaming. As if you’d been begging. No one explained, though you had a feeling they all heard. They looked at you differently now. You knew what they said behind your back, your fathers old posse, what they thought of you. Suicidal. Maybe. What did they care about? Now you started what could have been. The casket, the rows and rows of nameless faces, most never shedding a tear over your old man, over you. The violins, the church, the halo effect the light gives as if anyone in this room were remotely holy. You hadn’t had anything since the incident, nothing to drink, nothing to use, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t still feel it, want it. After the charcoal, the sick, after that, it seemed like you could never get rid of that boozy taste in your mouth. Faint, but there. Mocking you, your sobriety. What your father would have said to you after the incident plays on loop in your mind. That if you wanted to cry he would give you something to cry about, if you wanted to die he would give you something to die about.

Too late, you think, you beat me to it. 

Your mother sat beside Caroline and Kerry, making the ever rare appearance in the world to grieve her ex-spouse. She hugged you as she came in, doing the same with your brothers and sister, reminding you this wasn’t the kind of event that came with an open bar. You smiled, unsure of what else to do, unsure of what to say, struck as if you’d been slapped across the face. She wasn’t there. She didn’t see you, in that bed, in that condition. You hadn’t even attempted to call her in that haze, you’d gone to your dead father instead. You knew. You knew even as you lay dying that she would not offer the comforts you so desperately wanted. She would not let you go in peace. Someone must’ve filled her in, though by the look in her eye you’d never know it. She was as jaded and hostile as ever. She seemed satisfied with herself, her quip, moving on to your sister and her big news. Your eyes stung. Someone put their hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Connor or Kendall. You never found out who. Suddenly you were drained. Of life, of everything, wanting to lay down on the pew and sleep forever. You let your siblings talk. You let them wander off to their prospective parties, sticking by Connor like a little kid, becoming his shadow. Since that night he hasn’t let you out of his sight. He takes care of you. He makes sure you’re doing okay. The others call, checking in more than they ever have, all of them feeling guilty. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t mean to make such a mess. You were just so angry, so alone. You were tired of fighting this thing inside of you that could not be controlled, that threatened to burn you alive. 

Time passes strangely. There are gaps in between. You don’t remember sitting down or watching them carry him in, only that he rests in the aisle and you cannot stop yourself from holding your breath. You can’t take your eyes off the casket. He’s really in there, you think, he’s really gone. Part of you still thinks this is all one massive trick. That he’s going to pop up and laugh, making a fool out of all of you. You wait, but he does not stir. Despite their best efforts, Ewan takes his place at the podium. He talks of his brother and sister, Rose. Of Logan's life before you, before the money. You’d never heard any of this before. Your fathers life was a series of scattered bits of information and assumptions to fill in the gaps. You only had a handful of real facts about him, ones that weren’t superficial like his age and birthday. The realization seeps into your skin: you never even knew him. You watch the same thought in your siblings' expressions. The quiver of Roman’s bottom lip. The glazed over look in Kendall's eyes. Even Connor, your oldest brother, the one who knew him the longest, stared forward as if he were desperate to breathe and Ewans words were the only oxygen in the room. All of you hopeless without him, without this story, as if you were hearing about him for the first time. The man you wanted to be loved by so frantically was nothing but a stranger. He kept all of you at arms length, not wanting to get hurt again. Now here you were, hurting, missing out on a father, a real father, because of his fears. You dug your nails into your palms, wanting to scream. 

You watched him crumble before you. He’d been so confident, so manic, you should have known. You should have known all that pre-grieving was masochistic bullshit. His words catch in his throat, his hands shuffle his cards around, until finally he needs to step down, the tears glistening in his eyes. All of you reflectively stand, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs. He is sobbing now, trying to keep it all in. Is he in there? He asks. Can we get him out? Connor steps in front of you, taking his little brother by the arm, as if he doesn’t want you to see this, as if he can protect you from their pains, their sorrows. Roman holds his hands in front of his face, shielding himself from the fury of a ghost. Through your siblings, you grab his cards from his shaking hand. I can do it, you say, catching their eyes. Even Roman, his puppy dog eyes wide and scared and sad, are surprised. I got this. You sound more confident than you feel. None object, though you watch Ken and Shiv share an argument with just their eyes. You smile at Roman, assuring him it’s okay. You have to be there for them, too. You have to be there for them like they’ve been for you. Your tiny crowd dissipates, all of them sitting around him. You take your place at the podium. There is such a huge turnout you can’t see everyone's faces, though you have a feeling you know what they’re thinking. Frank leans over, whispers something to Gerri. You clear your throat, looking over what your brother has written. Fuck. Clutching the cards, you think quickly. The silence hangs in the air thick. I didn’t know my father, you start. Not well, at least. He wasn’t, uh, he wasn’t an easy man to get to know. Some chuckle. He spent most of his time at work, with all of you. Even as a little kid, I thought that’s where Dad lived, in the office. I had no idea uh, I had no idea they lived at home with their family. More laughter. You cannot look at anyone else but your siblings. They nod at you, encouraging you to go on. Someone got Roman water. You offer a sympathetic smile at him, knowing this will haunt him. Tears are welling up in your eyes as you speak, laughter catching in your throat. I, uh, I still can’t believe it, you know? You swallow a sob. I keep thinking that he’s going to come out of nowhere, that this was just some joke he’s playing on us. That we’ll hear his laugh out of nowhere and he’ll be back. It’s not though, it can’t be. It's too real now. Your hands begin to shake, the concerned faces of your brothers and sister blurred by tears. You catch your mother wiping her dry face with a tissue. Kendall inches forward, ready to come to your rescue. I didn’t know him well, but I miss him every single day. I miss the way he used to yell and that disappointed look he gave when we messed up. I miss his condescending tone and the way he danced around an apology. I miss him. We all do. He wasn’t uh, he wasn’t an easy man to love, but who is? 

Connor takes your hand in his, giving it three squeezes. Kendall went up, then Shiv. you can’t hear their words, you can only watch them try to keep themselves together. They share stories of your father, from a childhood before you. You liked hearing about it, as sad as it may be. You were grateful they had each other, that they didn’t grow up so alone. Your head rests on Rome’s shoulder, his sniffling quiet, cautious, as if your father could hear him. On the other side of the church, your mother sobs loudly. The rest of Logan's wives and girlfriends come to her rescue, comforting her, despite not a single tear being shed. You roll your eyes, wishing the day over as fast as possible. You keep close behind Connor and Willa, who are thanking the sea of nameless faces for coming. People you’ve never seen before, people you’ve seen in passing, in Christmas cards, others you have the terrible feeling that they came only to check that the old man was, in fact, truly dead. You take the car with them all the way to the graveyard where his mausoleum stands tall and daunting. Crisp, harsh lines draw you into where he hoped you would all be buried alongside him. If they hadn’t brought you back, if they hadn’t found you when they did, would you be in there now? Would you have taken the first available slot, destined to share eternity with a man who fucking hated you? A shudder goes through your body. Shiv mistakes it for grief, holding your arm. It is cold and sterile, the very place you would have expected him to be. The ground, the bugs, that’s too dirty. Too much. He never would have been cremated either. He didn’t want to rot, you think, as if this place could prevent that. Roman stands near the doorway, not wanting to go in. You wait beside him, not saying a word. Too much empathy, too much compassion, and you’ll drive him away. No, he just needs his time. You watch Connor place his hand on the places in the wall, as if he has already claimed it on his own. You drop your gaze, trying to stop the thoughts from coming. What if, one day, you’re the only one left? What then? How will you go on without them, all of them? Tears fall silently down your cheeks. You couldn’t do it without them. They were your mother and fathers, they raised you, they saved you. Without them, without them you would be nothing. You never would have made it this far, seen this many years. Despite their faults, despite everything, you owed your life to them. You always would. 

Your brother disappears before you can stop him, shutting himself into isolation, into the car. None of you move, none of you get up to get him, your eyes all transfixed on what’s being done before you. Settled into his final resting place. All that anger, all that rage, where does it go? Does it come back to you? Does it belong to you now? You haven’t been angry since that night, not like how it was, your rage replaced with gratitude. You weren’t happy to be back, to be here, but it was better than the alternative. If they’d had to bury you too, you’re not sure what they would have done. Before you thought your absence meant nothing. That they’d known how to function in a world without you before, they could do it again. The way they looked at you when you woke up, when you cried, you realized just how much you’d put them through, how they seemed to age decades under those fluorescent lights. You apologized profusely, but they wouldn’t hear it. They blamed themselves, all of them. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be tied back to this life, this meaningless existence, but you couldn’t let yourself hurt them anymore.

The reception is crowded, everyone sharing their condolences. Kendall gets you a water before disappearing to talk to Mencken, Roman following obediently. He makes sure you’re okay on your own, that it’ll only be a minute. You assure him you’ll be alright, really. How he would have hated this, you smile. All these people pretending to have known him, sympathizing with his children. As far as he was concerned you deserved nothing. You deserved less than nothing. You wade through the room. They’re off, doing their own things, trying each and every one of them to one day take over. You never wanted that, you never thought it was your rightful place. You know what you want and it doesn’t involve this. It doesn’t involve schmoozing, it doesn’t involve high stakes and high stress. What wouldn't save your family from this, but it’s too late. It always was. They were pitted against one another before you were even born. You sip your water, forever wishing it were something stronger. The impulse is still there. It always has been, always will be. It didn’t leave just because he did. It didn’t escape you just because he did. It sits in the middle of your chest and it is bitter for being ignored. You did it once, a whole year, you can do it again. You will do it again. If not for yourself, if never for yourself, then for them. For Connor, for Kendall, for Siobhan, for Roman. For the people who have always loved you, always will. Logan is dead. He will be. He didn’t care then and he won’t care now, but they will. It’s up to you to do better, be better, stay sober. It's not easy, it never has been, it never will be. But don’t they deserve that? Don’t each of them deserve that from you? You watch them, each of them, laugh and roll their eyes and try to find their way in this world without him. If they can do it, if they can find a reason to show up, to be there, so can you. Right?

[slut4agoodcause]

Easy Moments - Carmen Berzatto x reader

Warnings: Smoking, Swearing, The most gorgeous man I’ve ever met

A/n : oh my god, oh my god second season June 22. Also sorry that this is at least a two parter I’m exhausted

<3 <3 <3

It had been a long night or as both Richie and chef would say, you guys got your shit rocked. Despite how prepared you guys had been it was no match for how out of sync everyone had been and how understocked you all were. Richie was throwing a fit and fucking around in the kitchen; you were this close to cutting him end to end with a paring knife the entire night. Lucky it was over, and even if you had to deal with it tomorrow you could leave it all behind for tomorrow. Really fucking early tomorrow, but tomorrow nonetheless. You shoved the apron in your locker and collected the rest of your things. You could feel the grease and sweat sticking to every inch of you. The fans only solidified the sweat making the layer of sweat thicker and feel even more suffocating.

“Chef.”

Fuck god dammit what now- you mentally whined praying that maybe you had left a pen behind or some dumb miscellaneous nonsense. Something that still let you go home within the next hour.

“Yes, Chef?” You put your attention towards him, the fluorescents allowed you to get a good look at his features. The way his jaw curved and the bump of his nose, your eyes lingering on the notch in his cheek from what you assumed was some accident that he never spoke of.

"Are you going home?" His voice seemed thick but still scratchy, eyes puffy most likely from exhaustion.

"Yeah - I mean yes, chef. As long as you don't need me here?"

He paused, his lips tugging into a sort of tired attempt to smile before answering, "No chef, thank you, have a good night."

You nodded before collecting your stuff from your locker and stepping out into the cold, you stood outside the shop shuffling your feet a bit before digging out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You heard the hiss of the flames as the paper burned, taking a deep breath you let the smoke sit in your lungs for a moment. Chicago was cold, all the time, constantly. Which usually you hated, it made you feel like you were drowning somewhere but tonight you didn't mind, it felt good to be in this kind of cold.

"Can I have a light?"

You let your head lull over to see Carmen once again, somehow trapped in the halo of light from the city.

You flicked the lighter just under his cigarette, watching as the flame illuminated his lips and the short timid stubble that framed his face.

Every inch of you was sore and beyond exhausted but something about how easy this moment felt kept you here. Honestly, that's why you stayed at The Beef, because despite the snappy annoying, and quite horribly frustrating moments there were enough easy ones to keep you steady.

Neither of you spoke, the air felt heavy but not the crushing heavy just the kind that kept you both mute. Your phone buzzed and you scanned the pile of notifications to see the most recent message :

Hey I can’t pick you up tonight, flight was delayed. I'll see you tomorrow, sorry.

“Motherfucker.”

Carmy turned towards you ever so slightly, brows raised, lips toying with the butt of the cigarette, “something wrong?”

You shook your head, “no it’s nothing, my ride canceled on me.”

“Oh.” His head leaned against the glass window, “How do you plan on getting home then?”

You sighed out the last nicotine-soaked breath before stunning out the cigarette with your toe, and frantically searching for train routes that ran nearest to your apartment.

“The trains still run at this hour right chef?”

He glanced over at you at the sound of ‘chef’, “some do but I wouldn’t recommend it, late trains are full of drunks and creeps.”

You continued a string of curses as you checked the time , it was 2:22 and you’d have to be back by 5 anyways, it didn’t matter if you got home right this instant there was no way in hell you were gonna get close to enough sleep.

You stood there slightly paralyzed by both exhaustion and frustration, honestly if you had known this is what you were signing up for in culinary school you might never applied.

“Chef?”

Carmen had just finished his cigarette, smushing what was left into the ground. He looked up at you, in an almost slow and methodical way, “yes chef?”

“Could I sleep here, in The Beef tonight? Not even in your office just like in one of the booths or something?”

His eyebrows creased as he thought, eyes still all-encompassingly focused on you. “How far away is your apartment?”

Your brain practically melted at his words, your mind already thinking of every possible outcome to a thousand possible ways you could go about answering his question. You didn't want to make a big deal of it but you had always been skittish of people being at your place and your boss was no exception.

“About twenty minutes away chef, why?”

He thought for a second before speaking, “ theres a train that should run somewhere by your place, and I would prefer just making sure you get home safely instead of letting you sleep in one of those grimey booths.”

“You really don't have to, I think I have some mace in my bag, I can handle some drunk creeps.”

“Mace would fill the whole train up if you were to spray even the smallest amount which would rock everyone’s shit.”

You toyed with your lips a bit while you thought, it would only be twenty minutes, and then you would see each other tomorrow and it would be normal. Carmen didn't seem like the kinda guy to intrude or invite himself in. It would be okay if he watched over you, just for tonight.