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eff4freddie · 3 months ago

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After She Left | Eleven

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Ellie is struggling to get used to life with Shauna, and you hatch a plan to make things a little easier on her. You and Joel fumble towards a way forward, a way for you to both be in each other's lives about as much as either of you can bare.

Chapter warnings: We still in angst town, friends. These two are taking their sweet time but we are on a pathway to repair. Ellie is a delight but Shauna is a straight up arsehole. Crimes against baking.

Ten | Series Masterlist | Twelve

It felt like it took days for the hangover to pass, Jonah’s sweet offering of Tylenol only giving you respite for a few hours. You had no memory of Monday, although you were 98% sure it happened. Tuesday was a slight improvement. By Wednesday you were human again.

You sat on your couch, textbook open beside you, as Ellie sat, folded in half, in your armchair by the window. She held her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. She’d been like this since she arrived.

‘So, Ecuador,’ you prompted, and she nodded.

‘Bordered by Colombia and Peru. Capital Quilto. Umm..big fight with the Spanish.’

‘Quito,’ you corrected, ‘and possibly bit more than a big fight.’ You wondered how you could explain colonisation to a child of the apocalypse.

You could see she was distracted, watching out the window as the street lay largely dormant.

‘Ellie?’ you prompted, and she finally looked at you, face almost totally blank. ‘Where are you today?’

She looked back down to her knees, a small smile. ‘I moved into the studio,’ she said, after a while, and you swallowed.

‘Is it nice having your own space?’ you asked, trying to rally, but your stomach was sinking for her. Something was wrong, it was plain as day on her face.

‘Don’t tell Joel,’ she said, and you held her gaze.

‘Ellie, if it’s bad I might have to,’ you said, and she shook her head.

‘It’s not bad, bad,’ she said, pausing for a second to consider things, ‘it’s just…sometimes I don’t sleep so good and…it’s like I hear things? I don’t know. I’m almost asleep and then I…’

‘Your mind plays tricks on you,’ you finished, because you knew all too well what she meant, all too clearly, all too sharply.

‘Yeah, except I don’t know if it’s my mind or if an infected has got over the wall…’

‘It’s pretty normal, Ellie. I don’t think anyone sleeps all that well anymore.’

‘But sometimes if I can hear Joel snoring in the other room…’ she trailed off, and you understood, then. The proximity. The security of it. You wondered about setting up some kind of tin can and string situation between the big house and hers. An apocalyptic baby monitor.

‘I remember when I first moved here, every time a tree branch scraped the window I was on the porch with my rifle.’

‘You have a rifle?’ Ellie asked, incredulous, and you couldn’t help but feel you suddenly gained a few cool points.

‘Had,’ you corrected. In your mind Rose sat on the other end of the couch beside you, nodding her head gently at you, reminding you when to stop, when to go on. ‘I got rid of it. It was better used for patrol.’

You knew lonely, quiet nights. You knew the clench of a stomach and what you could swear were footsteps outside your bedroom door in a house that was supposed to only have you in it. You knew the way the creak of an ancient windowpane could sound so close to the throaty whine of a clicker.

You knew wondering what the point of it all was. Wondering why anyone would bother struggling through just to maybe die a slightly less grizzly death than at the hands of a raider, or an infected.

You knew the temptation of it. The prospect of a gentle oblivion.

‘Dina thinks its cool,’ Ellie went on, and you snapped back to her.

‘It is cool, that’s true,’ you said. ‘Maybe she could stay over one night, have a slumber party.’

You saw the way Ellie’s cheeks went pink, and you had a little inkling as to why, and you said absolutely nothing about it.

‘You can’t go up to the big house?’ You prompted, changing the subject. ‘I can’t imagine Joel wouldn’t have a problem with it.’ You saw the way her face turned solemn again. ‘Just on the nights when the branches are scraping.’

‘I don’t know how to be around her,’ Ellie said. ‘They’ve known each other forever, it feels like. She’s just…they talk about stuff I don’t know anything about. The other day they were talking about…toll booths? I have no idea what that is.’

‘That must have been a fascinating conversation,’ you deadpanned, but it was lost on Ellie, who was still genuinely frustrated.

‘She doesn’t ask anything about me,’ Ellie said, and you could see the hurt painted all over her face. ‘It’s like she just…she’s not even trying.’

Your heart hurt for her, this sweet girl folding in on herself in your living room.

‘I reckon I have a plan,’ you said to Ellie, spurred on only by Rose at your side, giving you a grim, but determined, smile.

You could bake, you just didn’t really enjoy it. By the time you’d mixed everything to the exact right proportions, licked the bowl clean and then smelt it cooking you’d lost interest by the time it was done. You were an improviser; you liked the freedom of chucking in whatever in however much quantities and hoping for the best. You’d rarely given yourself food poisoning.

But this was important, so you called in reinforcements. Jonah had taken it well, considering he was now standing in your kitchen covered in twenty-year-old cocoa and almond meal.

‘I guess I should at least be grateful you’re not using flour,’ he said, grinning slyly at you, and you snickered.

‘Not for about twenty years’ you said.

‘Coming up on twenty-one,’ he mentioned, and you sighed.

‘We can finally drink,’ you joked.

‘Oh, I think we did plenty of that the other night.’

‘Please don’t remind me,’ you muttered. ‘I think I can still feel my surviving brain cells mourning their friends and loved ones.’

You watched as he cracked an egg into the mix, almost all shell. You tried not to put your Teacher Voice on when you asked him to fish the fragments out.

‘Calcium,’ he defended, and you rolled your eyes at him.

‘I’m not serving a crunchy cake.’

For a moment the two of you worked in a comfortable silence. He handed you the bowl to check he had gotten it all, and you went through it with the fork to skim out the smaller pieces.

‘I had fun the other night,’ he said, just straight up telling you what he was thinking and feeling. You steadied yourself before the shock set in.

‘Same,’ you smiled back at him. ‘From what I can remember, anyway.’

‘I really don’t normally drink that much,’ he defended, and you giggled.

‘Yeah, is that why you had the hangover recovery kit ready first thing?’ you asked. He looked at you, puzzled.

‘What? I…’

You heard the front door swing open and you called out to Ellie as she stomped down the hall.

‘Nearly ready, but we can’t ice it when it’s warm.’

‘You lick the bowl already?’ she asked. You held it out for her. ‘Fuck yeah!’ she said, almost running to snatch it from your hands. It took her almost a full minute, bowl held up almost to her nose, to notice Jonah. ‘Oh shit,’ she said, when she finally saw him. ‘Who’s this?’

Jonah stepped forward and introduced himself, shaking the hand not covered in cake batter. She took it, eying you the whole time.

‘Jonah is a better baker than me,’ you lied, ignoring that the two of them saw through you in an instant.

‘You patrol,’ Ellie said, and Jonah nodded. ‘I wanna do that. You ever take on umm…trainees?’

‘Ellie…’ you warned, but she ignored you.

‘Ah…when we get new recruits, sure, I show them the ropes. They’re usually a little older, though,’ Jonah said, diplomatically and with one eye on you. You nodded at him, grateful.

‘I’ve seen shit you wouldn’t believe,’ Ellie said, and on anyone else this would seem precocious, or even boastful, but on her you just knew it was true.

‘Ellie, Joel would gut us both if we let you out there,’ you said, pouring the mix into an ancient cake tin and hoping it would survive 45 minutes in the oven before it fully corroded.

‘You ever go to the water caves?’ she asked Jonah, ignoring you, and he smiled at her.

‘The what caves?’

‘Dina says there’s a waterfall about a half hour ride from here, maybe an hour if it’s muddy, and when you get in behind the water there’s a network of caves that go down at least a mile.’

‘Can’t say I’ve seen anything like that,’ he said. ‘We follow the river up, but we turn back once we hit the perimeter.’

‘So, it’s maybe a bit longer than an hour?’ she asked, and you watched as Jonah thought on his feet.

‘I mean, we patrol in six-hour shifts…three hours there, three hours back…’ he said, trying to work out how not to step on a landmine while discovering he’d been blindfolded and spun around three times. Ellie had that effect on people.

‘Ellie, it doesn’t sound like it exists,’ you said, which she ignored.

‘It definitely does, Dina says she saw it when she travelled to Jackson. I mean, the river’s…gotta start somewhere, right? It’s travelling down. It must be coming down from a mountain. It’s falling. Like in a waterfall.’

The sarcasm was so strong she reminded you of yourself at that age, and you made a mental note to apologise to your parents when you were finally reunited in the stars.

‘OK, enough,’ you concluded, dusting your hands on your pants. ‘You tell them I’ll be there at sundown.’

Ellie looked between you and Jonah.

‘Are you two gonna bang?’ she asked, and you felt yourself immediately flush.

‘Out, out, out,’ you muttered, pushing her almost playfully to the door. ‘Sundown, Ellie. Tell them.’

‘I’m going, I’m going…’ she grinned. ‘Just don’t get your junk in the cake, ya filthy animals.’

‘Jesus H. Christ,’ you stuttered, turning to Jonah, who held a tea towel up to his face to try and stifle his laughter.

Jonah hadn’t asked you why you were baking for them, and you were grateful for that. It would have been too hard to explain, and you weren’t sure how you would have anyway. You wanted to show Ellie off, maybe. Maybe you wanted to model how to talk to a teenager, as if you were some kind of expert. Maybe you wanted to just…see for yourself.

You stepped onto the porch, your breath coming in short and sharp. The cake was still too warm to ice by the time you lost patience and slathered the mix over it, and now most of it was sliding off and pooling down along the sides. You held it out in front you anyway, an offering to the Gods for peace. For something resembling sanity.

Joel opened the door before you’d even had a chance to knock, like he was waiting for you. He’d brushed his hair back, was wearing one of the cleaner plaid shirts he owned over dark jeans. He looked at you under saddled brows.

‘Hey there,’ he said, and you felt your stomach flip. For a moment you just stared at each other, cake cooling in the air between you.

‘I brought…’ you started, and then you stopped because he looked like he was going to say something, like he was going to step forward towards you maybe, but then at the last second chickened out.

‘No, sorry…’ he apologised for interrupting, just as you spoke to do the same. The two of you cut the other off, then smiled awkwardly at each other.

‘Looks delicious,’ he said, and you pushed it towards him.

‘It might be crunchy in some places,’ you said, and he smiled.

‘So am I,’ he said.

‘You’re here!’ a voice called, and Joel finally stepped aside from the door enough that you could step in. Shauna stood in the entryway; apron tied around her hips. ‘Oh, you sweet thing, that looks…so homey.’

You braved a smile. ‘Ellie supervised,’ you said, and you heard Joel stifle a chuckle.

‘Well...isn’t that something,’ Shauna said. ‘Come on in, anyway. Sorry about the mess.’

The house looked largely the same, except that Ellie’s general clutter had been removed. Maybe there was an extra blanket on the couch, but you couldn’t remember if it had always been there.

‘Gettin’ cold out,’ Joel said from behind you, and you turned to him. He still held the cake in his two hands. It was like he was paralysed, you realised. You went to take it from him and watched as his shoulders slumped a little in relief.

‘Ellie around?’ you asked, because for a moment you were terrified that she had bailed on you, knowing innately this would be awkward to the point of unbearable, and probably entirely futile.

‘Out back, I’ll call her in,’ Joel said, and you moved in front of him before he went.

‘Wait…’ you said, and then stopped, because you had no idea what you wanted to say other then that things felt incomplete, somehow. That tonight was about Ellie and trying to get her comfortable in her own home again. That it was about trying to start something new with him, maybe a friendship. You gazed up at him, hands shaking just enough to jiggle the congealing icing at the bottom of the plate, and he stared down at you, lips pursed and scorching from the last time you had kissed him there, and he knew, he knew all of it, understood exactly why you were doing it, thanked you for it if he was honest, as much as he hated that you had to.

He nodded at you, just once. You stepped back.

‘Should I set this down on the table?’ you called out to Shauna.

‘Oh, is it done?’ she called back, and you looked down at it. It was as done as it was going to get.

You sat beside Ellie at old oak dining room table you didn’t remember seeing before.

‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ Shauna said, smoothing her hands over the surface. ‘I told Joel we can’t always eat in the kitchen. Not when we have company.’

‘Found it out back, just needed a bit of oiling,’ Joel said, and you hummed in appreciation.

‘It’s beautiful wood,’ you said, nodding, watching Ellie push her green beans around on her plate. Shauna had, apparently, never met a clove of garlic she didn’t like. The upshot being your tastebuds were so scorched you couldn’t taste anything else.

‘You still workin’ the wall?’ Joel asked you, and you chanced a glance up at him. ‘I ain’t seen you on the weekends.’

‘You were on the wall the night I arrived,’ Shauna said as though just realising it, pointing her fork at you. ‘I remember that scared little face poking out at me now.’

You swallowed a piece of garlic with a side of bean and nodded. ‘I remember you were hurt,’ you said. ‘How you healing up?’

‘Joel looks after me so well,’ she said, smiling warmly at him while she watched you out of the corner of her eye. You heard Ellie mutter something under her breath.

‘I umm…I’ve been working on a new curriculum,’ you said to Joel, ignoring your teenage companion. ‘It’s been taking up a bit of my time, so I said to Billy not to put me on the roster for a while.’

Joel nodded at this, chewing thoughtfully. ‘That must be why he asked me to pick up an extra shift.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ you said, your stomach dropping. ‘I didn’t mean to make it harder for you, I can talk to him…’

‘Maybe I could give it a go,’ Shauna piped up, smiling.

‘You gotta be a good shot,’ Joel said quickly, and you watched as she deflated slightly.

‘I can talk to Billy,’ you said to him, and he waved you away.

‘Like to feel useful,’ he said, and he smiled at you, warmth in his eyes.

‘Ellie’s doing really good in school,’ you said to the whole table but directed almost entirely at Shauna. ‘She’s amazing at geography.’

Shauna snickered, then blushed when Joel turned to her. ‘Well, you have to wonder what for,’ she defended.

‘Knowledge is power,’ you said, watching Ellie slumping further into her chair. ‘She’s also a gifted reader, and she has an incredible imagination. Well beyond her years.’

‘Knock it off,’ Ellie said, quietly, and you nudged her, playfully. ‘She’s a pretty amazing young woman,’ you went on, turning back to Shauna. ‘Don’t you think?’

Shauna stared at you blankly for a moment. You wondered if she was really so cruel, or if she just didn’t know, just hadn’t ever thought to ask.

‘You been doin’ wonders for her,’ Joel said to you.

‘Just like hanging out with her, if I’m honest,’ you said, grinning at Ellie. She mustered a smile back at you.

‘Where’d you learn to shoot?’ Shauna asked you, spooning more potatoes onto Joel’s plate. He made room for them, frowning slightly.

‘Chicago QZ’, you said. ‘I was conscripted, I guess.’

‘Must have been young,’ Shauna appraised. ‘I was in Atlanta.’

‘You weren’t in Houston?’ you asked, still not sure of the timeline, but surprised she had ended up so far from Joel and Sarah.

‘No, I…I hadn’t been there a while.’

You hazarded a glance at Joel, who was staring at the tabletop.

‘Oh,’ you said, simply.

‘But I liked Atlanta,’ Shauna went on. ‘Until it fell, I mean. FEDRA there was…well, it was organised. They had a good structure.’

You could feel Ellie bristling beside you, almost quivering with something you supposed was a kind of fury. Maybe Shauna didn’t know about Boston, about Chicago, about Kansas. Maybe Atlanta had been different.

‘I ended up running their social program, actually,’ Shauna said, all lit up from the inside. ‘It was total disarray when I got there, but I started in early with a schedule, went around door to door inviting people to participate, that sort of thing.’

‘You in your FEDRA uniform at the time?’ Ellie asked, and you looked down at your plate. You’d seen a few of those social programs in Chicago. It had usually meant taking women from their kids and making them work the land for food, making men not strong enough to fight hammer boards over broken windows until their palms bled. Gardening club. Working bees. That sort of thing.

But maybe Atlanta was different. Maybe there you got the right amount of ration cards at the end of the day.

‘Why’d it fall then, if it was so great?’ Ellie asked, and you cleared your throat.

‘This is delicious, Shauna, thank you,’ you said, and she grinned at you.

‘I was never really that homey,’ she said, and you chanced another glance at Joel who was still staring down at his plate. ‘It’s like I’ve got another chance, here, y’know? Jackson really is just so amazing like that.’

At this she rested her hand in the crook of Joel’s arm, and without looking he reached over and placed his hand on hers. You felt the weight of their history in it, the automatic nature of it.

This whole fucking thing was a mistake, you realised. You weren’t sure why you thought it would be a good idea, why you thought you could do it. You still felt the way your belly flipped when Joel looked at you, still felt the way your fingers stretched towards his all of their own accord when he stood beside you. Ellie was right to fuck off to the studio out the back. Maybe if you asked real nice she’d let you go with her right now.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Ellie watching you. You swallowed sour garlic over the back of your throat, taking a sip of water to give yourself a second to gather a thought or two.

‘What’re you gonna teach ‘em, then?’ Joel asked you. You looked up into his warm, chocolate eyes. You weren’t sure he’d even noticed his hand on Shauna’s, even then. ‘Ya done with the ocean creatures?’

You felt a smile creep across your face. ‘I am, and it was much easier with the visual aids.’ He grinned at you, then.

‘If it’s barn animals, I can help ya out,’ he said, and you laughed a little.

‘Reckon they know more than enough about barn animals,’ you said. A little crackle of something passed in the air between you.

‘What’s this?’ Shauna asked, and Joel finally realised she was hanging onto him, that he was holding onto her, when her grip tightened over his bicep. He moved quickly to extricate himself, his skin too hot where she had touched it. He looked over at you, wondering if you’d noticed. He took a quick sip of his water with slightly tremoring hands.

‘Joel helped me out a while back, made me some figures so I could teach the kids about the ocean.’

Shauna nodded at this, glancing between the two of you.

‘That’s cute,’ she said.

‘I was thinking, actually, that we might try a bit of Shakespeare.’

Joel sputtered, nearly coughing water onto the table.

‘Why on God’s green Earth would you do that to ‘em?’ he asked, smiling but incredulous all the same. ‘Ain’t they suffered enough?’

‘I’ll do one of the comedies,’ you defended, grinning at him, as he laughed out loud at this.

‘Ain’t nothin’ funny about any of that…stuff,’ Joel said, and you felt a little bubble of happiness expand in your chest. It had been a while since you’d heard his laugh, the tight little wheeze in it. It was higher than you had expected, and you’d been surprised the first time you’d heard it.

‘As You Like It is very funny,’ you defended.

‘As You Don’t Like It, more like,’ Joel grinned.

‘Clever,’ you ribbed back. ‘Never heard that one before.’

‘I never really got into Shakespeare,’ Shauna said, and you turned to her, nodding.

‘It’s not for everyone, I guess,’ you said. You had meant it honestly, you knew it wasn’t to everyone’s taste, but you watched as she narrowed her eyes at you.

‘I guess it depends on the quality of the teacher,’ she said. You felt the air shift into something sharper, something colder. You felt the heat on your cheeks drain away.

After a moment, Joel cleared his throat. ‘Well, I ain’t whittlin’ you a little man in tights, so forget that’ he said.

You didn’t feel like dessert, not as you felt Shauna’s cooking settling uneasily in your gut. Ellie was still quiet, but you were hoping that some sugar might pull her out of herself a little.

You stood from the table as Joel reached for your plate.

‘I’ll cut it,’ you said, heading off to the kitchen without thinking. You were surprised when Shauna grabbed your arm, pulling you, just a shade tighter than necessary, back into the room.

‘Let me,’ she said, and there was an edge to it, enough that you realised you’d overstepped. You knew that kitchen like the back of your hand, all the nights you’d spent at the table with Ellie and Joel discussing flower stamens and algebra and what chemistry you could remember but that no one would ever be able to correct if you were wrong.

‘Oh, of course,’ you said, stammering a little. You chanced a glance at Ellie who was watching you both, her mouth set grim in a line. You smiled brightly at her, mustering up warmth from somewhere you weren’t entirely sure existed anymore.

‘Forgot how to be a guest,’ you joked, sitting back down at the table. You felt the heat on your cheeks as Joel fussed around you, clearing the table by balancing all the plates on one arm and following Shauna out of the room. You wished it wasn’t so fucking attractive, the way things just balanced in his arms. A natural nurturer.

‘This is fucking torture,’ Ellie said quietly to you, and you snorted. For a second you considered trying to pretend everything was fine, that it was fun, but you didn’t have any inclination to lie to her anymore.

‘Nearly there,’ you said, after a while.

‘Do you see what I mean now?’ she asked, and you did, but you didn’t say it. Not the way Shauna looked through Ellie. Not the way she always watched Joel out of the corner of her eye.

‘We’ll wear her down,’ you assured her, feeling not even a little bit sure yourself.

‘Fuck that,’ Ellie said, and you nudged her with your shoulder.

‘Language,’ you said, feebly. She smiled weakly at you. ‘Maybe Dina can join us next time…’ you goaded, and you felt the tension lift a little as Ellie took the bait.

‘Shut urrrrrp,’ she said, and you giggled.

‘Maybe she can eat…some cake,’ you pushed, and Ellie laughed into her hand.

‘Oh my god you’re disgusting!’ she said, and you grinned at her.

‘Does she like garlic?’ you asked, and Ellie cackled, actually cackled, the happiness in it breaking out of her chest and splintering into shards of crystal above your heads. You heard them tinkle as they fell around you. If you lifted your hand you thought you could catch one, shimmering in the lamplight, in your palm.

In the doorway you watched as Joel emerged, cake in his hands, his face lit up at the sound. And before he could fully enter the room, before he could set the cake down in front of you and let Ellie cut the first slice, before he could warn her if she touched the bottom she’d have to kiss the nearest boy, Shauna appeared beside him, tripping over herself to push in front, tripping him as he stepped forward, knocking his hand with her arm, sending the cake in a perfect arc to the floor.

For a moment you all just stared at it, upturned on the ground and crumbling.

‘Oh shit,’ Ellie said, turning to you. You felt the pinpricks of heat at the back of your eyes, the downturn of your mouth.

‘Jesus, Shauna,’ Joel said, crouching down to try and salvage what was already gone. You watched him try to scrape the cake back together with his hands, just smearing it along the floorboards.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said, looking right at you, staring deep into your eyes.

You didn’t wait for them to give you your plate back, heading for the door the moment the icing had been wiped up. Ellie was suddenly keen to clear out and you shared her enthusiasm, the weight of the night suddenly resting heavy on the back of your neck, on your shoulders.

‘Lemme walk ya,’ Joel said, and you tried to protest but he was already at the door. You noticed a splatter of icing across his middle. You didn’t say anything.

‘I know the way,’ you said, trying to extricate yourself with the minimum amount of fuss.

‘It looked delicious,’ he said to you, and you swallowed.

‘It didn’t, but thank you,’ you said. ‘If it weren’t for Jonah, I’m not sure it would exist at all.’

You looked up at him, saw the hurt cross his face just for him to shuffle his features back again. He reached around behind you and pulled the door open.

‘C’mon, it’s cold out,’ he said. Over his shoulder you saw Shauna watching from the kitchen doorway. You gave her a quick little wave. It wasn’t returned.

Out on the street you willed your legs to push you hard towards your house.

‘M’sorry about the cake,’ Joel said, keeping up with you easily as you huffed your way to the corner. ‘M’sorry about the whole night,’ he said, and you nodded, tight and wanting him to leave you alone so you could lick your wounds in peace.

‘Just thought maybe if Shauna got to know Ellie a bit more, it wouldn’t be so awkward,’ you said, and he grunted his acknowledgement in return.

‘She adores ya, y’know?’ he asked, as you turned the corner. You could see your house, only meters away from where you stood. 20, maybe 30 steps before you could get inside.

‘Shauna’s missing out,’ you said, and Joel went quiet again, walking beside you as you arrived at your porch.

At your door, you turned to him.

‘Stop saying sorry,’ you said, plainly. Joel blinked at you.

‘I am sorry, though,’ he said, taking a step towards you as you held up a hand to stop him.

‘It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t do things different,’ you informed him, having spent several weeks now thinking about it.

You wondered if he’d tell you to fuck off, if he’d yell or gnash his teeth. He didn’t seem the sort, though, and definitely not now, not when he seemed so sad, so defeated.

‘Why’d you really come over tonight?’ he asked you, and you rolled your eyes at him.

‘Told you already, for Shauna to get to know El-’

‘-no, why, really?’ he asked, as your words caught in your throat. He stepped forward again, close enough to reach his hands to your jaw and pull you into him if he so desired.

You searched his eyes, found no cruelty there, found no malice.

‘I wanted to see you with her. To see for myself that it’s over,’ you said. You heard his sharp intake of breath, the little huff of hurt that he couldn’t name.

‘And did you?’ he asked, eyes boring into yours under saddled brows.

No, you wanted to say. No, all I saw was the warmth in your eyes and the light of you every time you laughed at my stupid jokes. I saw me and you sitting at the table with your daughter eating dinner in the middle of the week. I saw the way I want you, the way my skin sings for you.

‘I thought maybe we could be friends,’ you went on, ignoring his question. ‘For Ellie.’

You didn’t have it in you, knew that you were too far gone with him for it to be possible to be his friend, knew that this disastrous fucking night had proven that to you once and for all. Knew that once he was off your porch you wouldn’t step foot into his home again. Knew that you were cutting the tie that bound you to him, still, even after all these weeks. Knew that you should, knew that you would, if you could just get through the next minute with him.

You watched as his face fell, what colour the cold hadn’t taken from it draining from his cheeks. For a moment you thought he would just turn and go, tried to tell yourself you wanted him to.

‘S’that what you want, or what you think you should want, for Ellie?’ he asked.

‘Does it matter?’ you asked, shrugging. ‘That’s all I got for you, Joel. Take it or leave it.’

You started to turn away from him, reaching for your door. You felt his hand on your hip turning you back to him, pulling you into his arms. You gasped, inhaling his warmth and his scent.

‘I’ve taken so much from ya,’ he said, his voice thick. ‘You give it to me and I’ll have it, but I ain’t takin’ from ya no more.’

He rested his chin on the crown of your head for a moment and you closed your eyes, let it be for just a second that you were together, that he was dropping you off after a night tangled up in a booth at the Bison, let it be for a moment that he was really yours.

‘Let me go, Joel,’ you said, and you meant right then, and also, maybe, forever. He hesitated, but you felt his arms loosen.

‘So, friends…’ he said, and you nodded at him, acting braver than you felt. That had been what you wanted, wasn’t it? What tonight had been about, to try and find a new way forward with him, to try and make it better for Ellie. It would be better for her if you were on speaking terms. Would be easier for you both if you could see each other in the street without feeling your heart in your throat.

‘Friends,’ you said, lying to his beautiful face. You would get there, you decided. Just not tonight.

‘OK,’ he said, and you could see he didn’t believe you but that he had to, that there was no other option for either of you. He stepped forward again to hug you, to cement it somehow, but you moved faster.

You were on the other side of the door before you had enough time to second guess yourself, to pull him in with you and strip him down to the quick.

You listened for his footsteps heading down from your porch. Minutes passed before you heard his retreat.

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@maryrhodalouandted

@casssiopeia

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fic

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months ago

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Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 13

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on the amazing @discoscoob 's concept & bot!

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelve.

Thirteen.

At the crack of dawn Donaka wakes you with open-mouthed kisses on your neck and his cock stuffing you full. He is careful with you, as careful as he can be, taking you with the steady slowness of breaking waves, and if you didn’t know any better, you almost could have mistaken the way he fucked you for lovemaking.

“My pretty girl,” he whispers in your hair. “Had to have your sweet little pussy again.” Despite the languid pace its not long before he fills you with hot streams of his cum.

Afterwards, he smacks you on the ass, telling you, “You’re going to be late for work.”

You are shocked, but at the same time, grateful for the opportunity to get away from him. You cannot think in his company. He gives you no peace. You frown at him, but slip into the shower without a word. As you leave he calls after you, “This is where you sleep now, y/n. Don’t forget it.”

He relishes the glare you shoot him across the room, smirking at the challenge in your eyes. “Go on, defy me, bunny. See what happens.”

A tiny growl escapes your throat, your voice refusing to cooperate in forming actual words.

“What was that?”

“Fine,” you grind out between your teeth, before slipping out the door.

When you join the ranks to receive your tasks for the day, Mrs. Yeung, the chief housekeeper, does not give you a second look. Perhaps she knows where her bread is buttered, and passing judgment on Mr. Mark’s new plaything will not serve her. Mei, however, is shooting you playful looks, and you know you will be interrogated later when she gets you alone.

What the fuck are you going to say?

You find yourself contemplating the height of the garden walls, wondering how far you might get should you just scale one and make your way down the road, hop a bus, go to the Embassy on the other side of the island. However, you’re sure Donaka is watching through his cameras. The dark little eyes tucked up in the corners of the rooms and outside never seemed so sinister before as they do now. You never really thought about how completely he can surveil his domain from the comfort of his office chair.

You never cared before, because you were never up to something.

That is when it dawns on you. You cannot stop yourself from taking a detour back into your room, and you check every corner, nook, and cranny. You find it tucked within an affixed wall decoration. A tiny camera, pointed right at your bed.

The things he surely watched you do, long before you had any inkling…

It makes you simultaneously hot all over with rage–and you hate to admit, titillation. He really does like to watch.

You would have to remember that. It might prove his only weakness.

You are so fucked.

Feeling completely overwhelmed, all you want to do is curl up on your bed and have a good, ugly, soul-expunging cry. However, there’s the possibility he’s watching you, and so you put on a brave face, shoving it all down and flipping off the little black eye in the wall before going back to work.

***

You think you feel a little better, when you’re in the media room later, carefully dusting the screens and cables. All that goes up in smoke when Donaka slips through the door silently, pausing to look upon you like a predator at the treeline evaluating the quickest path to its prey.

You straighten, meeting his gaze with your heart in your throat. What is he up to now?

With a little smirk he pads on bare feet to the couch, seating himself like a pasha in the center with his arms up on the back. He is…still so beautiful it hurts, and you find you are grinding your teeth as you stand there silently, waiting.

When the silence between you draws on, it’s no surprise that you are the one to break first.

“Am I in your way?” you ask, glancing back at the wall full of screens. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and he’s here just to watch TV.

“Not at all,” he answers smugly, still staring you down.

Ah. Then he’s here for you. Great.

You sigh, and decide to go back to what you were doing, rather than quiver like a mouse trapped in a cage with a snake. “Don’t you have a company to run or something?” you grouse at him.

“The key to good management is proper delegation.”

“Wow, that’s a fancy way of saying ‘I have underlings to do my dirty work.’” It’s possible you lace your words with a bit of mockery, and maybe you shouldn’t bait this man…but then again, there is a part of you that wants to bait him. You want him to do something so truly awful, so unforgivable that the confusion in your heart will solidify to stone, and you will no longer be conflicted about this man, and what you want from him.

However, he simply chuckles at your insouciance, sounding 300 percent the villain that he is. “I doubt you even really know what my company truly does.”

You blink at that. He runs a security firm. You realize…that really could be a blanket term for so many things. “I guess I just assume you keep an eye on things for rich clients,” you say, waving at all the monitors. “You clearly like to watch.”

You insinuate that you know he had a camera in your room. You wonder if he watched you nearly break down. You wonder if he cares.

You can’t help but notice his pale, elegant bare feet–his long toes curl as he smirks at you. Is he enjoying this little bout of verbal sparring?

“That I do, y/n.” He tilts his head, his gaze sweeping you up and down. “It’s not all we do though at Security System Alliance. Sometimes a situation with our clients requires a physical touch.”

So he has commando operatives at his beck and call as well. Not a huge surprise, considering. You can’t tell if he’s threatening you, or simply making conversation.

“Interesting. What kind of situations? I hear kidnapping is a big problem with the uber rich these days.”

His smile widens, and you decide that yes, he is enjoying this game of double-speak. “So it is. Obviously I can’t disclose details, but we did secure the safe return of a billionaire’s son not so long ago.”

“Was there a ransom?”

“They wanted 20 million dollars.”

“Did they get it?”

“Some of it.”

You take a step closer, your hands on your hips.

“Did you orchestrate the kidnapping in the first place?”

Now his smile is like a baring of teeth for you. “Oh, that would be dastardly.”

It’s not a yes…but it’s not a no.

“You just seem to have experience in such things.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You seemed satisfied with the results earlier.”

You grip your dusting rag, a fine trembling running down your arms, and you narrowly resist the temptation to throw it at his head. The feminine urge to break things and scream. “Is this something you’ve done to other women?” you ask quietly. You don’t really expect him to answer you truthfully–but suddenly you need to know.

“No,” he answers, his tone equally hushed. “My relationships with women are usually more transactional.”

You frown at that. Does he mean prostitutes? Or mistresses who expect to be paid in housing and gifts and an allowance…? You suppose he sort of tried that with you, with the bracelet. It didn’t exactly work in his favor, so he had to resort to other tactics.

You wonder if you’d just given in back then, if he’d already be bored with you now? Is that the key to your freedom? That tremble has made its way to your core now. You feel cold all over, and a little sick.

He sees this change in you, and the smile on his face fades. “Come here,” he orders, holding out his hand.

“No.”

“Don’t make me ask twice.”

You’d thought you were feeling better, but you realize you just managed to push it all down to function. The pain and the fear and the anger wells up inside you with a vengeance, and you do throw the rag at him–then you run, even though deep down you know there isn’t a hope in hell for you to actually escape him. You round the couch and he utterly surprises you when he vaults over the back of it, lithe as a panther.

When he grabs you up with those long arms you snarl and squirm like a wild little animal and none of it does you a damn bit of good. He crushes you against him, and you can’t help it. You start to cry again against his chest, pushing at him at first, and then simply gripping fistfulls of his nice shirt while you stain it with your tears and snot and probably saliva too.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough of that.” He doesn’t yell at you, sounding more bored than anything. You realize that this is not the fun part of the game for him. Bastard. He picks you up and carries you back to the couch, sitting with you cradled in his lap.

“I realize this development will take a period of adjustment for you, but I suggest you calm down.”

He says it so clinically, and that wildness rises in you again. A feral need to struggle and fight no matter the cost, your sense of self-preservation flown completely out of the window. “I suggest you eat a bag of dicks,” you snarl, starting to thrash in his arms again. He adjusts his hold on you with his arm pinning you across the chest, and that’s when you really fuck up.

You bite him, and you get him good, clamping your teeth down on the meaty part of his forearm. He actually cries out, which is satisfying for about 2 seconds before he has you flipped and thrown down on the couch across his lap, pinning your face into the cushions with that big hand spanning the whole back of your head.

“That hurt,” he snarls, and you wonder what he has in store for you now. Good. You hope it’s something terrible, so you can get on with the business of hating him. This hovering in limbo shit is too much agony.

“I hope it gets infected.”

You expect him to yell at you. Curse you. Hurt you.

You do not expect him to throw back his head and laugh.

“Oh, my sweet little bunny. You stupid girl.”

“Fuck you.”

“You need to learn the art of self-restraint. I’ll be more than happy to teach it to you.”

You open your mouth to scream, but he pushes you down into the couch cushions, muffling your cries, nearly suffocating you. “You can be quiet, or I can gag you.”

You go deathly still at that, ceasing to even breathe, the thought is so abhorrent to you.

“Ah, there’s my good girl.” He strokes the backs of your legs, from the curve of your calf up the soft flesh of your thigh, then higher beneath your skirt, toying with the seam of your panties. It feels horribly wonderful and far too intimate and you can’t sit still in his lap while he touches you like this right after you were just fighting for your life. “Be still,” he warns you. “Or I’ll tie you.”

There it is again. The threat from before, and you really believe he’d do it now. You force yourself to go still in his lap, the only motion the fine trembling you cannot seem to stop that still plagues your limbs.

“That’s much better,” he purrs, hooking his finger into the waistband of your panties, slowly drawing them down to your knees. When his questing hand slides up your skirt again, palming the curve of your ass he gives an appreciative groan. “I should bite you,” he muses, pinching you alarmingly close to the juncture of your thighs. “Right here, see how you like it.”

Maybe he expects you to squeal or whine, but you just sigh like you’re already tired of this shit, and you wish he’d get it over with. A fresh stream of tears has started falling from your eyes, beading on the leather upholstery. You’ll probably get into trouble for that too.

“Oh, am I boring you?” he asks, half amused, half annoyed.

“Yes,” you answer, and that’s when he pushes your skirt up to your waist and spanks your right buttcheek, the perfect snap loud as a crack of lightning in the room. You can’t help but scream then, and he chuckles as he finally gets the reaction he wants.

“If you’re going to behave like a naughty child, I suppose I’ll discipline you like one.”

“Gross.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

Smack!

This time you don’t scream, but you do jump, squirming in his lap.

“Fuck!”

Smack! This time on the left cheek, and you bite the inside of your lip hard enough to make yourself bleed, though you stay silent.

He lets you stew in the burning pain that spreads across your skin, before soothing your flesh with a featherlight touch afterwards that incredibly—inexplicably–makes you throb between your legs.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

“I came in here to offer you a treat for good behavior,” he muses almost absently. “But I’m afraid that’s gone completely out the window.” You can’t help but think he’s trying to make your relationship transactional, like he’d said before. Spread the blame, and the temptation, out between you, rather than rest it completely on his shoulders.

“I don’t want it,” you grumble into the leather beneath you.

“Oh, I think you do. You think you’re above the temptations of wealth? No one is. It’s just a matter of finding the things you want, and I’m certain this would have hit the target.”

A long silence draws out between you. You hate it, that you want to know what he concocted, what he thinks he knows about you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Yet here you are, bent over his lap with your bare ass in the air–what dignity is left to you? At last you take the bait.

“What is it?”

“I would rephrase that, if I were you.”

You sigh, consider telling him to fuck off, and decide you don’t have the fortitude today to stand up to whatever he would do to you after. Another battle, lost to this man.

“What carefully considered bribery did I miss out on in my headstrong resistance to your charms, Sir?”

This makes him laugh like the villain he is. “Oh that was good. I liked that.” He continues to draw light circles upon your buttocks and the backs of your thighs, driving you mad with his gentle touch. Despite the fact that he has–not to put too fine a point on it–already murdered your pussy, your center throbs and weeps in response to his hands upon you like this. He is carefully avoiding touching you there, teasing you mercilessly with his fingertips, but if he did dip in a finger he would find you soaked.

“Maybe I could be convinced to tell you, if you make it up to me. You’ve been a very bad girl.”

You know you are a depraved thing, when your treacherous clit throbs in answer to this suggestion. Thinking you know what he wants, because you can feel the bulge of his hard cock pressing against your side, you make to get up.

Immediately he pins you back down, his fingers fisting in your hair. It sends a thrill down your spine, and you shift your hips in response, pressing your thighs in hope of some relief. “Did I say you could get up?”

Oh.

God fucking dammit.

“How can I make it up to you, Sir?”

Even the sound of his dark chuckle strums at your clit, turning you into an angry, needy little mess in his lap.

“Get on your knees, bunny.” He guides you to the floor between his legs, slow but exacting, his fingers still tangled in your hair. Looking up at him like this from beneath your lashes wreaks unspeakable mayhem upon your sense of reason, and all you can think is that you’re fucked. Well and totally fucked, because you still can’t make your mind up about this man.

“Take it out.”

You shouldn’t enjoy running your palms up the lean length of his thighs encased in fine fabric, the way that you do. Your hands should shake more, as you undo his designer belt and the clasp of his trousers, carefully pulling the zipper down. The impressive length of his manhood strains against his briefs, and you shouldn’t feel this thrill of excitement as his cock springs free as you pull the last barrier down.

You dare to look up at him again, gauging his mood. The truth is that you enjoy giving head, when you’re in love and you feel safe and you’re having a good time. One of those is completely off the table–the other two, you’re still on the fence about.

“If I feel the slightest hint of teeth you will regret it.”

“I’m not going to bite off my favorite part of you,” you fire back, and you get lucky when this seems to delight him, winning a huff of laughter.

“Good. Give it a kiss then.”

You do as you’re told, and do him one better, taking his head between your lips and swirling your tongue around that nerve-rich flesh. You feel him relax beneath you, a low moan your reward as you take him further into your mouth, almost to the hilt. He lets you do what you want with him, seeming to enjoy your freestyling lips and tongue upon his hard shaft. You forget yourself, teasing the throbbing vein ever so lightly with your bottom teeth. It earns you a growl of warning–you shouldn’t laugh, muffled as it is with your mouthful–but you do.

You know it’s your punishment, when his hold tightens in your hair at the back of your head, guiding you down down down onto his erection. He is too big to fit completely into your mouth. You try, and fail to suppress your gag reflex. But he holds you, not letting you up.

“Relax,” he orders with new steel in his tone. “You can do it.”

With tears in your eyes you fight to ease him into the back of your throat, taking him a little further. “That’s my good girl.” Now he guides you his with his hand on your head, merciless as he fucks your face with his huge cock. “Swallow it all, bunny.” It’s the only warning you get before a flood of spend fills your throat and your mouth, his iron-grip in your hair preventing you from moving anywhere but down upon him. You struggle to swallow, trying not to make a mess all over his expensive dress pants. When at last he lets you go, you gulp and gasp for air, wiping at the corner of your mouth.

He smirks down at you, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction but still shining black as a shark’s. It takes every iota of your self control not to say what you’re thinking: asshole.

Maybe you can be taught.

“Not bad. We’ll work on that.” You fall back on your butt on the floor when he releases you, and you watch as he puts himself away and stands, leaving you a crumpled mess on the floor at his feet. You can tell he enjoys this vantage, towering over you. Who says you have no self-control? Because you are so tempted to punch him in the balls, even if you know he would end you for it.

“See you tonight, honey.”

You can hardly believe he’s leaving after that–leaving you in a haggard little unsatisfied pile. Only with his hand on the door does he turn back to you, throwing over his shoulder, “Don’t you dare touch yourself. I’ll know.”

You acknowledge this directive with a frustrated little growl, banging your head on the cushioned edge of the couch. He takes this as close enough to acknowledgement, sweeping out of the room with a wicked chuckle. You stay on the floor for a good half hour, trying to process this latest indignity, and begging your body to calm the fuck down. Remember, that you hurt everywhere? Your libido is not so convinced.

Neither go well for you, so in the end you just give up, get up, and go back to what you were doing with the taste of Donaka Mark still sharp and astringent on your tongue.

Bastard. Maybe escape won’t be enough. The longer this goes on…the more you want revenge.

#donaka mark #donaka mark x reader #donaka mark x you #donaka mark x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #dark romance #plz be warned #keanuverse #keanuverse fic

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hungermakesmonsters · 9 months ago

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Catch Me If You Can

Epilogue

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : R - smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smut and extreme cuteness. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~2.7k

A/N : I couldn't not write them getting married. This is a cute little send off for Billy and Reader.

Epilogue

TWO MONTHS LATER

You’d talked about a long engagement - it made sense given the fact that you’d only known each other for around eight months when he proposed (and those eight months had been some of the rockiest of your life). You’d both agreed that it was sensible to wait, to get used to living together before taking another big step in your relationship.

You made it six weeks before changing your mind.

Everyone thought you were crazy, Sam begged you to wait just a few more months (to Billy’s annoyance), and the news rendered Karen speechless for at least five minutes before she started to go into overdrive thinking about her bridesmaid duties.

You couldn’t explain why, you just knew. Nothing was going to change the way you felt about Billy and, every day with him just felt perfect, right. So, what was the point in waiting to make it official?

That was how you came to be standing on a beach in Mexico at sunset, a small group of your friends and family watching as you made your way towards the little altar and Billy. His mouth hung open as he watched you walk down the short, sandy aisle towards him and when you reached him, he was at a complete loss for words.

“I think that look means he likes the dress,” Karen joked in your ear.

Your dress was simple but elegant, hugging your figure in all the right places and showing just enough skin to be enticing without being indecent. Karen and your sister-in-law, Liv, and helped with your hair and make up, and you’d never felt better about yourself than you did in that moment. Especially with how Billy was looking at you.

“You look -” he tried and shook his head, “- wow.”

“You look pretty good too,” you joked, reaching for him to smooth the collar of his light grey suit jacket.

“You sure you want to do this?” He almost sounded nervous, like it was finally becoming real to him; you were going to be his wife.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this,” you smiled, your hand cupping his cheek for a moment, before finally turning to face the man officiating over the marriage. Billy took a breath before doing the same.

You barely listened to the words being spoken, you were too busy watching Billy from the corner of your eye, nervous but happier than you’d ever been. And, when it was finally time for your vows, you turned to Billy, watching your normally calm and confident man fumble with a piece of paper handed to him by Frank.

“I never really had anyone in my life who loved me before you,” he started softly, his eyes fixed on yours. “I never had anyone want me after seeing every side of me, never had anyone who laughed at my stupid jokes until you. My life changed that day I took you for coffee and, since then, there hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought about you.”

You’d promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, that you didn’t want to ruin the wedding photos with panda-eyes, but the moment Billy took your hands in his, you felt your eyes starting to well up.

“When I’m with you I get to see the world in new and amazing ways; you give my life colour and meaning. I feel like I’m living and not just existing. And the way you love me -” his voice threatened to break, “- I never expected it, never thought I deserved it. But I promise you, from this day forward, I’ll do everything I can to deserve it, to deserve you. I promise to love you and protect you until my dying day, and I promise to make our lives together as fun and filled with happiness as I can. And I promise to trust you and listen to you, and never doubt you.”

He swallowed, trying to force the lump from his throat. “You’re my everything and I’ll never let you go.”

You blinked, still trying to hold back the tears as he gave your hands a gentle squeeze, and you were prompted to start your own vows. Unlike Billy, you’d memorised yours though, for a couple of seconds your mind threatened to go blank.

“Billy, you have the biggest heart and so much love to give. I know you sometimes think that it’s too much and that you want too much, but I promise you that’s not true. It’s never too much, not if it’s me and you,” you heard him awkwardly inhale through his nose, as if he was trying to fight back tears too. “I’m with you, no matter what life throws at us, I promise to stay by your side, and I will always protect and love you.”

You smiled at him and he smiled back with the most perfect and genuine smile you’d ever seen grace his lips. “I promise you a life full of adventure and bad jokes. And I vow to do everything I can to make you smile like that every single day because you do deserve it, Billy. Most importantly, I promise I’ll never leave you; I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“Always,” he muttered softly, gripping your hands a little tighter.

The ceremony continued and soon enough he was sliding the ring onto your finger, and at the words you may kiss the bride, Billy moved faster than you’d ever seen anyone move, pulling you close and kissing you like his life depended on it. And you lost yourself to it and him, letting him kiss you until your lungs started to burn and you heard Karen clearing her throat to remind you that you had an audience.

The look on Billy’s face when you parted was enough to have you laughing, your hand pressing against his chest, pushing him back playfully, but lingering over his racing heart.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now,” he grinned at you.

“No backsies,” you agreed, struggling to tear your eyes off of him, even though your guests were on their feet, waiting to congratulate you.

Frank clapped a hand on Billy’s shoulder, pulling him back a little.

“Congratulations, brother,” he said in that usual gruff way.

“Your turn next, Frankie,” Billy laughed, glancing at Karen who threatened to murder him under her breath.

You spent the next half hour or so going around the guests. Sam and Liv congratulated you both, and Billy promised them that he’d always take good care of you. All of Billy’s friends took the opportunity to wish you good luck and tell you how much of a pain in the ass Billy was, making both of you laugh. And, when it was finally done, you all headed to the bar for food and drinks.

And, when the music started playing, you and Billy got to have your first dance. He’d asked to choose the song and had kept it secret, and when you heard the opening bars of Ho Hey by The Lumineers, you found yourself smiling up at him, holding him tight in your arms. And, by the time it reached the chorus and you heard Billy softly singing the line you’re my sweetheart, the tears you’d been trying to hold back started to spill.

He held you tight and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he told you, over and over again, like he couldn’t get enough of the words.

And you knew that you’d never get sick of hearing them.

At some point, since arriving in Mexico, your niece and nephew had taken a real shine to Billy, and spent at least an hour chasing him around, tickling and wrestling with him. And, to your surprise, Billy went along with it, seeming to genuinely enjoy it. You’d never spoken about kids but, for a few moments you found yourself thinking that Billy would make a wonderful father one day. Maybe.

Eventually it started to get late and, one by one, your friends started to disappear until there was only you, Billy, Frank and Karen left standing. You sat and drank until well past midnight, until Billy’s hand started to pull on yours, and you knew exactly what that meant, so you got up and started to say goodnight.

“If you’ll excuse us, we’ve got to go consummate our marriage,” Billy grinned, and you gave him a slap on the chest as your cheeks started to heat. “If we’re not done by breakfast, send pancakes. I have a feeling we’ll be at it all -”

“Billy!” You hit him again, mortified as Karen and Frank both tried not to laugh.

“What? It’s not like they don’t know what we’re gonna spend all night doing,” he laughed.

You had to pull on his arm to get him away from them before he said anything else, both of you stumbling and giggling like drunken teenagers all the way back to the honeymoon suite.

While you’d been at the wedding, the hotel staff had been into the room to put out flowers and a bottle of champagne, and had sprinkled rose petals along the floor leading to the bed - not that you got the chance to appreciate it before Billy started kissing you. Your hands ran up his chest, over his shirt, his jacket having long since been abandoned, fingers starting to tug at buttons.

“I love you, Mrs Russo,” he murmured against your lips before capturing them in another searing kiss.

You felt his fingers tugging at the back of your dress, pulling it down with a desperation that was just so Billy. You’d once found yourself thinking that, one day, he’d settled down, that he wouldn’t want you with such needy desperation, but now you knew just how wrong you’d been. Billy would always want you, and you would always want him.

He pulled back from the kiss when your dress fell, wanting to take in the sight of you. You’d picked the white lingerie set knowing exactly how he’d respond. And Billy didn’t disappoint.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he licked his lips, taking it all in.

“Yeah, Billy, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” you joked as you reached for his pants, stripping him down to his underwear.

“Oh, are we?”

Before you could answer, he’d lifted you off your feet, spinning you around before playfully throwing you onto the bed and climbing on beside you, kissing you despite your laughter. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the perfect moment. His hands explored your body, fingertips running over your bare skin like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“There’s so much I want to do to you, I don’t even know where to start,” Billy admitted, seeming almost lost and at the mercy of his own desires.

“I know exactly where I want to start,” you answered, gently pushing Billy onto his back and straddling him.

He looked up at you as you started to slowly grind yourself against him. It came as no surprise that he was already hard for you, and he felt so good pressed between your thighs. You were content to tease him like that for a minute or so, before you removed your bra. Billy’s hands slipped up your body, from your waist to your breasts. It wasn’t long before he was sitting up, his lips and tongue on your nipples, enjoying all the little sounds that slipped from your lips.

Eventually, you lightly pushed him down again, smiling a devious smile at him as you turned yourself around over him, practically straddling his face.

“I like where this is going,” you didn’t have to see his face to know that he was grinning as his hand started to trail up the backs of your thighs, his lips soon following after. It was almost enough to distract you from what you wanted to do.

Your hands slipped his boxers down his thighs, freeing his hard cock, and Billy let out an eager moan as you took him in his hand and started to stroke him. Then you felt your panties rip.

“Billy!” You laughed.

“I want them for my collection,” he told you with a laugh of his own.

You were about to respond when you felt him part your folds and run his tongue through your arousal. The ruined panties were immediately forgotten as you lowered yourself and ran your tongue over the leaking tip of his cock. You felt him groan against you, causing you to shiver. Your lips wrapped around him and you slowly began to take him into your mouth, earning even more sounds from him.

His tongue set to work against you as you sucked him, lips slipping up and down his cock in a way that betrayed just how much you were enjoying yourself. You trembled as his tongue alternated between teasing your clit and pressing at your slit, his name a gagged sound, moaned even though your mouth was full of him. It wasn’t long before you were grinding back against his face.

You came suddenly, legs trembling as Billy’s greedy tongue continued to devour you while your lips kept moving, groaning around him until -

“Wait,” you heard him gasp, his hands pulling at your hips. You stopped and strained your neck to look back at him. “Not like this,” Billy panted, “I want to come inside you. I want the first time to be inside you.”

You weren’t sure why, but it made you smile how he wanted to make this moment special for both of you. Pulling away from him, before you could even fully turn yourself around, Billy had you pinned beneath him, his cock pitching into your so suddenly that it almost made your eyes roll back.

“I left something out of my wedding vows,” he told you breathlessly, stilling inside you, a ridiculous grin on his lips, “I promise to spend the rest of my life making you come as often as I can.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say that in front of everyone,” you laughed.

You gasped as he pulled up your leg, hitching it on his hip so he could bury every inch of himself inside you. His hand found your cheek and for a few moments he was content to just stare down at you, the smile on his lips enough to make you tremble around him.

“I love you,” he told you, pressing his lips to the tip of your nose, “and I vow to spend every night proving it by fucking your brains out.”

“I promise to let you,” you told him, reaching to slip your fingers back into his hair, pulling his lips to yours as he finally started to move.

It started slow, but it wasn’t long before your hips were lifting to meet his, desperate for so much more, desperate for everything. Every time he kissed you, you tasted a mixture of yourself and the Mai Tai’s you’d both spent the night drinking and it was an intoxicating combination. Your moans got louder and so did his, both gasping little breathless confessions of love, as you both took and gave everything that you needed.

When you finally came, it was his name on your lips, and Billy quickly followed after, remaining inside you long after he was done. His face pressed against your neck while your fingers ran through his sweat-damp hair, pressing little kisses to his temple.

It was strange to think how you’d gotten here; how he might never have noticed you if you’d remained sat in your car that summer's day, how you might never have gotten to this point if it hadn’t been for the faulty bathroom lock in your old apartment, and how you might never have seen him again if Michelle hadn’t sent him that thirst-trap on Halloween. There were so many ways you could have missed out on all of this, and just thinking about it made your heart ache.

You held him tight and pressed another kiss to his forehead, whispering; “I’m so glad we found each other.”

END NOTES : I promised an epilogue and there it is. Honestly, I just wanted to give them a happy send off. I know I already said it last week but thanks for reading, it's been a wild ride and I've really enjoyed writing and sharing this with you all! Maybe in the future there will be some one-shots, but for now I'm content to give them their happily ever after. I do have an idea of what I want to write next (don't worry, it's another Billy fic) and I'm going to post an excerpt sometime next week (and maybe even the first chapter but idk yet), so people can let me know if they want to be tagged in that, or if you already know you'd like me to tag you in future stuff, feel free to let me know in the comments or message me!

Have a great weekend!

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @damagelove @danzer8705 @unlikelystarlightcowboy @schlotzshewrote @bisexualbith @uncontainedsmiles @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lilliesofmay @billyrussoslut @readingabouthim @arwensloanebarnes @scarlettrikstr @daughterofautumn @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @rosesintj @bunnygirlwriter876 @maddiedrmr @naabbie @arieltwvdtohamflash @yukimaniac

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #cmiyc ff #billy russo imagine

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im-normal-about-everything · 6 months ago

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Content warning: violence, gun violence, death

Look out for yourself and enjoy <3

Ponyboy Micheal Curtis was eleven years old when he first picked up a cigarette. Most of the gang smoked, so no one really cared besides his parents. His dad wouldn't let him smoke in the house, but would buy him a pack of kools when he asked and his mom just shook her head but didn't say anything about it.

Ponyboy was twelve when his brothers first let him fight in a rumble. Some soc had pissed off Dally and they'd gotten into it, but they just kept fighting. It got so bad that a rumble was called. Pony was easily the youngest one there, Curly Shepard being the closest to his age. He tagged up on a pretty big soc with Johnny and took him down together. Pony wasn't hurt too badly, at least in his opinion, his brothers didn't seem to think the same.

Ponyboy was thirteen when he found out that his parents weren't coming home. His oldest brother had signed him out of science class, which was nice because he hated science, and took him home. Darry didn't say anything on the ride home, he just drove with a kind of gleam in his eyes and a sad, far away look. When they got home, he found Soda sitting on the couch, looking upset but not really sad. That changed when Darry explained that their parents were killed in a car crash, and Soda broke. Pony did too, and he's pretty sure that Darry was crying as well.

Ponyboy was fourteen when his brother hit him. His family never hit, it just wasn't something that they did. He always thought that Darry hated him, but he wasn't happy that his fears were finally confirmed.

Ponyboy was fourteen when his best friend killed someone for him. The socs were drowning him in the fountain and he was sure that he was gonna die there. He went unconscious and the next thing he knew, his kicked-puppy of a friend, Johnny Cade, had killed a boy to save him.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he and Johnny ran away. They stayed in an old church for a week before they talked to anyone else besides each other. His hair was cut and blonde, it reminded him of Dally's, but he didn't like that so he tried not to think about it.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he ran into the church that was on fire. He didn't know why he did it, not really, but it's probably because he was responsible for the fire. He had to get those kids out, even if he didn't know them and he might get hurt. He had to get them out, apparently, Johnny agreed.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he woke up in an ambulance with an unknown man. The man explained that Dally didn't knock him out for fun, he was on fire and Dally saved him. He also explained that Johnny was in real bad condition and might not make it.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he fought in a rumble caused by him. Well, he didn't call the rumble, but the point still stands. He fought hard, but so did the socs. He got knocked down and stepped on by Tim Shepard, but it was fine because he was fine. Everything was fine.

Ponyboy was fourteen when Dally took him to the hospital. They went to Johnny's room to tell him about the rumble but he didn't look so good. Johnny said it was useless and Dally looked real upset over that, but told Johnny that he was proud of him.

Ponyboy was fourteen when Johnny whispered his last words. He told Pony to stay gold. He didn't know if he could.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he explained what happened to the gang. He told them that Johnny was dead and that Dally couldn't take it. He was gonna blow up, more than he did in the hospital room already

Ponyboy was fourteen when Darry got a call from Dally. Dally robbed a store and the police were after him. The gang ran to the park just in time to hear the shots of police guns. Dally hit the ground and died.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he woke up in his bed, Darry by his side. He had been sick. He was sick because he didn't have enough to eat on the run. Johnny was probably sick too. No. Johnny couldn't be sick. Johnny was dead. But he wasn't, right? No, Ponyboy killed Bob and Johnny was still alive. He just wasn't here.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he went to court. Cherry and Randy defended him and Johnny. Johnny, who was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. The court asked him some questions about home and then decided to let him stay with Darry.

Ponyboy was fourteen when he learned that Soda hated when he and Darry fought. He didn't mean to make his brother feel like that, and he promised to never do it again.

Ponyboy was fourteen when the socs wouldn't leave him alone. They'd follow him and hit him and break his stuff. There wasn't much he could do to stop it.

Pony was fourteen when a soc brought a heater to track. He'd been at track practice with the other guys. He was one of the last to change and leave the locker room. When he left the room, he was dragged behind the school by a soc that was pretty good friends with Bob.

Ponyboy was fourteen when a soc shot him in the head in the back of the school. He fought, but there was nothing he could do. He just hoped a teacher or someone else found him instead of a member of the gang.

Ponyboy Micheal Curtis was fourteen, and he'll never get to be any older because life wasn't fair. Life never dealt him the right cards and he never got to win.

Ponyboy Micheal Curtis didn't die as a hero or as a hoodlum, he died as a message and a warning.

#ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #johnny cade #dally winston #the outsiders #bob sheldon #curly shepard #tim shepard #greasers and socs

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queenjunothegreat · 20 days ago

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Sneak preview of my upcoming Hallmark fic >;3c

Jason sucked his teeth and gripped his phone a little tighter. “So, she’s really dead?”

Thalia clucked her tongue a couple times like she always did when she was uncomfortable. “Yep. Doctor called and let me know this morning.”

Jason heaved a deep, heavy sigh and buried his face in his free hand. “Alright. I’ll call up Octavian. He deals with estates, and he owes me a favor so–”

“No,” Thalia cut him off sharply. “We can handle it. I don’t want lawyers getting involved. I don’t like lawyers.”

Jason took in a quick huff of air through his nose to calm his temper. “I’m a lawyer,” he reminded her in a slightly clipped tone. Had it been a few years earlier, Thalia would have blustered about how obviously he didn’t count, but now she just remained silent. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay, fine. We’ll handle it. How do you want to do this? Trying to do everything over the phone is going to be a bigger pain than either of us are willing to deal with.”

Thalia went quiet for a moment before she very hesitantly said, “What if we… went back?”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up, even if he knew Thalia couldn’t see it. “You mean back to California?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t see why not.”

Jason didn’t bother to tell her exactly why he was so surprised. She didn’t need to know how she’d left a twelve-year-old boy devastated when she’d shouted at their mother that there was nothing in California worth staying for before she stormed out the front door for the very last time. It had been fifteen years since that day, but considering he hadn’t been in the same state as his sister in four years, he didn’t really think much had changed.

Jason sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Look, Thalia, I don’t think you know what you’re signing yourself up for. Wills and estates are a nightmare to deal with and–

“We could spend Christmas together.”

Jason’s teeth clicked shut at her interruption. Silence hung heavy between them before he broke it. “I don’t like Christmas.”

“That’s because it sucks,” Thalia scoffed. “I can count on one hand the number of not-shitty ones I’ve had, and I don’t remember when the last one was.”

Jason remembered his last good Christmas. He was eleven years old and he’d been given a pair of Superman pajamas that he wore until his mom threw them out years later because she was sick of looking at them in their ratty state. He didn’t tell her that either. “Then why the hell would we do that?”

“I dunno. It’s December,” Thalia said, and Jason could almost see the casual lazy shrug that accompanied the suggestion. “Families celebrate Christmas together.”

“Are we a family?”

The words were out of Jason’s mouth before he could bite his tongue, and he grimaced. “Sorry, I– That was uncalled for.”

“You’re not wrong,” Thalia said quietly. “I don’t know if we even are a family any more, Jason. But we are family, so… maybe we can be a family again?”

Jason frowned down at his desk, brows furrowed deeply. “I– I’ll think about it, okay? I don’t even know if I can get the time off at this short notice.”

“You’re the managing partner’s son,” she pointed out derisively.

“Yeah, well, you’ve met him,” Jason pointed out. “Look, I said I’ll think about it, and that’s the best I can promise you right now. I can’t just drop everything and move across the country for a month. I have a real job.” The last bit was an unnecessary dig, but it felt pretty good, so he didn’t take it back.

Surprisingly, Thalia didn’t rise to the bait. She just sighed, and Jason couldn’t help but notice that she sounded tired. “Okay,” she said eventually. “Okay, just… Just think about it. Let me know one way or another. We’ll figure something out if we can’t do this.”

“Okay, I’ll call you back soon,” Jason promised, his tone equally gentle.

She hummed softly. “Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. I hope you know that.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, unwilling to admit just how much those three words made him want to burst into tears. “Yeah, no, I– I know, Lia. I love you, too.”

“Okay, I’ll, um,” Thalia cut herself off by awkwardly clearing her throat. “I’ll let you get back to your big important lawyer job. Talk to you later. Bye, Jason.”

“Bye, Thalia.”

The line went dead and Jason slumped over on his desk burrowing down into his arms. His mom was dead. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and his mom was dead. He wondered how normal people would feel about that. He was pretty sure he was supposed to be at least a little upset, not feel like an invisible noose had fallen from his neck. It had been months since he’d last talked to her over the phone, years since he’d seen her last. He remembered trying to surprise her for Mother’s Day the year he’d graduated from law school. He’d shown up on her front door with flowers and a pearl necklace just like the ones in movies she’d always yearned for when he was growing up. She’d answered the door with a scowl on her face, smelling of cigarette smoke and soured whiskey and demanded to know what he wanted from her. Things hadn’t gone much better from there, and Jason hadn’t made an effort to go visit her since he moved to New York, not that she’d made the effort to extend an invitation, either.

He wondered if his father knew she was dead. If he knew, did he care? Doubtful. Thalia had always been more like their father than she wanted to admit. He cut ties and walked out on anyone and anything he deemed less than deserving of his time and attention, just like she did. Which left Jason to be like their mom. Left behind, bitter and hurt and waiting for someone who’d never bother to come back.

He shook his head and stood from his desk. He had briefs that he still needed to write, but he wasn’t going to get any more work done today. He sent a quick message to his department head that he was feeling ill, so he was headed home early and she responded with nothing more than a thumbs up emoji. He wasn’t like he didn’t have the necessary off time built up. Truth be told, he hadn’t taken a vacation in the four years that he’d been working there, so between that and the two week bereavement leave he was due, he could easily arrange to go to California for a month. He just… didn’t want to. He didn’t want to go back to that awful house. He didn’t want to share awkward meals with Thalia while they discussed divvying up their dead mother’s estate. He didn’t want to sit in front of a half-assed fake tree and exchange gifts with Thalia that neither of them gave a shit about.

But he’d have to do something. His mother was dead, and he’d need to do something. But that would just have to wait. That would have to wait until Jason ate enough Chinese food to make himself sick, drank an entire bottle of sauvignon blanc, tortured himself with a marathon of his mother’s favorite movies, and had a good, long crying session. My mother is dead, Jason thought to himself once again as he stepped outside into the cold afternoon.

He marveled at how little that mattered.

** Not the final version! I just had a lot of fun writing this yesterday and got too impatient to share ( ꒪꒳꒪ ) **

#my writing #writing blurb #pjo fanfic #grace siblings

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multific · 2 years ago

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Small Steps

Vinent de Gramont x Reader

Warnings: Talks about blood and mention of smut at the end

Summary: You and your husband have a conversation about your future.

"I want five." you nearly choked on your food as he said that.

"F-five?!"

"Exactly. Or more." the way he said it with such confidence, made you a little nervous.

"More?! What am I a machine?!" you now regretted bringing up the topic.

"Is five children a lot?" he finally looked up at you, finding your eyes as he looked confused.

"Yes! When you are the one who has to carry them and give birth! Yes, five is a lot."

"I never thought it would be, well, since you brought it up, how many would you want?"

"Two? Maybe three?" you were now nervous to answer him. Sure, you have known him for a long time, married him almost four years ago and you were rather surprised that the topic of children was never truly brought up until today.

"Okay, we could agree on three." he said turning back to his food.

"Okay."

"When?"

"Sorry?"

"When can we start trying? Do you feel ready to be a mom?"

"Oh, I think I am ready. I mean we have been together for almost seven years now, married for four and I didn't even know you wanted children." you looked at him then took a sip from your wine for courage.

"I do want children. I just never wanted to bring up the topic because I didn't want to make you feel like you have to do it for me. With my line of work, you must understand it is difficult but I'm in a much higher position now. I am at a point where I feel like we are ready and no one would hurt you or them. But if you don't feel ready, I understand."

"I will talk with my doctor, stop taking pills and we can go from there. I feel ready to have a baby." you nodded, happy that you two came to a conclusion.

"Small steps, I like that. I will go with you to the doctor."

"I mean I know he reports you every time I'm there, so you would know everything either way." you smiled and he smirked.

"Clever girl."

"I'm also pretty sure the cashier at the convenience store is one of your men."

"Paid him so he would only sell the best stuff for you."

"That explains why he wouldn't sell those bananas for me. He spent five minutes at the back looking for strawberries instead and he made sure they are ripe. It was suspicious."

"You know I just want the best for you."

"I do. And I love you for it." you returned to your pasta as he looked at you still.

"Are we really going to have a baby?" he asked, you sensed in his voice something that he never showed to others, anxiety.

"Yes. We will start trying and see when... it takes." you cringed at your own words but he found it rather amusing, judging by the smile on his face.

"I'll do some research."

"Research?"

"Of course. I never go into something without a plan."

"You don't have to plan for this." you said but you already knew he probably had ten plans ready in his head. Much like when you were engaged. He let you believe that you were the one planning things but he was behind it all from the start.

"But I do, we might need a bigger house and we have to set up their room."

"I'm not even pregnant yet. And I'm on birth control at the moment still! Also bigger house?! We live in a mansion, Vincent. What could be bigger than that?"

"A palace? A castle?" you looked at him, unamused but you could tell he was joking.

"We have twelve bedrooms."

"Then we can have eleven children." he smirked and you wanted to groan but you also found it amusing.

You hoped he was joking, the fire in his eyes did make you take a step back.

"Not my point."

"I was thinking a house which is safer. Not like our current one isn't."

"We have eight houses."

"How many rooms are there? We could fill all with a child."

"Vincent." you giggled but you did mean it as a warning.

"Okay, okay, I was thinking a slightly smaller house. So the baby can be...closer to us."

"Oh, that's sweet. We will look something up, I'm sure we can find a nice safe home."

"How about Versailles?" he suddenly looked at you, pleased with his idea.

"Y-You are NOT buying the Palace of Versailles! Also, it would be so obvious! Everyone knows where it is."

"That's the beauty in it! It's so obvious that it isn't."

"Vincent, please can we just focus on the doctor and my pills first?"

"Small steps." he nodded and soon you were having dessert.

You looked at him as he was eating his cake, he looked so calm and so incredibly handsome.

His eyes caught yours as he noticed you staring. He had a questioning look.

"Maybe... maybe five isn't that many after all. If they all look like you."

"I had the exact same thought. I was watching you at our wedding, dancing with your friends, you looked so stunning. That's when I decided that I would want as many children with you as you would like. Even if you didn't want children, I would have been okay with that." you smiled at his sweet words as his hand reached out and you gave him yours immediately.

"You sound like a love-sick teenager."

"More like a poet, you are my muse."

"Your art is death, Vincent."

"Indeed. And you would look stunning covered in blood." you smirked as you watched his eyes change. His gaze became more predatory, it excited you.

"I think we should go home." he nodded.

Maybe you were supposed to take things slow. Maybe you were supposed to take it step by step.

But as his gaze turned darker by the second all you could think about was him filling you up and whispering the dirtiest things into your ear.

Small steps can wait.

More Vincent

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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darklinaforever · 1 year ago

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I need to talk about a bullshit that I often hear, to justify that the doctor does not talk about his former companions, especially those he falls in love with. Like what, regeneration would make him lose his feelings, or transform them so that he no longer loves them the same way… Except that it's bullshit, but on an exceptional level. How can people say that? Did people forget that the Doctor still loves romantically Rose when going from Nine to Ten? That the Doctor still romantically loves Clara and River going from Eleven to Twelve? Like, his feelings haven't budged an inch! So why the hell do I see this bullshit coming up so often?! Even in terms of friendship, the doctor still loves Sarah Janes, or Rose's entourage after her regeneration. So why this excuse?! The principle of regeneration is that it changes appearance and personality. That's all. The reason the Doctor doesn't talk about his former mates and lovers is simply because he's moving on. He moves on, otherwise the pain of all these losses would end up eating him. It's pretty obvious. Yes, the doctor's feelings eventually change, but not so much because of regeneration as, like any individual, time passing and healing the pain of losses/disappointments, plain and simple. The doctor surely didn't stop loving Rose when he went from Ten to Eleven. Just because he didn't talk about her didn't mean he didn't love her anymore. He was simply moving forward, and it was time that allowed him to move on, and in particular his meetings with River and Clara as well. Then time did the same when Clara and River left. Now the weather will do the same for Yaz. The doctor will surely not speak of her again in the future, but he will remember her anyway. In short, if I could stop seeing this stupid idea about regeneration, contradicted several times by the series itself… That would be cool. I believe the worst, is literally a post explaining this point of view saying that Eleven loved Clara romantically, but then Twelve didn't love her like that anymore after the regeneration, as proof… While that contradicts the story of Nine and Ten with Rose or Eleven and Twelve with River. Be a little consistent with your logic, please. Especially since it's all the more annoying, because I've already done a post talking about Clara and her relationship with the doctor. It's fucking romance, even with Twelve. He never stopped fucking loving her romantically! Especially since it said the same for Ten to Eleven, to explain why he fell in love with River quite quickly and "forgot" Rose. Listen folks, if that bullshit argument were true, that the doctor doesn't romantically love a woman the same after regeneration… WHY TEN AND ROSE AFTER NINE?! WHY RIVER WITH ELEVEN AND TWELVE?! I beg for consistency on this, really. (Also, by that logic, the master and the doctor should have long since ceased to have their iconic love/hate relationship...)

#doctor who #clara oswald #rose tyler #river song #the tenth doctor #the eleventh doctor #the twelfth doctor #tenrose #ninerose #whouffaldi #whouffle #the doctor #the master #ten #eleven #twelve

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creedslove · 2 years ago

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DESERVE IT - PART TWELVE

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: you and Javi go on your date and that leads to other activities and some confessions too

Warnings: fluff, smut, oral sex (m!receiving and f!receiving), masturbation (m! and f!), ass eating (f!receiving) light spanking, nipple sucking, unprotected p in v, cum eating, to sum up i was horny for javi

A/N: I am so happy with how this story is going but also kinda sad it is coming to an end. I can't wait for their happy ending, besties ❤️

• PART ONE TO ELEVEN ON MY MASTERLIST

3.1k words

You ran home as if your life depended on it. You couldn't wait to get to your place, soak yourself in a warm shower and pick yourself an outfit. You were giggling like a schoolgirl and you didn't even care. After the talk with Messina, Steve and Javi himself you had never felt more sure of something, but now you did. You were going on a date with the man you loved, a man you began an unlikely friendship with and it evolved to a passion, unrequited at first, as you thought but later found out it was just as flaming as on your side. You two had gone through so much, it'd been only a year you had landed in Colombia knowing nothing than a few expressions in Spanish, and no one, but against all odds, Javi took you in. Of course, you were supposed to be just one of his many conquests, but you were honest, straightforward to him, and you admitted that if you hadn't been so hurt after your latest breakup you would definitely jump into his bed.

He took a liking on you, not only the usual liking he did when a girl was hot, but he actually liked you, and your voice, and your laughter and your brains and you got closer, until things went to shit, but that's history.

What mattered to you now, was that that whole cat and mouse catching game was finally over. Of course, there's a thrilling feeling about it, with it's ups and downs, it's tensions and certain moments, but in the end, it grows old, it gets tiring and all you wanna do is to be honest. And that was your moment with Javier. It was the beginning of something special, and the two of you could feel it. Of course, the ranch talk, the possible marriage, baby Peña, it all was some kind of inside joke, you never put much faith in it, though at the same time a part of you hoped really hard it would get to that point. But first things first, as you had told him, you couldn't plan a whole life without going on a date first.

It wasn't a big deal as you had already slept with Javier, but at the same time it was a big deal because Javi didn't take girls on dates, he fucked them and that was it, so if he was going to actually go through all those stages, it was because he had good intentions.

After your showered, you made sure to apply lotion, makeup and get your hair in a cute style, all so you could be pretty for yourself and mostly for Javi.

When Peña stepped inside the building, he was also in a hurry. He had to go back to the office and have a meeting with Steve, but all he could think of was taking you out. He would be lying if he said he wasn't excited, he didn't even remember when it was the last time he went out on a date, and that also made him nervous. What if he screwed it up somehow? Or what if you thought he was too old-fashioned… so many things haunted him as he felt the anxiety build up inside of him, but at the same time, a longing to see you, hold your hand and be seen in public with you was also growing. He didn't want to hide, he didn't want to keep you just for himself inside the doors of your apartment, but he wanted people to see his girl was beautiful, he wanted them to envy him and wonder how a guy like him could get a girl like you.

He wondered if you shared the same feelings or the same thoughts, and if you were also anxious. He also knew it was very recent and maybe even reckless to take you out literally a day after you broke up with your boyfriend, but Manu felt like a bump on the road and nothing more, it was like his participation in your life didn't even exist, besides, Javi and you had been dancing that tango for a long time, it was about time things got done.

He still stopped by a flower shop and got you a beautiful bouquet of red orchards. He didn't understand a lot about flowers, but he knew you found these pretty, and all the women in the world supposedly liked red flowers, so he figured it would be a good choice. He walked through the hallway and felt an urge to knock on your door, see what you were doing, what you were wearing - if you were wearing something at all and maybe initiate the date a little early. But at the same time, he wanted things to be classic, he wanted to follow the social rules and make you feel flattered. So he only smirked when he heard music coming from your apartment and got inside his.

Javi looked at himself in the mirror, he had tried several shirts before settling with his red one, and yet, he wasn't sure if he should go with that one. He wanted to look good, he wanted you to look at him and feel the same thing he felt when he saw you. Maybe it would match the flowers? Or maybe was it too red? He wasn't really sure, but he glanced at the clock and saw he was almost running late, so he just placed his watch back on, got his wallet, the car keys and went for your door, knocking on it hesitantly.

He looked around, hoping Steve wouldn't show up climbing up the stairs, or worse, Connie. He just wanted to get you out of the building and have a good night with you.

You opened the door on his third knock, you were just finishing getting your earrings when you finally saw Javi. He was standing there, looking like sin, with those tight jeans that hung so perfectly to his sexy body and that red shirt that made your core boil. You smiled big at him, leaning in and pecking his lips as you saw a blush spreading through his cheeks and he cleared his throat.

"Uh.. these are for you" he smiled softly and handed you the bouquet, which melted your heart. You weren't expecting it, but it was a very sweet gesture. He was just your sweet lovely Javi, there was no trace of that ruthless agent, or the guy who was a heartthrob and collected broken hearts and women around town. You loved that, because it was all for you.

•••

Javi was nervous.

And he was embarrassed about the fact he was nervous. It was crazy, he was on a date with you, the woman he loved and though you two knew that, it was still the beginning, you were trying to do things by the book, because you deserved it, but there he was, looking like a moron as he tried finding words to say.

He had drunk a whole glass of wine and still hadn't found something decent enough to talk about. Work? Los Pepes? Messina? Nah, he didn't want to bother you with it and he didn't understand why everything seemed easier when the two of you were just friends. It was like you didn't have that pressure, or maybe he was putting too much pressure on himself. He just worried you would snap out of the illusion being with him was a good idea and realize you deserved someone better, a better looking guy, someone who didn't have such wrong ways or someone who could actually make conversation during a date.

And as if you had been reading his mind, you placed your hand on top of his, giving him one of your reassuring smiles and chuckled.

"You're nervous, agent Peña…" you said sweetly and stroked his hand with your thumb "you know you don't actually have to be nervous, right? It's just me… your Y/N… your cariño" you blushed softly "and you're my Javi… and you don't have to try to impress me, let's just say you already won me over" you winked at him and watched as his shoulders relaxed and he took your hand in his big ones. His thumb ran across his bottom lip like it often did when he was thinking about something and he nodded.

"You're right, princesa… I was too worried about giving you a perfect first date, that I forgot we could just be ourselves" he admitted "I wanted you to see that I take you seriously, that I want you, for real, not just as a game…"

You thought it was adorable to see Javier like that, your heart was a melted puddle of love and affection for the man who stared at you with the biggest brown eyes you'd ever seen, seeking your approval and nervously hoping you were enjoying his company. If only he knew how much you loved him, he would know he was acting crazy.

Yes, you were excited about the date, but now that you were there, in public, holding hands and sharing a meal, you saw you were so much more than those vanilla couples who needed to go out once a week to remind themselves they were in a relationship. You were in front of Javier Peña.

You were in love with Javier Peña, and as far as you were concerned, Javier Peña was also in love with you, and there was absolutely nothing more you could ask from the heavens. So you simply moved to the chair next to his and hugged his arm, resting your head on his shoulder, loving how close he was and how close he would be, without you fearing him move away from you or push you away. He immediately softened up and lowered his lips, kissing the top of your head

"I'm just happy you decided to stay here, I know New York was a big deal but I promise I won't disappoint you and I will make your stay worthy" he said sweetly and your eyes met his, leaning in and kissing his lips.

Javier had the best lips you'd ever seen in a man, the way they just clicked perfectly with yours, being so soft and so smart, knowing exactly what they were doing, was something you would probably never get used to, and you loved every single aspect of it.

When you broke the kiss, your hand stroked his cheek gently, as your nose bumped against his softly, making the two of you giggle "I love our date, Javi… but I also know we are not an ordinary couple, we don't have to do what other couples do and it's fine by me…" you said as your hand went for his crotch, gently stroking it over his jeans as his eyes widened in surprise "we can just finish our night somewhere else, if you'd like, mi amor" you winked at him and leaned in, kissing his neck, lips just ghosting over his skin before you nibbled it gently.

Javi's tight grip wrapped around your fist, stopping your snoopy hand right there. He knew you could be one feisty little thing, but he didn't take you for that kind of tease… and he was loving it.

"¿Qué estás haciendo, mi amor?" He whispered against your ear as it was his turn to lean in and spread kisses all over your neck. You groaned and giggled, biting your lips before stealing a peck from him.

"I think we should go somewhere more private, Javi… like your car" you whispered to him and saw how his eyes darkened with lust and eagerness at your suggestion.

It only took him a few minutes to pay the check and you were soon inside his Jeep. You watched him drive, looking for a dark enough place to park, his handsome side profile already making you so hot and bothered because you could never wrap your head around the fact he was incredibly handsome.

You weren't sure you would be able to hold yourself back and ignoring completely any safety guidelines you began kissing his neck.

"Shit, baby?!" Javi groaned as he stopped the car abruptly, not being able to focus on driving and you touching him.

You giggled and slid your hand under his unbuttoned shirt. You felt his hot skin against the palm of your hand and knew you needed more. Your free hand went back to his crotch, his rough jeans were in the way and you were getting so impatient, you began unbuckling his belt.

Javi still hadn't found a decent parking spot, but he was so eager to feel you, he took his hand to your hair, stroking it softly as he couldn't get his eyes away from the road, but he also couldn't get away from your touch. You smirked and bit his neck harder, earning a ounce of pain from him and his arm running down your back, getting to your ass and giving it one smack

"Fucking slut" he said through gritted teeth and watched as you opened his jeans, his boner was so apparent your mouth watered.

"Javi, I wanna be your little puta, I need you…" you begged him, freeing his cock from his underwear and watched as he bucked his hips.

Javier groaned and cursed under his breath, you saw his tip glistening with pre cum, using your thumb to spread it all over.

Javi knew he wasn't going to be able to drive, so he just parked under a broken street lamp and gripped your hair.

"Wanna be my puta? Go ahead princesa, show me you can do it, muñequita…" he said with a tight grip on your hair, he was impatient and he didn't want teasing. You also didn't want to wait any longer, so you took your mouth to his long, thick cock, giving his tip small, little licks before taking his length down your throat as deep as you could.

His hand lifted up the hem of your dress, exposing your ass and caressing all over. He pulled your thin panties to the side and found the curve of your lips, running a finger up and down your slit, gathering your juices that pooled in your entrance. Javi threw his head back, your hand massaged his balls as your tight throat made him feel so good. His thick fingers got into your hot entrance and he pumped them in and out. He felt you squirm and the car was filled by nothing but obscene and erotic noises.

He wasn't going to hold back and let you know his hot load was coming, pleasure and bliss all over him as you willingly took all of it into your mouth and swallowed it.

He panted as you raised your head, you looked like a hot little mess for him and he could only pull you for another kiss, not caring if he could taste himself in you.

"Go to the backseat, querida" he whispered against your ear and waited until you got in position.

Javi followed you immediately, helping you get on your knees and hands and held your hips in place "now you're gonna be my puta, got it?" He whispered and smacked your ass a few more times, seeing the reddish shade spread but didn't give you enough time as he spread your cheeks and stuck his tongue into your cunt.

You whimpered at his ministrations, his tongue explored your pussy, going as deep as he could, finding your clit and suckling on it, feeling how your knees faltered but sustained your weight with his hand. His tongue moved up to your ass, touching your muscly ring and feeling it clench so sensitively at the unexpected stimulation.

"Javi" you could only whimper, but he shushed you, wetting your asshole and letting you relax, enjoying the new experience.

His hand found your clit, rubbing it up and down, feeling how hard it was and knew you were close. He shoved his fingers into you again, fingering you as fast as he could, thumbs taunting your clit and tongue into your sweet hole until you were nothing but a puddle of pleasure, shaking and cumming for him.

"My bed tonight" Javi said as he opened the door to his apartment and immediately pulled you against his body, kissing you hungrily as if he hadn't just fucked you in his car less than an hour before. He just felt such hunger for you, the way you put your dress back on in a sloppy way, not caring if your panties got lost in the backseat of his car, or how you couldn't stop touching him. How your hands wrapped around his cock in your beautiful bloody red nails and how you swallowed every drop of him. He just couldn't get enough of you, your post orgasm messy hair, your beautiful smile and your intoxicating perfume.

He loved every part of you. And he wasn't scared of admitting anymore.

"I don't think I'll make it to bed, Javi" you bit your lips, and went for another kiss, his arms wrapping around your body as he lifted you up and took you to the couch. He didn't want to wait anymore, as much as he loved to be in your mouth and have your taste on his tongue, he needed to be inside of you. He wanted to feel your walls squeezing and milking him dry, he wanted to cum inside of you. He didn't even know if you were on birth control, but he didn't actually care, he just wanted you.

Javier got on the couch, pulling you to him and touching your body, getting lost on you. He finally stripped you out of your dress completely, revealing your beautiful breasts, perky nipples that went straight to his mouth, licking and suckling on them, at the same time he helped you lower down onto his cock, loving how your soaked cunt took every inch of him.

He held you by the neck, having a firm grip on it as he watched you ride him, as if you were the most gorgeous piece of art in the world.

Javi threw his head back, hips bucking as you moved up and down onto his cock. He praised you, cursed under his breath, he wanted you whole for him, at that moment and forever.

He felt his balls quivering and the knot on his lower belly tightened as much as yours did too and you knew you were cumming for him again at the same time he came for you, his thick hot load spilling inside.

"Te quiero, Y/N" he whispered against your lips, kissing you once more, never getting enough of you. "I love you cariño" he whispered.

You smiled and tiredly rested your body against his, feeling a wave of happiness and pleasure ran through your body

"I love you too, Javi"

_____

A/N: besties, I know this isn't my best chapter, i just have the feeling I could have written it a lot better but at the same time it was the best I could actually write today, idk i had a weird, tiring, stressful day and to top that my head is killing me. I am just horny for Javi and I hope you guys liked this part at least a tiny little bit of it, because our series is almost over now 😭😭😭

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broadwaybalogna · 7 months ago

Note

So I was think of pining Katara I desperately need more pining Katara fics. So the prompt is pining Katara in Ember Island being just a tennager trying to make sense of a pretty boy

Hey Anon! When you said “ember island” I’m sure you meant during the ember island players. HOWEVER, I think the headcanon that Zuko dropped Katara off at Ember Island after TSR and her realizing her feelings THEN would also be hella cute!

Enjoy~

“You sure you’ll be alright by yourself?”

“Yeah, I just need some time alone.”

“Alright… I’ll be back with the others by sundown.”

Zuko began to walk back to Appa, who had just groggily woken up.

“Zuko?” Katara called, once he was secured on the flying bison. She didn’t turn to him, she barely even acknowledged him. But she still called out to him.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” and with that, Katara could hear the sound of Appa leaving the ground and flying away. Now, she was by herself, alone with only her thoughts. She had at least twelve hours to herself before Zuko came back with the rest of their friends.

Hours one and two:

Katara decided to spend the first two hours or so walking along the beach of ember island. The sun was still rising in the horizon, which was able to give Katara some sense of calm. She continued to walk until her feet started to hurt, then she walked all the way back to camp.

Hour three:

Katara sat at the edge of the dock massaging her feet and stretching her legs. She hummed an old hymn her mother used to sing to her when she was little.

Then she remembered Yon Rha. And after hours upon hours of her night already thinking about him and what she could’ve done, she cried.

She cried louder than she had ever let herself. No one was around to hear or judge her, so she cried even louder. She cried until her eyes were as sore as her feet, and then, when she finally gained control of her body again, she cried some more.

So many emotions that she had left under wraps for years came bubbling up and exploded, and she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop to the point where it physically hurt to continue. Even more, she couldn’t stop because it felt so good to let it out.

Katara came to the conclusion that she was an ugly crier.

Hour four:

Once Katara had finally calmed down, she walked into a nearby lake to wash herself off. The ocean was too salty for her to feel like she was properly cleaning herself, so she found an abandoned lake to lay in. She sunk under the water until she was only breathing out of her nose and closed her eyes.

An image of Zuko flashes across her mind, if only for a second, and Katara shot up. Why would she think about him now of all times?

She scowled and got out of the lake, it had been ruined now anyway.

Hour five:

Katara decided to make herself lunch by the beach. She caught a fish and used Sokka’s fire starting technique to cook it. She thought about how much easier it would be to cook if she had Zuko’s fire.

Hour six:

She just couldn’t get Zuko out of her mind! What was wrong with her!?

Maybe it was because he actually encouraged her to face her mother’s attacker instead of telling her to just forgive him. Maybe it was that he empathized with her pain instead of separating himself from it. Or maybe it’s just that he was there when she needed someone to be.

Hour seven:

She felt really bad about what she said to Sokka, she needed to apologize to him when they got back.

Hour eight:

She can’t stop thinking about that one time she grazed Zuko’s lips while in the catacombs. How she had laid her hand on his scar in sympathy and grace, and how her thumb had just lightly touched his lips, and how soft they felt.

Hour nine:

She wonders what Zuko might’ve looked like had he been in the lake with her washing off.

Hour ten:

She stares up at the sky and the changing of the tides by the beach. She smiles.

Hour eleven:

She thinks about confronting Aang and Sokka when they get back. Also Zuko, maybe a little bit too much Zuko.

The more she thinks about it all, the more her face hardens. She wonders if Aang and Sokka will understand. She wonders if they’ll listen.

She goes to the end of the dock and holds her arm in her hand.

Hour twelve:

Zuko, Toph, Aang, and Sokka all arrive not long after the twelfth hour has passed. Aang goes up to her and tells her he’s proud she chose forgiveness.

“You’re wrong. I didn’t forgive him, and I don’t think I ever will.” She pushes past Aang who stands alone and climbs up Appa. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Zuko walk up to Aang.

“You were right-“

She turns her head around and blocks their conversation out.

She can’t cry now.

#atla #zutara #atla katara #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender #katara #zuko #fanfiction #katara x zuko #zuko x katara #fanfic #the southern raiders #s03e16

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farfromharry · 7 months ago

Text

The night we met | Dating Stiles Stilinski

pov: you’re dating Stiles Stilinski

Summary: The formal was meant to be a fun, carefree evening between you and your boyfriend. However, after growing concerned for your new redhead friend when she leaves early in search of her ex, you follow her. You could never have imagined the pain and chaos that would ensue after making such a simple deviation.

Word count - 7802

Warnings - language, heavy mentions of blood, injury and hospitals, mentions of minor character deaths

Based on: season one, episode eleven + twelve

. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ The night we met, Lord Huron ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ .

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Your weekends were officially being ruined by Scott and his ridiculous ideas. First it was babysitting Jackson, now it was spending hours searching for his seemingly missing phone, you could only imagine what he so wonderfully had in store for you the next weekend. And you were sure it’d be just as great as the last two– Note the heavy sarcasm.

You’d given up, resorting to lying on his bed and just resting your head in Stiles’ lap to watch your friend search through every inch of his bedroom for the device, getting your boyfriend to call it every few minutes in hopes of hearing it ring. But after the hundredth time you and Stiles’ had concluded it wasn’t there and he was wasting his time. “Call it again,” he demanded.

“It’s not here,” you whined, sick of hearing the same conversation over and over. Stiles just rolled his eyes at Scott’s comment, pressing on his contact yet again. He let it ring, none of the three of you, even with Scott’s wolf hearing, able to hear it. “So you lost your phone, why don’t you just get a new one?” Stiles asked.

“I can’t afford a new one. And I can’t do this alone. We have to find Derek.”

Stiles frowned, raising his hands like he was shocked. “Well, A, you’re not alone. You have us.” You nodded, flashing him a smile when he spared a glance at you and Stiles. “And, B, didn’t you say Derek walked into gunfire?”

You perked up. “Sounds pretty dead to me,” you muttered.

Scott didn’t appreciate you joining in to agree with the brunette, especially considering your comments weren’t helping. He headed into his closet next to search for his phone, rather angrily if you had to assess his body language. “That wasn’t the Argent’s plan, they’re not gonna kill him.”

He really wasn’t understanding why this was such a big deal to his friend. It all seemed pretty obvious to him, just don’t get involved and then everyone’s safe and gets what they want. “Then just let them do what they’re planning. They use Derek to get to Peter, problem solved.”

“Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek.”

“He has a point,” you mumbled, eyes flickering up to your boyfriend’s face. He glanced down at you in mock offence, bringing his hand up to cover your mouth so you couldn’t make any more comments in Scott’s favour and not his. “I can’t protect her on my own.”

“You probably lost it when you two- Y/N!” He pulled his hand away with a small groan of disgust, staring down at your smirk as he wiped your spit off of his hand onto his jeans. “You probably lost it when you two were fighting. You remember that? When he tried to kill you.”

You added. “While you tried to stop him from killing Jackson.”

He growled quietly under his breath, growing sick of Stiles’ comments about Derek. He didn’t understand why he a, hated him so much and b, had no faith in who he was as a person. Scott thought Derek seemed like a pretty cool guy, and he was trying to be as helpful as possible.

“He wasn’t going to kill anyone. And I’m not letting him die.” He had clearly made his mind up on this decision. He seemed incredibly tense, so you tried to lighten the mood a little bit.

“Could you maybe at least think about letting him die?” you questioned. His head snapped in your direction, assuming a question like that would’ve come from Stiles not you. You continued with a sickly sweet smile that was meant to try and persuade him. “For Stiles.”

He didn’t say anything, but he suddenly paused, his head tilting closer to his bedroom window. You and the brunette next to you shared a look before you sat up from where you’d been resting in his lap, eyes focused on Scott’s stiff figure.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“My mom just got home from work.” He was acting strange and you didn’t understand why. You were growing increasingly concerned. He was listening in to whatever she was doing but that included him going quite for minutes on end while she did whatever it was she was doing. He sighed loudly and slouched back against his wall when he finally turned his head away.

“Scott, she okay? What’s she doing?” you asked.

“Crying.” You frowned, glancing over at Stiles sadly as Scott came and sat next to you on the end of his bed. You sweetly placed your hand on his arm, squeezing gently to tell him it’d be okay. Your boyfriend tried to reason with him a little bit, but both of you knew your friend wouldn’t take the advice.

“Scott, you can’t protect everyone.”

He shook his head, responding quietly. “I have to.”

»»——⍟——««

Stumbling upon your friends sneaking glances at Allison and a terribly nervous looking Jackson from behind a wall honestly didn’t shock you anymore. You just sighed and approached them, your curiosity being piqued on whatever they were doing. You lightly placed your hand on Stiles’ backpackless shoulder. “What are you two up to?” Your sudden voice startled Stiles, the boy bringing a hand up to clutch his chest where his rapidly pounding heart lay.

“We need Jackson to take Allison to the formal cause Coach just banned Scott from going.”

You frowned, Scott had told you recently how excited he was to ask Allison if she’d want to go with him, and you could only imagine the disappointment he was feeling having to ask him of all people to do it. You could see the irritation written all over Scott’s face, but it wasn’t exactly justified knowing he was the reason behind the encounter anyway.

Stiles’ could obviously sense his friend’s discomfort too. “Hey don’t worry. I’ll still be there.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, this being the first thing you were hearing of Stiles confirming he was going, considering he had yet to ask you to go along with him. You'd gathered he just wasn’t going. “Oh you will, will you? Who are you planning on going with?”

Stiles brought his hand up to his face, pinching his nose as he sighed frustratedly. “Y/N, can we please talk about this in a second?”

You moved to protest, opening your mouth to tell your boyfriend you wanted to talk about it now considering he’d been putting it off for so long, but Scott beat you to it, bringing the subject back to him.

“I’m still going,” Scott announced, drawing both sets of eyes back to him. Your conversation had apparently been forgotten, pushed to the side for later just like he’d said.

“Is that such a good idea?” Stiles asked. You huffed at how he’d just brushed you off. You’d been trying to hint to him for the last couple days that even though you were dating you’d still liked to be asked to the Formal by your boyfriend, but he had yet to pick up on a single one of those hints. Without a word you left the pair to whatever dumb plan they were going through with, heading over to your locker where you could busy yourself with absolutely anything else until they stopped being dumb.

In Stiles’ case it actually took a lot less time than you thought it would, the boy sliding his arms around your waist to announce his presence. His lips quickly brushed your cheek, but you still hadn’t turned to face him or even look at him yet. “So, miss Y/L/N, do you have any special guy you might want to go to the formal with?”

You were still slightly pissed at how easily he’d brushed you off earlier, so you weren’t planning on letting this conversation go the way his boy brain was expecting, at least not simply.

“Not unless he hurries up and asks me,” you muttered. “I don’t think Isaac Lahey’s got a date yet, maybe he’ll ask me.”

You felt Stiles' body back up from yours, his hands shifting to your shoulders to spin your body around so you were facing him. “Y/N, what’s that supposed to mean?”

You huffed, frowning at him at how obvious you thought you were being, yet he still didn’t pick up on the issue. “You haven’t asked me to go to the formal.”

His face dropped, his eyebrows drawing together in intense confusion. “B-But we’re dating. Who else would you go with?” He really hoped you’d ignore the second part of his question, he didn’t want you to even think about listing off possible bachelor's you could go with when he was standing right there.

“No one,” you confirmed. “But I’d still like to be asked, Sti.” He could sense the upset now, it was practically smacking him in the face so how could he not? He sort of just gathered you would. You hadn’t really mentioned it so he thought you were either going with him or not interested in going at all. He was too dumb to realise you were actually waiting for him to bring it up.

A sense of guilt settled in his chest, but he’d go as far as getting on his knees to beg you to go with him at this point if he had to. Whatever it’d take to make you feel better.

“Well, Y/N Y/L/N, most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” he took your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to press a quick kiss to each of your individual knuckles. “Will you do me the honours of going to the formal with me?”

The way you shuffled nervously was adorable to him, clearly he was making you nervous and although not his intention he still wanted to bask in the way he could make you feel.

“I’d be honoured,” you chuckled. His face lit up, hands landing on your hips so he could press a celebratory kiss to your sweet lips. He pulled back a moment or so later, your lips still puckered and your eyes delayed in their flutter open as you slowly arose from your daze.

“So, now that we’re officially going together, do you already have a dress?” he asked, leaning in closer to brush his button nose over the skin of your cheek. You tried your best not to flush, forcing the heat threatening to take over your cheeks back down so he wouldn’t know how flustered the littlest of his actions made you.

“Maybe,” you answered, shrugging your shoulders. He cocked his head. “Do I get to see it?”

“Not until the dance.”

That was the last thing you said before compiling your stuff together and heading off down the hallway to your next class, leaving your boyfriend standing there in the same spot with a slight gape on his lips. He called after you. “Don’t just leave me hanging!”

»»——⍟——««

Actually, you didn’t have a dress already, you just didn’t want Stiles finding out you were going dress shopping with Allison and Lydia later, mainly because he’d insist on coming with you. Or he’d make some comment about you hanging out with Lydia, and you didn’t feel like trying to explain why you were doing that.

You’d only really agreed to go to try and get over this petty dislike of Lydia you had, she deserved to make another impression that wasn’t blurred by an incorrect piece of knowledge that was overwhelming you.

That’s how you found yourself behind them on the way into the mall where Lydia was planning on buying Allison a dress. You barely heard it being something to do with her upsetting Allison in some way and this was her way of apologising. You supposed it was fair depending on whatever she did, but you weren’t going to pry and ask.

Allison wandered off quickly, leaving you alone with the other girl with a knowing smile. You’d never outright told her your feelings about her, but she could probably pick up on the anger and tension you felt whenever you were around the redhead.

You actually would’ve been happy dress shopping alone, what with how many Lydia was currently looking through, but you kept reminding yourself you were doing this for her. You had to get over this petty attitude. But she was really making it difficult with how many dresses she kept thrusting into your arms.

“You’re going to try all of these on?” you asked, the pile growing by the second. She hummed quietly, saying she’d help pick out a few for you too, although you believed you were more than capable of doing it yourself. Speaking of, she pulled one of the racks and you could physically see the way her eyes lit up, lifting it up by the hanger to hold in front of your body. A grin formed on her lips and she rapidly nodded. “You’re dating that Stiles kid, right? The weird one.”

You frowned, deflating slightly. You thought she was being nice for once, but hearing her try and diminish your boyfriend irritated you a little. You felt the need to defend him. “He’s not weird.”

She gave you a stern look like she didn’t believe you. Of course Lydia would think anyone who wasn’t in her friend group was weird. “But you are dating him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, once he sees you in this, he’s going to literally die.”

The thought made you Stiles. You having the power to make Stiles so weak in the knees that he literally couldn’t do anything but blush and stutter, sounded pretty appealing. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you felt Lydia locking her fingers with yours, tugging you along with her to the changing rooms. This was your time to have a little girl fun for once. You loved your best friends, but constantly hanging around with no other girls didn’t leave you much chance to do typically ‘girly’ things. At least with the two girls your day wouldn’t be spoiled by werewolves or other supernatural creatures. “Come on, let’s go try it on.”

And that’s exactly what you did. You had to admit she had good taste, you were pretty in love with it yourself. It looked good and made you feel good, and you were sure that would mean Stiles would love it too. You admired it in the mirror for a little longer before you were planning on letting Lydia judge it. It was a beautiful shade of red, tight in the right places, loose in the others, god this was gonna drive him crazy.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face when you stepped out of the curtain for Lydia to see. She squealed quietly, nodding her head rapidly as she confirmed that was the dress for you. You’d never been around Lydia long enough before to see this side of her, the side that actually seemed like a genuinely sweet girl. She wasn’t shy with the compliments, telling you stuff like if you weren’t already taken then she might have to snatch you for herself some time.

“You look so hot,” she said. All the sweet words were going right to your head, and your face as you felt it heat up. “I think this is the one then.”

You changed out of it with the intention of buying it, so you could see Lydia try on the array of dresses she picked out to try. You knew it’d take a while but you were already having much more fun than you expected, so you didn’t think it’d be too bad.

She tried on dress after dress. Of course every one of them looked amazing on her, but there was one specific one that just stood out from the rest, it was definitely the one.

She obviously thought so too, as she didn’t spare a second thought before purchasing it and dragging you around the store to find Allison.

“I’m really glad I came today. I hope we can hang out again some time,” you told her honestly. It wasn’t that everything you felt towards her from before had gone, not all of it, but you hoped with more time that it would. She grinned, nodding her head and giving your hand a squeeze as you approached the girl you’d been looking for.

“I’d actually really like that. You’re a lotta fun to be around, and I’m sorry for brushing over you for the last few years.”

Now was your chance to put everything behind you. You stared at her with eyes drenched in hope. “Friends?” you questioned.

She confirmed. “Friends.”

»»——⍟——««

You were the one to ask Stiles to text you on his arrival, not wanting to give your family, specifically your little brother, the chance to embarrass you when he showed up at your door. So when you got that exact message you’d been waiting for, you rushed down the stairs and offered your parents a quick farewell.

They of course followed you to the door though, wanting to see their little girl go. Even if you wouldn’t let them gush over you and Stiles to your face, they could still do it from a distance.

Stiles’ eyes were on you the second you stepped out of your front door, giving him the perfect full body view of your outfit for the night. He straightened himself up from where he’d been leaning against his car door, a quiet gasp leaving his lips at the mere sight of you.

You were his girlfriend. Holy hell how did he manage that.

He was in such a trance at the sight of you that he barely registered how long had passed, or that you were speaking to him. You were feeling the same-ish way about how he looked in his simple, yet adorable, suit, but you still had the ability to speak. So you supposed you were doing better than him.

“You clean up nice, Stilinski.” He was still frozen in his spot as he watched you approach where he was standing outside his jeep, his jaw gaped slightly. You finally met him in his spot and he reached out for your hands, interlocking your fingers together sweetly.

“Wow. You look fucking incredible.” He didn’t waste a second before he stepped forward, planting a loving kiss on your lips that left you wanting an endless amount of more. You tried to ignore how warm he was making you feel inside just with the way he was looking at you. There was clearly so much love in his eyes when he looked at you and you just wanted to scream from the rooftops about how much you loved this man.

“I’d kiss you more but your parents are watching,” he whispered. You groaned, leaning your head against his shoulder through embarrassment as he just laughed at you. “It’s not funny, Sti.”

After composing yourself, you turned your head over your shoulder, glaring at your parents to try and silently tell them to go back inside. Your mother rolled her eyes, listening to your wishes, while your dad stayed standing there.

“Have her back at a reasonable time, Stilinski.” Stiles nodded, opening the passenger door for you to climb into his car. He assured your dad you were perfectly safe with him before he hopped into the driver’s side.

“You ready?” he asked, grin on his lips as he flicked the engine on. You took the chance to place one more quick kiss to his irresistible lips, nodding your head happily. “Let’s do it.”

Pulling up to the school you let out a content sigh. You were about to spend the whole night dancing with your lover and just having a good time. To make matters better, the boy even hopped out of the jeep to open your door for you, pulling a laugh out of you that was music to his ears. “M’lady.”

“Such a gentleman.” This time you didn’t hesitate, pulling him in close by the material of his shirt and kissing him, hard. Now that there were no prying eyes you couldn’t help it, relishing in the feeling of his slightly chapped lips on your lip gloss covered ones.

You only pulled away long enough for him to shut the car door, and for you to see Jackson leading Allison towards the building. “Oh, hey Allison.” You purposely didn’t greet the boy on her arm, a certain distaste for him having really built up over the last few weeks.

“Hey, you look great,” she complimented. You ignored the clear eye roll from Jackson, holding back one of your own at how much you wanted to punch his dumb face. “Thank you, so do you. Have fun tonight.”

She nodded, flashing you another smile before heading off inside with her bore of a date. You couldn’t imagine she was actually going to have any fun unless Scott showed up. Not that you really understood what was going on with them anymore. One minute they were together, then they weren’t, who knows what they were now.

“God, I hate him,” you muttered. Stiles agreed, holding out his arm for you to take. You gladly did so, pushing any thought of anyone else to the back of your mind for potentially the rest of the night. Tonight was yours and Stiles’ time.

In no time you were finding yourselves grabbing drinks at the refreshments table, Stiles’ hand never leaving your waist as he shot glares at practically every male that walked past you both. “What are you doing?” you giggled, referencing his anger. “They’re looking at you funny. I don’t like it.”

You rolled your eyes, hearing the intro to a familiar slow song beginning to play over the speakers. You linked your fingers with his, abandoning the drinks and dragging him onto the dance floor to dance amongst groups of other students. “Come on, cutie.”

You spent most of the night in your own little bubble with him, dancing away, taking a couple breaks when your shoes started to hurt your feet. But here you were again, dancing to a slow song that’d been on over the speakers.

You could hear Coach yelling Scott’s name, your eyes being drawn to him as he barged through the crowd to try and find your misfit of a friend who he’d banned from showing up tonight. They were drawing quite a bit of attention to themselves throughout the gymnasium of teens, but it made for an amusing sight you had to admit. “What is that idiot doing?” you laughed.

You couldn’t deny Scott was smart about it, pulling Danny to dance with him to put Coach under pressure. When he found the two you and Stiles were biting back laughter, watching the older man stutter and blush as he tried to explain as well as he could to all the prying eyes that he had no issue with Danny and Scott dancing, and that wasn’t why he was trying to pull them apart.

He was just making it worse for himself until he eventually gave up, scowling at the brunette who’d found a loophole to his demand. “God, he’s evil,” Stiles muttered.

After all that settled down you let yourself be fully emerged in Stiles. The slow songs were back and you wanted nothing more than for this moment to never end.

His hands were resting firmly on your waist, your around his neck with one occasionally drifting to rub his arm affectionately. His head hung beside yours, his eyes closed as he focused on you. Your scent, your gentle breathing, the feel of your body against his, all of you. Your chin was resting on his shoulder, tipping your head so it could rest against the side of his as the two of you swayed to the slow beat of the music. It was heaven.

Every now and then you’d place a kiss to his neck or jaw, just to let him know you were still thinking about him, even through your comfortable silence. You were both just as wrapped up in each other as the other was.

You were snapped out of it though when you saw Lydia across the room. She looked rather panicked and like she was looking for someone, and with your newfound friendship it felt like you should go and check on her. You just didn’t know how to tell Stiles.

Thankfully he noticed you were a little off, more fidgety than you’d been since you’d found a comfortable position to dance in earlier on. You felt his head raise, turning your own so you could lock eyes with him, worry clearly present in those hazel eyes. “You okay?”

You tried to calm his worries with a smile, but it probably didn’t turn out as convincing as you’d intended. “Yeah, just- Lydia looks pretty panicked and I-I think I should go check on her. Just to make sure she’s okay.”

The pout he donned was adorable, tempting you to stay here with him, that is if your concern for your new friend wasn’t as large as it was. “I’ll be right back.”

He sighed, accepting that you were doing it whether he was happy about it or not. “At least take my jacket, you’ll freeze out there.” You grinned at the concern, allowing him to slip the material onto your arms.

She was shockingly difficult to keep up with. Although she’d got a head start, you still didn’t expect her to be so fast. You were basically running down the hallway to get to the exit of the school where you watched her leave a mere minute ago.

You could hear her calling for Jackson before you even stepped outside. Although you didn’t make it in time to catch her before she was running off in some direction to find him. You followed her, calling out her name though it fell on deaf ears.

Stiles had been right, it was freezing even with his blazer covering you, so you couldn’t imagine how she was feeling. You followed her all the way out to the lacrosse field, stumbling over to the bleachers by the time she found herself in the centre of the pitch, still yelling her ex’s name. You were about to call hers again when you were startled from the lights all suddenly turning on, illuminating her figure standing there. You were both equally confused.

You only managed a few steps forward when you saw a figure approaching her. In one final attempt she muttered Jackson’s name, though you could tell it wasn’t him.

“Lydia,” you called, making your way over to her in a pathetic hope of protecting her. She didn’t dare look away from the figure, though she felt you place your hand on her arm to let her know you were there. You were right too, she was icy to touch. When you could finally make out the figure clearer you gasped, it was Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle, the fucking Alpha.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, wrapping your hand around Lydia’s wrist just as you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

“Y/N! Lydia! Run!” You tried to do as he said, seeing him running in the direction of the two of you, but Lydia was frozen with fear, and Peter was faster. “Lydia, we have to move!”

But of course it was too late. You’d glanced away to look at Stiles for one second and Peter was already sinking his teeth into the strawberry blonde, and his claws were slashing at you in the process.

You cried out, falling with the girl as pain seeped through your body, spawning in the large wound on your stomach that was quick to start seeping with the blood he’d pulled from you. You lay there with the girl you’d made friends with, she was completely motionless as Peter fell to his knees above her. You backed up, pathetically trying to create some distance between the older man and yourself. You knew you shouldn’t have tried to abandon the girl like that, but you were scared too, and you knew somewhere behind you you could seek your boyfriend’s comfort.

Stiles couldn’t do much to protect you from a werewolf, just as you couldn’t do with Lydia, but your brain was convinced that his arms were a safeplace for you. Your body was screaming at you and you finally gave up with the crawling, but two familiar arms were quick to engulf you. You both stared at Peter as a low growl sounded in his throat aimed at the two of you, your heartbeat scarily unsteady for multiple reasons.

You hadn’t thought to do it until another wave of agony was ripping through your body, looking down at your blood soaked dress, the material that hadn’t been torn under the strength of peter’s claws turning a darker shade of red, to find Stiles’ large hands pressing firmly against the wound. “I know baby, I’m sorry.”

The two of you looked back to Lydia, tears springing to your eyes at how he was lurking over her still body like a predator. “Please, don’t kill her,” you begged.

Peter just watched you, drawing out his answers, teasing you as you both feared for yours and Lydia’s lives. “Of course not.”

You would’ve felt relief had you not also felt like there was some kind of ulterior motive. He wanted something, of course he did. “Just tell me how to find Derek.”

“W-What?” Stiles’ brows furrowed.

Peter repeated himself. “Tell me how to find Derek Hale.” His claw traced down the side of her face, a short cry coming from you as everything started to feel so real. Your boyfriend didn’t know what to do. He was so fucking scared. All three of you could die right now and he didn’t know how to stop it. And at this rate, either Peter would kill you or you’d bleed out from your wound, another thing he was scared off considering the quantity of it that was covering his hands. But one way or another if this wasn’t quick, you were going to die.

“I-I don’t know. How would I know that?” You could hear the panic in his voice, the way his words shook with pure, unfiltered terror that you’d never seen from him before. You were sure if you opened your mouth you’d be the exact same way though.

Peter cocked his head like it was obvious. “Because you’re the clever one aren’t you? And because deception has quite the specific scent, Stiles.”

The boy didn’t say anything, just stared at the older man in a little bit of shock. “Tell me the truth. Or I will rip her apart. Both of them.” His eyes flickered up to you, a scared whimper sounding in your throat at the threat. You didn’t want to die, especially not at the hands of Peter Hale. You didn’t want to become just another unsolved animal attack murder on the Sheriff’s desk because your friends couldn’t tell them the truth.

Stiles didn’t want that either. If you died and he knew what happened, but couldn’t tell his dad, he thought he’d go insane.

“I don’t know, okay? I swear to god, I have no idea.” You were starting to grow light headed. You didn’t know whether Stiles was telling the truth or not, you just knew you needed help, medical help as soon as humanly possible. You barely registered the intense growl Peter let out, scaring Stiles enough for him to spill anything he knew. It felt like you were fading in and out of consciousness through their conversation, hearing bits and pieces about a GPS and Derek. It wasn’t enough for you to piece together to make sense, so instead you just shifted your focus to Lydia, letting your thoughts be consumed by her.

“Stiles,” you whispered, trying your hardest to look up at him to see his face. He glanced down at you, nodding his head. “I know, I know. But I’m gonna get you help.”

He turned back to Peter, practically begging at this point. “I told you what I know. Now you said you wouldn’t kill them if I told you, and she needs help. Please, she’s gonna bleed out.”

Peter pushed himself to his feet, standing at his full height as he watched you and Stiles. “You’re coming with me.”

The boy rapidly shook his head. “I’m not just letting you leave them here.”

“You don’t have a choice, Stiles. You’re coming with me.”

He couldn’t honestly think of anything worse right now or ever.

“J-Just kill me. Look, I don’t care anymore.” Peter approached you both slowly, his fingertips coming to settle under your boyfriend’s chin. The man’s strength and threat of his claws in Stiles' throat forced him to stand, his bloody hands leaving you and leaving your body no choice but to fall back now he was no longer holding you up.

“Call your friend. Tell Jackson where they are. That’s all you get.”

You could hear him panting as Peter marched away. Through your cloudy eyes you were able to make out the sight of Stiles pulling his phone out of his pocket. While doing so he fell to his knees by your side, his free hand cupping your cheek to make you look at him. He talked to you gently while the phone rang.

“I need you to stay with me, okay? Jackson’s gonna get you help, you’re gonna be okay.” You were pretty sure even he didn’t believe what he was saying, but you wanted to keep hoping. You weren’t ready to die now. “Try and keep pressure on that,” he instructed, guiding your hands to Peter’s deep claw marks. He could feel your body shivering from both the cold and the fear, pulling his jacket tighter around your body.

You were blinking back tears as you listened to his voice speak to Jackson in a panic. You heard him say something about bringing someone with him to get both of you, but it was all very muffled. All you properly registered was that he was talking again. “Hey, I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be back for you,” he promised. “I love you, Y/N.”

He placed a teary kiss to your lips and was then taking off to follow Peter in a haste. The next thing you remembered was being in someone’s arms, specifically Danny’s if you’d worked it out correctly. He was following quickly behind Jackson who was carrying Lydia, screaming at the people outside of the school for help. They begged for someone to call an ambulance, Danny setting your body down as gently as possible to make sure he was able to keep pressure on your wound. “Danny..?” you whimpered.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

»»——⍟——««

You didn’t remember anything else until you woke up in the hospital. You knew nothing about anything at that point. What time it was, how long you’d been there, where your clothes from the night had gone, how you even got there; you knew nothing and you hated it. But what you did know was there was still pain shooting through your body every now and then, although you assumed you were probably on some kind of painkiller. Clearly they didn’t help soothe werewolf related injuries.

Sheriff was the first one you saw when you opened your eyes, his soft smile similar to your boyfriend’s bringing you a warm comfort. The more you surveyed the room the more you realised more people were in there. Your parents were sitting on two chairs beside your hospital bed, your brother curled up against your legs asleep. You smiled weakly, slowly shifting your hand to run your fingers through his messy hair.

“Oh thank god,” you heard your mother cry, her lips being pressed to your forehead. The movement had alerted her you were awake, finally letting her breathe now that she knew you were really okay. She could’ve just believed the doctors, but until she saw her baby looking right back at her, telling her she was okay for herself, she just couldn’t listen to them.

“Had us all worried there, kiddo.” Your dad ruffled your hair affectionately, just as your brother began to rouse from his sleep. It was the noise other than the constant beeping off your heart monitor that let him know something in the atmosphere of the room had changed.

He nearly leaped at you, until he remembered you were injured and probably shouldn’t. Then he settled for a gentle hug, telling you he was so glad you were okay, and that your scar would look so badass (but you couldn’t tell mom he’d said that).

A commotion of yelling out in the hallway was what alerted Sheriff that Jackson was here and looking for Lydia, exactly the person he wanted to talk to. He looked back at you in the bed surrounded by your family for a second, he knew Stiles should’ve been there, unfortunately he didn’t know where his son was though. Your attention was drawn to your boyfriend’s dad as you watched him glance at Jackson through the window of your room.

“I’m glad you’re okay, kid.” He gently squeezed your hand, telling you he’d be back before he hurried off to talk with Jackson. The gesture was sweet and reminded you of one of many reasons you loved Stiles’ dad so much.

Your eyes were glued to him as he stalked his way over to the teen, hoping to listen in on their conversation. That plan didn’t go very well though. You could see their lips moving and you could make out what he said when he yelled, but not when he spoke only to Jackson in a soft tone. You were sure it was just routine questions considering he’d been the one that had first rushed into the crowd with an unconscious body in his arms. Even though you couldn’t hear, you continued to watch, so you were shocked when you watched the older man grip the richkid’s shirt, pushing him against the wall of another room.

You could faintly make out something about him saying it wasn’t his fault, that Stiles had been the one to call and tell him where the two of you were, and he’d simply acted on that. You watched Noah back off, your heart aching for him that you couldn’t explain what had happened. But it all suddenly made you realise that Stiles wasn’t back yet from wherever he went off to with Peter, and that terrified you. Your mother was the one to notice your heartbeat was climbing, setting her hand on your shoulder.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Your chest was rising and falling more rapidly as she reached out for you, seeing the tears lining your eyes in your sudden state of panic. “Stiles. Where’s Stiles?”

Your parents didn’t know what to do, your mom grabbing your hand and your dad preparing to call in a nurse if he needed to. Your heart rate was getting dangerously high and they could all see that on the monitor, but they didn’t know why thinking about Stiles had you so panicked. They obviously didn’t know he’d gone off with the psycho killer that’d put you in the hospital in the first place, so they didn’t understand the sudden freakout.

“He’ll be here, sweetheart. We just need you to calm down.” It took a little longer to get you to copy her breathing enough to lower your heart rate, and you had to be honest it did help you feel better. Though you wouldn’t be completely relaxed until you received some confirmation he was at the minimum alive.

True to your mother’s word he did show up eventually, finally letting your body relax as you knew Peter hadn’t killed him. You didn’t see him when he first got there, not until you saw Noah pushing him back from making his way to you. It made you slightly angry that his interrogation couldn’t wait, especially when Stiles didn’t know if you were okay. But you understood he was confused about what the hell had happened tonight.

“Dad- I- Is Y/N okay? Is Lydia gonna be okay?” He couldn’t see you from where he stood, but he could see clearly into the other girl’s room where she was clearly asleep. You didn’t hear what he told his son, but you hoped it was enough to calm his anxiety, you didn’t know if you could emotionally handle seeing one of Stiles’ panic attacks right now.

Before you knew it the door to your hospital room was opening, Stiles rushing in with relief written all over his face. “Hey,” you quietly greeted. Your dad was the one to usher your family out of the room, wanting to give you a few minutes alone together. He had a feeling after seeing younger Stilinski’s reaction upon entering the hospital that this would be emotional. He wasted no time, pressing his lips to yours intensely.

It stole your breath away for a few seconds, the amount of pure, raw emotion from him making your head spin, but in a good way this time. He barely pulled away, his nose still brushing yours and his hands still cupping your face as he spoke. “God, I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

You wanted to skip the reunion for the moment, concerned about where he went and what happened after he left you on the lacrosse field. “What happened with Peter?”

He shook his head. “That’s not important right now. ‘M just glad you’re okay.”

You didn’t want to argue with him, you didn’t have the strength, so you moved on like he wanted, hoping he’d tell you the Peter story when you were feeling better. “And Lydia?”

He frowned, not quite the answer you were wanting. All you knew was that she was alive, but you didn’t know anything else about her current state. “M-My dad said they don’t know.”

There was a beat of silence before he was speaking up again, but not with words you wanted to hear. “I have to go talk to him again, jus’ wanted to come see you first.” You frowned, gripping his wrist as tightly as you could. He’d only just got here, you weren’t quite ready to see him go yet. You’d hoped upon his arrival he’d stay and hold you for a while, maybe stroke your hair while you tried to get some sleep; Not that your current memories of the night would let you. “D’you have to go?”

“I’ll come back. I promise.” You smiled softly, accepting his sweet kiss. “You better.”

»»——⍟——««

True to his word he did come back later that night. Your family headed home for the night with the knowledge that Stiles was going to stay with you so you wouldn’t be alone. He’d changed clothes since he’d been gone, probably taken a quick shower too, and ever the angel had even brought you your favourite stuffed bear from your room at home.

You thanked him with a grateful smile, scooting over in the hospital bed as gently as you could to not hurt yourself in order to make room for him.

Once he got the okay from you, he climbed in, wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders, letting you nuzzle into his chest. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions or places to sleep. But it was what you had to work with, and you supposed sharing it with Stiles was better than sleeping in it alone.

“How do you feel?” he asked, lips grazing over your hairline. You hummed quietly. “Hurts, but I’ll live I guess.”

The two of you delved into a comfortable silence. His hand was stroking over your hair, an occasional subconscious kiss being placed on your head every few minutes. Your eyes drifted a little, catching sight of the girl laying in the hospital bed in the room opposite yours, a frown curling on your lips.

“Any updates on Lydia?” you asked quietly. You were honestly scared to know the answer. He smiled softly, telling you what his dad had told him. “She’s gonna be okay.”

A weight felt like it was lifted off of your shoulders. You’d been waiting to hear that news all night and you underestimated the amount of relief you’d feel knowing she was alive and well.

“I should also probably tell you, Peter’s dead, and Allison’s aunt.” Your eyes widened, head whipping around to look at him. Why wasn’t that the first thing he told you? Not only was the man who’d put you here dead, but one of your friends was also grieving right now. Was that why she hadn’t come to see you yet? He was just sitting here making innocent conversation with you this whole time when something big had clearly happened while he’d been gone.

“And you’re only just telling me?”

He tried to defend himself but not much of an answer really came out, ending up with him just shrugging shyly as he sank further into the bed beside you. “Wanted to know you were okay first. That’s more important to me.”

His answer made you pout. He was so cute and you hated the hold he had on you because of it. You couldn’t be mad at him when he was that adorable. “What happened?”

He explained the story of the arson, the Hale house fire unravelling and all about Kate, then the necklace she’d given Allison as a birthday present and Jackson going with him to the Hale house. He didn’t miss out the chance to tell you he’d manage to convince Jackson to let him drive the Porsche, adding in that it was so awesome.

It was kind of all over the place, with the makeshift fire bombs, the Peter killing Kate, the Derek killing Peter. All of it was really confusing, but all you knew was that the nightmare you’d been living was over; at least for the most part. Scott was still very much a werewolf, you couldn’t change that and Stiles said something about Scott and Allison not being together again, but who knows.

“‘M glad it’s all over,” you whispered, nuzzling your face closer to your boyfriend. He hummed quietly, agreeing with you. He just felt more calmed knowing Peter couldn’t hurt you again, he never wanted to have to experience that level of fear he felt seeing you bleeding out in his arms.

“It’s over,” he muttered, more like he needed to convince himself more than confirm for you. “And everyone’s okay.”

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski imagines #teen wolf #stiles stilinski x you

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tangledinink · 2 years ago

Note

Question about your Teenage Mutant What Now AU!

Has Leo always just been in puberty blockers since forever? Because I'm assuming he never had a period in his life because, well, reptiles menstruation is laying eggs

Kinda! I've actually thought about this a lot because I had the same question and went back and forth on it for a while. tldr; Leo has been on puberty blockers for the past three+ years and has never had a full menstrual cycle, but he does menstruate rather than lay eggs, at least when he's under the effect of his bracelet. Further details abt Leo's trans experience and how the cloaking crystals work below!

Leo has been on puberty blockers since he turned twelve and went on them before he had his first period. As we've established, Yoshi just kind of discovered that Leo was afab when he put the cloaking bracelets on them for the first time and was like "fuck it I don't have the time to unpack this right now you're Leo and you're my son whatever lesgo," and that was just kinda that and everyone involved was always just down with Leo being Leo. Leo certainly never had a problem with it, and he never felt any desire to switch over to being a girl and would get pretty upset if anyone (such as teachers or other parents) suggested he may be female. As such, Yoshi has always just treated Leo as his son and is more than willing to defend him from anyone who ever questioned his identity. His brothers, likewise, have always been very defensive of Leo and quite frankly were usually confused as children if anyone tried to say Leo was their sister. 'Cause??? Like??? Literally no he's not??? He's always been our brother???

When Leo was around eleven Yoshi did sit him down to actually talk to him about it in-depth, like, 'I love you no matter what and I support your choices but we've never actually for-real talked about this and I wanna make sure this is something that you want and not just something that you went along with,' (Leo, of course, at that point doesn't realize WHY he 'came out as trans' when he was five, he just kind of figures that he must have made the decision to start presenting as masc and go by 'Leo' when he was very little and doesn't remember it now,) as well as discuss the option of puberty blockers with him and ask if that's something he wants. And Leo is 1000% like. YES, I'm sure I'm a boy and YES I want to go on puberty blockers so very much I've been dreading the concept of puberty for months now pleeeesssase let's do that. So... they do, and that's that!

(And Yoshi would have gone along with whatever Leo said, but internally he's like, OH THANK GOD, because he's also like ?!?! How tf would turtle puberty translate?! Would the cloaking crystals cover that??? Surely my son wouldn't lay FUCKING EGGS but holy shit what if he did and would I be morally obligated to warn him just in case--!?!)

I do think that the cloaking crystals cover menstruation, however. In this AU, the cloaking crystals (at least the ones the Hamatos have) do provide an active transforming effect rather than just a 'disguise.' I don't think it could really work otherwise! It's definitely not a 100% transformative effect, though, and their true biology still plays a major influence on them. (ie they get cold easily! They swim really well and can hold their breath for a long time! They're naturally more athletically inclined than most other kids and a lot hardier! etc. etc. etc.) but I don't think it would leave gaps as big as to let them lay eggs or anything like that, just like it doesn't allow them to shed their skin or to go into full brumation. It's also worth noting that they're turtle mutants, but they're not full turtles. They're half-human, too! So who's to say if Leo would lay eggs even if didn't have the cloaking crystals or the puberty blockers? He does end up having one little baby period right after he goes on blockers, which is not super uncommon, and is very dramatic about it, but April big-sisters him through it and he hasn't had any since. In the fic he is currently in the process of starting testosterone in the near future, which is something that will be discussed/explored in later chapters!

#sorrywhatnowau #lore #asks #anon #leo #menstruation #periods #periods cw

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bookshelf-in-progress · 11 months ago

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What the hey. I'll ask for some feedback right here on the blog.

I haven't touched my "Twelve Dancing Princesses" retelling in a while because I'm unsure about the style. When I was brainstorming a list of retelling possibilities, the first line of this one jumped out at me and made me start writing in a non-traditional point-of-view. I like the intimacy of it, but the story started expanding into more detail than I initially intended, so I'm not sure if it serves the story or just makes it more confusing. If you stumbled on a story written like this unawares, would it still make sense, etc.?

So I'm posting the first couple of scenes (2,400 words) to give you a taste of what it would be. It's still pretty rough, so there are some things about character and plot that don't make complete sense, but I could use some general feedback about readability. Is it worth continuing in this way or should I overhaul it to something more traditional? Is the story worth continuing at all? And so on.

(FYI: This is a retelling of the French version of the fairy tale, popularized by Andrew Lang, so all unique details come from that version).

Unseen: A Retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses

We go to the same garden every day, but you never see me. Why should you? You are the Princess Sonatina, youngest daughter of the greatest king on five continents, while I am only a gardener's assistant, with not even a surname of my own, except one that was given to me half as a taunt for my daydreaming ways. If you were ever to ask, I would tell you I answer to Michael Stargazer--but you never will think to ask, and I will never presume to speak.

Instead, I work silently in the gardens, while you wander past with your sisters--eleven of them, all unsurpassed in beauty of face and form and voice--laughing and chatting and singing snatches of songs. You are, all of you, more beautiful and vibrant than any of the flowers I tend, and I feel more alive just being near you.

Then the day comes when your morning songs are silent. You drag weary feet through the gardens, look blankly at the beauties of the world, lounge wearily along the edges of fountains and atop retaining walls. The rumor comes that every night, you are--all of you--wearing through your shoes.

Were I a prince, I would think no quest too perilous to save you from such sickness. I would climb a million trees in search of golden apples, cross storm-filled oceans in search of the Water of Life, work a dozen years at impossible tasks to find the key to ending your curse.

But I'm only a gardener, and nobody's son, so it falls to those with name and fortune to try their hands at saving you. The king has vowed that the man who finds the secret of where you go at night will win your hand in marriage, and there are many who are willing and worthy to try.

They are wonderful men--strong and handsome, noble and brave, with royal titles, vast holdings, great fortunes, and skills and talents that a simple gardener could never match. Any one of them would make a fine husband for a princess. Yet all of them, to a man, disappear within a day of taking up their task.

The rumors turn darker then, casting you not as victims but villains, luring men to their deaths with some dark magic of your own. Those who say such things did not see you in the gardens, or that would know that not one of you is capable of anything near what they accuse you of. Unfortunately, no one will ask a garden lad's thoughts, and I cannot speak unbidden unless I have proof.

So I go to the gardens and find two tiny rose trees. The head gardener tried to tear them out, in my first days at the palace, and I convinced him to let them live. I have watered them, fed them, saved them from disease and decay, told them stories of the princesses they serve. You have never seen them, I'm sure--you have never seen me--but though they are small, they are fine little plants, with dark, glossy green leaves, and little buds that seem always to be waiting for just the right time to bloom. An old woman told me once that they were wishing trees, planted in the earliest days of the kingdom's existence, and my service to them meant I had only to speak to them, and they would give me whatever I asked.

For myself, I want nothing--wishes too easily become the ruin of those who have them granted--but for you, I would dare all. I ask my two rose trees to make me not only unseen, but unseeable, able to follow wherever you go without detection.

The rose tree sprouts a single bloom, its petals so white and delicate they are almost transparent. When I pluck it from the bush, I disappear from sight. I place it in my buttonhole and move about the gardens, unseen by all who cross my path, even in the brightest sun.

That night, I follow you into the bedroom you share with your sisters, and I hide beneath the largest bed while the room above fills with the sounds of rustling dresses, clinking jewels, and girlish whispers. At last, your eldest sister Aria declares you dressed to perfection and calls for silence.

I creep out from under the bed and find you and your sisters dressed in ballroom finery--silks and satins and twelve pairs of perfectly-mended dancing shoes. I take my place just behind you, and find you more beautiful than ever in this moonlit room.

Aria pulls aside a tapestry, and the blank stone wall suddenly becomes an open doorway leading to a torchlit staircase. You all rush through in single file. I keep close at your heels, afraid that I'll be left behind unseen if I give the door a chance to close.

Aria stands back to hold open the tapestry. I rush past where she stands, afraid she'll follow too close and crash into my unseen form. In doing so, I trod too close to your skirt, and the fabric tears beneath my foot as you take your first steps down the stairs.

You shriek and grab hold of Lyra, standing just before you on the stairs. "Someone stood on my skirt!" you scream.

I hold myself flat against the damp stone wall, heart pounding so fast that I'm certain you hear me.

Aria breezes down the staircase, head held high, the crown princess rolling her eyes at her foolish juniors. "Don't be silly, Tina," Aria says. "I was nowhere near you on the stairs."

You protest that you felt someone on your skirt, but your cries for belief are drowned out by eleven dissenting voices, and they all continue down the staircase. You go only reluctantly, looking back at me--right through me--a thousand times as you go forth. Were it not for the weight of my mission, I would cast off the rose in the hope of a single moment when our eyes could truly meet.

After what seems like a million stairs, we emerge into an open clearing that would look like the outdoors if there was any sight of sky above. Trees tower over us with drops of silver on their branches, like rain upon the leaves. Further down the path is a gold-spattered orchard, each precious drop catching the soft white light that comes from I know not where. Even further beyond is a forest full of diamonds, every stone flashing rainbows that remind me of the fire in your eyes.

The forests are strange, but also strangely unsurprising--as though they've always been here, but simply unseen. Your sisters whisper of the night that this place was wished into existence--a place where they might revel in pure beauty and joy, away from the weighty eyes of the watchful world. But the forest, it seems, is only a prelude--the true marvel is far ahead. We emerge onto the shores of a shimmering lake--so vast, so deep, and so darkly blue that I can see neither the bottom nor the opposite shore. On an island in its center stands a castle so magnificent that it makes your father's palace seem like a paper toy. Its white, sculpted spires glitter with gems in a thousand colors, every brick spangled with precious stones. Its windows hold wonders caught in flawless stained glass. Music sweeter than any I've ever heard pours out its open doors, and the light from within forms a shining path across the lake--upon which float twelve sleek obsidian-colored boats.

Each boat has a boatman who rows swiftly toward the shore, and as they approach, I find that I know all the faces. Every one of these men is a prince who failed at finding your secret--or rather, they found it, and did not return. They are dressed in silks and velvets unlike any I've seen in the outer world, too rich for comprehension. As they slide up to the shore and each offer a place to one of you girls, they wear smiles that shine as bright as your own--but there is also something empty in their eyes.

You, as the youngest, take your place in the very last boat of all, piloted by a king's younger son whose sires have ruled half a continent for centuries. He smiles and bows as he takes you by the hand. The way your eyes light up make me wonder if I've seen what you look like in love.

The prince rows with arms strengthened by a warrior's skill--I doubt he's ever held a shovel in his life--but the other boats still outpace us by far.

"Why are you so slow tonight?" you ask him, half teasing, but with a trace of true annoyance.

"The boat is heavy," he says, "and I know not why."

You glance backward, toward where I sit in the stern, and again, I half-wish you could see me. But I let out a sigh of relief when you turn your eyes back toward the castle and give no further thought to unknowable truths.

We disembark on a dock just beneath the castle entrance, and in moments we are inside the palace of enchantment itself. This is a ballroom beyond what I could imagine--floors of marble streaked with gold and silver, towering windows displaying fantastical birds and beasts, spidery silver chandeliers holding thousands of brightly-lit candles, and at the far end of the room, tables tottering beneath food enough to feed an army, and half a nation besides.

But this splendor is nothing compared to the beauty of the music. It is like a living thing--vibrant, rapturous, all-consuming, pulling all into it like a roaring, flowing river, so the moment one steps through the door, there is nothing one can do but dance. Your prince pulls you into his arms, and your sisters' princes do the same, and soon you are swirling through that wondrous room, beauty and motion and life all brought to their fullness and put into perfect order.

All along the edges of that room are other faces--other princes who've failed at your father's quest--and they all take their turn in the dance. If I thought you alive in the gardens, you are a thousand times more vibrant now, laughing and dancing so you glow with pure joy. These princes are your perfect partners, matching you with every step, reflecting the glow that you bring to the room. If I ever thought that I could take a place beside them, maybe win your father's wager and claim a princess for my bride, that spark is snuffed by the brightness of your blaze. You are ethereal, almost angelic, and could never be happy with one whose hands are stained from working with the common, solid Earth.

While the princes take their turns, you and your sisters dance without ceasing, and I no longer wonder how you could wear through your shoes in a single night. Those shoes are little more than tatters by the time the last note of the last dance plays, and the twelve of you trudge toward the boats to reach bed. Your princes are silent as they row the boats to the forested shore, and you, Sonantina, do not say a word about his slowness.

When you reach the banks, the prince bids you farewell, then all twelve of them row back to the palace, choosing to stay in the splendor rather than return to the pressures of their ordinary lives. After what I have seen, I cannot blame them for their choice.

But you and your sisters choose to return to your father. You trudge through the diamond, then gold, then silver-speckled forests, and as your sisters file one-by-one up the staircase, I realize that none of this fantastic tale will have a ring of truth unless I have something to bring as proof. I reach toward the nearest tree and snap off a slender branch. It disappears from sight as soon as I touch it to my clothes, but the sound of its breaking rings through that silent wood like a gunshot.

You jump at the sound, and are suddenly wide, wide awake.

"What was that?" you ask your sister.

Aria once again rolls her eyes. "Only an owl," she says. "You know it roosts in the castle at night."

The explanation does not please you, I can tell, but having no other, you fall silent and leave the silver woods behind.

When you are all safely asleep in bed, I slip unseen through the door and make my way invisibly to my small cot in the servants' quarters. When I lay on my bunk, I take off the rose, and my face reappears in the reflection off the washing bowl. I look as I did before I left, though infinitely wearier, and perhaps--though it might only be fancy--I carry something in my eyes of the enchantment of the night.

In my hands sits the branch I broke, its leaves as green, its silver dewdrops as solid, as they were in that fantastical land. I imagine myself taking it to the king at dawn, having triumphed where the sons of kings and emperors have failed.

Then I imagine the you and your sisters standing by. In a horrible flash, the daydream shatters, and I see myself for what I am--a sneak and a spook, who crept uninvited into a strange woman's room to steal evidence that would cut her off completely from the place she loves most in the world. If I have a role in this tale, it is as the villain, not the hero. I have triumphed in discovering the secret, but if I have any love in my heart for you, I cannot think of speaking.

After a short hour's sleep, I awake with the dawn, but I do not go to the king with what I've found.

Instead, I go to the head gardener and get myself assigned the task of bringing the twelve princesses their morning bouquets. I gather careful handfuls of daisies and larkspur and bind them together with handfuls of greenery. I hand them to your sisters one by one as they come bleary-eyed to your bedroom door. When you come to me, last of all, I make sure that your bouquet contains a single silver-spangled branch.

Then, at last, you see me.

#adventures in writing #fairy tale retellings #the twelve dancing princesses

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hungermakesmonsters · 11 months ago

Text

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Eighteen

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's some dark stuff pertaining to an abusive past relationship, attempted murder, and vague details of a car crash. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~4.4k

A/N : Set about a week after the last one! I'm honestly a little nervous about this chapter, I hope you like it! As always thanks so much for reading!

Chapter Eighteen

The whole world came crashing down around you in a single moment.

You didn’t realise until it was too late to stop it, until it was too late to change anything and avoid the inevitable consequences.

The private investigator took the envelope full of cash before sliding the file across the table to you, sparing you one last glance and a couple of words of warning before climbing out of the booth and heading towards the exit. Your gaze followed him out of the diner and onto the street, where he walked past -

Your heart stopped.

Frank.

He had his phone out, pointing right at you through the diner window, a mix of betrayal and disappointment on his face. It took a moment to figure out what was happening, for the penny to finally drop, but when it did, you felt your entire body fill with panic; he thought you were the security threat, the person who’d been digging into anvil over the last couple of months.

Your heart started to race, knowing that he was going to tell Billy what he thought he’d seen, that he’d seen you paying off the PI who’d been snooping around Anvil. You scrambled out of the booth, almost tripping over your own feet, desperate to get to Frank and fix the situation before it spiralled out of control.

But he was already on the phone by the time you got outside. You kept the file clutched to your chest, holding it against you like a shield as you approached the imposing figure of Frank Castle, stomach knotting as you heard him speak.

“Yeah, Bill, I’ll deal with it,” his eyes fixed on you as you stopped in front of him.

You waited in silence, for a moment thinking you could just about hear Billy’s voice on the other end of the phone before Frank hung up and dropped his phone into his pocket.

“I’m gonna need you to give me that,” Frank said, holding out his hand, expecting you to hand the file over.

“I can’t.” Because, despite everything that was happening, you knew one thing for sure; you couldn’t let anyone see the file, couldn’t let them know about your past.

“Y’know, the crazy thing is that I thought Bill was gonna be the one to break your heart, not the other way around,” Frank shook his head.

“You don’t understand -”

“Pretty sure I do,” he interrupted, not willing to listen to your explanations, “you’ve had your PI lookin’ into Anvil and Bill for weeks now, so give it up.”

“No, that’s not -” but you could already tell that he wasn’t going to listen to you, that he’d made up his mind. “I need to see Billy, I have to explain this to him.”

“That’s great ‘cause he’s already waiting at Anvil for you.”

You stared at him for a moment before realising that you had a choice to make - he couldn’t very well bundle you into his car in broad daylight, but you were aware how bad it would look for you if you refused to go with him. You’d just given up every single dollar to your name for the file in your hand and, now, you needed to make sure that it hadn’t all been for nothing.

“Okay,” you relented, “take me to Billy.”

Frank gave a grunt and nodded towards his truck. You followed after him, climbing into the passenger seat and keeping your eyes fixed forward. Once he’d started the engine, you reached for your phone, hastily typing up a message to Karen, wanting to try and explain what was going on before Frank told her.

“Who you texting?” Frank asked suddenly, taking his eyes off the road.

“Karen, I -” he snatched your phone before you could finish, your thumb managing to hit send on the half finished message as he pulled it away from you. “What the fuck?”

“You’re not draggin’ Karen into this shit,” he told you, his eyes returning to the road just in time to keep from running a red light - a sharp stop that caused your anxiety to spike even more, reminding you of the accident years ago. You were so distracted that you only caught the last half of what Frank was saying, “- when Bill’s done with you.”

You didn’t argue, didn’t ask him to repeat himself. You just wanted him to concentrate on the road. So, you remained silent, clutching the file to your chest and watching out the windscreen. The way he drove across the city made your heart race and your chest tighten, practically jumping out of your skin with every screech of brakes or honk of a horn.

And, when you reached Anvil some fifteen minutes later, you were quick to scramble out of the truck, almost gasping for breath.

He gave another grunt, indicating that you should follow him and, stupidly, you did just that. You didn’t realise that anything was wrong until you were in the elevator and realised that you were being taken down to the basement level instead of up to Billy’s office.

“Why aren’t we going to Billy’s office?” You asked, dread already starting to coil in your stomach.

“Bill doesn’t want you in his office,” Frank answered as the doors slid open, revealing a cold and terrifying looking corridor.

“I want my phone back.” You told him, unable to stop the fear from filling your tone.

“Told you, you can have it back when Bill’s done with you,” he motioned for you to start moving and, with no other option, you did.

When the elevator doors slid shut, your thoughts started to spiral to dark places you didn’t want them to go, to memories of feeling trapped and powerless. A lump rose in your throat and tears were already starting to sting your eyes as your footsteps echoed down the long hallway. When Frank stopped and opened a door, you let him usher you inside before you realised your mistake.

The door closed behind you, leaving you trapped and alone in what appeared to be an interrogation room. Had your state of mind been better, you might have realised that the room was used for training new recruits and conducting interviews but, since you were panicking, all you could think was that you were going to be trapped there until you confessed to all of the things you hadn’t done.

You turned back to the door quickly, pulling at the handle. You weren’t surprised to find it locked, but it did nothing to stop the panic that was raging inside of you.

The room had a long metal table and two chairs, one on either side, but you didn’t move to sit. You couldn’t move at all, terror had you rooted in place, your fingers still tightly gripping the file against your chest. There was a camera blinking in the corner of the room and you felt your stomach drop; was Billy watching you right now, could he see the terror on your face? (And, if he could, why wasn’t he coming to help you?)

Minutes passed before Billy stepped into the room. You stayed frozen as he stepped around you and you waited - you waited for him to tell you that this was all some big mistake, that he knew you’d never do the things Frank had accused you of. But it never came. As he took a seat, your eyes closed tight, silently willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare.

Another minute passed in total silence, like he was waiting for you to speak first and dig your own grave, but you couldn’t even look at him, much less form the words you needed to explain all of this to him.

“Just give me the file,” he finally said.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, eyes still closed tight.

“Who are you working for?” There was something cold in his voice, something broken and full of pain and, despite everything he was putting you thought, some part of you longed to comfort him.

“No one, I’m not -”

“Don’t lie to me!” The sound of his open palm hitting the surface of the table caused you to flinch, your eyes opening as you took a step back and pressed yourself against the wall, needing to put as much distance between you and Billy as possible. “You paid someone to look into Anvil, into me.”

“No, that’s not what happened! You don’t understand -”

“What were you after; finances? Mission details? How much were you getting paid?” His tone got sharper with every word.

“I wasn’t after anything, that’s not what this is. It’s not about Anvil -” you tried desperately still, somehow, holding onto some small glimmer of hope that you could fix things before they got too broken.

“Bullshit!”

“Please, Billy,” you struggled to find the words in your panic, “you promised that you’d trust me, that you’d -”

“I did trust you!”

His use of the past tense caused something to break inside of you, and you felt a sort of pain that you hadn’t felt in years, the sort of pain that could only be inflicted by someone you loved.

“Stop, please, Billy just -” you tried again, blinking back tears.

Everything was falling apart around you, the future you’d let yourself hope for was slipping away; you were going to move in with him, you were going to go work for The Bulletin, and you were finally going to start rebuilding your life after so many years of just existing and scraping a living. All your dreams were dying all at once, all because he wouldn’t listen to you, because he couldn’t trust you.

Some part of you knew that if you could just find the words, you’d be able to make him understand, but your panicked, racing mind couldn’t focus enough to say or do anything to help fix things.

“How long?” He asked coldly, ignoring your tears. “How long have you been lying to me, using me?”

“I wasn’t lying! Why won’t you listen to me? Why can’t you trust me?” You heard yourself begging desperately.

“Because you’ve been lying to me for months!” His voice got louder, sharper, and you no longer recognised the man in front of you. This wasn’t your Billy, this was someone else entirely. “You know, you really had me fooled, pretending to be this wounded little thing, acting like you wanted me, like we had something.”

“It wasn’t an act!” You managed to raise your voice to match him, desperate to make him listen, to convince him that you still cared, but Billy didn’t even seem to hear it. “Please, just - just let me explain. I can explain this.”

“Explain what? That none of this was real? That you tricked me into wanting you so you could get close enough to stab me in the back? Did you get paid extra to fuck me or was jumping into my bed just part of the game for you?” You could still hear the pain in his tone, but the moment Billy said those words to you, something inside of you snapped.

Your stomach continued to tie itself in knots. You hated every little thing about this, hated how he thought you were as bad as all of the other people who had used him and lied to him to get what they wanted. But your pain quickly started to turn to anger - he wasn’t the only one who’d ever been hurt, he wasn’t the only one who’d been lied to and used. As hurt as Billy obviously was by this whole situation, he’d broken his promises to you; he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t hear you out, wouldn’t trust you.

You were being blamed for something you hadn’t done and you were going to lose everything because of it. Again.

“You think I jumped into bed with you?” Your tone turned sharper, colder, and more certain - because, in all of this, if you were certain of one thing, it was that you did not just jump into bed with him. Finally you had his attention, just in time for you to tell him; “falling in love with you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Billy. And you’ve just managed to prove why it was such a stupid idea.”

It was the first time you’d dared utter that you loved him aloud, but you were no longer scared of how he was going to react to the revelation or how vulnerable it would make you feel. It was too late to care about any of that. You’d come to Anvil hoping to save things with Billy but that dream was now over.

And, for the first time since all of this began, you realised that the truth of your past couldn’t hurt you anymore. It didn’t matter if Billy knew because he’d already given up on you, whatever was between you was over now, and everything you’d done to try and preserve it had been for nothing.

“Fine,” you relented, forcing yourself to step away from the wall and towards the table. Once you were close enough you slammed the file down in front of him so hard that its contents spilled out across the table; photographs of you, notes about your work, your friends and your finances.

Billy’s eyes dropped, quickly looking over it, starting to move things, rummaging through the paperwork, trying to make sense of it.

“It was never about you or Anvil. He was looking for me. And I just spent every penny I had paying him off so I wouldn’t have to leave New York, so I wouldn’t have to leave you. But I guess the jokes on me, because you don’t even care enough to keep your promises to me and just listen for five fucking minutes.” By the time you’d finished, you had to cover your mouth to try and suppress the sobs that were desperate to escape you.

Billy stayed silent, rifling through the pages and photographs in front of him, seeming to become more frantic with every passing second as he looked for something, anything, to prove that he hadn’t just destroyed your relationship for nothing.

You watched him for a second, knowing exactly what he’d find in the file, and knowing the questions he’d inevitably have for you when he found the details of your sister's death, and the car crash that had left you scarred. But it was too late for any of that now, he’d lost any right to ask anything about your past.

Moving back to the door, you gave the handle a sharp tug, even though you were pretty certain that the door was still locked.

“Wait -” his broken tone caused you to bristle. Where once you would have felt compassion, you now only felt anger.

“Let me out.”

“I don’t understand,” he told you, as he got to his feet and started to move towards you, his expression one of confusion instead of anger. You held up a hand, wanting him to keep his distance and Billy stopped. In his hand he was holding a copy of the photograph that he’d seen on your bedside table all those weeks ago, the photo of you and your siblings as children. “Please, help me understand this. I want to understand.”

“Which part, Billy? The part where you refused to listen, when you wouldn’t hear me out, when you wouldn’t trust me like you promised?” A hand scrubbed at your cheek, desperately trying to wipe away your tears, not wanting him to see just how much he’d wounded you. “Or the part where you thought so little of me that you thought I was fucking you just to get information on your company?”

“I didn’t know, I -”

“You wouldn’t let me explain!” You yelled and it was Billy’s turn to flinch at your tone. “I gave up everything I had to get that file, and now it doesn’t even matter. None of this matters anymore.”

“It matters, it -” he tried, obviously struggling for words, “- why didn’t you tell me?

“Why didn’t you believe me?” you threw back at him. ”Why is it so hard for you to trust me? Do you even trust anyone?”

“I’m sorry, I never -”

“Just - just stop. It’s too late.” You shook your head. It hurt too much and every word, every plea that left him only made the ache in your chest feel worse. “You promised me that you’d listen. I trusted you and you ruined it. You’ve ruined us.”

“No... don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.” His voice continued to crack and break, and it was almost enough to make you want to back down, but you knew you couldn’t. Not after this. He’d broken his promise to you and left you feeling more wounded and alone than you’d ever felt. “I’m sorry, let me fix this, sweetheart, please.”

“Fix this?” You almost managed to laugh through the tears. “There is no fixing this, Billy. You’ve ruined it. You broke my heart.”

“No, no... please, I -” for a moment he looked at you like those three little words were on the tip of his tongue, like he was ready to confess his love, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Just stop. You don’t get to fight for me, Billy. Not now. Not after this.” You told him angrily. “I told you I couldn’t do this if you didn’t trust me.”

“You said you fell in love with me,” the words came out so softly that you almost didn’t hear them.

You could see the thinly masked distress on his face, the pain and misery that you’d managed to cause with that one, silly admission. You hated yourself for blurting it out like that, like you were some character in a soap opera or some shitty romance novel. And, if he’d been anyone else, you might have been angrier at his obliviousness to your feelings - of course you’d fallen in love with him, it had been so fucking obvious - but Billy had always been honest with you; he didn’t know love, didn’t understand it. All the people who were supposed to love him and abandoned him.

But not you. That was not what this was. You weren’t abandoning him, he’s pushed you to breaking point. This time it was Billy’s fault.

“What did you think was gonna happen?” You dared to ask, not even bothering to try and hide your pain anymore. “I’m not like you, Billy, I can’t just turn off my emotions whenever things get difficult.”

“You love me?” He took a step closer, the look on his face suggesting that he still thought that there was some way that he could fix things.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters to me, please, I -”

The door opened and, before he could finish that thought, you were rushing back out into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between yourself and Billy as possible. He followed after, your name dying on his lips when he saw Karen and Frank standing there.

“Sorry, Bill, she -” Frank started, looking at Karen who was now holding your phone.

“You’re both assholes,” she stated and neither man dared argue with her. Obviously, thankfully, she’d managed to figure out what was going on and where you were just from the half of a text message that you’d managed to send before Frank had confiscated your phone.

Her arm quickly pulled around your shoulders and she started to lead you towards the elevator while you tried to choke back tears. You didn’t dare look back until you were in the elevator; Billy looked heartbroken, following after you but keeping his distance.

“Please, I -” he tried.

“You’ve done enough, Billy. Just leave her alone.” Karen snapped as the doors slid shut and, a moment later, the floodgates opened and you started to sob uncontrollably, knowing that you’d lost everything.

TWO HOURS EARLIER.

Your heart was racing, thumping out a painful and uneven beat in your chest.

When Karen had told you that a private investigator had been asking around about you at The Bulletin, you’d put things together pretty quickly. You had her set up a meeting later that morning for you, hoping that you could fix things before they got out of control, even though your every instinct told you to pack a bag and get out of New York as quickly as you could.

You didn’t want to have to run, you didn’t want to leave the life that you were starting to build in the city. You didn’t want to leave the man that you loved.

Before heading to the diner to meet the PI, you stopped at the bank, withdrawing every penny that had, hoping that it would be enough, hoping that you could pay him off and fix everything before things spun out of control.

He was already waiting in the diner when you arrived, sitting in a booth by the window; a grizzled looking guy, well into his forties, who’d obviously been in the PI game for decades. As you slid into the seat opposite him, you felt your guts start to twist with a mix of anxiety and fear.

“If I’d known that this was the quickest way to get you out of hiding, I’d’ve done it weeks ago,” he stated before you’d even gotten comfortable. “I take it you wanted to meet to make me an offer?”

You took a breath, trying to steady your still-racing heart. “How much would it cost for you to go back to Florida and pretend you couldn’t find me?”

He almost seemed shocked that you knew where he was from for a second, but it was quickly hidden behind a lazy sort of smile.

“More than you’ve got,” he stated and your heart sank. “I’m a little surprised that you don’t seem surprised by any of this.”

“I’m not,” you offered, already feeling like you were wasting your time. “I knew it was only a matter of time before Scott started looking for me. Did he tell you why - did he tell you why he wants to find me?”

“No, and I didn’t bother to ask - usually don’t when the money’s this good.” He shrugged before sitting forward in his seat. “Go on then; what’d you do to this guy? I figured you either broke his heart or you took something of his. Must’ve been something big for you to spend these last few years running all up and down the country.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you voice cracked at how helpless you suddenly felt, “He tried to kill me, and that’s probably why he wants me back.”

That seemed to unsettle the PI and you decided to use it to your advantage.

“I take it you know about the accident?” You asked and the PI gave an awkward sort of nod, not knowing what point you were going to try to make. “It wasn’t an accident, he deliberately swerved the car off the road because I’d finally told him that I was leaving him.” Your voice continued to crack, threatening to break. “He pulled himself out of the car and left me there to die. I had to crawl through fire and broken glass to save myself,” you rolled up your sleeve, letting him see the scars, along with the sickening S that Scott had carved into your skin. “That’s why he wants to know where I am. He wants to finish the job.”

The PI let out a slow exhale and it was more than obvious from the way he shifted in his seat that he hadn’t been expecting that story, that he’d been lied to and used by Scott.

A trembling hand wiped at your eye, you were determined not to cry despite everything you’d just been forced to reveal.

“Look, I feel for you, but this is a big payday and -”

You reached into your purse and quickly placed the envelope on the table between you.

“That’s everything I have,” you told him, sniffing back tears, “you can have it all, just - please, give me the file and don’t tell him I’m here. I just want to be able to live my life. I don’t want to have to start over again.”

“You’d leave that rich boyfriend of yours?” He asked, like he almost didn’t believe what you were trying to tell him.

“If I had to. But I don’t want to. Scott has already stolen years of my life, please don’t help him take more. There’s just over fifteen grand in that envelope, I know it’s not a lot but -”

Your heart threatened to stop as he picked up the envelope and started thumbing through the stack of notes inside.

“This is everything you’ve got,” he stated with the certainty of someone who’d looked into your accounts. “You’re willing to give up everything just to make sure this guy doesn’t find you?”

“Yes...”

The moment that followed seemed to linger for an eternity; him looking at you like he was trying to decide what to do, while you stared back, silently praying to any god that might listen to you.

There was no holding back the relieved sob that slipped from you when he finally put the envelope in his pocket and slid the file across the table to you.

“I’ll tell him I lost track of you after the six months you spent in Chicago.”

“Thank you.

He gave something of a grumble as he started to pull his coat on and got to his feet, ready to walk away, but something made him stop. “Y’know, that boyfriend of yours isn’t as squeaky clean as you think. I’d be careful if I were you - and, maybe, you should ask him where his mother is.”

He didn’t give you the chance to ask what he meant, before he turned and left the diner, your gaze following him out the door and onto the street, watching as walked right past Frank Castle, who was holding his phone and photographing the entire exchange.

Chapter Nineteen

END NOTES : Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ok so this is probably the chapter than I've been most nervous about so I hope people enjoy the drama and angst! I know this probably wasn't what people were expecting from this chapter, but I won't say too much because I don't want to spoil anything for future chapters.

As always thanks so much for reading and sticking with this, it really does mean the world to me!

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