#so please reblog if you like there's blood sweat and actual tears in this

[jen-with-a-pen]

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on. 

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress. 

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa. 

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch. 

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone. 

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him. 

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him. 

“Logan!” 

And then he turned around. 

And now they're here. 

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman. 

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch. 

His breath catches in his chest. 

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety. 

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep. 

“...Wade, please.” 

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep. 

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again? 

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not. 

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.” 

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic. 

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–” 

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small.  Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now. 

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

[weirdfangirly]

—No Pure Blood

(Part 1)

Dark-Fiction Central ©️

Dark!Dad!Joel / Dark!Uncle!Tommy x Reader

Summery: You don’t want your dad to find out, so you let your uncle fuck you from behind.

⚠️ : Age-Gap (Joel is 53, Tommy 45, Reader 20), Rape, Dub-con, blackmailing, Dark!Joel, father/daughter relationship dynamics (everyone knows Reader to be Joel’s “adoptive daughter”), Reader calls Joel dad, confused Reader (Stockholm-Syndrom), father-figure Joel but messed up, manhandling, Daddy-issues, overprotective/obsessive Joel, manipulation, degradation-kink, throat-fuck/face-fuck, blow-jobs, breeding-kink, cum-eating, misogynistic-views/behaviour, name-calling, Uncle!Tommy (yes, it’s a warning from now on)

A/n: I had trouble giving Joel a title for this fic since he’s readers father-figure, kidnapper, rapist, pseudo-boyfriend—so I decided to just call him dad!joel and move on.

There will definitely be a part 2 because I’m not satisfied with the ending. Please like and reblog and leave me a comment—it will definitely motivate me to ACTUALLY write part 2 down instead of just thinking about it…

————

Joel needed you today.

He needed your juicy little mouth that was always so eager to do and say whatever he wanted.

His heavy balls were resting on your chin, his throbbing cock was sticking out over your face. The mascara ran down your cheeks along with tears, sweat and spit.

Just five seconds ago you were suffocating on his cock, not daring to pull away. Not daring to fight back.

He might as well have killed you then and there, and you still wouldn't have objected.

You respected him too much…or maybe you were confusing respect with fear? After all, he still wore the face of the murderer of your father. Your real father. But that felt like a lifetime ago…

Whenever you tired to think about your beloved father, his face morphed into Joel’s.

“Good girl.”, he praised you for your obedience and you couldn’t help yourself but find comfort in his words.

Joel couldn't decide whether to cum on your pretty face or make you swallow his load. He liked to know you full of his cum.

One day he would get you pregnant, just to see you round and full of him. He wanted to watch you raise his children. After all, your place was right next to him—and a life in Jackson wouldn’t change that. He would make sure of that.

This damn place was full of soft little boys who all grew up in the comfort of a thick fence that kept danger far away from them. They wouldn’t know how to protect you. They were trying to get your attention, running after you like a bunch of dogs. Joel was sick of witnessing it and not being able to do anything about it but to play “overprotective-father”.

He was sick of pretending that you weren’t his bitch.

He would knock you up soon enough. He would make a little mommy out of you and ruin your pretty body for every men out there. He would tell Tommy and the others that a random boy got you pregnant, so that nobody would get suspicious of it.

Poor girl got herself pregnant and dumbed by a random boy at a party while drunk—sounded believable enough. Joel couldn’t let anyone find out that he was fucking his “adoptive daughter“—that would be a fucking scandal.

His brother’s bitch would definitely try to kick his ass out of Jackson and this time she would actually have a good reason to do so...

He tapped your flushed cheek, signalling you to open up for him. You did. You opened your mouth widely, bracing yourself on his thick hairy thighs. He put his cock back in your mouth, it belonged there. You closed your plump lips around him.

“Ya‘gonna take what I give you, alright?”, he mumbled and grabbed a fistful of your hair. You closed your eyes and nodded, knowing what that would mean; its going to be rough and unforgiving.

He pushed his cock deeper and deeper in your mouth, before hitting the barrier of your throat.

You felt so good to him. He let his head fall back, relishing the moment.

You gagged, your eyes sprung open. You looked up at the tall man with big painted eyes that only made him want to fuck you even harder.

He wore nothing but a white undershirt. His broad shoulders and strong arms looked even more intimidating from this perspective. He was so handsome.

You wanted to make him proud.

So you braved yourself mentally, dedicated to not give him a hard time. He started to fuck your throat like it was your cunt, picking up on speed and force. Pushing himself down your throat making you gag and spasm under his hold.

All you could focus on was to not bite him even though every cell in your body was screaming at you to do exactly that. You couldn’t though. Your punishment would be way, way worse than getting used by him like this and he would most certainly not let you go to your friends birthday party tonight…

“Such a pretty fucking slut.”, he hissed, searching after his release that was seemingly hidden somewhere deep down your throat. Thankfully, it didn’t took him a lot of digging to find what he was looking for…

He exploded inside you mouth in such an absurd intensity that his cum leaked down from your nostrils, making you cough and choke around him. He was holding you in place tightly, watching your struggles intensely. Breathing heavy, strong chest falling up and down.

For what felt like minutes to you, there was absolutely no way for you to get fresh air into your system. His cum was blocking your airwaves. This had never happened before.

You were panicking. He wasn’t letting you go.

You just looked too pretty like this.

Eventually though, he let go of you with an animalistic growl, pushing you away from him. Your head hit the wall and you started to cry from what just had happened. Totally overwhelmed.

Like so often, you felt like a used napkin. Trash.

You crawled over to his legs and hugged him, trying to comfort yourself. “I-I c-couldn’t b-breathe.”, you hiccuped and looked up at him.

He was still trying to come down from his high.

„Walking around all day long in that skimpy little skirt, what did you expect would happen?“, he panted. “Told you many times not to dress like a whore.”

“M’sorry.”, you sniffed and whipped your tears away.

He made you let go of him and you immediately felt lost. „M’gonna take a shower now, girl. Wanna join?”

You wished. Joel wasn’t a softy, little things like asking you if you want to take a shower with him were the most he could do.

You shook your head. „I can’t…I’ll be running late to Anna’s birthday party.“

Joel was about to walk upstairs but stopped in his tracks. „Birthday party.“, he repeated like it was a curse-word.

„I-I told you last week.“, you reminded him. „You said yes, dad.“

How many fucking friends do you fucking have? Being invited to some kind of party every other night…

Joel was sick of it. Sick of Jackson. Your place was wherever he was and not at some random parties, or hangouts.

„Did I?“

„Yes.“, you said, truthfully.

„Mh.“, he looked over at you. You were still sitting on the floor in your tight little skirt. Spit and cum drooling down your face. Mascara running down your cheeks and half of your cherry lipstick—that he had gotten for you on his last hunt for supplies—smeared on his cock.

You did good—and good girls get rewards. His own rule. That was their system. That was how Joel got you where you were; confused, obedient and submissive.

He couldn’t let a life in Jackson ruin that. But you did a good job today and therefore you deserved a reward.

Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punished.

„You remember the rules, girl?, he asked sternly.

„I’ll be home at 9. No entertaining boys. No drugs.“, you repeated like a mantra.

„Which one of them sluts was Anna again?“, he frowned. He could never put a face to the names of your friends, even though a lot of them would spend a lot of time over at their house throwing heart eyes at Joel.

„The one with the black hair and nose piercing.“, you said. “She’s not a slut, dad.”

“Mh.”, he just made and started to walk up the stairs. “If ya ass ain’t home at 9, me and my gun are coming to pick you up.”

“I won’t be late.”, you said, smiling. “Big promise.”

————

You whipped your face clean from Joel’s mess and tried your best to make yourself look presentable again. This was a special night after all…

You changed into a new shirt and applied another cover of lipgloss onto your lips.

You wanted to look your best for him…

It was a dangerous game you were playing—a deadly game even—but it was all too exciting.

Dean Winchester liked you. Really liked you.

He liked you so much that he wasn’t afraid to secretly meet up with Joel fucking Millers girl, risking to be caught. Risking to basically die.

Joel had a reputation in Jackson. Everyone knew about him and what he was capable of.

You had told Dean many times that if he wants to see you, it has to be discreet. Nobody could know about him and you, ever. You had told him that their relationship—no matter what kind of relationship—would mean danger.

For both of you.

Joel would kill Dean in a heartbeat, not even give it a second thought. However the things he would do to you would be much worse, because you had to deal with his outrage and anger for the rest of your life. He would probably start to tie you up again—he used to do that at the beginning, where he couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t try to run away from him.

You didn’t want to go back to that stage of your relationship with Joel. You didn’t want to be tied up to trees, heaters or posts again. You didn’t want him to walk you around on a tight leash again.

“I don’t know if we should see each other again, Dean...”, you whispered.

You weren’t sure if Dean was worth the risk. You didn’t even like Dean that much…You just liked to have the attention that Joel didn’t give you.

It wouldn’t be fair for Dean to get killed just because you were bored…

“Your old man won’t find out, babe.”, Dean said, knowing what you where getting at. He kept on kissing your neck and kneading your tit from under your shirt.

You were at the stables. It was your little hideout. Nobody would be able to find you here.

“But what if he does?”, you asked, voice full of worry. “What then?”

You already knew the answer.

Dean sighed and let go of you.

“He’s not the only one who had to survive out there for a long period of time.”, Dean said, now sounding annoyed. “He thinks of himself as tough, but guess what? So am I. I was part of a Raider-gang. Clickers and runners were the least of my problems. I had to showcase strength and dominance every day in order to not get fucked with. It was like living in a cage full of starving dogs. I know people like Joel and I know how to deal with them-“

Dean saw your big fearful eyes, hanging onto every word that left his mouth. He decided to better shut the fuck up before drying you out too much.

“Babe, don’t worry.”, he softened his voice again. “You are too pretty for that.”

He started to stroke your bare leg, making your skin prickle.

“C’mon let me make you feel real good, ya?”, he whispered in your ear before placing kisses all over your neck. He let his hand vanish under your top again, playing with your nipples. He was a good kisser and as you found out, you really liked being kissed on the neck. He made your eyes roll back.

Joel never kissed you like this. He never kissed you ever.

Dean’s lips eventually found yours, his tongue immediately entering your mouth, dominating your tongue. His hand wandered downside, finding his way between your legs. You jumped a little at the contact.

“You are not wearing panties.”, he realised and couldn’t believe his luck. He smirked into your mouth.

You blushed. Joel always liked it more when you didn’t wear any underwear around the house, so you figured Dean would like it, too. You could find a lot of similarities between them actually. Dean wasn’t like the other boys in Jackson, he was older and more experienced. Maybe you picked him because he was so much like Joel?

Dean was good with guns, good in killing clickers and a survivor. That’s why he got a position as a hunter—just like Joel.

“God, you are such a little tease, babe.”, he said and carefully slipped his finger inside you. You were wet since Joel had face-fucked you and you got nothing in return. Maybe Dean would give you the sweet-release you so desperately wanted. His hands were as skilled has his tongue. He fingered you in such a manner that you were surprised to actually feel your orgasm forming.

“Can you…can you keep kissing my neck, dean?”, you managed to get out without sounding too pathetic. It just felt soo good and it would help you cum.

He liked his name on your tongue like that.

“‘Course, babe.”, he whispered and started to kiss your neck again.

“And-and can you…can you call me…a slut?”, you whispered.

He stopped doing what he was doing.

Was that weird to ask?

You didn’t know. It was certainly normal for Joel to call you that.

You opened your eyes and blushed.

“What?”, he asked, confusion written all over his face.

“Never mind.”, you murmured in shame. You closed your legs and straightened your skirt.

You felt dumb.

“Wait, wait, wait.“ Dean said, not liking what you were doing. “You want me to call you…a slut?”

You nodded, face turning red. There was no point in denying it. Although you thought about acting like that was not what you said.

“That’s whatcha like to hear? You like being degraded like that?”

Joel always called you mean names like that when he was fucking you. At the beginning you didn’t really like it. It was hurtful to be called such nasty names all the time when you already felt bad about what was going on. It made you cry and you asked him to not call you that. You didn’t know what shifted inside you, but at one point you started to like it. It felt like a compliment to you. The only kind of compliments Joel was willing to dish out to you. You liked to be Joel’s slut and you wanted to be Deans too.

“Yes, it’s…it’s hot.”, you simply said.

Dean smiled at you in awe. “Damn, you really are a bombshell trough and through...”

Of course he would call you a slut. Dean was holding back anyways. This whole „boyfriend-act“ was knew to him too. He figured that the rules in Jackson were different than what he was used to outside. The only rule he knew was „take what you want, or someone else will“

However he was not with the raiders anymore. He couldn’t just take you from your father. He needed to make you fall in love with him first and soon he would’ve a cunt to warm his cock again. Dean liked a challenge anyways.

And you definitely were the biggest challenge in town.

“You should work on your compliments, son.”, a voice suddenly appeared from behind.

You jumped up from your spot and turned around. All colour left your face when you came face to face with…

“Uncle Tommy…”, you gulped, nearly choking on your own words. “What-what are you doing here?”

Tommy was standing there, hands casually tucked inside his jacket. A cigarette hanging from his lips.

How long was he standing there?

How much of your conversation did he witnessed?

Oh how embarrassing.

“Hi, sweetheart.”, he said to you and smiled, cigarette dangling between his lips. “Oh, well you know, I like to watch the horses while I smoke.”

He pointed at the stables behind him with his thump.

Oh this was the beginning of the end of your life.

Dean who was still casually sitting on the bench, one foot dangling over his leg and arms outstretched, looked over his shoulder to Tommy and greeted: “Mr Miller. Nice to meet you.”

Judging Deans very relaxed body language and the lack of horror in his face, you couldn’t tell if he realised how bad the situation was for him—and you.

“Nice to see’ya too.”, Tommy replied.

There was a tension building pause between all of you. Tommy was the one breaking the silence.

“You should go home now, son. I put’ya on patrol together with Joel tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the protocols.”, Dean nodded and rose up from the bench to his full height.

“You will definitely need to be well-rested, is what I’m sayin.“, the threat in Tommys sentence was hidden but there.

Dean nodded, in amusement and understanding.

Your worried eyes wandered back and forth between the men. You were close to hyperventilating.

“Yes, it’s late.”, you awkwardly said in hopes to debunk the situation. “I’m tired too.”

Another heavy pause placed itself onto everyone. You looked up at Dean, non-verbally telling him to please play along and just go home. That it wasn’t worth it. He looked down at you and winked, before tuning his attention back to Tommy.

“Good night, babe.”, he said while looking at the older man, provocatively.

Tommy kept his cool. He wasn’t impressed by Dean at all and he most certainly wouldn’t let him ruin this promising night.

“Mr Miller.”, he eventually said and walked away, leaving you alone with Tommy.

Tommy watched Dean wander away. He scoffed and shook his head in amusement. He took one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. “What a charmer.”, he murmured more to himself than to you.

He walked around the bench and took a seat, grunting. “If it was up to me,”, he started, “I wouldn’t let that prick anywhere near a gun, but you know, Joel was quite pleased with the way the boy handled himself out there. Skilled. The kid has experience, many people in Jackson don’t.”

You didn’t hear a thing Tommy just said. You heart was beating too loud and too fast, you feared to suffer a heart attack.

“Uncle Tommy, I-I’m…please don’t tell Joel.”, you begged. There was nothing but worry in your eyes.

“Sweetheart, relax.”, he laughed. “I was young once too. You don’t even wanna know what bullshit I pulled behind my parents backs…”

You cracked a little smile at that.

“And, believe me, ya don’t want me to tell you about Joel’s business when he was your age…”

That made you giggle. You couldn’t even picture Joel as a young man.

“Ah, you’re smiling again.”, Tommy pointed at your face proudly. “I like to see that. C’mon sit down next to me.”

“I should go home, uncle Tommy. I have to be home at 9 or else…”

He looked at his wristwatch. “Got planty of time then.”

He was right. You still got half an hour. You nodded and placed yourself next to Tommy.

You met Tommy for the first time here in Jackson. Joel had told you a lot about him during your journey. You warmed up to Tommy almost immediately. At first you were a little sceptical about the man, he looked a lot like Joel. However he was nothing like him—Well, maybe only a tiny-little bit. According to Joel’s many stories, Tommy was pretty badass too. „We used to be a duo“, Joel had told you.

Tommy was definitely more charismatic though. Everyone in Jackson liked him. He was warm and welcoming towards you, immediately accepting you as part of their family.

“You will not tell Joel?”, you asked again, just to make sure.

“Nah.”, Tommy shook his head. “M’sorry for ruining your little date, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “It’s ok, uncle Tommy. I’m not mad at you.”

He smiled. “That’s nice to hear.”

He paused for a second before speaking again:

“As your uncle though…I feel like I have to give you the speech.”

“The speech?”, you repeated, not knowing what ‘the speech’ was.

“Yea, the speech.”, Tommy sighed. “He’s your first boyfriend, right?”

You looked at Tommy, unsure what to answer. Dean wasn’t your boyfriend yet—and he probably never would be. Joel was. Was he? No he was your dad.

“Guys like Dean…they mean trouble for girls like you. Gonna take a bite out of your heart before spitting it back out. Ya understand?”

“I…I don’t think so, uncle Tommy…”, you truthfully said.

Tommy leaned back and looked up at the night-sky, thinking of the right words. He turned his attention back at you. “M’tryin to say is, you are a pretty girl. That’s all guys like Dean care about. You give him a bit of yourself and he will expect more and more, until you’re left with nothin more to give. That’s when he gets bored of you and leaves.”

Your eyes widened at Tommys cryptic message. What he was trying to say is “if you let him fuck you, he will not be interested in you any more”—but that would be to harsh for you to hear.

You couldn’t help yourself but think…Will Joel get bored of me too?

You kept quiet, biting your lip. Not sure what to say.

“Maybe I should tell my brother about this, about Dean...”, he suddenly said and making every alarm bell inside your head ring. “That Dean kid is bad blood. Joel should scare him a little, make him understand that he shouldn’t break ya heart.”

You grabbed his arm and frantically shook your head. “No, no, no! Uncle Tommy, please don’t! Joel will kill him.”

“Sounds just about right to me .”, he chuckled.

“No, you don’t understand. He will also punish me. I’m not allowed to see boys. He thinks I’m at Anna’s birthday party. He will be very, very angry with me. I don’t want him to be angry with me. Please you don’t understand, uncle Tommy.”

Tommy was studying your reaction closely. Oh he did understand.

“You really don’t want me to tell him?”, he asked, playing dumb.

“Yes, please don’t. I’ll do anything.”, you nodded. “I’ll bake you the carrot cake you like so much!”

“What if I want something else?”, he asked voice suddenly lower, his eyes darker.

He sounded much more like Joel now.

You frowned, not understanding. “You want me to bake you another cake?”

“Close. I do want something sweet from you.”

“Something sweet?”, you repeated still confused about what exactly he wanted “Like…chocolate?”

“Ya can’t be this dumb, sweetheart...”, Tommy chuckled.

You opened your mouth, but closed it immediately.

Dumb?

Tommy never called you dumb before.

“…Or should I say ‘slut’?”

That answered the question you had earlier; he did indeed heard everything you said to Dean…

You wished to drop dead on the spot, feeling utterly embarrassed.

You seriously didn’t know what to say. You just looked down and swallowed the wave of emotions down that were otherwise going to burst out of you in form of a mental breakdown.

“I’ll go home now.”, you whispered, when you found your strength to speak again. You stayed seated though, not making the move to stand up and go, as if you were waiting for Tommys permission—Something told you that he wouldn’t let you off the hook this easy.

He nodded and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

“I’ll bring you home…after you’ve convinced me not to tell Joel about the fact that his girl begs strange guys to treat her like a common whore. Wonder how he will take that...”

Tommys soft tone didn’t fit his vile words.

You could feel yourself shutting down—this happened a lot at the early stages of being with Joel, after he had brutally killed your father in front of your eyes and forced you to be with him, to act like everything was totally fine. You stared into the void, not willing to acknowledge the level of betrayal you were experiencing right now. He was blackmailing you.

You liked Tommy.

He was one of the good guys.

Tommy looked at you intensely, analysing your soft features. There was a war going on inside your confused little head, he could see.

He had always wondered how you still look this stunning during the end of times while everyone else’s looked like they been through the gutter. Even on the day you and Joel arrived at Jackson for the first time after a year of living in the wilderness that was now the whole country—you still looked like an angel. Joel did a good job of taking care of you, Tommy had to admit.

Tommy admired your devotion towards his older brother. The way you would look up at him, as if he was your god. Always searching for his approval, his affection, his permission. Joel was a cold bastard, leaving you empty and starved.

Or maybe he was just smart really, since you couldn’t get enough of him no matter what.

And when Joel introduced you to him that day, your pretty eyes lit up with excitement. Uncle Tommy, you called him, even though you were not the same blood. You called him that out of respect for Joel.

Tommy wasn’t stupid. He could see right through Joel’s facade of protective-father. Tommy was his brother after all. He could tell that Joel’s liking in you wasn’t of…innocent nature. Quite the opposite. It was much, much darker. He always knew. Your dynamics always seemed a little off to him. Joel hadn’t even looked at another women since he was in Jackson—he had no need to. He had you.

Tommys suspicion was confirmed when one day he saw Joel touching your ass. It was a few month ago at Christmas dinner. You were standing in front of the sink—washing dishes like the little slave you were for Joel—when suddenly he walked up to you, seemingly to bring you more plates to wash, when his hand grabbed a fistful of your soft ass, so tight his knuckles turned white—and you didn’t objected.

At first Tommy was angry. Disgusted even. Joel was like your fucking father. You called him “dad”, for fucks sake. It was disgusting, vile and wrong.

But then Tommy felt stupid for not putting one and one together much earlier. Why else would a guy like Joel take care of a girl that wasn’t even his own blood? What did he get out from feeding another mouth? What was his merit? What could a girl like you possibly give to a man like him that he wasn’t able to get for himself?

The answer was so obvious.

Tommy heaved himself up from the bench and let his eyes wander over the era, looking out for potential witnesses…

“Ya’got two options, sweetheart.”, he started. “First option; we go home and I tell my brother what just happened between you and Mr Bombshell. The kid will die most likely tomorrow on patrol and Joel will not let you out if his eyesight for the rest of your life. Second option…”

He looked down at your bare legs and licked his lips.

“You stand up, turn around and bend over…”

He paused for a second. “S’up to you.”

„Second.“, you whispered, you didn’t even need time to think about your answer—not that you where thinking anything at all right now. Your mind was blank.

There was nothing that Tommy could do to you, that Joel hadn’t already done. You feared Joel more. The answer was easy. Second option.

You hadn’t even realised that you got up, turned around and bend over. Holding onto the back of the bench tightly.

It was only when you felt Tommy lift your skirt up and your bottom was exposed to the cold night and Tommys hungry stare that you realised that there was no turning back.

You couldn’t see what Tommy was doing behind you, and a part of you was thankful for that; at least you didn’t have to look him in the eyes.

Tommy pulled his cock out. He was hard the second he heard you beg Dean to call you a slut. He gave himself a few pumps and then lined his cock up with your entrance. He wasted no time, immediately ramming all of him inside your juicy cunt.

Dean had worked you up good for him.

The invasion was sudden and forceful. You whined and your knees buckled. You clenched your teeth together.

Tommy started to fuck you the second he was in, leaving your body no time to adjust to his length. He was fucking your hard and fast. He was holding onto your petite shoulders tightly, hurting your flesh and bringing your body down to his in a forceful manner.

The sound of clapping skin was loud and sinful. It sounded so wrong in your ears. And it only got worse when Tommy started to grunt like an animal.

„Shit, girl. Never fucked a cunt as tight as yours.“, he hissed. „Fuck.“

You started to cry. Not because you were in pain, but because you were about to cum…

„Stop please.“, you cried. You didn’t want to cum. Not for Tommy. You didn’t want him to think you enjoyed his assault.

“Your body is betraying you. You like it.”, you remember Joel say to you the first time he took you against your will.

This isn’t normal. I’m not normal. I’m sick. I’m a sick girl.

You started to cry even harder, or were you moaning?It was a mixture of both and it was pathetic. Your were so close. You cunt got even tighter around Tommy. He could feel it.

“You wanna cum little slut?”, he laughed, a nasty dirty laugh. He gave your ass a hard slap.

“No!”, you cried out. “Please stop!”

It wasn’t your fault. You were wet since Joel had fucked your throat earlier today and left you on the ground sexually frustrated. Then there was Dean who had spend minutes fingering you while kissing your neck. It wasn’t because of Tommy.

It’s not because of Tommy.

It’s not because of Tommy.

It’s not because of Tommy.

The more you tried to work against it, the pressure inside you only intensified. You couldn’t hold it out any longer.

You came.

You came around his cock.

First your legs started to shake—it was like a wave—then your whole body. Your thoughts were completely flushed away. Your were biting your lip so hard that you could taste blood on your tongue.

“That’s my girl.”, Tommy praised and kept fucking you hard. “God, you are so hot, sweetheart. I see why Joel keeps you around.”

After you came down from your orgasm you were basically jelly. Without Tommy holding you in place you would be panting on the ground by now. He kept ramming his cock inside you a few more times before pulling out.

He turned you around and manhandled you on your knees.

“Hold your palms out, bitch. C’mon.”, he barked and grabbed your wrist and yanked them up.

You put your palms together and held them up.

He frantically stroked his cock while grunting and growling like a wolf before finally releasing himself inside your hands.

A poodle of your uncles warm, sticky, hot cum could now be found inside your shaking hands. You didn’t dare to drop it. You didn’t move, holding your palms up as if his cum was holy.

The tears had dried on your face. You looked up at Tommy, waiting for him to finally end your suffering.

You wanted to run home.

He put his cock back inside his jeans and pulled out a cigarette. Exhausted.

“Eat it.”, he said and pointed his cigarette at his cum.

He wanted to see how far he could go with you. He wanted to know how well his brother had trained you.

“C’mon, eat it up.”, he repeated when he saw your confused face.

You hesitantly brought your shaking hands closer to your lips. If you had anything in your stomach right now, you would’ve puked it all out. You carefully took a small lick from his cum and cringed a little. It was salty. But soon you found the taste to be familiar. It tasted like Joel’s.

“Be careful not to drop anythin. We don’t want Joel to find cum on you, do we? He might think it belongs to Dean…”

You shook your head and carefully licked your palms clean. Eating your uncles cum.

Tommy watched you intensely. You looked like a little kitten drinking her milk. He was already hard again. He would definitely think about this image of you when he would fuck his wife later tonight.

“Good job, sweetheart.”, he praised you. “Now C’mon. Let’s get’ya home. And you better thing about an excuse why you look like someone had fucked you silly…we don’t want Joel to get suspicious.”

He pointed at you puffy red eyes and ran down mascara.

He helped you up from the ground and you silently followed him home.

————

[harringtonstilinski]

I Didn't Run Away This Time, Right? - Steve Harrington

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Munson!Reader Word Count: 5,584 Warnings: aaannngggsssttt, fluff, major character death, tried not to use y/n or y/n/n, hallucinations (reader sees someone 👀) Requested: no | yes; i hope it meets your expectations, anon friend!! Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! Reader is 18 in this fic, Steve is his canon age (which I think is 19..?) If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

You couldn’t get there fast enough as your feet pounded the pavement below you. There was one person you had to get to; your older brother, Eddie. It was stupid as shit of him to drop from the tied up sheets that led your group from Hawkins to the Upside Down before cutting them.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you spotted a body on the ground. “Eddie!” you yelled, running faster than you thought possible to get to him. Sliding on your legs, you were careful to not kick him in the head like you used to do accidentally when you two were kids. 

“Hey, kid,” he grunted. “Bad, huh?”

“No, no, no, you’re gonna be fine,” you said, checking over his wounds. “We’re gonna get you back home and I’ll patch you up.”

“Okay,” Eddie sputtered.

You went to help him up, but with the amount of pain he was in, he said, “I think I just - I think I just need a second, okay, kid?”

“Okay,” you said, getting at least his head in your lap. The tears were non-stop streaming down your face, the droplets hitting his cheek.

As he started choking on the blood trying to come up his throat, he looked at you before sadly gritting through his teeth, “I didn’t run away this time, right?”

“No,” you sobbed. “No, you didn’t.”

You could hear the tears in his voice as well as see them in his eyes as he said, “You’re gonna have to look after those little sheepies for me, okay?”

Taking a shaky breath, you cupped his cheek, saying, “You’re gonna do that yourself, Ed.”

“Nah, kiddo.”

Your cries started to come out harder, knowing that you were going to lose your big brother. Resting your forehead on his, you let the tears fall from your waterline, Eddie’s eyes closing for a moment before he said, “Repeat it, kid. Say it.”

“I’m-,” you sobbed. “I’m gonna look after ‘em.”

“Good.”

Grabbing his hand in yours, you laced your fingers with his, not caring about the blood, sweat and dirt covering both of your hands. 

“ ‘Cause I’m actually gonna graduate this year.”

“You are,” you nodded, sitting back up to look at him. “We are.” He chuckled weakly, his grip on your fingers starting to go slack as you both said, “It’s our year.”

“I think it’s fiiiiinally my year.”

You could feel his life slipping from you as you held him as you whispered, “It is. But you have to hold on. Okay? Just hold on.”

Choking more on his own blood, Eddie looked at you, and he knew his time was coming to an end with you, so he decided to say the one thing you barely said to each other. “I love you, kid.”

The sobs were wracking your body at this point, knowing that his life was slipping away. You sniffled a deep breath, releasing it as you looked away from him, trying to blink the tears away. When you looked back down at him, you cried, “You can’t leave me all alone, Eddie. Don’t leave me here alone. Do you understand me? We have to graduate… together.”

Grunting as he choked, he whispered, “Say it back, kid,” as you gave him sad eyes. The last thing he heard from you before succumbing to his wounds was, “I love you, too, bubba.”

As you watched the life drain from his eyes, you cried harder than you ever had before; harder than when your mom left, harder than when your dad got hauled off to jail, screaming his name as the anguish washed over you. “EDDIE!!”

As you cried over Eddie’s lifeless body, you whispered tearfully, “Please, don’t leave me.” Laying uncomfortably over Eddie’s body, you couldn’t really hear anything over your sobs. Not even Robin, Nancy and Steve’s footfalls. Not even Dustin’s own cries. You didn’t register hands on your arms, pulling you up. It didn’t hit you until Eddie’s body started to get smaller and smaller.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, pushing at the body that was all but covering you. 

Steve's arms went tighter around your body as you struggled to get out of his hold. “Babe-,”

“Let me go!” you shouted, realizing that you were now back in the trailer. “I can’t just leave him!”

“Babe, just - what happened to the sheets?”

Resting your forehead on Steve’s chest, you sobbed into him, gripping the sleeves of his jacket tight in your fist. As Steve placed a kiss to the top of your head, he sighed, feeling extremely bad for you in this moment. You just lost your brother and you had to leave his body behind.

When the six of you had figured out a way to get back to Hawkins, you ran straight to yours and Eddie’s room; Wayne having let the two of you have it when he took you both in. Everyone tried to protest about you going in there, but their voices quieted down once they saw what was in your arms; your favorite shirts of Eddie’s, including a Hellfire shirt that he had made for you.

You weren’t a part of Hellfire, but more of an honorary member. You knew about the lore behind D&D because of Eddie, but you had no desire to play the game.

Steve ended up taking you back to his house to shower and change, and to try and get some sleep.

Of course, neither of you got any sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was Eddie’s lifeless body in your lap. The morning after Eddie’s death, you’d all learned about the ‘earthquake’ that happened after Max’s death on the news, the reporter having said if you have items to donate, you could take them to the high school’s gym, where they set up a shelter for those who lost their homes.

You didn’t have any items that you wanted to donate, mainly because everything you would want to donate… was Eddie’s. 

Two days after Eddie’s death, Steve finally got you out of the house to help volunteer at school’s shelter. You had made a pitstop with Robin and Dustin to the Wheeler’s house to gather the items that they were going to be donating.

After greeting and hugging the Byers boys, Mike and El, as well as meeting their friend Argyle, you left with Steve, Robin and Dustin to head to the school. You didn’t know where to go after the volunteer gave suggestions on where to go, so you stuck with Dustin, passing out cups of water, and giving blankets and pillows to those in need.

Your heart shattered when you saw your uncle standing by the bulletin board, watching as he took down a graffitied missing person’s paper on Eddie, just to put a fresh one up. Walking up to him, you placed a hand on his back. “Wayne?”

He looked down at you, a sad, but relieved smile on his face. “Hey, kid.” Hugging you, he sighed. 

“Can we talk?” you asked.

“Can’t imagine we got anything to talk about,” he said.

Pulling back, a small smile formed on your face. “There’s that Munson sarcasm.”

You both sat down, a deep breath escaping your body. 

Wayne sighed a deep sigh, putting his arm around you. “Your brother is innocent.”

“I know,” you whispered. “He wouldn’t’ve hurt a fly.”

“He’s still missing.”

Tears formed in your eyes because you knew the full truth as he continued, “I’ll put as many posters as I need until he’s found.”

Wayne went to stand, but you grabbed his shirt, keeping him in place. “I was with him. I was with him when the earthquake hit.”

“And where is he now, kid?”

Taking a shaky breath, you closed your eyes, not ready to break your uncle’s heart. You reached into the top of your shirt, bringing out the guitar pick necklace that was around your neck, the one you had grabbed the night he died. With a tearful voice, you sobbed, “I’m so sorry, Wayne.”

He took a shaky breath, resting his head on top of yours that you had rested against the front of his shoulder.

“I wish everyone knew the real Eddie,” you whispered-cried. “Like, really know him because they would’ve loved him. They would’ve known how much a good big brother he was; like, the best. He always made sure I had something to eat when dad would go off and do… whatever the hell he did. Ed would… would put me first before himself. He’d let me sleep in his bed when I had nightmares.

“Everyone would’ve seen how good of a person he is-was. Even right there at the end, he never stopped being Eddie. Despite everything we went through. I never even saw him when he got mad. He kept that part of his life away from me because of our father. He could’ve run, or even saved himself, but he didn’t. He fought. He fought and died to protect this town; this town that hated him. He fought to protect me. He isn’t just innocent. He’s a hero, Wayne.” You looked up at him, seeing the tears streaming down his cheeks as you said, “A goddamn hero.”

You and Wayne held onto each other as you both wept over the loss of one of your favorite people. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you looked up at Wayne, seeing him looking over your head.

Turning to look at whatever or whoever was looking at you, you saw Steve standing there, a solemn look on his face. You stood and wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing into him. “I miss him so much.”

Wrapping his own arms around your middle, he sighed pressing a kiss to your neck. “I know,” he whispered.

You and Steve had started dating right after you turned 18. Since Dustin was in Hellfire and the two of you became friends, he’d introduced you to Steve. The two of you hit it off like fireworks, feeling those sparks the first time you and he laid eyes on each other; you thought he was cute, he thought you were beautiful. Steve, of course, waited until you were 18 before he made any sort of move on you, respectfully.

You knew of Steve from school, but the Steve you knew of was King Steve, not… Steve. Having known about him and Nancy when you were a freshman, you tried not to make the same mistakes that were made during their relationship, so when you told Steve that you loved him, you meant it. When Steve said it back to you, he meant it.

Being with Steve meant the world to you, but losing your brother put you in a state of depression that you weren’t sure if you could bring yourself out of. You wanted to try for him and for everyone else, but you built up walls that no one could tear down.

If Robin asked you how your day was going, you’d give a short “Fine,” and stick your nose back in your book. If Nancy asked if you wanted to go shopping, you’d make up some excuse to not go. The same with Steve; he’d ask you on countless dates in the weeks since your brother passed away, but again, you’d give some excuse to not go.

Dustin took over creating campaigns with Mike, Eddie having asked him to before he ran off to save the world. You’d be at Hellfire, but were distant, giving spaced out looks while sitting in your brother’s chair.

You’d still sit with Hellfire at lunch and walk with them to the classes you’d have together, but even they couldn’t break your shell, Dustin being the main one.

“Come on,” he would half-whine. “You gotta talk to us. We lost him, too.” All you would do was give him an upset look before grabbing your things and walking off school grounds, where Steve would find you walking on his way to Family Video.

Eddie had asked Dustin to look after you, something he was trying to do, but since you had built up your walls, the young teen couldn’t get you to talk about your grief, but he kept trying… for Eddie.

Since your trailer was basically destroyed because of it being the home of Chrissy’s Gate, you didn’t have anywhere else to go but to Steve’s. His parents weren’t home half the time, so it’s not like they would care or not if you were there. Wayne was fine with it, as long as you kept him updated. 

He didn’t want to leave you by yourself, considering the state of mind you were in, but you’d promised him you wouldn’t do anything stupid to yourself, and he’d believe you. Steve would be worried sick about you while on his shift, all but fumbling with his work.

When he’d come home, the smell of food would hit his senses as he locked the front door. Walking into the kitchen, he’d find dinner prepared; a plate being left out for him with the utensils he’d need. A note would always be left on the plate in your handwriting. 

Sorry for not waiting up for you. Also, sorry if it’s not good. I don’t really know how to cook that well. Eddie always did the cooking. Anyway, I hope it’s good. I love you. -Babe

It was three weeks after Eddie’s death when you all decided to have a service for him. It was beautiful, something he would’ve wanted. When you snuck back over to retrieve more of his stuff, as well as some of your own, you’d listened to all of his tapes that you took to find the saddest metal song for his funeral service.

At the reception afterward, Jeff suggested that Eddie’s favorite song be played, which happened to be the same song he played for Chrissy in the Upside Down; Master of Puppets by Metallica. You cried and Steve took you home.

Since Steve was still at work a few days later, you’d decided that looking out of the window was cutting it anymore for the moment, so you were now sitting on the floor of Steve’s room, back pressing againsting the mattress. Legs bent at the knee with your schoolbook resting on your thighs, your walkman laying beside you with the headphones pressed to your ears, having decided that homework would be a good distraction.

You didn’t register when Steve had walked into his room, hearing your voice sing Def Leppard’s Rock of Ages. Even with your walls up, he could see the real you shining through. 

What Steve didn’t know was that when you weren’t around anyone and you were alone, you let your mind wander. Today’s daydream, Eddie sitting on the bed behind you, strumming on his guitar as you did your homework.

Feeling tapping your shoulder, you swatted at the hand, saying, “Stop.” When it happened again, you sighed. “Eddie.” Shoes were now in your line of sight, seeing that it was Steve’s shoes, not Eddie’s.

As Steve squatted, you crawled back into your shell, hiding yourself from him. “Baby,” he whispered. When you didn’t respond, he sat facing you, his arm resting on his bent knee. “Baby, talk to me.”

You looked at him, seeing a figure standing behind him. Looking behind Steve, your eyes went wide, seeing Eddie standing there, hands in his pockets, giving you a small smile that you instantly recognized.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked back down at Steve, who was looking at you confused. “Uhm,” you whispered, seeing movement. Looking back up, you watched as Eddie moved from directly behind Steve to stand to the side of him. Eddie pointed to his ears, signaling you to take off the headphones.

Quickly taking off the headphones, you reached down to your walkman, pausing the cassette tape and looking back up as a tear fell from your waterline, Eddie suddenly gone. Your eyes danced around the room, Steve looking more worried.

“Babe?” he voiced. He looked behind him, not seeing anything but his posters on his wall. When he looked back at you, you had more streams covering your cheeks. Sighing, he whispered, “Oh, baby,” before moving to sit beside you, his back resting against his mattress with an arm around your shoulders. 

Steve pressed a kiss to your temple, resting his chin on the top of your head when you dropped your head to his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said softly.

“I’m so tired of crying,” you whispered. “He’s such a dumbass, basically sacrificing himself like that.”

Releasing a deep breath, Steve moved his head to rest his cheek where his chin just was. “I know, baby. He did what he thought was right.” When he moved his again to look down at you the best he could, he noticed your notebook, seeing your homework written along the lines of the pages. “What’cha working on?”

Looking down at your papers with a deep sigh, you sniffled before picking your head up. “Math. Eddie and I had the class together. Teacher’s a real bitch. Always has been.”

“Wait, who’s your math teacher again?”

“Mrs. Martin.”

Chuckling, Steve nodded his head. “Yeah, I had her last year. Barely passed.”

“You barely came to school,” you said, chuckling.

Steve smiled at hearing your chuckle. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it was music to his ears. “Hey,” he whispered, gaining your attention. “What do you say we go downstairs, order some takeout and have a movie night? Just us.”

Softly groaning, you tilted your head back. “As much as I would love to do that with you, I have about a week’s worth of homework to catch up on.” You didn’t really have that much homework, you just needed an excuse to not spend time with him, even though that’s all you wanted to do.

Placing his lips on your temple once more, Steve gently squeezed your shoulder. “Okay. Well, I’ll get you something. I’ll bring it up when I get back, okay?”

Nodding your head, you looked at him. “Okay.”

Since Eddie’s passing, you’ve only kissed Steve a total of two times. Those two times that you placed your lips on Steve’s, you were taken back to that night in the Upside Down, the two of you having shared a kiss before he went off to flambe Vecna. 

Steve understood when you expressed your concerns to him about it. He said he’d wait until you were comfortable with kissing him again.

You thought it was stupid that you couldn’t kiss your own boyfriend, but your mind kept taking you back to that night over and over again when you did. In this moment, as you looked at Steve, you wanted to kiss him, but couldn’t bring yourself to.

So, you closed your eyes as he placed his lips on your forehead, your eyes closing at the feel of his lips on your skin. When his lips disappeared, you opened your eyes, seeing his already on you.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, voice shaky.

Steve stood and walked out of his room, wiping a tear that had fallen from his waterline as he stepped into the hallway. When he closed the door behind him, you put your walkman back on and got back to your homework.

When he got back to his house around 30 minutes later, he went upstairs after calling your name and getting no response. Opening the door, he sighed at the sight before him; you curled up on his bed in one of Eddie’s t-shirts. Your face looked the softest it’s ever looked in the last three weeks. 

He walked over to you, placing the bag on the floor before kneeling beside the bed, watching as you slept. Leaning forward to press his lips on your forehead for the second time that night, he stood as he grabbed the takeout bag before heading back downstairs to take off his shoes and place his keys in the bowl on the entryway table.

Sitting down on the couch with this plate of food, he let out a groan before turning on the tv to watch his favorite sitcom, Family Ties. The newest episode was to air the next night, so the network was playing reruns of the past episodes.

He wasn’t that far into the episode before he heard you screaming Eddie’s name. Placing his plate onto the coffee table, he stood and quickly made his way to his room, seeing you gripping the sheets tightly in your fist.

It wasn’t until you screamed again that he jumped into action, laying behind you on the bed, putting his arm around your own to keep you grounded. “Baby!” he exclaimed. “Sweetheart, wake up!”

When you let out a whimpered cry, he rested his forehead on your shoulder, kissing the skin he could reach. “You gotta wake up, beautiful,” he said, voice soft as ever.

Feeling arms around you, grabbed onto them, breathing shakily before turning onto your back, opening your eyes as you cried. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, voice filled with tears. “I hate that I’m putting you through this shit, Steve.”

Sitting up to rest on his arm, Steve looked at you with nothing but love and adoration. Shaking his head as he cupped your cheek, he whispered, “Don’t be. I’ll always be here for you. I’ll help you through your grief and trauma.”

That only made you want to cry harder, but you willed the tears away before taking a deep breath, smelling the food on his breath. “Go eat, please. I’m sorry I took you from your food and sitcom.”

“It’s fine, baby. Do you wanna come and eat with me?”

Placing your hand on his wrist that was by your face, you tightened your lips, looking down at a random spot before shaking your head. It was killing you not spending time with him. The main thought that ran through your head was the fact that Steve would leave you, too, if you kept this charade up.

Releasing a deep breath, Steve nodded and moved to hover over you for a moment before getting off the bed and exiting the room. When his feet had hit the floor, you turned your back to him, letting the tears fall. The last thing he heard before he shut his door was your soft cries.

~~~

“I don’t wanna do this,” you said, panic in your voice. You were standing with Robin and Nancy in your Hawkins High green graduation cap and gown. “I can’t do this without Eddie.”

“Hey,” Robin said, placing her hand on your shoulder. “He’s here with you. He’ll always be with you.”

Your breathing started to pick up slightly, so you reached into your gown and grabbed the guitar pick necklace that you never took off. “It’s not the same, though, Robs. I need him here with me. Physically, not… mentally or emotionally.”

Feeling another hand on your other shoulder, you knew it was Nancy. “He is here. In spirit.”

“Yeah, okay,” you muttered.

Robin and Nancy looked at each other, sympathetic looks on their faces. When Robin looked back at you, she watched as a tear fell from your waterline, knowing that you were trying your hardest to keep the tears at bay.

When it was time to go and take your seats, you couldn’t leave Nancy and Robin, so the administrators of the school let them sit with you, holding each one of your hands, the roses that you all were given sitting in your laps, only… yours had two roses; a red one and a black one.

If Eddie had lived, he’d be holding the black rose that was given to you, muttering how stupid it was that he received a rose because roses were for girls, and you would snicker next to him, trying not to get in trouble with the teacher sitting at the end of the aisle. 

When Robin’s name was called, she patted your hand and stood up, walking to the stage to receive her diploma, the same thing with Nancy when she called. It seemed like the entire Class of ‘86 was graduating except for you.

“And now, we’d like to bring to the stage–” When Principal Higgins called your name, you looked up from your lap in shock, Nancy and Robin smiling big at you, happy that your time had come. They helped you to stand, walking with you to the stage so that you wouldn’t fall.

You looked at the sky and you swore you could see Eddie flipping everyone off. Looking at Principal Higgins, you looked him dead in the eye, flipped him the bird before snatching your diploma from his hand.

But before you could run like hell off the stage and off the field, you looked at where your friends and family were sitting, shocked to all hell when you saw Eddie sitting in between Dustin and Wayne, clapping and smiling. You could’ve sworn you saw him mouth the words, “Our year, kid. Good job,” before vanishing.

You broke down in tears right on that stage, falling to your knees in front of your graduating class, not caring that they were witnessing your very public breakdown. 

Steve, Dustin, Robin and Nancy all four rushed to the stage, helping you to stand as you sobbed uncontrollably over the loss of your brother. Since you couldn’t walk very well because of the sobs taking over your body, Steve had to bend down and pick you up, carrying you to the car.

He didn't get very far before you took a shaky breath, looking off to the side in front of Steve, saying, “I saw him. I fucking saw Eddie!” Steve stopped his feet from moving any further as he looked down at you.

“What did you just say, kid?”

Resting your head on Steve’s shoulder, your forehead touched the skin of his neck as you stuttered, “I-I saw E-Eddie. He was s-sitting between Wayne and D-Dustin.” As you tried to calm your breathing, you only cried harder.

“Oh, shit,” Dustin breathed.

“Kid, your mind is just playing on you,” Wayne voiced, sighing. 

With your tears still ever present on your face, you looked up at Steve, eyes red from crying. “Put me down, please, Steve.”

He looked down at you the best he could, seeing the red in your eyes. Sighing, he nodded and set you on your feet. Feeling bad about keeping his hands on your waist, all he could do was look at you, knowing that you were probably going to run. “Are you gonna run?” he whispered.

You didn’t answer him because you both knew the answer. You would. But where, Steve didn’t know. Only you did. When he sighed and looked down, Steve let go of your waist, and not missing a beat, you turned and ran as fast as your feet could carry you.

With your feet hitting the pavement and your breathing heavy, you had only one goal in mind; getting to Eddie’s grave as fast as humanly possible. You weren’t sure how long you were running for, so when you found yourself sitting on your knees at your brother’s headstone, you were almost on the verge of a panic attack, you were breathing so heavy.

“You’re a liar,” you gritted through your teeth, tears streaming down your face. “You’d said this was our year. Our year, Edward. That makes you a fucking liar. I can’t believe you’d leave me alone, too. Ever since Wayne took us in, you always told me I’d never be alone, that you’d always be there for and with me. But you’re not.”

Hitting the side of your fist on the ground as you bent at the waist, you sobbed. You sobbed for the loss of the little boy you saw through your six year old eyes, for the fifteen year old who held you when your dreams became too much and introduced you to metal music, for the eighteen year old who failed his senior year the first time, for the young man he grew up to be right before your eyes.

Hitting the ground again, you took a deep breath, sitting up. Looking at his headstone, all you could see next to his name was his smiling face. This only made you cry more, the sobs wracking your body

“You lied! You’re a fucking liar! I hate you!” you cried, smacking the front of his headstone where his name sat, repeating those last three words over and over again. “You’re a fucking coward, Edward Munson! You hear me? A fucking coward!”

Placing your forehead at the top of the headstone, you let the tears flow down your cheeks, not hearing tires on the pavement behind you or the steps on the grass from someone’s shoes.

Steve watched as you took a deep, shaky breath sitting back up on your knees, your hand replacing where your forehead just was. He took a couple of steps towards you as he heard you say, “Nothing’s the same without you here. Wayne had to move trailers because of the Gate, I couldn’t donate anything of yours because the thought of getting rid of your things hurts me to my core.”

Kneeling down behind you carefully, Steve was fully prepared to listen to you grieve for your brother.

“You were wrong, Eddie… so terribly wrong about not being a hero. You are a hero. You saved me… a-and you saved Dustin.” Sighing, you closed your eyes and hung your head for a moment before picking it back up to look at Eddie’s name. “I love you, bubba. So much.” You leaned forward on your knees to kiss the top of his headstone before sitting back on your knees.

Steve knew that you were done talking to your brother, but he waited a moment, hearing you sigh in finality before he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump at the feel of someone touching you.

Quickly turning to face him, your features softened when you realized it was just Steve. You looked at him for a moment before smiling softly at him, both of you moving to sit next to each other, his arm around your shoulders as your head rested on his shoulder.

He sighed, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “I know that I’m sorry is the last thing you want to hear right now,” he whispered. “So, I’m not gonna say it. What I will say is that he’s always going to be here with you. Maybe not physically, but in your heart. I know him being in your heart isn’t the same as being here physically, but…” He stopped his words, looking down at you the best he could before bringing his hand to your chin, gently raising your head up to look at him.

“...he’s always going to be with you.” Putting his hand gently on your chest where your heart sat beneath your sternum. “In here.”

Smiling slightly, your eyes danced between Steve’s, asking, “My boobs?” before letting out a small, quiet chuckle at him as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“No, smartass. Your heart.”

Placing your hand over his, you leaned your head back against his shoulder, your eyes still locked on his. “I love you,” you whispered. “And thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, confused.

“For everything. Letting me basically move in with you, for letting me grieve even though we both know I’m gonna be doing that for a while. For loving me even when I put the walls up.” You looked back at your brother’s headstone, tears filling your eyes once again. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

Holding onto you a little tighter, Steve sighed, kissing your forehead when you turned your head into his neck. “I know. I’ll always be here for you, baby, even if you just want to cry, my shoulder is available 24/7.”

You chuckled at his words, looking up at him. “Again, thank you. This time for being supportive, or… at least trying to be.” Smiling softly, you couldn’t help but hear Eddie’s voice in your head, saying, “Kid, if you don’t love up on him, I will resurrect and do it myself.”

Steve didn’t wonder why you chuckled before looking over at the headstone once again. “What’s up?”

Shaking your head, you said, “Just something Eddie would say popped into my head.” Taking a deep breath, you sighed it out, saying, “It’s going to be tough,... but I’ll make it through.” Looking back at your boyfriend, the soft smile never leaving your face as you said, “Especially because I have you by my side.”

Resting his forehead against yours softly, Steve sighed, letting you take the reins on the next set of words that leaves your lips.

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

The wind that blew over the two of you was just wind to Steve, but as you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, you thought it was a sign from your brother, telling you everything was going to be okay.

Opening your eyes, you gave Steve a small smile before cupping his cheeks, and finally, finally giving him the kiss he oh so deserved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! let me know what you thought about! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: i'm running out of nicknames to give reader when not using y/n or y/n/n. give me some suggestions?? also, i'm irritated at myself for not finding the gif i wanted.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak

Steve Harrington Taglist: @madaboutjoe​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on February 22, 2024 *Happy 31st Birthday to me!!*

[taronegertonthewelshboi]

On the Road

Rockstar!eddie x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to sex. SFW. Use of Y/N

A/N: Please go easy on me for this. It’s been a very long time since i’ve written anything so excuse any poor writing or dodgy use of tense,  but i just had this thought one night and said fuck it, lets share it. Enjoy. Feedback is appreciated and so are likes and reblogs 🙂

The squeaking of the brakes and crunching of gravel was enough to slowly bring you out of your slumber. It had been a few hours since you’d passed out on the scratchy sofa of their tour bus, but it had seemed needed after the past week of late nights and long journeys that had robbed you of energy. The heavy hand that had been stroking across your shoulder, squeezed your upper arm, “We’re here sweetheart.” Eddie’s voice sounded, laced with tiredness. 

After years of blood, sweat and tears, Eddie had finally managed to make his childhood dreams real. He and the boy’s of corroded Coffin had made it to the big leagues, miles away from dingy bars and drunks that couldn’t care less who they were. They had been talent spotted and offered a small regional tour which, after completing last summer, had proven their name in the industry as one to look out for. Their success led them to now, their first leg of their national tour filled with multiple sold out shows. Eddie could have sworn he’d never felt more alive than he did when he got to perform to thousands of people every night, seeing how their music touched each and every one, much like he’d been affected by his own music heroes growing up. Getting to witness his dreams being fulfilled every night, had been a privilege, seeing new towns and cities that you probably would never have had the chance to before felt like the greatest gift you’d been given. You’d joined him on tour as support at first. He’d spent nights begging for you to join him. ‘Babe, please come! The boys all want you with us, plus i’ll miss you so much that i’ll combust if i have to spend too long away.’ He’d state each time you’d give a reason as to why it wouldn’t be possible. Eventually he’d pestered enough that you broke, agreeing to join him for the first 4 stops on the tour and then head back home, however that soon changed when you joined the guys selling merch and even creating items to sell,  leading to your position in the group being upgraded from supportive girlfriend to executive roadie. 

Blinking your eyes open, you were faced with Eddie's big brown eyes staring lovingly back into yours. They were now accompanied by dark undereye shadows, telling the story of a man who’d been working his ass off. “Morning sleepy girl.” He smiled. You reached up a hand to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “It’s morning?” You croaked. 

“Only just, It’s gone 2am.” Eddie clarified glancing to his watch. 

“Ugh, can i not just stay here?” You whined, tucking your face away and attempting to drift back to sleep.

Eddie chuckled softly, sliding his hand down your arm to grasp your hand, “Unfortunately not, we’ve got a nice big bed waiting for us and quite frankly i’d like to be in it right now.” 

Just the mention of a bed, had you moving to get up. Despite having spent a good month on the road and being treated to a fairly comfy tour bus with all the amenities the guys could need, stopping at hotels and getting to sleep in a bed that wasn’t continually being rattled by the vibrations of an engine or having disturbances by people shuffling around in the night was a god send. You and Eddie had been lucky when given bunk assignments, seeing as you were the only couple in the group, you had been designated the only actual bed on the bus, whilst the rest of the guys had to make do with a single bunk bed that could just about house a small grown adult. ‘You guys can have the bed but just don’t make too much noise if you’re gonna fuck. Don’t really need to hear ‘how eddie is rocking your world’ or ‘how good my princess takes me’ is.’ Gareth had warned you two on the first night on the road, very much to the embarrassment of you but the humor of Eddie. 

“Where are the guys?” You asked as you stretched out your muscles, hearing a satisfying click in your bones.

“They’ve already headed in. Jeff barely waited for the bus to come to a stop before he’d leapt off claiming he needed to pee.” 

You smiled in response watching as Eddie gathered up both his and your overnight bags to bring into the hotel. He took your hand in his free one, leading you out the bus and towards the hotel reception. You were met with the rest of the tour party standing with bleary eyes and no energy, all ready to finally get some rest. Eddie nudged you in the direction of Gareth and Jeff who were standing resting against the wall, struggling to stay awake, whilst he went to source your room key. 

“My eyes feel like they have papercuts.” Gareth grumbled. 

“I could sleep right here.” Jeff responded. You gave both the boys sympathetic smiles.

Throughout the tour you’d grown closer to them, becoming almost like a sister to them. They’d come to you with all sorts of issues, from wardrobe help to romantic advice. Like any man that had an entire world of women at their feet, Gareth and Jeff made the most of being single and having their pick, resulting in plenty of one night stands and the occasional double hit. 

“You seemed to have slept ok y/n, you were totally out.” Gareth remarked.

You sighed softly, “God I must have been shattered, I don't actually remember laying down.” 

“You didn’t, I laid you down in my lap cause your head was hanging off your neck.” Eddie responded as he walked back over to you, this time with keys in hand. He handed Jeff and Gareth their keys each before swinging his arm to rest over your shoulders. “Couldn’t have my love waking up in pain.” he said as he pressed a kiss to your hairline. 

Your heart swelled in your chest. Eddie had many ways of showing his affection for you, but his physical touch and care is the category he really shone in. From the gentle touches on the base of your back as he guided you through crowds of fans, to the all enclosing, full of love and affection, cuddles he’d provide whenever you wanted, the love eddie had for you couldn’t hide from his physical touch. The gesture of him adjusting your sleeping position on the bus purely to help you, was just another example of his love. 

Eddie slid his arm down from your shoulders to connect your hands as he gently led you towards your bedroom for the night. Stepping into the elevator, he reached over to press the floor number, he didn’t even wait for the doors to fully close before he was encasing you in an embrace and guiding your lips up to meet his. Although gentle, his kiss was full of love, speaking all the words he could ever say. 

He pulled back slightly, keeping your noses touching. “Thank you baby for coming with me. I know it isn’t easy, jesus, its fucking exhausting.”

You smiled in agreement, “It is. But it’s worth it.” You pushed back into him to connect your lips again. “I get to see my gorgeous rockstar boyfriend, singing and playing his heart out in front of screaming fans every night and know that at the end of the night, he’ll be in my bed, kissing my lips, giving his whole being to me.” 

Eddie brings his hands to hold your cheeks as he kisses you again, however just before he can deepen it, the elevator doors re-open. Quickly he takes your hand again and pulls you along as he heads towards your room. He swiftly slips the key into the door, and pushes it open, gesturing for you to enter before him, ever the gentleman. As you take in the room, which is a mark sight better than the cramped bedroom on the tour bus, the door behind you shuts as two thick arms slide around your waist, and the warm breath of your lover fans down your neck. 

“You are right.” He whispered as you tilted your neck to the side granting him space to pepper your skin with kisses. “Having a stunning woman, watching from the wings of the stage as I sing for her, knowing that I also get to be in her bed, kissing her and showing her pleasure that has her screaming my name every night is what makes this all worth it.” 

His words send shivers down your spine, making you turn to face him. All feelings of tiredness fade from your body and are replaced with desire. Looking up into his eyes, you see that he is sharing the feeling. “Then come and show me.” You whisper just as you reconnect with his lips and walk him towards the bed. 

He was right, touring is exhausting, but so were you. It’s all worth it for nights like these.

[ladyimaginarium]

Okay so I'm& revitalizing this again.

Hi, my& name's Arcana& / Angel&, and I& am the core / host / singletsona of The Imaginarians Galaxy. If you want to help support a local queer, trans, nonbinary, genderfluid, intersex, mspec, aspec, autistic, disabled, neurodivergent, hoh, chronically ill, psychotic spoonie witch two spirited mixed native and ashkenazi jewish bodied multigenic DID system who's an aspiring activist, fashion model, voice & film actrex, ASMRtist, youtuber/vtuber, polyglot & writer, it'd be greatly appreciated.

This month is Pride Month & Indigenous History Month so please support our indigenous turtle island communities, know who's land you're on and support queer indigenous turtle islander creators, & on top of that, July 13th is also my& birthday & July is also Disability Pride Month & Queer Wrath Month !! I& just find it's funny how white queers get all this support & clout, but the minute a queer Native Jew asks for any kind of mutual assistance, it's like cricket noises, but anyway, here I& go again, I'm& putting out these links just in case someone actually does wanna help out because it's only right to do so being an indigenous queer two spirited bodied system, after all.

If you're white, you can think of this as paying reparations for us& for dealing with antinative racism, antisemitism, ableism, sanism, pluralphobia, psyism, audism, homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, multitransphobia, aphobia, exorsexism, intersexism and the ongoing colonization of my& people and fighting on the behalf of the indigenous, queer and plural communities on here while for any POC reading this, you can think of this as extending your solidarity with us&, so after I& spent a lot of blood sweats and tears into what i& do, I'm& finally asking something that would benefit me& for a change, even like 10$ could help, but even if you still can't for whatever reason, please spread the word out to help us& live easier as a disabled, neurodivergent mixed native system in this ableist & racist world.

Donate To Our& P*yP*l

Multipurpose Psychiatric Service Dog Donations

Throne Wishlist

So far these are the best ways to support us&. Information on commissions, booking tarot readings with me& as well as sensitivity reader information will be available in a reblog eventually.

We& didn't have a great childhood growing up as we& were abused for a decade & we& weren't taught many lifeskills so we're& still learning from the gate. Even though we aren't in a life threatening emergency, I'm& generally not in the right financial space to spend a lot & buying my& own shit because I'm& Saving Up™ for a lot of things, including the possibility of me& moving to my& first ever apartment next year & my& future service dog & I& cannot work due to my& multiple disabilities, & I& can't stand up for long periods of time without feeling exhausted & just being an overall madcripple, so whatever you do, it'd be greatly appreciated, especially if you like our& content.

Remember, reblogs > likes!

[raine-blxssxm]

Now for the moment you guys have been waiting for.. Amelia’s backstory/ family life 😈

(I know probably no one has been actively waiting for this, just lemme have my moment with this story I worked hard on writing 🥹)

TW: Death of a family member, child neglect, and the slightest mention of blood!

If you are triggered by any of this, please read at your own risk!

Amelia’s family history isn’t very significant besides her great grandmother formerly being a well known actress in South Park who almost made it to broadway, but died in an accident before she could do so.

At a young age, Amelia strived to do what her great grandmother couldn’t, which was to reach Broadway. Amelia’s parents neglected her a lot growing up, typically leaving the maids and butlers to care for her. They often were on business trips, not leaving a lot of bonding time to develop their relationship with their daughter. Whenever her parents were around, she’d put blood, sweat, and tears into gaining their praise through her acting roles. Due to none of her attempts being successful, Amelia grew an obsession with making her performances absolutely flawless.

As you can probably assume, this is where her phobia of messing up developed. Throughout the years she did theater, Amelia developed into a triple threat (which is someone who can act, dance, and sing). While she wanted to reach her grandmother’s level of fame and to be in Broadway, Amelia had a deeper reason for loving theater. She loved entertaining people and making them smile. There’s also a part of Amelia that hopes her parents would praise her and give her attention again if she gave them a flawless performance while doing something she loved. Whenever she tried, her parents were always the only ones not smiling in the crowd, that’s even if they came to watch her. It drove Amelia crazy. All she could ever think to herself is “What did I do wrong?”. The sad reality is that- her parents will never truly care for her. No matter the amount of acting roles she receives and performs in, her parents will never care because the little amount of care they DID have went into their famous business.

Part of her is aware of this, due to the reasoning behind why she constantly steals money from them for the benefit of herself and people who actually need it (such as Kenny). She steals their money to spite them, as a way to say “You’ve never cared for me so I’ll gradually take more and more away of the only thing you love, money.” This may seem out of character for such a bubbly character such as Amelia, but that’s because she’s in denial. She’s aware that her parents will never love her yet she still can’t help but try to earn their praise whenever they’re in town, she still feels that there’s a chance for them to care about her and for them to be a happy family.

The drawing I made reflects this story because Amelia is reaching out to a light and when you look at the ground of the drawing you can see the silhouette of two people (her parents) kind of towering over some parts of her Ariel costume that will be crucial to another part of Amelia’s story. As for the costumes laid around Amelia, those are to represent the characters she’s acted for in some musicals (you can see the previously stated Ariel costume and the dress in the bottom left corner is Glinda’s party dress in “Wicked”). The reason why I made some of her costumes covered by the shadows of her parents is because I really wanted to emphasize the fact that her parents really don’t care about how talented of an actress she is. Not to mention the light Amelia’s reaching out to is supposed to symbolize the possibility she has fabricated in her mind that her parents can care about her and not treat her like she doesn’t exist.

I really hope you enjoyed reading Amelia’s backstory and the breakdown of the drawing I made ❤️

PS. Reblogs are welcomed (though aren’t forced) + to those who sent some questions, I promise I’ll write some responses soon, I’ve just been busy with family all weekend 💔

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair in~ Wounds & Woes

Chapter 20: Wounds & Woes

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Emotional trauma, Bad language words, mentions of death and physical trauma, nightmares.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 4.2K

A/N: It feels like I haven't posted in years, even though its only been like a week, if even. The Holiday season really fucks me up... as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always welcome! Anyhow, enjoy!💕

You must have been out of your damn mind bringing him into the lion’s den. After everything the two of you had been through, you should have left him with his people. They would surely hunt you down. Especially if Barnes was running things in Steve’s disappearance, and as Steve’s second in command, you knew he would be.

You shouldered your way into a separate part of the casino; a safe house if you will, an entire miniature apartment. You shared a floor with the others, but you knew they weren't home.

You hadn’t used your safe house in over a year when you decided to retire. You hadn’t needed to use it, but most of the time it felt more like home than your actual house near the museum, nonetheless, you slipped your keycard from your pocket, nudged open the door then kicked it shut when you finally stumbled through with Steve.

Making your way into your room, you gently lay him on your bed, wincing when pain shot through your side, your hands stained red, along with Steve’s shirt. Panic threatened to take control, but your instincts went into overdrive, you reached for your side, a bullet had grazed you, but not deep enough to cause this amount of blood. The realization had you tearing open his shirt, a deep bullet wound sat right above his hip, pouring blood. You tore through the rest of his shirt, using the fabric to apply pressure and stop the blood flow, you needed the med kit you kept in the other room. You dared a glance at his face, the color had drained, leaving him unnaturally pale, his skin sticky with sweat.

A sudden knock on the door ripped you from your panic.

“Death?” Wade’s voice pierced through your skull.

“Wade! In here, hurry!”

You heard the door unlock and slam open, followed by Wade’s swift footsteps, you turned to him as he slid to a stop in the doorway, his face falling as he took in the room. 

He doesn’t think, he just moves, gently taking your place on the bed and applying pressure to Steve’s wound.

“Focus kid. Get the medkit, we need to stop the bleeding.”

You stare wide-eyed at the man bleeding on your bed, dread seeping into your bones; this couldn’t be it, after everything you had been through—

When you don’t move Wade turns to you quickly, his hand meeting your cheek with a loud crack. Snapping out of your trance you glare at him, “Do you want to die?!”

“No, but he will if you don’t focus. Medkit. Now!”

His words crash over you sending you into motion, you hurry from the room, slamming into the bathroom door, scrambling to find your medkit. When your fingers finally wrap around the thick military-grade box, a wave of relief crashes through you but is crushed when you enter your room again to see Steve even paler than before. 

You take a deep breath and focus, he needs you. You shut your emotions down, letting Wraith/Death take over. You move like a machine, going through the motions of cleaning the wound, a sliver of the weight lifts from your shoulders as you and Wade realize, it was a clean shot. When the two of you are satisfied with ensuring the wound won't get infected, you help Wade stitch the wound closed.

Steve is still deathly pale, the pit in your stomach gapes open as the wall you threw up breaks back down, what if he lost too much blood and this was all for nothing? What if you lose him anyway? What if you never get to properly apologize and tell him you—

“Death.” Wade's firm voice rips you out of your thoughts, his tone tells you this isn’t the first time he has spoken your name, “Do you know his blood type? He needs a transfusion.”

You numbly shake your head, “A hospital, we should take him to…” you swallow thickly, your eyes darting back to Steve’s unconscious form on the bed.

“There’s no time for that…” Wade breaks off, scowling, “I’ll be right back, watch him.”

You reach after him, but he is too quick, there one second then gone the next. Before you can move he is back, a bag of blood tucked under his arm to warm it. He pulls it out, nailing it to the wall, before placing a needle into Steve’s arm.

You cock your head, eyes flickering from the door Wade came through to the blood, to Wade, then back to the blood, “Where did you get that?” 

“My room.” His answer is so calm, and nonchalant like it was normal for them to have bags of blood in their rooms. He continues as if you aren’t staring at him in utter confusion, “We really need to talk to the boss about having a stockpile in case of emergencies…” he turns back to you, raising his brows, “What?”

You scrunch your face, “What do you mean what? You just pulled a bag of O-negative blood from under your couch cushion? And you expect me to not be dumbfounded?”

He purses his lips, “Like that is the most absurd thing I’ve brought out of there…”

Frowning you raise your brow, before nodding, he isn’t wrong, Wade’s apartment is off limits, solely because no one knows what is in there. One time you were walking by as he closed the door, and you could swear he had a rainbow unicorn onesie on a mannequin, riding a rocket. And you're ninety-nine percent sure there was a full-grown alligator chilling on his couch two weeks later.

Wade sighed as he stood, stretching, “Well, my work here is done, consider that my apology for having to bossnap him…” he grimaced, “Think he’ll forgive me?”

You stifled a laugh as if he really cared… Wade left the room heading for your apartment door, “Put in a good word for me dearie…” your door clicked shut, leaving you alone with an unconscious Steve, who was still quite pale.

You looked back at Steve lying on your bed, before plopping into the chair next to him, you will get up in a couple of minutes to shower and fix your wound, the medkit lay discarded on the bed, within reach, but for now, you just want to watch over him. The color is slowly creeping back into his cheeks, his chest rising and falling in a more steady rhythm. His face and body were covered in wounds and bruises, your brother had done a number on him before you arrived; it was nothing compared to what Steve’s men had done to you, but it was enough. Leaning over him, you brush the hair from his forehead, placing a soft kiss there, before settling back in the chair, your eyes drifting shut, despite your efforts to stay awake, sleep yanked you under.

—

A few hours earlier— 

Bucky’s mind was reeling, he didn’t understand how you were alive, but at this point, he didn’t care. There were too many coincidences where you were involved. You show back up in town the same night Peggy Carter dies, then you miraculously don’t die after he leaves you in the upper bay? That is a big red flag, a normal person wouldn’t have been able to survive half the shit he did to you that night, yet you were standing in Steve’s office mere minutes ago. That was a major red flag, they had just been attacked by Tony’s men at the penthouse, you want Steve dead, and Tony wants Steve dead, why? Bucky couldn’t understand. All he knew was you were dangerous, and his best friend was blind to that danger, Bucky wouldn’t let Steve make the mistake of trusting you and losing his life because of it. 

You had almost outed him in front of Steve earlier, lapdog, who did you think you were, calling him such a thing. He had half a mind to go back into Steve’s office and talk some sense into the man, but he thought better of it, he knew Steve needed his space, needed to blow off steam. Hell, the minute the door closed he could hear glass shattering and all of the furniture clattering on the floor. If Steve hadn’t put a hole in the wall he would have been surprised.

Bucky descended the stairs into the main foyer, Sam and Peter were already making their way in from the kitchen, Peter’s mouth full from whatever dish Wanda had prepared for them. Bucky ran his hand through his hair as they approached,

“What the fuck was all the commotion? Was that gunfire?” Sam questioned as he took in Bucky’s agitated state.

He shook his head, “It was a misfire, don't worry about it.”

Peter piped up, raising a brow, “We heard yelling, a female’s voice…”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed on the two of them, “Listen, do the two of you have a problem or something you would like to ask? Because both of you have been on my ass for days now!” taking a deep breath, Bucky lowered his voice, “As I said, it was a misunderstanding between Steve and me, and a gun misfired. Period.” he gave them both a pointed look, before walking back towards his room.

“You killed Ace.” Peter’s voice was a knife’s edge slicing through the air. A pin-drop silence followed. It wasn't a question, but a statement, but Bucky could hear it in Peter’s voice, he wanted it to be false. He stiffened, not wanting to turn around, but not wanting to take another step away,

“That is quite the accusation, Queens.”

“Yet you don’t deny it. You killed her, even after Steve spared her life. You killed her. Why?! What gave you the right to take her from him?!”

Bucky turned to face Peter, his movements agonizingly slow, his face a hard mask of emotion, “She had all of you fooled.” his eyes flicked between Peter and Sam, his voice rising with each word, “She didn’t care about you! This was a job to her, another fucking hit, nothing more!”

The crowd in the foyer began to grow as Scott, Wanda and Barton joined to see what was happening. Sam stepped between the two of them, his hands raised, “Easy Buck, just calm down, and tell us what happened…”

“I don’t owe any of you an explanation! I did what I had to do to keep Steve safe, as his second in command! He trusts me to keep him safe! —”

The lights in the mansion flickered out, leaving them all in pitch darkness, the front doors exploded open, the ground shaking as gunfire broke through the air, followed by the cacophony of men yelling orders. 

Instantly Bucky bolted for the stairs, he had to make it to Steve…

He was cut short when a hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around, “Hello Barnesy…” Bucky knew that voice, but he couldn’t place it, “Hey! Don’t you dare touch the kid, tie him up, and put him to the side, if a single hair on his head is misplaced, I’ll kill you myself!” The figure turned back to Bucky, his hot breath puffing in his face, “Sorry Buckaroo, where were we? Oh yes, Death isn’t one for revenge, but I am…”

All Bucky feels is pain, his consciousness slips from him, as his assailant laughs.

Later– 

There you were again, outside of Stark tower with Steve, broken and bloody from whatever you and your brother had done to him. You were probably taking him with you to finish him off and get paid for finishing the job. His blood boiled, and he ignored Sam and Peter next to him screaming as he aimed for your head. Peter slammed into him as he pulled the trigger, Bucky watched it hit its mark on your vest instead, momentarily knocking you off balance. Then you were on your bike and gone from their reach. 

He turned to Peter, seething, but the little shit stood tall against him, he wasn't afraid of Bucky… 

Bucky furrowed his brow, taking a deep breath, Queens didn’t need to be afraid of him, he was his brother, not his enemy. Shaking his head he threw the pistol into the passenger seat as he settled behind the wheel, “Get back in the car, we need to regroup…”

—

The two of you were on the roof, your gaze meeting his, so much pain swam in those beautiful eyes, and his heart stuttered in his chest. “Do you trust me?”

He couldn’t help the reply that drunkenly left his lips, “I used to…”

He watched your heart shatter at that moment, but your reply was swift, full of conviction, “It’s time I earned it back…”

The next moments were a blur, you shoving him backward, the air rushing from his lungs as he began to freefall, then your warmth surrounding him. He felt the hard asphalt under his feet, and the screeching of tires pierced his ears.  Followed by yelling—

Bang

The memory has Steve jolting awake, his body involuntarily convulsing, a fire erupting in his abdomen searing through the rest of his body. Grimacing, he stifled a groan, his eyes peeled open, the room he’s in isn't one he recognizes, but the sleeping form in the chair next to him he does. You had fallen asleep next to him, the medkit he assumes you used to patch him lay discarded on the bed at his feet, your head hanging uncomfortably on the back of the chair. You hadn’t even taken off your uniform, his eyes began to droop again, sleep slowly pulling him back under as his eyes landed on the blood that coats your hands, from the stitched wound on his abdomen, he knew it was his own.

—

Blood. There was so much blood, you couldn’t find the wound it was coming from. It coated your hands, it was covering the floor, thick pools of crimson blood. It rained down onto your skin, dying your hair and mask, it seeped from the walls. 

And in the middle of it, all laying in a pile were the ones you couldn’t bear to lose, eyes glazed over, all the color drained from their faces. You dropped to your knees in front of them, your tears mixing with the thick liquid as you reached for them with a trembling hand. 

A hand shot out of the pile with breakneck speed, wrapping around your wrist, their vacant eyes pleading, their mouths agape with words unsaid—

You jerked awake, eyes flying open, limbs stiff, neck aching from the unnatural position you had fallen asleep in. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you straighten in the chair, your gaze finding Steve still lying in your bed, the color is mostly back in his cheeks, the bag of blood no longer nailed to the wall, Wade must’ve come in to check on him after you passed out. 

You rise from the chair for only a moment, heading into the kitchen you grab a glass, and one of your bottles of vodka. The wound on your side is still biting at you, an annoying reminder to stitch and clean it before infection sets in.

As you entered the room again, your eyes locked on his, he was tense against the headboard, eyes fixed on you. Not on you, no they were glued to the weapons strapped to your body, and the obvious bullet hole in the middle of your kevlar vest.

He had seen you like this before, in your uniform, but you could tell it still stunned him.

“Do you usually sleep in that?” his voice wrapped around you like a brisk autumn breeze, as you discarded your gloves, pouring yourself a drink, your brow creasing. When you didn't respond he continued, “Or is it only when you need to make a clean break?”

Oh…oh. Shit, you reached up to your eyes and face, gently removing the contacts, and mask, you give him a small shrug, “Sometimes I forget I have it on…” your eyes traveled his body, and though he was no longer restrained, he kept himself still, until your mask and contacts were discarded, you noticed his body finally relax.

“Steve… Listen I–”

“I didn’t kill Howard and Maria.” the words left his mouth in a whisper so soft you almost missed it.

Your shoulders sagged, dropping his gaze, “I…I know…” you leaned forward, gathering the antiseptic and towels from the bed, “Tony didn’t hire me to kill you…”

“I know… he told me.”

You paused, but he continued, “I mean not blatantly. We had met at a restaurant, and threatened each other, I told him he shouldn't have sent you to kill me if he didn't want you hurt…” you locked gazes again, his beautiful ocean eyes so full of sorrow and pain, “He didn’t even know you were an Ace?” his voice wavered on the last part.

You shook your head, your gaze again dropping to your hands, where you mindlessly pulled at one of the loose strings. “No. No one knew… well except you… and your men.”

Swinging his legs off the bed he scooted closer, a grimace pulling his face tight as he pointed to the hole in your vest, where your heart would be, “I never thought your brother would actually shoot at you…”

You batted his hand away, huffing, “Neither did I, but that isn't from Tony…” you gesture to the bullet hole, “it’s your men’s third attempt at killing me.”

His face pales further, the only color on his beautiful face is the full brown beard that now adorns it, “Third? What were the first and second?” His voice was raspy and strained as if he were trying to force the words to the surface, like the thought of you dying pained him.

You couldn't help the laugh that clawed its way out of your throat as you searched his face, but when he stares at you full of confusion you elaborate, “Steve, the basement? You tortured me, I was this–” you gesture with your fingers only millimeters away from each other, “close to bleeding out. Then, you send Bucky to strap cement boots to my feet and throw me in…” you trail off, the rest of the sentence no longer important because he is looking at you like he did that night in the warehouse; heartbroken and full of disbelief. 

Your face falls, the anger you held toward him slowly melting away, “You didn’t know…” 

He shakes his head numbly, tears lining his eyes, the color finally rising to his cheeks, “I heard the jab about him being my lapdog at the mansion, but I hadn’t realized…” his jaw clenches, “Believe me, Angel,” the use of your pet name stirs something in your chest, “I never sent him to kill you…” his fingers trace up your vest and you hold your breath, “Did he do this too?”

You look at his hand, gently tracing the spot on your chest, then slowly raise your eyes to his, letting out the breath you were holding. The nod you give him is barely discernible, but he sees it.

“There will be consequences for his actions.”

One corner of your lips tilts upwards, “It’s not entirely his fault… I may have threatened to kill you–”

“It doesn't matter, he almost succeeded in killing you. He disobeyed my wishes, he will be dealt with.”

A lump began to form in your throat, “According to the world, he succeeded. Besides, if it hadn’t been him, it would have been another one of your men. Like Ronin, he would kill me on sight—”

Steve shook his head, “No, Barton follows orders, he is good at his job, and efficient at retrieving information, but he knows his place. If he would have seen you, he would have known I kept you alive for a reason…”

Your brows shot up, “Oh? There was a method to the madness? A reason for my suffering?”

“Angel,” Steve's voice lowered, “you attempted to kill me, I had to find out why… Taking you to your brother’s was the only way to keep you safe—”

Your lip trembled, “From who?! You? Did you really think it mattered?!”

His jaw clenched tightly, “I spared your life.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, couldn’t stop the scoff that left your mouth, “You condemned me! You tortured me within an inch of my life! Then sentenced me to live in a gilded cage!” you shoved up from the chair, the force causing it to clatter onto the ground behind you.

“Don’t act like you have no blame for how this turned out.”

“Excuse me?! I was doing my job! Not all of us have the luxury of choice! You chose to do all those things to me, chose to keep me alive as punishment.”

He rose to his feet, his hulking frame towering over you, even injured he was the embodiment of power.

 “Punishment?! I didn’t keep you alive for punishment! I could have done worse things. After what you did…” his face fell, his eyes clouding as his hand raked through his hair, “You lied to me Angel, played me for a fool.”

He stepped closer to you, crowding you against the wall, your blood roaring in your ears, your body felt too hot, his breath puffing in your face, “You betrayed me, Angel. In the worst way possible.”

“Then why not kill me.” you spat the words, like bile on your tongue.

He growls “Because I fucking love you!” his hand slams against the wall next to your head, the impact reverberating in the room, his chest is heaving now, “I know I shouldn’t. I can’t, but I do.”

His shoulders sag as he pulls away from you. Turning he walks towards the bed, shaking his head, “I can’t get you out of my head… I kept you alive because I couldn’t bear killing you. I know it doesn’t make what I did better, what I allowed Barton and Bucky to do to you is unforgivable…” he pauses, his voice now barely above a whisper, “I have hated myself every day for even letting them lay a finger on you. I was angry. It isn’t an excuse, I know that.”

You swallowed thickly, his back was toward you, but you could see the light tremble in his shoulders, the sharp intake of breath.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Your apology was genuine, you hadn’t meant to hurt him in that way, everything had gotten so out of hand…

Steve sighs loudly, “I wish I could believe that, I really do, but I don’t. After all the lies, I can’t trust a word you say. I can’t trust you.”

His words sting, but you understand, if you were in his position, you wouldn’t trust you either, but you won’t accept defeat, you can’t. You’ve come this far, you’ve been beaten, shot at, and lost everything you ever worked for. Because you thought he was worth it. Pushing off the wall you stalk around him, you are toe-to-toe with him now, your hands trembling as you reach up to caress his cheek. 

He stiffened at your initial touch, before closing his eyes and relaxing into your palm. Thumb lightly brushing his plump lips, “I don’t think you understand,” you whispered, your other hand sliding around his neck as you rose onto your toes, “I would never kill you…” you brushed your nose against his, “if I had to choose my life or yours, I’d give mine in a heartbeat.” You breathed against his lips before crushing your lips to his, as he stumbled backward, his back colliding with the wall. His mouth melded with yours, you could feel the fight within him, he wanted to pull away, but couldn’t. The familiar taste of bourbon and mint filled your senses. Breaking the kiss, you scrunch your brows, and tears begin to stream slowly down your cheeks, “Steve, I would burn the whole world down to keep you safe.”

He only allowed you a moment of control before he had you flipped, your back hitting the wall, breath leaving your lungs. The two of your hands held in only one of his, his other hand lightly brushing the tears from your face. His voice was low and menacing, sending a shiver up your spine and your stomach doing flips, “Such beautiful promises mean nothing when they fall from a forked tongue that has told more lies than truth.”

Your eyes searched his sapphire ones, he was trying and failing to hide behind his anger and hurt, you could read him like an open book. He wanted to crumble to give you his heart and soul until there was nothing left of him, and so did you, you wanted it so badly you couldn’t breathe. His name left your mouth in a broken plea, no violence would break you, no amount of torture or broken bones, but him.

This beautifully broken man in front of you would be your undoing, “Tell me one,” he took a shaky breath, “tell me one truth.”

You released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, “I love you.”

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon

[evelhak]

Hey, let's make a manga rec list of underrated works

or maybe not generally underrated, but stuff you don't come across in your orbit, and think people might be missing out on.

Here's my top 5

1. Dance! Subaru/ Moon: Subaru Solitude Standing

If ever a masterpiece there was. The psychological intensity of this makes me drool. I think every sports manga fan should read it. Or maybe not if you're in it for fluff and idealism only. But if you're in it for the blood, sweat and tears, and love yourself some tortured genius, then this is definitely your cup of tea. If you ever thought ballet was cute, think again.

2. Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro

The anime is meh, but the manga is so thrilling and interesting. If you like your detective stories spiced up with supernatural elements in a meaningful way that adds depth instead of just being there, you are missing a lot not having read this. Unless you're averse to a very complex dynamic between an old demon and a high school girl. But if you're into opposites complementing each other, growing together and being mutually influencial, check this out.

3. Double Arts

Unfortunately this was so underrated it was cancelled before the story even really started... It could have been so much, it's a great start of a fantasy/martial arts story that was going to do something different. Just a gal and a guy combining their powers in a way that was apparently too equal and humanizing of the female lead for shonen audience. *heavy eye roll* (I love how their dynamic is based upon working together. It would have been as shippable as the two male leads tend to be in these stories if it had had a chance to go on.)

4. Emma

This might be the most well known out of these but if you haven't read it, and have any taste for romance that is actually romantic, please do. I can't think of any series with more gorgeous art that is so detailed and thought out it really pulls you into the scenes.

5. Warau Kanoko-sama/Koi Dano Ai Dano

If you're a nerd who doesn't usually relate to basic high school shoujo manga but kind of wish you could sometimes, read this. Hands down the most delightful shoujo manga heroine I've ever come across. Keen observer and completely oblivious at the same time. This is such a subversive take on the whole genre.

Reblog with your recs! ✨

[eirian-houpe]

Monday Mmmm

Fair warning: This post is not all sweetness and light - though I wish it were different - I'm going to be calling out a few folks; and a specific fandom (and branch thereof). I'm saddened by it all to be honest, but... I've given it well over 24 hours and I still feel just the same as I did when the antecedent occurred, and so, I feel like I have the right to speak my mind.

The TL;DR version of this post is here: If you're going to be hyper-precious about responses and/or reblogs to and of your posts on a site that was created for discussion and sharing, you might want to reconsider your participation on Tumblr and get the fuck out of dodge!

If I was 'rude', as was asserted by the person throwing shade in the poorly disguised guise of objection and subsequently supported by many of their followers, then I will apologize for troubling myself to provide them with an example of the very content of which they were lamenting a lack. I made a very tongue-in-cheek comment after providing the example about "shameless self promotion" - “...just a quip... not serious,” (Espenson).  But the sheer ageist venom that followed... nope. Unacceptable.

If you want to know where I'm coming from, it's under the cut.

The Tolkien fandom on the internet - and Tumblr especially - has become beset by younger members of fandom who are - sadly - prejudiced, pretentious and privileged. I've got news for you.: to demand respect while giving none yourself is the height of hypocrisy, and to call older Tumblr users, "mummies," and claiming that you're having "trouble with the breathing mummies with too much treasure" (Melkors-Defence-Attorney et al). THAT, my friends, is disrespect of the highest order.

I can't help but wonder what kind of "trouble" you, as a younger member of the fandom, could possibly be having with your elders, (and note, I said 'elders' and not 'betters' because, hell, nobody's perfect, and even elders make mistakes).

To turn around and try to school someone at least twice your age on proper internet (and/or Tumblr) etiquette? Please - someone hold my beer - I've got more news for you, Snowflakes, we were there when the internet was little more than a twinkle in your daddies' eyes, and we were the ones that spent our blood, sweat and many, many tears to create the tenants of online etiquette which you now wield as a club with which to beat us.

See, here's the thing: a Tumblr reblog is like a single point in a multiverse.  It's like IDIC ("IDIC”). One person with ten followers reblogs, and say three of those followers also reblog, and their followers do likewise and so on and all of a sudden you have an extremely diverse discussion in which ANYONE can participate. So if you don't like something someone posts in their reblog of something you're a part of, don't read it. Someone else further down the chain might, and it might lead to an interesting discussion among an extended group of people, of which you don't have to be a part.  Where the threat in that?  Or if this is not about feeling threatened, then why make such a fuss?

I also can't help but wonder, as you post such 'scholarly' discourses on your blog posts (without citing references, I might add), how many of you have actually sat down to read multiple versions and revisions of the same source material in order to truly analyze Tolkien's intent for any given passage before being programmed with the 'received' interpretation in the form of the many indices and commentaries provided by Christopher Tolkien on his father's work. How many of you have read, let alone studied the many volumes of The History of Middle Earth (Tolkien), and who among you, writing Elvish fiction would know LaCE (Tolkien 207) if it leaped up and bit your arse? From the discourse I've read among the posts, not many, I'd wager, and those that have simply... what? Discard it as 'inconvenient'?

Is this harsh? Yes, probably, but at this point my lines have been well and truly crossed, and my rope is frayed, and beyond the edge. If you're going to stick around on Tumblr and participate in interesting and meaningful discussions with other users, then please, grow the fuck up!

----

Espenson, Jane. “Skin Deep.” Once Upon A Time, season 1, episode 12, ABC/Disney, 12 Feb. 2012. 

“IDIC.” Memory Alpha, Fandom TV Community, 27 Mar. 2022, https://memory-alpha.fandom.com/wiki/IDIC#References.

Melkors-Defense-Attorney, et al. “Untitled.” I Make Tolkien Roll in His Grave on Tumblr, Tumblr, 3 May 2023, https://www.tumblr.com/melkors-defense-attorney/716333000833515520/my-last-post-wasnt-an-invitation-to-promote-your?source=share.

Tolkien, Christopher, and Tolkien J R R. The History of Middle-Earth. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2020.

Tolkien, J R R. “Laws and Customs Among the Eldar.” The History of Middle Earth, edited by Christopher Tolkien, vol. 3, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Boston, NY, 2020, pp. 207–253.

[the-wlw-cafe]

Supercorptober - Day 5: Family

Read it on ao3 here!

CW: Implied alcohol abuse

Lena knew Jess was worried about her. Granted, she did little else, especially after the whole Eve situation that had Jess coming back from her deserved sabbatical without Lena even doing so much as lifting a finger. She still felt guilty about the palpable sense of relief that had accompanied signing Jess back into her old position – she’d desperately needed someone in her corner she knew she could trust. She would never have presumed to ask her for it, but still, Jess had come, just a little bit of comfort in a world that had spun on its axis so substantially Lena wasn’t sure she’d ever recover her balance. But Jess had come back, and she’d stayed.

And now, with the holidays fast approaching, her fretting over Lena had increased exponentially. For the impartial observer, the signs would be almost imperceptible, but after years of working together Lena was keyed in to all of Jess’ tells. Her worry was clear in the way she’d space out Lena’s meetings a little wider, affording her some breaks she definitely didn’t need, and subtly hinting that it was getting quite late whenever Lena tried to pull another all-nighter at the office. And Lena ought to be thankful, really, to have someone keep an eye on her since Kara and Alex were visiting their mother in Midvale. But the holidays were a difficult time for Lena, they had been back when Lillian would still try to coax her to come visit the LuthorCorp Holiday gala and Lex would write her a single card filled with as much backhanded compliments and disguised mockery as the limited space would allow, and they were even more so now when they’d…stopped. She hated it, and she hated the part of herself that, for whatever misguided reason, missed it. Truth be told, Lena was tense, a swirling vortex of negative emotions barely held down by a cocktail of whisky, antidepressants and ibuprofen. All of that didn’t excuse the way she snapped at Jess when she suggested that Lena take some time off for the holidays.

“What for, Jess, to spend some time with my family?” she’d hissed, an apology already on her tongue the second she realizes what she’d said. Jess however stood her ground, unperturbed.

“Yes, that actually was what I was thinking of.”

For a second, Lena was too stunned even to answer, before she managed to gather herself. “Miss Huang, you surely must be joking.” Her voice was low, carefully controlled.

Jess didn’t even flinch.

“I’m not talking about your blood relatives, Miss Luthor. Everyone can see that you’re basically a part of the Danvers clan already.”

Lena had already opened her mouth to refute whatever claim left her assistant’s mouth, but now found herself lost for words. She closed it again. Never once in her life had she found herself so utterly disarmed, because, as much as the ugly part of her, the one that spoke to her in the voices of Lillian and Lex, tried to convince her of the opposite the truth still remained: Jess was right.

The first time she’d ever felt that way was a good year ago, and it came as a surprise so shocking and abrupt it felt like she’d missed a step when walking down the stairs, and it went something like this:

Lena found herself chanting “please don’t pick up, please don’t pick up” under her breath. She’d lie about this detail if anyone would later ask her about it, since she’d never been one to avoid conflict; a necessary trait in her line of work. And yet, she couldn’t help but silently hope against hope that Kara, who usually picked up the phone in a matter of seconds when she was calling, presumably dropping anything and everything she was currently doing (and sprinting to the phone, considering how out of breath she sometimes sounded) just to answer her on time, would make an exception to this rule just this once.

She really didn’t want to disappoint her by cancelling on game night.

She couldn’t bear to make her sad.

And she really, really wasn’t in the right headspace to get into the why.

“You’re speaking with Kara Danvers, hi!”

God, there she went again, answering her mobile phone with both her first and last name like the dork she was and now she had to sit down due to a bout of dizziness that was definitely not caused by the amounts of whiskey she'd consumed beforehand.

"Hey, Kara."

Her voice sounded hoarse from crying. The anniversary of the Luthor’s taking her in had always been rough on her, and yet she’d never come unravelled like this. It was as if the sudden and unplanned arrival of Kara Danvers in her life had wrenched something free inside of her, some blockade she’d built when she was young, and now she couldn’t help but cry over things she’d long since ought to move past. Then again, she also never entertained childish crushes like this. It seemed as if Kara Danvers had been engineered for the sole purpose of throwing Lena off her game.

“Lena! I was just talking to Alex about ordering from that new Ethiopian place you recommended for game night! What’s the point in having a cultured friend if I don’t get to show off their amazing palate, am I right?”

“Yes, Kara, about that”, Lena interjected before her friend could get herself too amped up. Before she could do something immensely stupid, such as let Kara talk her into coming to game night anyway, dragging everyone down with her and ruining everything.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can make it to game night after all. Busy life of a CEO and all that.”

Funny, how lies that used to pass her lips effortlessly now felt like they were suffocating her, leaving behind a foul taste in her mouth. It’s because you are an awful friend. It’s because Kara deserves better.

“Oh.”

The disappointment in Kara’s voice was palpable, and Lena hated herself for being the cause.

“But there’ll be a bunch of other game nights, and I’m sure the others appreciate the chance when the Danvers-Luthor dream team can no longer dominate them!”

Lena let out a choked sound, a pathetic excuse for a laugh.

“Lena, are you okay? Because it sounds like you’re crying – are you crying? Did something happen?”

Lena dug her nails into her forearm, leaving angry red crescent shapes in the flesh. Selfish, so selfish, making Kara worry on a day that was supposed to be reserved for her friends.

“Don’t worry about me”, she said, not being able to bear the enormous lie that would be an I’m fine. “It’s just…”, she floundered, trying to find a way to put her feelings into words that wouldn’t make them seem as laughable as they were to Kara.

“It’s stupid”, she sighed, but Kara intercepted before she had even reached the end of her sigh.

“It’s not! If it makes you upset, it’s never stupid. Your feelings are valid, Lena.”

“But it all happened decades ago! I should be over it by now!”

“Oh, Lena…”

She used that tone. Lena hated that tone. She hated that Kara always used just before pointing out that something about Lena’s upbringing, or something about the strategies she’d developed to cope, was inherently wrong. It was so much easier to pretend like it was justified, that some inherent quality she had or lacked had was the root cause of all she experienced. But there went Kara, taking a sledgehammer to all the things she’d considered immutable truth before. There went Kara, telling her that what they did wasn’t fair and what happened to you was not your fault and there are things whiskey and tiny boxes can’t fix.

It was painful, it made her feel wretched, and she couldn’t take it, not today.

“I told you not to worry about me, I’ll be fine tomorrow”, she insisted.

“But I do worry about you”, Kara replied, “constantly. Because you’re my best friend, and I love you, and when I told you I’d always protect you I meant it. So please answer me honestly, and don’t listen to the voice in your head that tells you you’re selfish, cause it’s a liar: Do you need me to come over?”

Kara hadn’t even finished her sentence and Lena was already crying. She was a pathetic, slobbering mess, not worthy of the Luthor name, but she hoped desperately that somehow, she could be worthy of Kara. (It was clear as day she wasn’t.)

She tried to do the selfless thing, tried to tell Kara to just enjoy the evening with her loved ones, and that they could schedule dinner the next day if she really insisted. But Kara, beautiful, stubborn Kara, was having none of it.

“Lena, I won’t just abandon you when you’re obviously not in a good place. You’re family! And family means nobody gets left behind.”

“You’re a plagiarist, we watched Lilo and Stitch just two weeks ago”, Lena chuckled wetly.

“Don’t distract from the question!”

“I…”, she gathered her courage. She needed this, she needed Kara. “Can you come over?”, she asked, her voice the smallest it had ever been.

“Of course”, Kara said, her voice warm as the sun.

And Lena still cried, so much, but it was okay, because she got to cry in Kara’s arms and listen to Kara tell her that it’s okay to cry, that she wasn’t pathetic, that she’d feel better after a good long sob session, and maybe, just maybe, Lena was inclined to believe her.

Realizing that Alex saw her as family too was more of a gradual process, like leaning back in your chair too far and only realizing your mistake after it’s far too late.

They hadn’t started out on the best of terms. Alex had never be openly hostile to her face, which wasn’t something she could easily say about many people in her life. Still, the distrust with which she’d viewed Lena had been palpable, so much so that Kara saw it necessary to take her aside and told her in no uncertain terms that she had to respect the choice in friends she made. It was the first time anyone had ever defended Lena so ardently, and as much as she wished she could have seen it as the moment of vindication she deserved, in the moment she had overhead their fight Lena had just felt so guilty for driving a wedge between the two sisters she’d had to call her driver to take her home immediately.

Kara, bless her, had apologised profusely on behalf of her sister the next day no matter how much Lena tried to convince her that it was no big deal, really, Kara didn’t have to.

Because here was the truth: Lena understood. Truly, she did. If she had a sister, she wouldn’t have wanted her to keep pace with the likes of herself as well. But she was selfish, utterly selfish, and she didn’t have the power of will to protect Kara from herself.

Of course, now she knew this had been a rather reductive and self-centred view of the world. Because Kara was Supergirl, had always been Supergirl, and wasn’t some shrinking violet to be protected.

And the fallout had been grim. Weeks of silence punctuated by shouting matches with her former best friend, and it was so, so painful because she’d still loved her so, so much.

And after the dust had settled, even after Kara had forgiven her, she certainly hadn’t expected Alex to forgive her as well. The agent was fiercely protective of her little sister after all, and was known to carry grudges.

She’d been prepared for many things when she showed up at game night for the first time after everything had happened, she’d expected Alex to throw her out, yell at her to leave and never talk to her sister again, or just up and go herself. What she didn’t expect was Alex fixing her with a long look, before putting a hand on her shoulder with the words “It’s good to have you back. Kara was so busy being mopey we didn’t win a single game while you were gone.”

At that moment, Kara’s joyous call of her name rang through the air, and she looked so excited just because Lena had decided to join them again, both Lena and Alex couldn’t help but smile. They both loved Kara, and Kara loved both of them, and maybe they’d become something like accomplices.

Then, Alex had invited her to National City pride with her since Kara was making an appearance as Supergirl and seeing her arrive with the both of them would have been to conspicuous, and Lena had wondered if maybe she’d misjudged. Maybe they’d somehow, miraculously become friends.

And now, well, now she’d been dating Kara for two heavenly weeks and she was still working up the courage to tell Alex – liquid courage, as it were, because she was already on the second whiskey on rocks in the bar they’d chosen as their venue for breaking the news to Alex. They were both comfortable here, more comfortable than was healthy, probably, and if it went pear shaped she was already in the right place to drown her sorrows. Kara had left for a moment to say hello to a patron she recognized, a former employee at CatCo back when Cat Grant had still been around, and the cruel fates aligned that Alex chose that exact second to slide onto the barstool next to her.

“Hi, little Luthor”, she said, while motioning the to the barkeeper for her drink.

“Hey Alex. Kara literally just went to meet an old colleague-”

“Yeah, I saw her.”

Lena downed her glass in order to fill the awkward silence that arose, a mistake she bitterly regretted as the next words out of Alex’ mouth were: “So you and Kara, huh?”. She sputtered so hard some of the whiskey came up through her nose, the burning sensation forcing tears to her eyes.

“How did you know?” she coughed.

Alex gave her a somewhat pained smile. “Found your panties in the crease of her couch – satin, looked more expensive than anything she could afford – so I kind of put two and two together.”

Lena could feel the blood rush to her cheeks and prayed that Alex couldn’t see it as she kept her eyes to the floor, as if it might take pity and swallow her up if she just stared hard enough.

“I am so, so sorry that you had to find out this way”, Lena began, but Alex just waved her off.

“Eh, it could have been worse. I’m just glad I didn’t walk in on you.”

Lena kept her mouth shut, preferring not to let Alex know about how close she’d come that one time during a risqué tryst in the DEO.

“So I suppose this is the part where you give me the shovel talk? Tell me that you’ll have me executed for treason if I ever hurt her?” she asked.

Alex regarded her with an unreadable look as she finished her drink in one swig, grimaced, and shook her head.

“No. I don’t think I need to. Just – ugh, I’m bad at this. Listen, I know the concept is antiquated and means nothing, but you make Kara very happy – like, accidentally-starting-to-float-while-telling-me-about-your-first-kiss happy – and for what it’s worth, you have my blessing.”

Lena didn’t tell her that she disagreed, it meant everything, but she held her tongue for now as it was too early to start crying. It definitely would happen over the course of the night, she’d always been a weepy drunk, but there was no need to purposefully induce a sobbing breakdown.

“Lena! Lena, I forgot! It’s karaoke night!” Kara’s voice pierced the constant hum of chatter and ambient music.

“Oh no, I don’t dance”, Lena immediately objected. But, embarrassingly, Alex had slid off her barstool and taken her into a headlock before she could even begin to put up a fight.

“Yes you do”, she grinned, looking entirely too happy with herself. “You’re one of us now, and karaoke night is a mandatory experience for every Danvers.”

Lena didn’t even protest too much as she was dragged away, and she definitely had to apologize personally to Celine Dione after the way she bastardised My Heart Will Go On, cry-singing and occasionally hiccuping.

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up”, Lena muttered into her phone. It was a long shot, With Kara probably already being surrounded by family in Midvale, eating the contents of Eliza’s pantry in one day. She’d almost resigned herself to failure when she heard Kara’s voice from the other end of the line, and it still made her heart skip a beat like the first time Kara had called her baby.

“You’re speaking with Kara Danvers, hi!”

“Never change, darling.”

“Lena, hi! It’s so good to hear your voice, baby, I know you’re busy but I miss you so much!”

Lena could hear her girlfriend pout.

“Actually, Kara...I was wondering if I might join you over the holidays – not right now, of course! I’m sure you’ve already made plans, and you deserve some time with your family alone, but maybe we could -”

“Lena, oh Rao, hang on a second, I’m putting you on speaker”, Kara gushed, sounding uncontainably excited about something.

“Alex – hey Alex!”, Kara shouted, and Lena had to hold the phone a good 10 inches away from her ear.

“Whoops, sorry baby. Alex, guess who it is!”

“Lena? You’re kidding me, right, you have to be!”, Alex replied, and the remark stung a bit. Confusion swirled in Lena’s head and her anxiety climbed higher.

“You betcha! I hope you have eight dollars to pay Eliza because I forgot my wallet at home!”

“You bet on me?” Lena asked, unsure whether she wanted to know the answer.

“Yeah, we did – it’s nothing bad, I promise. Eliza was just so sure you’d come, she made you a sweater and everything, and I told that the holidays are a difficult time for you and you usually prefer to spend them alone, but she was so sure you’d come, and I – well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Mom is going to be so smug”, Alex groaned from somewhere farther away.

Lena’s chest seemed to fill with something warm and lighter than air at the thought of her attendance at the holidays was something to hope for.

“She made me a sweater?” Lena asked, not in the least bit surprised at how choked up she’d become, and too happy to care.

“You betcha! It’s really ugly, you’re going to love it.”

As she put the photo of Kara and her, both clad in the most garish sweaters known to mankind, Lena laughing with abandon because she thought Kara’d gone in for a cheek kiss in the photo, but instead had blown a wet raspberry on her skin, up on the Midvale mantelpiece she mused that being welcomed into the Danvers family by Eliza felt much like returning to a home she’d never known existed.

[luxeavenger]

We Can't Go To Hell If We're Already There

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!super soldier!reader

Words: 7939

WARNINGS: PTSD, BRIEF DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE (in section TWO), nightmares, insomnia, angst, emotionsl hurt/comfort, idiots in love, porn with plot, nsfw, oral sex (f receiving), piv sex

Summary: Bucky and the reader offer each other comfort when PTSD and nightmares make it impossible to sleep.

Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

Please reblog/comment if you enjoy it!

——-

ONE

The first nightmare burrows through the walls, and straight into your head.

The shout wakes you from a dark dream of blood and death and pain burning through your synapses like a forest fire. A vivid and torturous nightmare; the scream blending seamlessly with the horrors that play behind your eyelids. You don’t even realize you’ve woken until you hear the slam of a door close by. It’s too benign a sound to be part of the miasma of images haunting your sleep. The screams you hear outside your room are a primal sound that makes you think of nothing but unending, unendurable agony. It’s the noise of someone who longs for the blissful silence of death, but is deprived the luxury of making the decision to end their own suffering.

Beyond your door, the Avengers compound lies silent and still, save for the mournful noises from the neighboring room. Steve Rogers is on the floor outside of the room from which the wounded cries issue. Lamely seated, with knees to chest, and forehead to knees, he starts when your door clicks shut. His blue eyes are wide and brimming with unshed tears. A purple bruise the color of an eggplant blossoms around his right eye, the eyeball itself blooms red with burst blood vessels.

“What’s going on?” you whisper.

“Bucky,” Steve answers. He doesn’t go on, so you assume he’s got the situation under control, almost turn to leave, but a blood-curdling scream sounds from behind the door.

You move to enter the room, but Steve grabs your leg. “Don’t,” he urgently demands.

“Someone has to help him, Steve.”

As a super soldier who was rescued from the Winter Soldier program, you had an idea of what nightmares haunted Bucky on any given night, maybe even better than Steve did. You’d heard the stories of what Bucky had endured, and they were enough to turn your stomach. Bucky had actually lived them. You couldn’t bear to leave him to wrestle with his own mind alone.

“It’s bad though. He hit me, y/n. We fought. I couldn’t even get him to wake up. It’s never been this bad. I tried to wake him up. He wants to kill me. Kept repeating it over and over again in Russain.” Finally his tears break loose, and dash down his face only to stick in his stubble. “It’s never been this bad. Don’t know what to do. He usually wakes up. I can’t get him to wake up.”

Steve is heartbreaking in a wholly different way. A man who loves Bucky with every cell in his body—who’d give his own life to spare Bucky even a single moment of suffering. A capable man who isn’t used to being ill-equipped to handle any given situation. You want to comfort him, but Bucky is more in need of aid right now.

“I’m going in there, Steve. He needs someone. I’ll be fine.” And you would. You were a super soldier too, so even if he broke you, you’d heal. You’d been broken before. Hell, Steve’s eye, a fresh injury when you’d stepped into the hallway, was already starting to fade, the purple dulling to a sickly yellow-green color, the blood spots in his eye already diffusing back into the aqueous humor. A week worth of healing time-lapsed into a five minute conversation.

“I’ll stay out here, maybe he’ll be less upset if I do. Just… be careful. Don’t touch him. It all went to hell when I touched him.” Steve sighs around the weight in his heart.

You slip soundlessly into the room. The air is suffused with the salty bite of sweat, and the coppery tang of blood. Signs of a struggle are everywhere: the dresser canting crazily to the side, desk chair smashed to kindling, bathroom door pulled off its frame, its hinges twisted and mangled.

Bucky keeps his television on at night, the static of white noise is supposed to help him sleep. But falling asleep has never been his problem. What happens in his sleep is the rub. The blue light from the TV makes the blood smudged down the side of Bucky’s face look purple. You can see the cut on his scalp from across the room.

Bucky is curled into a ball in the middle of the bed, bloody handprints drying tacky on his ash grey sheets. His cheeks glisten in the dim light, the sheen of tears make him look fragile, broken. He’s whimpering, making small pleading noises, begging no, no, not again, please don’t, please stop, please no.

You crouch at the foot of the bed, and softly say Bucky’s name a few times. He doesn’t react. You try soldat—if he’s stuck in the Winter Soldier’s memories it might work—but it just makes him flinch and sob no.

Okay. Something different then. “James,” you cheerfully singsong, “James Buchanan Barnes. It’s time to get up. Come on, James. You need to get up.”

Something about the casual way you speak to him cuts through his nightmare, shredding the diaphanous dreams with a machete. Bucky’s eyes snap open, and he bolts upright, scuttling away from you, retreating into the pile of pillows at his headboard.

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s all okay, Bucky. You’re awake now. Shh.” You adopt a soothing tone, hold up your empty hands, trying to quell his breathless fear. “I’m here, Bucky. It’s Y/N, you know me. I’m not going to hurt you. I just need you to wake up.”

He blinks at you owlishly. The tension in his body lets go in increments. Legs uncurl, shoulders climb back down his neck, jaw relaxes, breathing slows to normal. He nods, parrots your words back to you, “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m awake now. You’re here, I know you, and I’m awake.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He vehemently shakes his head. Squeezes his legs to his chest to armor himself against whatever memories still swim like sharks near the surface of his mind.

“That’s okay.” Maybe someone more familiar would help him feel safe. “Do you want me to get Steve?”

He shakes his head again, hanks of sweaty hair falling in his face. “I just… I don’t wanna-I-I can’t go back to sleep.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“Can you stay for awhile?”

“Sure. I was having nightmares too, so I think I’m done sleeping for the night. If you want, I can make some popcorn and we can find a movie to watch?” He nods.

You come back from the kitchen, and Bucky has washed the blood off his face. You help him make a nest for himself on the floor using his blankets and pillows. Not wanting to invade his space, you make yourself comfortable on the floor just outside of his nest. You greet the dawn from your spot on the floor, Bucky curled up in his blankets beside you. He’s finally calmed down enough so tension no longer sings through his body like vibrations through a tuning fork. You’re discussing Return of the Jedi, which is playing on the television, while Steve snores softly just outside the door.

———

TWO

The next nightmare comes three days later. This time—it’s yours.

Hands are on you. All over you. They’re wielding needles and blades, cutting and digging into your soft parts, arms covered in hot, slick red up to their elbows, rooting around inside of you until the pain carries your mind away on a dark, salty ocean of blood. You regain consciousness days later, healed again, and the torture begins anew.

Your body is nothing more than meat, rocking violently when they saw through your tendons, scrape your muscles away from the bone, dissecting you with their too-dull blades. You’re muzzled, but you scream into it anyway, helpless to stem the hysterical outpouring of sound. You try to lash out. You always do. Swinging your arms, the restraints only allow you the barest inch of movement. You scream again, anger and pain bubbling up your vocal cords.

A shout in the dark startles you out of your sleep like a slap to the face. You dart upright, unrestrained arms held up for protection, unrestrained mouth pleading for mercy.

“Y/N, it’s me! It’s Bucky! Y/N it’s okay. You’re awake. Hey, it’s okay. You’re awake. I’m not gonna hurt you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll. It’s me. I’m here.”

“I-I can’t see you…”

Your bedside lamp switches on, illuminating Bucky’s worried face by the edge of your bed. By the door Steve stands, wringing his hands nervously. You see him there and flinch, hiding your face in the pillow. His stature is too reminiscent of the shadows invading your dreams.

“That’s just Steve,” he explains. Then to Steve he whispers, “I’ve got her, man. You can go back to your room. I’ll let FRIDAY know if we need you.”

You don’t peek out from the pile of pillows until you hear the door to your room click shut. You find Bucky where he was before, but Steve is gone. It lets some of the tension drain from your muscles.

Bucky slowly rises, and you see he’s sporting a vivid bruise over his cheekbone.

“Shit. Did I hit you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

You swallow, “I’m sorry.”

“Hush. It’s okay.” He sits gently on the edge of your bed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

A hysterical sob bubbles up from your throat.

“Hey, hey. You don’t have to.” He hesitantly reaches for your hand to offer comfort, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

You launch yourself at him, and he catches you with a grunt. Your arms go around his neck, you bury your face in his shoulder, and release the torrent of tears dammed up inside you.

Bucky makes soft soothing sounds, rubs gentle circles in your back until your tears become mournful sniffles. He scoots you off of his lap to retrieve some tissues.

“Bucky, don’t leave me. Please. I don’t want to be alone. I-I can’t-”

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. You wanna watch a movie?”

You nod, and use the tissues to clean your face. Bucky asks, “You want snacks? I can text Steve, ask him to bring us something.” You shake your head, content to linger with Bucky’s soothing presence.

Bucky searches through the channels until he finds Raiders of the Lost Ark, an Indiana Jones movie you both love. You curl up on your bed, Bucky right next to you on the floor, his back pressed against your nightstand. The dawn finds you both fast asleep. You bundled in blankets, Bucky reclined on the floor, your hand gripped by his, clinging viselike together in the dreamless space between you.

———

THREE

The next nightmare hits and you hear it all the way in the medbay.

You’re fresh off a mission where you’d taken a bullet to the thigh. It tore through your femur, shearing the bone in two. Bruce assured you that being a super soldier meant that months worth of healing would only take a few days. You also needed skin grafts to cover the ragged, fist-sized exit wound on the front of your thigh, so Bruce wanted you to stay in the cradle overnight. The medbay was so quiet you’d fallen asleep in the contraption.

Bucky’s room is nearly on the other side of the compound. The sound of his hysteria reaches into your dreams, balls a fist into your hair, and drags you back into the waking world. Instantly you start trying to climb out of the cradle, causing Dr. Cho to panic. You tell her, in no uncertain terms, that you’re getting up, and she can either help you or get the fuck out of your way.

She wraps a quick and dirty bandage around your splint to reinforce it, and helps you into a wheelchair. She starts to push you down the hall, but she’s too slow, and you take off, speeding the chair towards your destination with your powerful arms.

Bucky’s door is open already, and Steve is trying to rouse him, but everytime Steve speaks another scream rips loose from Bucky’s chest. You stop the chair outside of the door, not wanting it in the room in case there’s another tussle. Steve looks relieved when you call him from the hallway. He picks you up and carries you into the room.

“Put me on the bed, Steve.”

“Y/N, if he fights…”

“I’ll be fine. Put me on the bed.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up a hand, “I’m not fucking asking, Rogers. Put me on the goddamned bed.”

He relents, setting you down gently.

You reach a hand out to Bucky, slipping your fingers into his open palm and calling his name. His hand grips yours and he yanks it toward him without waking. You roll over onto your injured leg with a groan.

Bucky’s eyes flutter open at your pained noise. “Wha’…? Shit, Y/N. You’re supposed to be in the medbay. Fuck, I hurt your leg.”

“No. I’m fine. You’re not the one who shot me, so you didn’t hurt anything. Are you okay?”

Steve sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, “You two are a huge pain in my ass.”

“Yes. Yes we are,” Bucky says with a big grin plastered on his face.

“I’ll be in my room. Let FRIDAY know if you need me.” He exits the room with an eye roll.

“It must have been a bad one. I heard you all the way in the medbay. It’s just one of the many perks of this damn super-soldier hearing. Don’t suppose you want to talk about it?”

“It’s bad enough I have to see the shit whenever I close my eyes…”

“You don’t want to poison the air with it when you’re awake?”

“Yeah. Basically.”

“It’s the same for me, Bucky. It never really goes away, so it’s best left behind in the nightmares.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Jesus, Buck. That’s a little heavy handed coming from you. You went through worse than I ever did. I’m sorry about everything they did to you.”

“Okay, okay. Enough of that. Now that the apologies are out of the way, you need to get some rest.” You try to argue, but he stops you, “No. Bruce wanted you to spend the night in the cradle. You had skin grafts, and given how fast you heal, that bone needs to be stabilized so it doesn’t mend wonky. If your stubborn ass won’t sleep in the cradle, you’re going to sleep in here so I can make sure you stay still and stay quiet.”

You give a petulant huff at his lecture, even though you know he’s right. Then you start struggling out of bed. “Well then, I’ll go get my blankets and pillows.”

“No you won't,” Bucky says sternly. “I’ll be dammed if you’re sleeping on the floor with a broken fucking leg. You sleep in the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

“Nope. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. That’s a dick move.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to huff. “Fine. But I want you on this side, so your bad leg is away from me. I don’t want to bump it accidentally.”

You nod. “I find these terms acceptable,” you agree.

Bucky helps you scoot over to his side of the bed. He piles pillows up under your head, and props your leg up on another pillow, then piles blankets over both of you.

He turns the light out, and you tense. “Bucky,” you whisper, “can you… It’s too dark. Can you leave the TV on?”

“Of course, doll.”

You stare at the ceiling for awhile, unable to fall asleep. You’re surrounded by Bucky’s scent. Gunpowder, leather, and a spicy musk; it’s crisp and clean, and uniquely Bucky. It’s a heady feeling to be enveloped in his scent like this, and to have his body heating the mattress next to you. Your chest is full of a curious warmth.

“Bucky?” you say softly.

“Yeah?”

“I feel bad.”

“You want me to get Bruce?”

He assumed you meant your leg. It did hurt, because there wasn’t any pain medication that Bruce could give you that worked for very long, but that wasn’t what you meant.

“No. I feel bad about Steve,” you clarify.

“Why?”

“He wants so badly to help. He doesn’t understand though. He doesn’t know what it’s like at HYDRA. No matter how much we explain it, he’ll never get it.”

“He means well.”

“I know.”

Silence falls between you again, and it’s Bucky that breaks it this time.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“How much do you remember?”

“I remember everything.”

“Me too.”

The mutual silence is pregnant with over a century of accumulated pain and sorrow. You both know these memories have teeth, and to tamper too long is to risk destruction.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I promise I won’t let HYDRA take you away.”

“Me too. We can keep each other safe, okay?”

“Yeah,” you pause. “Hey…”

“I’m here.”

“Can you hold my hand?”

When the first threads of dawn spill into the room, you’re both sleeping soundly, dreams unbothered by darkness. Bucky is clasping your soft hands in his, holding them against his strong heartbeat. Bones mend in daybreak’s light, while hearts and minds begin their own journeys as each of you dream of one another.

———

FOUR

The next nightmare doesn’t come.

Steve is taking Bucky, Natasha, and Sam to Belgium on a mission. They’re supposed to be gone for three weeks—if everything goes well.

“Steve, I wanna go.” Steve just told you they were leaving you behind, and you’re already yelling.

“Y/N, I tried to bring you along. I did, I swear I did. I talked to Bruce about it. You were shot less than a week ago, your leg has only just healed, and he’s worried that going back to active duty this soon may reinjure it. I’m sorry. I know you and Bucky need each other, but I need Bucky. He knows his way around these Hydra bases better than any of us. I’m sorry, Y/N, but you can’t go.”

“I told him I’d have his back.”

“I know. And you have my word I won’t let anything happen to him. Our intel says this base has been defunct for twenty-plus years. It’s been sealed shut—no one in or out. No heat signatures. It’ll be completely empty. Sam is going to patrol the woods outside with Redwing, but I need Bucky and Natasha to help inside, there’s a lot of ground to cover, and a lot of computers and tech we need access to. If Bucky doesn’t come it’ll take twice as long. No one will lay so much as a pinkie finger on him. You have my word.”

You get right in Steve’s face, stabbing at his chest with your index finger, “So help me god, Rogers. If a single hair on his head is out of place I will make myself a pair of boots out of your hide.”

Twenty-one days pass about as quickly as a three week long root canal. You’re waiting in the yard thirty minutes before the quinjet is even in Avengers airspace.

When the cargo bay door opens it reveals Steve with Bucky leaning heavily against his side.

“What did I fucking tell you, Rogers?” you yell.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy. He isn’t injured. I didn’t lie to you. The place was empty. He had a bad dream the first night we were there, and after that he refused to sleep,” he lowers his voice, “Y/N, he hasn’t slept in twenty days. I tried to get him to sleep—even just take a goddamned nap—but he wouldn’t do it. I don’t know what he saw, but it scared the shit out of him.”

“Jesus fuck. Gimmie him.”

“How’s your-”

“I’m fine,” you growl. “Gimmie him.”

Steve sighs heavily, but he lets you slip under Bucky’s shoulder, and guide him inside. “I’ll come check on you both after debriefing,” he shouts at your back.

Bucky doesn’t say a word the whole way back to his room, despite you trying to engage him by asking questions about the mission the whole time. You sit his limp body on the edge of his bed and start peeling him out of his tac suit. You’re scared shitless at how quiet he’s being, and your fear turns into anger.

“Goddamnit, Bucky. Eleven days. Eleven days is the longest someone has ever gone without sleep, Buck—I checked! And you nearly doubled it. Are you trying to die? You’re supposed to take care of yourself. You have to take care of yourself,” a sob shudders through your chest, and you finish softly, “I love you, you idiot.”

You’re dangerously close to crying, and Bucky still isn’t responding to you, so you grab his chin and force his eyes up to yours. He looks like a ghost. His skin is translucent, the delicate blue veins that trace over his face are obvious through his paper-white skin. He’s gaunt, as if he hadn’t eaten the whole time he hadn’t slept. His cerulean eyes are dull and empty, and ringed by vibrant purple bruises. It shocks you, and you flinch as if you’ve been struck.

A distraught noise is all you can produce, tears rolling down your face. Bucky blinks at you slowly, eyes still flat and confused, but recognition brings life back to them bit by bit.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Buck. You’ve gotta go to sleep. Now.”

“Can’t sleep. Dreams are red,” his words are slow and slurred.

“I know, babe. That’s why I’m here. I know how to chase the red away.”

“‘way?” His dull eyes search your face, “Yeah. Red go ‘way.”

He sounds like a child, all innocence and trust, and your heart shatters into a million tiny shards. “Okay, I’ll make the red go away, but you have to go to sleep first.”

He obediently scoots back onto the bed. His eyes track you around to the other side of the mattress. You climb under the sheets, and Bucky grabs you roughly and pulls you against him. His head goes to your chest, and he curls around you like you’re a human-sized security blanket.

It takes one inhale for him to register the vital lub dub sound of your heartbeat against his cheek, with the next exhale sleep has taken him. You gently kiss his forehead before sleep carries you away too.

Steve finds you both hours later as sunset casts a pink and purple blanket over the compound. Fast asleep, each clinging to the other like a life raft. He leaves a tray of food on Bucky’s dresser, with a few bottles of water. He watches you both sleep for a moment, his heart overfull, tears pricking at his eyes. Finally, he shuffles across the hall to his room and grabs one of his sketchbooks and a pen. When he slips out of the room again there’s a folded scrap of paper under the tray with a note:

Y/N,

I’m not a man who apologizes easily, unless I'm wrong.

I’m sorry.

I underestimated what you are to each other, and overestimated my ability to mimic that. The truth is, I understand I will never fully grasp what you have both been through. But I promise that I will never stop trying to learn, or listen.

I also promise never to let you both down like I did this time. Bucky means the world to me, and now I trust that he means the same to you too.

-Steve

———

FIVE

“Buck, you have to tell her.”

“I want to, but…”

“But, what? I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not watching. It’s the same way you look at her.”

“But, what if you’re wrong, Steve? What if I tell her and she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she hates me? God, what if she thinks I’ve been using her?”

“Using her for what, Buck? To get a decent night’s sleep? You both do that. I’ve never seen someone so efficiently put you at ease—awake or asleep—as she does. When we came back from Belgium last week, I was scared shitless, man. You hadn’t slept in weeks. I didn’t even know it was possible to go that long without sleep and survive, even with the serum. I really thought I was gonna lose you. You slept for three goddamned days straight, and she never once left your side.”

“She’s been through so much.”

“So have you.”

“She deserves someone better.”

“Bucky, there is no one better than you. You’re the kindest, strongest, and most genuine person I’ve ever met in my life. After everything that happened to you, and how hard you fought back against all the shit HYDRA put in you, you are still such a genuinely good man. She deserves someone exactly like you.”

“Fuck. I just love her so much, Stevie. What if I fuck this up?”

“I’m telling you, the only way you’ll fuck it up is if you never tell her how you feel.”

——

SIX

Bucky spends the rest of the day in his own head. He’s vacillating between being brave and confessing his feelings to you, or convincing himself that a little of you is better than none at all. That losing you isn’t a price he’s willing to pay. That this small part of you he has now is enough, and he’d be selfish and greedy to ask for more.

That evening he’s detached from the unmitigated chaos that always takes place at the Avengers dinner table. You watch him carefully from your seat between Wanda and Steve. He’s intently focused on the food on his plate, pushing it around instead of eating it. His hair draped around his face like a curtain, so you can’t even see his eyes to gauge his mood.

Feeling strange and restless, you leave dinner early to walk around the compound for awhile. As the sun draws below the horizon you sit by the lake to watch the brilliant shades of the setting sun shift colorfully over the sky.

You often wished you had the aptitude for art that Steve possesses, especially at times like this. It would be such an incredible gift to be able to capture the way the sky looks as the sun drops behind the horizon, or the way Bucky’s eyes crinkle in the corners when he laughs, or the rapt attention on his face when you tell him a story, or the way his eyes glimmer with happiness when your eyes catch his from across the room. You could draw his face a million times and never grow tired of it, never fail to find some nuance you hadn’t noticed before.

But your hands are blunt instruments—weapons—better suited for cleaning guns, throwing knives, and taking apart HYDRA agents.

By the time dusk has fallen completely there’s a chill in the air, and the grass is damp with dew. You feel no less strange than you had before, so you ask FRIDAY where you can find Bucky. Sergeant Barnes is in the common room, she replies. You find him alone there, relaxing on the long couch, in flannel pajama pants, and a blue henley, reading a Neil Gaiman book he’d swiped off of your bookshelf.

“Hey, doll. Is everything okay?” he asks, looking worried.

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just… I don’t know. Restless, I guess.”

“You have to guess?”

You snort. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“Oh-ho-ho, look who’s being a smartass tonight,” his eyes sparkle with laughter. “You wanna watch a movie, doll?”

“Sure. Your room in fifteen? I’m gonna grab some snacks. I didn’t really eat at dinner, and now my stomach is kinda pissed about it.”

“Sounds good, doll. Grab something for me too.”

When you push open his door he’s scrolling through the long list of movies. He’s made a soft and cosy little fort at the foot of his bed out of as many pillows as he could scavenge from the rooms on this floor. He looks comical in the middle of them all.

“On a scale of one to ten, how pissed are Steve, Sam, and Clint gonna be when they try to sleep later and find they have no pillows?”

His lips quirk into a smirk, “Oh, that’s going to be a ten, for sure. Well, probably more like a twenty, since I took Nat and Wanda’s pillows too.”

“Yikes. We may not live to see morning,” you laugh.

You drop the snacks on Bucky’s dresser, and open a beer for each of you. Neither of you could get drunk off of human alcoholic beverages because of the serum, so drinking beer was all about the nostalgia.

You flop down next to him, bumping your shoulders together accidentally on purpose. He bumps you back and you giggle.

Midway though the movie Bucky yawns, his arm coming down on the mattress behind you. A few minutes later it drops onto your shoulders.

You pause the movie and turn toward him. “Weaksauce, Barnes,” you tease. “Is that what passes for flirting in the forties? If you wanna kiss, just ask.”

His eyes dart down to your lips, and heat rushes up your neck. “Ooh.”

He licks his lips, “I’d very much like to kiss you now,” he breathes.

“That wasn't a question,” you whisper before you curl your fingers into the front of his shirt and pull your bodies together.

It starts out slow, a gentle press of lips, then Bucky’s tongue dips out to swipe over your lips. Your mouth opens for him and that small spark sets you both alight. You’re both all too aware of the other’s heartbeat kicking into a gallop as you devour each other.

You draw away first, panting. “What is this, Buck?”

He smirks, “Well, doll, I know I may be a little rusty, but I remember this being called kissing...”

“Bucky-”

“Sorry, doll. Look,” he presses a hand over your heart, “I can hear how your heart speeds up when I touch you,” he runs his fingers down your side to squeeze your hip, “and I can smell how wet you are for me right now.” He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, eyes falling shut, he whispers against the shell of your ear, “You smell so. fucking. good.”

“And I can smell you leaking into your boxers right now. Is this… You want me? For real?”

“Jesus, doll. More than anything.”

This time when he kisses you your arms go around his neck. He leans into you, and pulls your hips toward him so you slide down onto the pillows. His vibranium arm pulls you tight against him, and you gasp when his stiff cock presses against your hip.

“This okay?” he asks, lips still grazing yours.

“It’s very-fucking-much okay,” you murmur, smoothing your palm over the soft cotton covering his broad chest, and curl your fingers into the fabric until Bucky ducks his head and lets you pull his henley off, his dog tags falling loose with a jingle. Your hands go to his bare chest, and a growl rumbles just under your fingertips and he seizes your mouth again.

His cool metal fingers move from your hip to dip under the hem of your t-shirt. He leaves a trail of goosebumps along your skin before his hand cups your tit through your bra, making you moan when the nipple quickly stiffens under his cold thumb. You push your chest up into his questing fingers, and he swears softly, urging you up so he can strip off your shirt and bra. His chilly thumb is replaced with his hot mouth, and he hums around the hard peak. Your hips rock, seeking friction, but only finding it between your own thighs as you squeeze them together.

“So fucking eager.” You aren’t sure if he’s talking about him or you, but it doesn't matter because he’s dragging your shorts and panties down your legs. He gently spreads your thighs wide, drawing warm fingers through your slit, dipping into your wet heat.

“Fuck yes, Buck. More.” You push your hips toward his hand, pleading. Demanding.

The slack-jawed adoration on his face ignites a flame in your core. “You smell like heaven. Fuck, wanna taste you, Y/N.”

“Bucky, please,” you whine.

His mouth lowers to your clit, his sky blue eyes on yours. When his tongue swirls around the sensitive bundle of nerves your head falls back with a groan.

Bucky stops what he’s doing. “No, doll,” he lightly taps your mound, “I’m right here. Eyes on me—wanna see your face while I make you feel good.” When your eyes are on his again he purrs, “There’s my good girl.”

He slips warm fingers inside of you and curls his tongue around your clit. Sucking and licking at the little bud gets you even wetter, slick dribbling out of you with every pump of his fingers.

“Bucky, is it okay—can you… can you use your other hand?”

Quickly, warm fingers withdraw and two chilly fingers press against your entrance to replace them. You gasp as a shudder licks up your spine. “Fuck yes,” you whimper, as the cool digits push into your slick channel, curling inside of you and stroking your g-spot. You keen and let your head fall back again. Bucky smacks the inside of your thigh with his right hand and forks two fingers at his eyes. It’s a stinging reminder: Right here. I told you to watch me. Chastened, you nod.

Bucky gives head with the same energy he has when you spar with him: every movement is quickly and carefully calculated, no effort is wasted. Bucky yanks an orgasm out of you with ruthless efficiency. The heated weight in your core builds, overwhelming one moment, and the next you’re groaning his name, and spilling hot slick over his chin and arm. He laps it up with a hum of gratitude, and continues to slurp at your cunt until your body goes lax and boneless under him.

“Fuck, doll,” he breathes against your mound, “taste so goddamned good. Look so fucking gorgeous when you come. Your pussy is so fucking wet. Want it wrapped around my cock.”

“Fuck,” you moan, “please, Buck. Want you to fuck me. Want you to fill me.”

He quickly strips his pants and boxers and climbs up your body. His dog tags drag lightly over your skin as Bucky stalks slowly up your body. He looks savage like this, an apex predator on the hunt, thick muscles undulating with every move he makes, back rippling when he dips to suck and bite marks your skin as he goes. His fat cock is on display, ruddy, thick, and heavy, trailing sticky precome as it grazes along your sensitive skin as he prowls up your body.

His short beard is shiny with your wetness, and he slips his vibranium fingers past your lips. The earthy flavor of you spreads mellow over your taste buds before he hooks those fingers in your cheek and wrenches your jaw open so he can slide his tongue against yours, his wet beard coating your chin with your juices. He kisses you like he owns you, and fuck if you don’t wish he did.

His hardness slips hot and heavy against your hip, and you roll your pelvis, grinding his cock between your bodies.

His voice is soft and gravelly against your lips when he asks, “You ready?”

“Fuck me, Bucky. Please, just need to feel you.”

“Of course, doll,” he says when he really means anything for you.

He wraps a hand around his dick and drags it through your folds, teasing the head around your clit before easing into your slick channel. He presses his forehead against yours while his thickness stretches you, he wants to stay close so he can devour every little whimper, plea, and breathy moan you make as he fills you.

Finally his hips are flush with yours, and you feel impossibly full.

“Your pussy’s so fucking tight, doll. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.”

“Jesus, Bucky. You feel so goddamn good, but you gotta move. Fuck me, please.”

He grinds his hips against you, and just the small movement makes you moan. Then he pulls out so just the tip is resting in your entrance and pushes back in with a languid roll of his hips. He fucks you slow and deep, hungry to feel every inch of you, the way your walls quiver around him, to hear you begging for him, moaning for him, the way you whine his name into the space between your bodies.

His dog tags sit coolly between your tits, a stark contrast to the fire his body stokes in you. “Faster, Bucky,” you mewl, “‘m so fuckin’ close.”

“Taking me so fucking good doll,” his rough voice is full of praise. “Feel fucking amazing. Gotta come for me, just once like this, then I’ll give you whatever you want.”

He slides a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, and angles his hips in a way that drags his dick against your sweet spot perfectly.

“Bucky, fuck,” you groan.

“Say it again, doll,” he purrs, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “Say my name.”

“Bucky, god you feel so good,” you moan, right on the edge of your orgasm is making your voice breathy and needy. “Gonna make me come, Bucky. Gonna come all over your big cock, Bucky. Oh fuck, Bucky.”

He growls and slams into you hard. Electricity sparks through you, and your orgasm rolls over you, assaulting your senses, your cunt clenching a chokehold on Bucky’s dick.

Once you’re able to breathe again, you roll so you’re straddling Bucky. He groans a curse, “Fuck, doll. You’re so goddamn sexy.” You lean back and plant your hands on his thighs, and his thumbs trace intricate patterns over your hips as you start to bounce on his dick.

Bucky feels even bigger like this, and not just his cock, even though he’s filling you so full there’s barely room leftover in your body for breath. His whole body seems larger this way. The way his hips force your legs to spread so wide, the expansive plane of rigid abs, the massive breadth of his shoulders with the beautiful prosthetic arm he wields with such precision, the way his thick thighs expand and contract under your hands as he fucks up into you.

Bucky Barnes is a fucking work of art, and you can’t fathom how you got lucky enough to have him under you, inside of you.

“God, you’re so beautiful, doll,” his hands trace up to your tits, “can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

You put your hands over his, hot and cold and a bit overwhelming, and tell him, “That’s funny, because I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

A smile lights up his face, and damn, the hoops you’d jump through just to have him smile at you like that again. He pulls you down for a kiss that leaves your head spinning.

You twist your hips, and Bucky whimpers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I wanna fuck you hard, doll. Want you to still feel me in the morning.”

“Well, fuckin’ do it, Buck. I ain’t gonna break.”

He snarls, one hot hand going possessively to your throat, squeezing hard enough that the world goes fuzzy around the edges. His legs bend, planting his feet on the floor for leverage, and starts fucking into you hard and fast. The room is filled with the rough slap of your bodies colliding, the wet squelches his cock drives out of your cunt, and the breathless pleas and praise you both shower upon each other.

Chilly fingers ghost over your pussy, exploring the apex of your thighs, tracing around the area where his cock splits you open. A cold thumb circles your clit, and two chilled digits force their way into your cunt next to his cock. You’re perfectly, painfully, exquisitely overfilled, and the dam inside you bursts. Liquid heat sizzles through you, lighting up your nerve endings, and whiting out your vision.

It takes a moment for the world to come into focus again, and Bucky chuckles, “Where’d you go?”

You shake your head, “I’m here. I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.” Bucky’s lap is soaked, and moisture drips down your thighs onto the pillows under your knees.

“Good, ‘cause I’m close, doll. Gonna fill you up.”

“Please, Bucky. Fuck, I want you to come for me.”

He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you against his broad chest, and pistons his hips into you, chasing his own bliss with a groan. Soon his rhythm falters, and he buries his cock deep inside you and comes with a grunt. Heat floods your tight channel as he paints your insides with his come.

You lie together like that for a bit, but you can feel your juices drying on your thighs. You roll off Bucky, and he jumps up to retrieve a wet washcloth for you to clean yourself up.

He stands above you with a strange look on his face. You’re unable to decipher the meaning of the look, so you ask, “What’s wrong?”

His lips squeeze into a line and he shakes his head, “Doll, I don’t think anyone is gonna want these pillows back.” You laugh as he helps you off the floor and into his bed.

You lie facing each other with the sheets gathered around your waists. Bucky looks at you curiously. “What is it, Bucky?”

“I think it’s probably personal, doll. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay. If it makes me uncomfortable I’ll tell you—no hard feelings. Deal?”

“It’s just,” he reaches out ever so gently to trace some of the scars that criss-cross over your torso, then touches his chest, which bears many of the same marks. “It’s just that we have a lot of the same scars. And, well, I know how I got mine…”

You sigh heavily, and before Bucky can wave away his question you hold up a finger. “I don’t like talking about it, but I’ll tell you, because you deserve to know.” He nods, so you continue.

“Hydra stole me from my parents when I was fifteen. It was during the sixties, and hippies aren’t big on watching their kids apparently. I was the youngest of a group of a dozen others that were given the super-soldier serum. They put me through tons of training, a lot more than the others, because most of the others were already trained soldiers who volunteered for the program.

“Once they decided I was done training, they sent me on missions. Sometimes I was supposed to collect information from important men—I was expected to sleep with them. Some were targets I was supposed to assassinate. I refused to follow a single order Hydra gave me, no matter how many times they tried to scramble my brain, I refused to kill, refused all orders given to me. I was just a general pain in everyone’s ass. I made one escape attempt after another, and at some point it became one too many.

“Rather than just terminate me and waste all the resources they’d already invested in me, they used me. They tortured me, cut me into pieces to test how a super-soldiers body worked, how much damage we could take, how much they could carve us up and still have us recover. I was the ultimate guinea pig. Over and over again in thousands of increasingly creative ways. They were using me to figure out how to… motivate all of the other assets who may be stubborn enough to resist their programming. They used me to figure out all the ways they could hurt the other soldiers—hurt you—but still be assured they’d recover afterwards. That’s why we have so many of the same scars. They used the things they learned from me, on you.”

You don’t look at Bucky’s face while you tell your story. You can’t stand for him to know you were the reason they were able to keep him in line so thoroughly and effectively. You stare just over Bucky’s shoulder, where everything is wet and wavering through the liquid screen of tears you can’t allow to fall.

“You were part of the Winter Soldier program?”

You nod and a traitorous tear breaks loose and dives off the tip of your nose. “The team knew I was a super soldier—that was unavoidable—but I asked Steve not to tell anyone I was one of the Winter Soldiers. He’s the only one who knows. It’s a lot of baggage to carry around and I guess I thought it would be easier if no one else knew. I’m so sorry, Bucky. I should have told you before… before we… I’m so sorry. You must hate me. It’s okay. I understand. I’ll go.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey,” his hand grabs your forearm to keep you from leaving, “Why on earth would you apologize to me? What was done to you wasn’t your fault, any more than the things they made me do were my fault. They used us, they tortured us… Hey, look at me,” he says gently, pinching your chin to lift your eyes up to his, “It is not your fault. Not in any way, and I need you to know that. You’re carrying around guilt that was never yours to begin with, and you’ve gotta lay it down before it crushes you.”

You break down, body shaking with the force of your weeping. Bucky gathers you in his arms and pulls you close to him. He makes soothing sounds, but lets you cry it out, because all that pain and guilt has to go somewhere and it’s a burden he’s happy to help you shoulder. Soon you run out of tears, and Bucky gently cleans your face with a tissue.

He presses a kiss to your lips, soft and tender, he pours all of his feelings into the small gesture. “Y/N, I love you.” He says it in a way that suggests he’d pluck the moon out of the sky if you asked him to. He says it in a way that means unequivocally and unconditionally and forever.

“Bucky, I love you too.”

The smile on his face is so incandescent it puts the sun to shame. With one big hand along your jaw he pulls your mouth against his.

Eventually there’s a knock on his door. He opens it, still naked, and unashamed of his nudity.

Natasha barks, “Damnit, Barnes. Put some pants on before you answer the door! Or a towel. Fucking something!”

He leans against the frame and shrugs. “What do you want, Nat?”

“Did you steal my goddamned pillows?”

He shuts the door, and grabs a couple pillows from off the floor, and shoves them out the door at Nat.

A few moments pass, and Bucky’s door flies open hard enough to bounce off the wall behind it. Natasha yells, “You perverts owe me new pillows! Fucking degenerates!” Two pillows fly into the room, and Bucky snatches them out of the air with a laugh.

[even-if-in-another-time]

smoke signals

a sokeefe songfic to smoke signals by cavetown & tessa violet. (it’s an amazing song, listen to it if you haven’t already!) this one was a labor of blood, sweat and sleep deprived tears y’all. not my best work but im kind of proud of it. :p no tw’s that i can think of, but please let me know if i should add any! reblogs and comments are amazing shdkdbsjbs- taglist is at the bottom under the cut, let me know if you want to be added or removed :D

i know i’m a freak

ripped the band aid,

broke the peace

took the lock but lost the key

it’s too easy, keefe thinks. it’s too easy to leave it all behind. it’s too easy to convince himself that he doesn’t care. he knows it’s going to come crashing down eventually. it always does. but oh, right now it’s too easy, too easy to pretend that he thinks he made the right decision.

guess i set you free

hope you found a place to sleep

i know you’re bound to think of me

it’s too hard, sophie thinks. it’s too hard to keep from blaming herself. she wants someone to be angry at- she needs someone to be angry at. and that person should be keefe. she knows it should be. she knows. he ran away again. he left her again. he left, he left, he left, and she should be blaming him, not herself. but oh, right now it’s too hard to do anything other than listen to the voice that’s screaming in her head, telling her that she should have done it all differently.

you can come home to me

when you’re ready

i left the gate unlocked for you

keefe wishes he could stop seeing her in everything. he wishes that he wouldn’t think of her every time the light shifts to golden hour, wishes that he wouldn’t see the pattern of her freckles in every constellation. he wishes he didn’t whip his head around at every voice in a crowd that sounds similar to hers, half expecting her to walk up from behind him and save him from himself like she always did. he wishes he was able to close himself off from her, in the way that he was able to do to everyone else, but when everything in the world still revolved around her, his too-transparent walls were shattered at his feet.

‘til then i’m sending out

smoke signals

hoping i’ll see yours too

sophie wishes she could stop chasing after him. she wishes she could stop waiting for him, waiting for the person that had left her (he left, he left, he left) to come back when she knows he never will. she wishes she could stop waking up in the middle of the night, reaching for her imparter expecting him to be right there before realizing that he wasn’t, that he would never be, and having to lose him all over again. she wishes the pain would go away, wishes she could hate him, wishes she could be angry at him but his ghost is still right there, right next to her. he’s always there and he’s always gone. always, always, always.

when the dust has set

settled up and done our debts

nothin’ left to go collect

it’s too hard, keefe thinks. it’s too hard to stop thinking about all of his irrevocable mistakes as temporary. it’s too hard to stop thinking about his existence in the past tense. it’s too hard not to want. it’s too hard, it’s too hard, it’s too hard.

when it’s heavy on your chest

when you think there’s nothing left

it’s too easy, sophie thinks. it’s too easy to give up. it’s too easy, when the only thing that kept her fighting is gone. it’s too easy to fall into that blackness, when her only light was ripped from her. it’s too easy, it’s too easy, it’s too easy.

you can come home to me

when you’re ready

i left the gate unlocked for you

“i asked you to hate me once,” keefe finally writes one night. “do you remember? after all the time you spent telling me that you could never hate me. i hope you were lying.”

he stares at the paper too long (no, it’s already been far too long, wasting more time doesn’t matter) before he writes again.

“actually, i’m tired of telling myself that. once i burn this letter, it’ll be gone, right? so it’s okay for me to say that i hope you miss me. it’s okay for me to say that i hope you don’t hate me. it’s okay for me to say that i still love you. it’s okay, right? i need someone to tell me it’s okay.”

‘til then i’m sending out

smoke signals

hoping i’ll see yours too

“you asked me to forget you once,” sophie finally writes one night. “do you remember? i hope you do. i hope it hurts. i hope it hurts, because you left me. you left, you left, you left. fuck you.”

a teardrop blurs the ink. she crumples the paper, hurling it out her window as hard as she can until it finally falls too-gracefully over the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean. she takes another piece of paper.

“fuck you. this is going to be gone soon anyways. i may as well write what i could never say. i may as well write that i can’t hate you, no matter how hard i try. i may as well write that i haven’t forgotten you, not one bit, because i still see the exact same pattern of flecks of the sky reflected in your irises every time i close my eyes. i may as well write that i love loved you.”

(i miss you, i miss you, i miss you, i miss you)

keefe is never going to live again. keefe is never going to live again, and that’s okay. he’s never going to have the world again, because the world was her, and he is never going to have her again. he is never going to not miss her again. and that’s okay.

(i miss you, i miss you, i miss you, i miss you)

sophie is never going to live again. sophie is never going to live again, and it will never be okay. she’s never going to be in the world again, because the world was ripped in half and tilted on its axis and no matter how many flimsy stitches are put through the gap that he left, the world is all wrong. she is never going to not miss him again. and it will never be okay.

(i miss you.)

taglist: @a-harmless-poison @an-ungraeceful-swan @countingthestarsaboveourheads AND I THINK THERE WAS SOMEONE ELSE BUT I DIDN’T ADD YOU TO MY LIST ON NOTES SO IF YOU ASKED AND I DIDN’T TAG YOU I’M SORRY PLEASE TELL ME N I’LL FIX IT </3

[parkerlyn]

(if this is ok to request!) "slowly kissing down the body for sysba/oisein please?

ANON PLZ AKSJDHDKS ❤️❤️❤️ Giving us an excuse to extend the birthday party 🎉 Happy twiniversary for Attollo and The Nameless mwah❤️

(crossover and collaboration with @attollogame as a follow up to the recent makeup art. 18+ MINORS DNI PLEASE, will reblog their Sysba POV so give it a sec if you're just seeing this without the Attollo reblog 👀)

Blood red color smooths like velvet over their parted lips, a gentler caress compared to the harsh, cold fingers holding their chin in place. They can't help smirking at being pampered and painted, given who stands before them - the same person (being? God?) digging their nail in harder at the movement.

"Stop squirming," comes a frustrated tone, followed by a sharp tsk and a sneer below black void-like eyes.

Oisein huffs dramatically through a grin, only daring to speak now that the lipstick is a few inches away and there's no risk of destroying Sysba's masterpiece."Only if you promise to ruin it later."

Another tight squeeze as the sheevra's chin is lifted, a thumb roughly running over their unmarked bottom lip. Face splitting with a hungry smile, Sysba moves themself close enough to share, or possibly steal, a breath between them.

"Maybe if you behave," they whisper - command - back, letting the word linger in the space like a baited hook that draws Oisein forward. “And only after I get to show you off.”

A pleased hum is the only response, just audible over the low bass of La Rumeur. It’s a song and dance that’s practically become routine. Familiar, even. A word Oisein doesn’t usually value - but in this case they can make an exception.

An hour (or more) of being dressed up before spending part of the evening being paraded around, lounging near Sysba as they watch other club-goers try to snatch their attention, and fail. Matching golden jewelry glints like stars, orbiting in the gravity of Sysba’s finessed sharp edges and Oisein’s deceptively soft smile. There’s a sense of boasting, gloating satisfaction in the way the eldritch runs their fingers over the sheevra’s neck in the open balcony for all to see.

A dare and a taunt. Look what I have and you don’t.

The edge of teeth inching closer to their jawline. Look what I’ll have later, and you’ll never know.

And if there’s a chance to secure a name or two to heighten the ecstasy they know will come, then all the better. (Well...within reason.‘Just don’t be sloppy,’ Sysba’s voice echoes).

But inevitably - blissfully - the pretty mask is left behind, discarded by the strip lighting of the stairs and under the dark revolving lights. Abandoned in the deep, guttural tones of the music thrumming through the walls and the ceiling, and thrown past the quickly locked door into the echoes of envious whispers.

And eventually - rapturously - all that’s left is crashing lips and hands and skin and bodies, quickly marked in that familiar blood red. A furious need to ravage, to have, with no time to come up for air.

Oisein’s back finds the silky edge of the bed first as they drown in the taste of Sysba’s tongue against theirs, the cool fabric noticeable even through their infuriatingly-still-on-their-body clothes. The makeup so carefully applied before runs rivers of scarlet far past the sides of their mouths, eddies and pools of color marking over ears, across cheeks, under jaws. All heightened by the muted red glow of the lamps around the darkened room, and the deep black shadows that shy away from the light reflecting off the ornate glass chandelier.

There’s a low moan.

Bed, it says.

A throaty hum in return.

Well, what are you waiting for?

Which is all Oisein needs to sink backwards, pulling, aching to keep the contact constant while lips move to their neck. Their back arches before they even hit the sheets, a fervent hiss when lips move onto cloth and remove their warmth from their bare skin. They start to move a hand upward to shift Sysba’s mouth back to the freckles dusted under their jaw-

“Sanctin…”

-only to feel a sudden pull against their head and a resonant, threatening voice in their ear.

“Isn't the name you should be calling.”

Dark pupils rise in their periphery while a hand grabs at their dirtied blond hair, strands catching on the rings still present and pulled tight within the god’s fist. Though the pain lances into Oisein’s skull, the pleasure coursing in their veins thrives and feeds on the feeling. They just manage to clamp down on the whimper building at the back of their tongue, but the shiver running through their chest betrays them.

The sheevra’s crown is pulled back to expose their neck again as Sysba gives a small, chiding shake of their head before returning to their task with a ravenous intent.

The brunette’s fist adjusts to maintain control, pinning down another arm in the wake of the movement while their other hand wraps finger by finger around the free wrist. They follow the path of red down across a jaw while their legs find more purchase on the edge of the bed, hiking their thighs underneath willing legs and splaying them open. All thought leaves Oisein except for the determination to hook their heels into the back of Sysba’s knees and bring them closer, ignoring the knowing chuckle escaping those bloodied, swollen lips.

But there’s still plenty of work to be done, as Sysba’s mouth transitions to cloth again alongside another frustrated groan vibrating through their lover’s chest. They bare their teeth then, biting through cloth and into the flesh of a collar on the notes of a gasp. Moving onto the gap in the cloth, they tease along the edge of the shirt’s window, a chuckle reverberating back when Oisein’s body curves to meet them. An elbow forces down on the sheevra’s side with another warning while they rock their waist down, teasing out a pitched whine that accompanies a burst of spots in Oisein’s vision.

And then, of course, they move torturously past the unobstructed skin, a patch that looks odd in its unmarked clarity. The cruelty continues as a mocking pressure is applied beneath their ribs, then their stomach, and then at the curve of their hips, a keen mouth edging closer to actually giving them an inch of release...

But a sigh of relief still echoes out from Oisein when they finally feel Sysba relax their grip and begin to loosen the blond’s shirt from the hem of their pants, pulling it free and quickly sliding their palms up over freckled skin and under the dark purple cloth. Cold fingers send more goosebumps washing over the tanned chest and into their shoulders as they’re permitted to lift their arms, hastily tugging and throwing aside the clothing into some inky corner to be forgotten.

Their skin is bare and far too clean, chest rapidly rising and falling. Impatience and greed demands them to reach downward, fingers sliding over their body to undo the clasp at their dark hemline, and the others to pull Sysba forward by the shirt they intend to tear off-

Only to have both hands ripped away and pinned mercilessly above their head.

Sysba only needs one hand to keep them securely restrained while a thumb seeks the sheevra’s lips again, lavender gaze widened with a mixture of shock and excitement. Fingers stain on the bright color smeared over Oisein’s chin, this time free in their want and painting a path of rubies over their open throat. The sheevra in question feels their lungs burning, eagerly awaiting for their senses to be filled with the intoxicating smell of sweat and perfume. Awaiting the moment they’ll be devoured by an insatiable lust, praying devoutly with anticipation as Sysba bends over to their ear.

“Now, now,“ coos the god, prepared to punish. “What did I say about behaving?”

[maxirueee]

AU Alberu's POV as the experimented Beru

Alberu: Cale?

Cale: ...nggh..yes?

Cale rubs his eyes as he tried to open them slowly only to see his lover looking right at him with a nervous expression.

Alberu: I suddenly had a bad dream.

Cale: It's literally 3am in the morning.

Alberu: mm..yea- well *fidgeting*

Cale: Spit it out. What was your bad dream about Beru?

Alberu: DON'T CALL ME THAT ANYMORE- PLEASE just please I'm begging you...

Cale was in deep shock that his lover raised his voice at him just because of what? He called him by his nickname?

Cale: Didn't you tell me multiple times that I should stop calling you 'hyung' when we finally got together?

Alberu: I-its not that.. I just-

Cale: Tell me what's wrong Beru.

Alberu: THAT'S the PROBLEM.

Cale: Which is??

Alberu: That nickname, in my dream I was suddenly trapped in a flat boxed screen, I couldn't move but all I could do was smile. Smiling while looking towards the horizon which seemed endless. White. Blank.

ALberu: After a few minutes I suddenly heard voices. At first, there were a lot of compliments about how radiant I loo-

Cale: Are you even sure that's a bad dream?

Alberu: Yeah it is a bad dream!

Cale: Aren't you just totally flaunting how good-looking you are? You're srsly waking me up in the middle of the night because of this? I'm going back to slee-

Alberu: I SWEAR THAT'S NOT IT!

Cale looks back at Alberu who had a look of desperation. Cale couldn't distinguish if what he's seen rolling down the face of his beloved was sweat or tears. Maybe both. Well, he might as well comfort his lover since that was his job. Alberu: I heard giggles, squeals, people were shrieking with how I finally appeared. They kept saying that I looked so dazzling, how I sparkled. They were even speaking the same annoying lines that you tell me every time with your glib tongue.

Cale: Whatever do you mean oh shining sun of the Roan Empi-

Alberu: My point exactly *glaring at Cale*

Cale: Alright go on.

Alberu: It went on for days, I couldn't tell how long I was trapped in that frame-like screen window, all of a sudden I reverted back to my dark elf form.

Cale continues to stare at him, already feeling bored as he watched Alberu continue ranting his struggle of a mere dream. Although he found it amusing as he heard him say the next lines.

Alberu: But it didn't stop there, my hair color suddenly changed to a blood-red color just like yours Cale. I was the spitting image of you. And the voices agreed on how we really are sworn brothers if we just switched hair colors.

Cale: Hoh...

'There must be something more to this if it actually made the emperor of the Roan Kingdom have buckets of sweat rolling down his pretty face.'

Alberu: It was until I heard somebody say, 'How about a Pink Haired Beru?'

Cale: Huh?

Alberu: My hair color immediately changed to pink, then sky blue, then green, then orange, then red again. I didn't know when it'd stop but I couldn't even budge. Even when I wanted to so bad.

Alberu looked dead straight in Cale's eyes, with both his hands firmly holding his partner's shoulders, but ironically he was shaking. Alberu Crossman was shaking in fear. For what reason? Is this another one of the Sun God's pranks to his lover? Perhaps it was the God of Death again? He continues to ponder at the annoying thought that maybe divine beings were messing around his precious people again but stopped as Alberu continued speaking his worries.

Alberu: I thought it was okay since it was just a hair color change..then a woman's voice asked with great anticipation, "HOW ABOUT A BALD AND A MOHAWKBERU?"

Alberu: I continued to smile, even when my luscious golden blonde hair was instantly gone and I was suddenly bald. BALD! I saw numerous hearts floating in front of me and I could hear the mockery and laughter of beings I could not even see. Yet I continued to smile.

Cale was speechless.

Alberu: For some reason, I could read the words floating in front of me. "EVERYBODY GIVE IT UP FOR THE ROAN KINGDOM'S FAVORITE SHINING SUN- BALDBERU" is what it said. More hearts appeared at a scary rate and I couldn't even shout or move. I was terrified.

Alberu glared at the person in front of him like a mad man. Cale just shut up and listened to whatever he said, Alberu really looked mental.

Alberu: The woman from a while ago spoke again, I swear her voice was scary beyond belief. She added "Okay everybody hold up- Now imagine DELINQUENT HAIRCUT AlBERU"

Alberu: My hair suddenly grew back twice as much and it was styled into this weird looking hairdo...

Cale continued to have his stoic face which made Alberu feel relieved. Little does he know Cale was on the verge of laughing his ass off-

ALberu: I suddenly heard "JOSUBERU I CAN'T WITH THIS FANDOM- YA'LL REALLY DID IT U PUNKS" again from that mortifying woman since earlier, apparently it was done by a group of people claiming to be my fans?! BUT THE MONSTROSITY THEY'VE- no that wasn't even half of it

Cale: 'There's actually more?! PFFFFFT' I see, continue then. The prince saw his darling sweetheart Cale shaking as if he was sympathizing with what he was going through. At that very moment, he felt touched by his lover's empathy towards himself.

Alberu: The horrors didn't end just there as I was still waiting for the whole nightmare to be over, they were begging for a 'Voldeberu' which I don't even understand, at that point, I SUDDENLY LOST MY NOSE!!

I WAS BALD AGAIN AND MY NOSE DISAPPEARED YET I WAS STILL SMILING. I HAVE NEVER FELT SO MUCH FEAR IN MY LIFE.

Alberu: Somebody then proposed a 'Clowberu' AND MY FACE SUDDENLY BECAME A CLOWN WEARING MAKEUP. The hardships I had to take while staying still like a fucking mannequin. BUT IT STILL DIDNT STOP THERE.

Cale almost broke into laughter as he wanted to continue listening to his lover's amusing dream! If he laughs now Alberu might as well punch him in the face.

Alberu: I wanted to cry, I pleaded with the Sun God in my head that I want this to stop but I didn't get what I wanted. Instead, a chatbox suddenly appeared, I almost pissed my pants reading at the schemes of those so-called 'fans' had for me.

Cale: Oho.. what did you s-see then? 'Pfft'

Alberu: "LET'S MAKE HIS SKIN GREEN WITH ONLY ONE EYE, MIKE WAZOWSKIEBERU" "We need a butt, BUTTBERU" "I still didn't get my mohawhkberu!" "TWIN TAILESBERU" "AFROBERU!" "MONKBERU!" "SANGWOOBERU" "COWBERU" "UCHIHABERU" "I SAY NUNBERU! NUNBERU SUPREMACY RISE!!!!!!"

I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT MIKE WAZOWSKI BERU! BUT THEY WANT MY HEAD TO BE A COW?! HOW COULD THEY TO THE EMPEROR OF THE RO-

Cale couldn't handle it anymore he bursts out laughing, almost in tears.

Cale: BUHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!! If only I was there to see it all! I ca- I CANT! MIKE WAZOW- WAZOWSKI HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAH AND AFRO?! HAHAHAHAHAHA

Alberu: How could you be laughing at my pain?!

Cale: Oh dear emperor of mine, isn't it fine that you have such 'entertaining fans' of yours?

Alberu: Entertaining can't even describe those lots... They all praised me for how I was the rising sun of the Roan Kingdom as they humiliated my every being. To the point where they even planned on turning me into 'LIGHTBULBERU'. A FUCKING LIGHTBULB BECAUSE THEY WANT ME TO SHINE LITERALLY. A WALKING FLASHLIGHT KING. ME. ALBERU CROSSMAN.

Cale: PFFT HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Alberu: Haaaahh... You don't understand because you were never in my position. Those fans were a bunch of lunatics I say, LUNATICS!

What Alberu doesn't know is that we, the fandom won't just stop there...

Alberu felt shivers down his spine as he recalled the very vivid and realistic experience he had inside his dream.

Cale: I am so telling this to Tasha, my esteemed and very much adored Beru <3

Alberu: JUST CALL ME HYUNG PLEASE!!

The trauma seemed to have sunken deep into his mind that every time Cale calls him by that nickname, he subconsciously touches his hair and nose in order to reassure himself that it's still there.

I'm tagging these superb beings for making the thread LEGENDARY: @cale-alberu @chunnicalesimp @thescarletguard @trashduchesshenituse-reblogs @farmercale @just-a-sleepy-person @annerisk @pile-of-sticks @trash-duchess-henituse @icyteaa

[hunflowers]

Golden

Word Count: 15.3k

Requested? I don’t remember, but you always can here :)

Mood Board

A/N: Lord, have mercy SHE’S FINALLY HERE!!!!! My baby Golden is finally out to the public and can I just say how fucking relieved I am to post it. I love her, I hope you do too <3 little warning: there are mentions of panic attacks in here, and a heart condition (that i did my best to research on) so if you’re uncomfortable, pls don’t read. 

special thanks to my soul baby @stylesloveclub​ for being my biggest support system with this, she’s dedicated to you <3

for anyone reading this, please reblog! it really helps us writers out. okay onward friends!!! lemme know how i did and if you like it *nose boops*

Water. The ocean. Waves. The tide.

Symbolic of life, birth. Can be used to wash away even the most troubling of sins.

O’ahu, Hawaii, home to some of the best surfing destinations in the state, in the country, in the world. Also home to one of the best surfers in the state, in the country, in the world. 

Y/N didn’t coin herself that. Not that she’s complaining about it, but she doesn’t surf for the title. She surfs for the freedom. She feels the most alive when her toes dig into the sand as she runs towards the warm, salt oblivion, her novelty yellow and blue surfboard tucked under her arm.

Her whole life she had been surrounded by water. When she was a baby, she always wanted a bath. When she was a toddler, she always wanted to stay in the kiddie pool. And then she got into surfing, and well, the rest is history so-to-speak. Her parents never got themselves involved in the sport professionally but more as a recreational activity. And it was even how they met, so really there was no stopping surfing from flowing through Y/N’s blood.

Her backyard was the ocean, so growing up, it was really the only thing for her to do. It’s what all the kids were doing, and Y/N was no different. She met her best friends on the beach when they were five years old, practicing the basics of surfing, like getting up on the board and finding their balance with the Earth.

Kalani and AJ, two of the best surfers Y/N will ever meet, and two of the purest souls to ever grace her life. They’re madly in love with one another. Have been for as long as they’ve been friends -- so coming up on sixteen years. Y/N is in awe of their relationship, she really is, but being a third-wheel isn’t exactly something she signed up for. Though, she kind of expected it when growing up.

They tried countless times to set her up with someone, but time and time again their matchmaking skills have failed, and Y/N is tired of them pitying her. No, she may not be in a long term relationship, but she hardly has time for a relationship anyway. Especially with competitions coming up, she needs to keep herself focused on surfing rather than some boy who will probably end up breaking her heart.

Well, that was her intention anyway.

October 27th, the first day of the best months out of the year.

And it started just the same as every other year. Y/N woke up at the crack of dawn and threw on her lucky white bathing suit before throwing an apple down her throat. Her surfboard was perched up against the back patio railing, and she swiftly tucked it under her arm as she made her way down the shore, being greeted by the luminescent sun that was swarming the sea in a shade of tangerine and lemon.

Jogging knee deep into water, Y/N sunk her hand just below the surface, swaying it back and forth, taking a deep breath as she felt the cool texture swarm her body. Exhaling slowly, she threw herself down onto her board, paddling onward into the great unknown. The familiar sound of the crashing waves causing her to flinch for a brief moment before comforting her ears as she watches the restless ocean ahead of her, a smile washing over her face as she could basically see her future ahead of her.

Today marks qualifying day, and obviously if she marks as qualified, she moves forward to the Vans Triple Crown. She’s been training all year, her body practically a prune with how much she’s been in the water. But, a minute can’t go to waste, so up until the very last second where she has to head to the north shore, she’s gonna remain in the water and build her intuition with how the day is going to go.

Last year, Y/N had to cut her time short when she was hospitalized the night before the first competition. So, she was all more determined to win the championship that is rightfully hers. Well, in the women’s division at least. Last year was ripped from her right when it was under her nose and she refuses to have a repeat of it. 

After her hospitalization, everyone was convinced she’d never return to the water. Despite the ocean being her second home, everyone figured she would turn away -- avoid the embarrassment last year brought upon her. But, it only made her stronger and more determined to prove everyone wrong. No matter how frightening it really was.

Her first wave of the day had her coasting along smoothly, starting her out easy as waves progressively got bigger with the tide. When she got out into the water, the sun had just broken past the horizon line, yet by the time she left, the sun was nearly at its peak in the sky. Her skin felt raw, yet her body was running on adrenaline as she scoffed down the lunch her mom had made her before they banded into the family van and headed to Sunset Beach on the north shore.

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, her leg bouncing subconsciously but furiously as she watched the landscape pass her by through the window. Her typically calming music wasn’t even working as she ran through multiple scenarios in her mind of what could go wrong today and how her day, her week, month, even year could be ruined.

Once outside of the van and on the beach, her parents pulled her close into a tight, warm hug, whispering words of encouragement in her ears, knowing just how important this was for her. Surfing and competitions had always been important to Y/N, but following last year’s downfall, this day was going to make or break whatever is left of her both physically and emotionally.

“Y/N!” she heard her name being called from the distance, the three of them immediately letting go of one another as they exchanged sheepish smiles.

“Y/N!” Was called out again, causing her to turn around and see Kalani running straight for the three of them, waving her arms in a drastic manner to gain her best friend’s attention. “Oh my -- I ran so fast, wow, I need to calm down,” Kalani breathed out, closing Y/N into a firm embrace.

“Save your energy for the waves, babe,” Y/N laughed, wrapping her own arms around Kalani’s frame. The two of them were never inseparable, it was kind of like they were actually glued to the hip together ever since they were children. And a lot of people were surprised they remained best friends through the years, what with both of them always competing in the same surfing competitions battling for the first place spot. And they knew this could be a strain on their relationship, but they decided ever since they were seven years old that they weren’t going to let surfing get between them. No matter what, they were always proud of each other for everything they’ve accomplished and are each other’s number one fans.

Thing is, Y/N tends to snag that first place spot a lot of the time, and Kalani always just misses her, earning her the second spot, right beneath her. But, Kalani has grown to accept that Y/N is better at the sport, and that’s nothing for her to be ashamed of. She’s managed to get a few of her own first place wins, and in her eyes, that’s good enough. She can’t live her life being jealous of her best friend because that’s not healthy, and anyway, surfing is much more Y/N’s livelihood than it is her own, so she’s fine with being second best -- despite what others may think.

Tugging her board off the top of the car, Y/N tucked it beneath her arm as she walked hand-in-hand with Kalani to wherever her family had set up camp on the beach. “Where’s AJ?” Y/N wondered, as she looked out into the water and saw no one out in it.

“The boys are starting soon, so he’s with Nav,” Kalani said, finally stopping in front of her parents and younger brother, and AJ’s older brother.

“Y/N!” They greeted, getting up from their chairs to kiss the girl on the cheek before greeting her parents. “It’s so great to see you back here,” Kalani’s mom smiled, pinching Y/N’s cheek before plopping herself back down under the sun.

They all began to catch up with one another since it’s been awhile they’ve all gotten together, all of them falling into old habits as if it hadn’t been months since they were last together. Y/N tried to engage in as much conversation as possible, but her mind tended to wander off as the guys started lining up in the water and making their way out. Her throat dried up and her palms were sweating -- and not from the heat -- as her nerves kicked in. Her memory began to cloud her vision as she stood abruptly and quickly walked away from the group, her heart picking up again.

Her breaths shortened as her mind blurred, and all she wanted was to curl up on her bed and calm her mind. She felt someone’s hand on her back, and immediately she could tell it was her father by the smell of his cologne. Once she was far enough from people, Y/N could feel tears well in her eyes as short images flashed across her eyes, cutting each inhale of breath in half -- which caused her to panic even more as she couldn’t breathe properly.

Last year ruined her, and she absolutely despises that this is considered her normal day-to-day routine now, her body shaking with fear as she feels herself collapsing from the inside, out. “Y/N, honey, can you hear me?” She thinks she hears her father say, but is undetermined with the intense white noise that’s swarming her ear drums.

“Count with me, c’mon, backwards from ten.”

But, all her mind could focus on was her body sinking lower and lower beneath the surface of water.

“Ten… Gotta count, c’mon you can do it, nine.”

“Eight,” she murmured, reaching out to grasp her dad’s shirt tight in her fist, just to make sure that he was really in front of her. She needs to be reminded that last year is her past, and that no matter how forward it is in her mind, it’s not her present anymore and she’s not drowning. “Seven.”

He took her hands and held them to his chest, “Six, keep going.”

“Fi-” she gulps, swallowing the lump in her throat, “..five.”

She makes it all the way down to zero, her body visibly relaxing and mentally as she hesitantly looks around to see no one watching the little event. “Do you want to go home?”

Y/N looks up to her father, shaking her head in response as she sniffles her nose and brushes away the one stray tear that has cascaded down her cheek. “No… I can do this.”

He cocks his head to the side and purses his lips, slowly nodding his head. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turns them back in the direction, walking with her slowly as she continues to gather herself. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, Y/N. Everyone knows you’re an amazing surfer.”

“I think I just need to prove it to myself,” she stated, dragging her feet through the sand like a child so it slowed their arrival time back with the group. She can only imagine that her mom had informed everyone already of what was happening, and the last thing she wants is their sorry eyes and pathetic spouts of pity that she knows she’ll wish they just kept to themselves.

Y/N knows she’s broken. She’s not the same girl everyone knew this time last year, but she doesn’t need to be reminded of it every time she steps into a room. What happened last year was serious and she understands that people are worried; But all she wants is for everyone to forget about it. Including herself. She thinks the thing that’s causing her the most trepidation now -- rather than in the morning or all year long -- is the fact she’s now back in front of a crowd again, eyes trained on her like hawks watching prey, waiting for something awful to happen again.

The only thing missing is the popcorn as they watch this free entertainment.

When they finally came back to everyone, Y/N noticed the guys had started paddling out. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, dismissing her presence as she sat herself down back in the sand, and a breath of relief escaped her lips. The tension was there, but everyone ignored it for her sake, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful.

“Go, AJ!” Kalani cheered, pumping her fist and shouting a few hoots and hollers afterward. Dom, AJ’s brother, let out a few ear screeching whistles, the kind with the fingers in the mouth, joining in on rooting for his brother. 

Watching the guys out there solidified to Y/N how real this really is, and soon her veins were pumping with excitement again instead of dread as she cheered on her best friend. He was going to qualify, they all were and they knew that, but it's always fun to get excited about the possibility of moving forward and winning the titles and earning the trophies.

All the other faces that surfed alongside AJ were mostly familiar, their names ringing bells as the announcers spoke of them, but there was one that Y/N hadn’t ever heard before. It’s the same cycle of people every year, yet this guy was fresh. And the only reason she’s curious as to who he is, is because he’s good. Like, really good.

Kalani can’t exactly remember if she’s heard of him either, shrugging to Y/N’s wonderment, “I don’t know. Maybe AJ knows.” His pink surfboard and pink wet shirt stuck out as he was a sight for sore eyes, and Y/N grew a little resentment towards him as he pulled out a few advanced maneuvers, gaining everyone’s undivided attention that used to be on AJ.

“Who is that?” Y/N’s mother questioned, looking around to see that no one knew the answer. 

He was a mystery yet he radiated this vibrant energy as the guys finished their rounds, walking off with grace in his step as he laughed at something Nav -- one of the three’s friends -- had said. The girls bid their goodbyes to their families as they headed over to where the guys were before their rounds. AJ immediately came running over to them, hugging Y/N and Kalani simultaneously before giving his girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips. “You did great,” Kalani smiled, keeping her arms wrapped around his center.

“Alright, not in front of me,” Y/N grimaced, looking away from them. Immediately her eyes landed on the new surfer, still talking to Nav, and she was quick to turn back to AJ to ask who he is. “Hey, who’s the new guy?”

Looking over his shoulder, AJ saw who she was talking about before realization dawned on him. “Oh, that’s Harry. He’s from England. A really nice guy, I bet you’d like him,” he winked, causing Y/N to look at him with squinted eyes and pursed lips.

Kalani nudged his side, giving him a weird look. “What? I’m just saying.”

Then, speak of the Devil, Nav and this Harry guy came walking over, joining the three as they stood around waiting for the announcement that the girls could head out. Y/N wasn’t exactly paying attention to her surroundings as she continued to calm herself down for the impending near future. It wasn’t until Harry had stood in front of her, that she was knocked out of her own thoughts.

She looked up at him, making eye contact and briefly getting her breath caught in her throat. When he was far away, it was hard to make out his facial features or what he exactly looked like. But being right in front of him, she was merely astonished at his beauty, but more so his green eyes that reflected the perfect amount of sunlight. His wet, brunette hair rested against his forehead and seemed to be drying a bit curly.

His head tilted slightly, an amused smirk inching up his face as he watched her reaction. Something tells her he’s used to this kind of reaction. “M’Harry.”

His hand came between the two of them, waiting for her to grasp it in a firm grip. Y/N was hesitant at first but finally took his hand and shook it gently while greeting herself before dropping her hand back down to her side. “Y/N.”

This is insanely awkward. Especially because her friends are just watching the exchange silently, as if they weren’t allowed to speak while the two introduced themselves.

Harry has heard of Y/N. It’s hard for anyone involved in the surfing business to not have heard of her. Aside from the jarring news from last year, she’s an excellent surfer and her name is always spreading around like wildfire. She’s part of the reason Harry decided to delve more into the professional surfing world, because he’s been itching to meet her.

Y/N is attractive, anyone with eyes knows that, but Harry wanted to meet her only because of her expansive skills in the water. Standing in front of her, he can’t deny her undying beauty -- and if he weren’t such a gentleman he’d probably be trying to woo her this very instant. But, her looks aren’t what draws him to her, and he decides to not think with his dick for once.

Before he gets the chance to say something else to her, they get notified that the girls should start heading out for their rounds. Y/N and Kalani grab their boards and tuck them under their arms before bidding their goodbyes to the boys and scurrying off to join the rest of the girls.

“Whipped already?” Nav jokes, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and leading them to the sand where they’ll watch.

Y/N steps her toes into the water, basking in the cool feeling wrapping around her toes and surging up her body. She rolls her neck feeling it crack softly before rolling her shoulders back and taking in her umpteenth deep breath of the day. Her and Kalani looked at each other, nodding with smiles on their faces before they walked deeper in the shallow water until it reached the middle of their thighs before dropping their boards down and paddling out.

At the sight of a small wave heading toward her, Y/N dipped herself beneath the water just to wet her hair. It felt refreshing again to feel the salt coax her skin for the second time that day, as if it never left. When she greeted the air again, she could immediately feel the rays of the sun bouncing off of her skin, illuminating her in a heavenly glow, like the star she is. The spotlight is on her as she aims herself for the peak of the impending wave, nabbing the first ride of the girls’ round.

Back on the beach, her mom’s fingers were crossed, her dad’s breath was caught in his lungs, and Harry’s eyes were fixated on her figure as she jumped up on the belly of her board. Her legs kept her balance against the rough matter below her. Due to the steep wall of the wave, Y/N had to act quick and rational in order to keep control, and started off with an off-the-lip, which kept her parallel with the wave before she moved herself down and carved herself back into the energy zone. 

Because it was a smaller wave, she could only go on for so long before she tipped herself off the board and fell down into the water. Everyone waited with bated breaths and kept their eyes on the area she sunk beneath the blue, before sighing in relief to see her head pop back up. Harry could see the joy wipe over everyone’s faces, replacing the worry that was once there as they hugged one another. He could tell Y/N has such a good support system, and it only urges him more to want to be a part of her life.

Of this life.

❊ ❊

“You guys did so good! We’re so proud,” Y/N’s mom gushed as she pulled her into a warm embrace -- a hug that holds more meaning than just being proud. Her mom was relieved. Grateful. Happy. She’s able to hold her daughter one more time, and that’s all she could ask for. “It’s going to be a good year for all you kids.”

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was elated, overjoyed, ecstatic, riding such a good high. Her comeback couldn’t have gone any better and she’s just so, so happy. Arriving at the beach she was nervous and anxious and was two seconds away from caving to her fears and running away. Now, as she walks arm-in-arm with her best friend away from the water for the night, she’s laughing a genuine laugh and her veins are currently pumping excitement rather than nerves. 

AJ locked his arm over her shoulders, the three of them linked just like they always are as they head towards Y/N’s family van. But, instead of like other times, this time they have a tag-a-long trailing behind them. It’s sort of like a tradition where after every competition, all of the families join together and head to dinner at their usual restaurant. Nav couldn’t come because he had his own family matters to attend to but Harry was more than willing to accept the offer. He says he came to Hawaii alone and that he had nothing better to do, but his intense stare on Y/N when he accepted the offer says that’s not the only reason he was so quick to join.

It was also part of the tradition that they ride together in the van, 1) because it was the most spacious vehicle where they were able to ride together and 2) because Y/N’s parents are pretty fun to be around. They blasted the best music and made the best jokes, causing not one dull car ride. When they filed in, AJ and Kalani pushed themselves to the back seat, leaving Y/N and Harry to sit in the separate middle row chairs.

“Oh! Harry, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Does your family want to join us? They’re more than welcome to,” Y/N’s mom looked over her shoulder in the passenger seat.

He cleared his throat, looking up from his phone and sitting up a bit in his seat, an uncomfortable look on his face. “M’here alone, actually.”

Before anyone could ask any questions, AJ clapped Harry’s shoulder, saying, “We’re your temporary family now, man.” Despite being competitors, it seems the two of them really hit it off and AJ genuinely meant what he said about being Harry’s family. Though, everyone knows the main reason he said it was to diminish the rising tension.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry returned, fist bumping AJ. And during the little exchange, Harry caught eyes with Y/N, catching her eyes wandering around his profile and facial features, causing her to look away quickly and look out the window as if the view was something spectacular. She could hear him snicker quietly, and just when she thinks the coast is clear, she slyly looks back at him just to find out he’s already staring at her.

They really love staring at one another apparently.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Y/N and Harry were pushed to the back of the group -- not really by choice but somehow it ended up that way -- and neither of them really made any moves to break the silence between them. Y/N because she was nervous, and Harry because he wanted her to be the first to speak. And it just so happened that when they were sat at a table, they were left with the last two remaining chairs that also happened to be right next to each other. Y/N couldn’t figure out if they were doing this on purpose or it was by coincidence, but she can tell Harry doesn’t mind.

She’s not one to be nervous around guys, but there’s something about Harry and how he is so blatantly interested in her that makes her wary of talking to him. Kalani sat across the table from her, and when they made eye contact, they had a silent conversation about how Y/N should grow the balls and actually talk to him. Of course Y/N refused, which earned her a kick to the shin in retaliation, which then caused her to let out a yelp of pain and made everyone look at her confused and worried. 

“Sorry, hit my knee on the table,” she brushed it off, glaring at her best friend the moment everyone turned away and continued with their own conversations. 

Being as slick as possible, Kalani directed her eyes to Harry when he wasn’t looking so Y/N could see her, before turning to AJ and talking to him about something completely irrelevant. Again, Y/N and Harry were stuck in this silence. She’s not exactly sure why she can’t just start a conversation, but he’s kind of intimidating and she’s afraid of embarrassing herself, especially in front of her family. 

Pursing her lips and looking down to her lap, Y/N finally turned to give Harry her attention, noticing how he was staring into space, looking completely lost in this foreign setting. “So, uh, where exactly are you from?”

Harry was quick to turn his head to Y/N, waiting and waiting and waiting for the moment she would say something. “A small town in Cheshire. Northwest of London, if that helps.”

“That’s a pretty far trip to take alone,” she nods, licking her bottom lip before gently biting down on it. As much as she thinks of herself as an independent person, she’s also an extreme homebody and could never imagine going anywhere without anyone by her side, whether it be family or friends.

He merely shrugs in response, “M’better off alone.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side while looking at him, letting his words sizzle inside her mind as she tries to overanalyze him in the mere hours she’s known him. She turned her gaze down to her hands that were intertwined in her lap, mulling over her next words to say. She doesn’t know him, but she knows the feeling of being alone. And being alone, no matter how appealing it could sound, never works out in the end. People aren’t meant to live alone. It goes against the natural order of life, and just hearing him say he prefers being alone breaks her heart just the tiniest bit. “No one’s better off alone. Everyone needs someone eventually.”

Little does she know, is that she is his someone. Or, at least that’s what Harry’s hoping. He thinks he’s crazy for being so enthralled by someone so suddenly and so strongly, but Harry’s always been one to trust his gut. His plushie but toned gut was screaming at him that this girl is just meant to be in his life. Maybe meant to be his, but he won’t push his luck. “Guess we’ll have to wait an’ see.”

They both smiled softly at one another, a small blush creeping up Y/N’s cheeks for the umpteenth time that day. “I guess we will.”

❊ ❊

It had been a little over two weeks since qualification day. Her days hadn’t changed much in regards to her schedule; Waking up at the ass crack of dawn and heading straight into the water and staying in practically until the sun was set. But, there was one slight shift in her day, and that was the now familiar face of Harry popping in everyday, either physically or in her mind.

It was safe to say Harry was quickly adapting to the three friends, merging with them seamlessly; As if he had been part of this little group since he was a child. It’s not like any of them minded, especially AJ because he was happy to get another guy around. Their friend Nav wasn’t exactly a permanent part of their little group because he belonged to everyone and no one, but Harry stuck around them like glue and AJ was so grateful. 

Y/N’s grateful because now she isn’t a third-wheel.

Harry and her aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, but it definitely helps having someone else around for movie night so Y/N isn’t stuck watching her best friend’s all cuddled up together and hearing the occasional kiss they would share.

Though, Harry has made it known time and time again that he really wants to be buddy-buddy with her. And Y/N’s not exactly sure why she won’t give him what he wants, but for some reason she loses all comprehensive skills and becomes a blubbering, nervous mess around Harry whenever he brings up his interest in her. So, she’s successfully avoided all buddy-buddy conversations with him by bringing up mundane things instead. Like, why she decided to paint her nails blue, or why she absolutely despises white socks.

She thought she was doing a pretty skillful job too. But, after the first two times she avoided giving a yes or no answer to going on a date with him, Harry purposely would ask her just to hear what other obscure distractions she could come up with. He loved hearing Y/N talk, and without her knowing, he was getting to know her piece by piece, inch by inch, and he was loving it.

Though, a guy’s ego can only take so many rejections before he gives up completely. And just when he was ready to call it quits and accept that she wasn’t interested in him like he was her, the unexpected happened.

Y/N agreed to a date.

Well, kind of.

It was time for the Hawaiian Pro. The official first event of the Vans Triple Crown. It was taking place at Ali’i Beach Park in Hale’iwa, one of the most intense surfing spots filled with waves of  many different faces. Of course, this is when Y/N’s nerves really started to kick in. Qualification day isn’t anywhere near as filled with people as the actual events are, and her nerves have seemed to kick it into high gear. It doesn’t help that the Hawaiian Pro is when her life changed a year ago. She could hear people whispering about her, wondering if she’s going to wipe out again or if this time she’ll stay under the water. Her mind was already frenzied enough, but nothing completes the cycle like a panic attack and the embarrassment of many on-goers witnessing said panic attack.

She almost backed out. How is she meant to be the best when her body is afraid of taking its final breath? The tide was high and the waves showed no mercy. How is she meant to challenge that? How is she meant to control the water beneath her when she can’t even control her own thoughts?

It was getting to be too much for her. This entire time leading up to the Triple Crown she’s denied her fear and her anxiety, telling herself she’ll get over it. She’s been doing good all year, so what makes now any different? But it is very different. The calm atmosphere of her backyard is no match for the rambunctious setting of the Triple Crown. And she’s a fool for thinking differently.

So, she was panicking.

Y/N couldn’t even get up from her seat in her parent’s van because she was so shaky. Her father held her close, easing her back to reality and away from her tortuous mind. Of course, he offered to drive them back home and away from the competition, telling her again that she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. But, she declined again. Because she needed to prove it to herself. She’s stronger than her mind lets on, and she needs to make sure she knows that.

When she slid off her board and sank her toes back into the warm sand after a very successful first round, landing her in the lead spot, she was finally able to breathe again.

People congratulated her on her comeback, astonished to see her doing better than ever before. Her parents embraced her with love and elation, so beyond happy to see her laughing and smiling and enjoying herself now that she’s progressing forward. Kalani of course is her number one supporter, practically jumping on her and screaming in her ear about how happy she is for her best friend.

Everyone was making their rounds hugging Y/N, and then it was Harry’s turn. They didn’t exactly embrace like the rest of them had, but he threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side, squeezing her to him softly before looking down at her and saying, “Absolutely wicked, love. Gotta teach me some of y’fancy moves.”

“You sure? They’re really only meant for the pros,” she teased, biting at her bottom lip to conceal her laughter as he scoffed.

“”Ey, no one likes a narcissist,” he shoved her shoulder softly, rolling his eyes as her laughter rang through his ears. “But, whaddya say? M’gonna need a good teacher if I wanna make it to the big leagues.”

Y/N simply shrugs without really thinking much into it, “Sure.” Her mind didn’t exactly process what she had agreed to until later that night, before she dozed off into her temporary slumber. Her eyes shot open and her body sat upright as an over dramatic gasp was inhaled into her lungs. Her mind had been all over the place with the competition that she didn’t realize that she had agreed to being alone with Harry for the first time since they'd met. Immediately she texted and called Kalani, to which she got laughed at in return.

“Kalani, this isn’t a laughing matter!”

A few miles away, Harry was snuggled into his bedsheets, a bright smile stretched across his face as he reveled in the idea that he finally was going to be alone with Y/N since the first time they’d met. His heart was jumping and his stomach was fluttering as he envisioned her pretty face behind his eyelids before he drifted off into his dream with her. 

“It so is! C’mon, Y/N, what have you got to lose? You have the same interests, he’s funny, he’s hot, and he clearly is into you. Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.”

Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.

That’s the thought that stuck in her mind, lingering around as she finally fell asleep, and then when she woke up, and when she was eating breakfast; And doing her chores; And hanging out with Kalani; And eating dinner; And then falling asleep again. Y/N didn’t even realize she had spent so much of her past year focusing on her career and health that she hasn’t done much of anything else.

She’s so grateful to be alive, but she’s hardly given herself the chance to live again.

Before her accident, she was always up for adventure and was always the life of any party. After her accident, she hasn’t even been to a party. She hasn’t been in a relationship in years, she hasn’t gone on a date in a long time, and she can’t even remember the last time she’s had sex or kissed a guy. She’s been so focused on her redemption, that she can’t remember the last time she was genuinely happy.

Going on this date, but also not a date -- but also clearly a date -- with Harry just may provide her with that. And she owes it to herself, to her past self, that her accident isn’t going to shape her life anymore.

Plus, she really enjoys Harry’s company. And even if she doesn’t show it so bluntly like him, she really likes him too.

The next day, Y/N and Kalani had gone out shopping, enjoying a nice girls day out. They had bought a few new varieties of swimsuits (as if they didn’t have enough) and a few other types of clothes, got some lunch, and even found time to watch a movie. And they did all of this right up until the moment Y/N decided it was time to text Harry. 

She wasn’t sure how to go about this, because she’s never really asked anyone on a date before, or followed up with plans (?) about a date. Kalani kept urging her to just rip the bandaid off and to get it over with, saying something along the lines of, “You’re not getting any younger. Plus, I think he’d slip right off his board at the sight of you in that new yellow suit you got.” It was just a simple bikini, but it showcased the majority of her skin that essentially left little to the imagination.

But, the thing is, whenever Y/N gets into the water around people, she can’t help but cover her torso with a wet-shirt, insecure of the imperfections that lined her skin. It’s rare she can bear to look at her skin, so she only assumes no one else would want to either. So, she’s not so sure he’ll fall off his board at the sight of her, but the thought is nice.

Y/N pulled out her phone and hovered over his contact for a good amount of time before Kalani grew impatient and snatched the phone from her friend’s hand. They wrestled around with each other to try and gain custody of the phone, but finally in the end Y/N was able to hold her phone tight in her hands before declaring, “Okay! Okay! I’m texting, I’m going.”

Kalani peaked over Y/N’s shoulder as she watched her type the allusive message to Harry, a proud smile carving over her lips as she watched her break down a barrier she had subconsciously put up. It isn’t by any means important to be in a relationship or to have a boyfriend, but Kalani knows deep down that Y/N was wishing to have that special connection only a relationship could provide -- a connection outside of the realm of friendships.

“There,” Y/N huffed, shoving the screen of her phone in her best friend’s face.

hii, if you’re still up to learn from a true professional, I’m available tonight :)

It wasn’t even ten seconds later that she got a reply.

Shit, I’ll be your best student, babe. I know a perfect spot, I’ll be at yours in an hour.

It was kind of amusing to Y/N that he said he knows a perfect spot, as if she hadn’t been living on this island all her life and practically knows it like that back of her hand. But, that miniscule thought was pushed to the very depths of her mind as panic coursed through her as she realized what she was getting herself into. She’s going on a date, not a date, but also a date with Harry, and a small hour wasn’t enough time to gain her composure. 

Fuck.

❊ ❊

It’s no surprise to Y/N when Harry shows up to her house a minute early. She’s half convinced that he had been waiting outside of her house for the past fifteen minutes until he finally stepped up on to the porch of her house, knocking rapidly on the door. It wasn’t an emergent knock that caused some sort of panic, but it was a frantic knock that screamed ‘let’s get the show on the road.’

When she opened the door, both of their breaths were robbed from their lungs. Y/N essentially looked like she always did but something about her glowed differently to Harry; maybe it was because she’s his for the night. For his eyes only. Just him and her. He was awestruck. 

Harry essentially looked like he always did but something about him radiated differently to Y/N. The same little smirk was nestled in its usual spot, but this one held a different meaning. It looked the same, but maybe it was different because it was just her and him tonight. He’s hers for the night. For her eyes only. Y/N was nervous.

Y/N left her board out on her porch so she wouldn’t have to walk around back when he got here, but she was silently wishing she didn’t so she’d get just a couple more seconds to get herself together. She just kept chanting, “It’s not a date!” in her head, in hopes it would make her feel better.

It didn’t.

Harry saw her board and tucked it under his left arm as he threw his right one over her shoulders guiding her his mode of transportation. It also wasn’t a surprise to Y/N to see Harry rolling up in a light yellow Jeep; the top down and the doors off, typical of any surfer dude, no matter where they originate.

“Her name’s Betty,” he smiled, walking around the back and giving her a quick tap on her rear end before stepping up to straddle Y/N’s board safely and securely.

Sliding through the empty passenger door to take her seat, Y/N was greeted by a familiar smell, a smell she could only associate with Harry. And even if she could never admit it, she loved it a lot. It was mouth-watering and intoxicating, and simply put, it was Harry. Even with the open atmosphere of the car, it was still drenched in this specific smell, and Y/N can’t help but giggle at the image of Harry spritzing whatever cologne into the car before arriving at her house.

A few moments later, Harry slid into the driver side, placing the sunglasses that were sitting on the dash over his eyes, shoving the key into the ignition and starting them on their journey to whatever beach he had envisioned. On the ride there, over the course of a few right turns and lefts and different exits on the highway, Y/N surprisingly had no idea where they were going. Did she think maybe he was gonna murder her? A bit. But, she felt comfortable around Harry. So, she felt it in her gut that she was going to come out alive from this… event.

When they got to the beach, it was about thirty minutes from Y/N’s house, and she had no idea where they were. They had to walk a short path to meet sand and ocean, but once they made it past the clearing, Y/N was in awe of the site ahead of her. People could think that seeing the ocean every day ruins the peaceful and magical aura surrounding it. But, Y/N never gets sick of greeting it. The sun was beginning to set, and the water was glowing with a yellow-pink hue by the horizon that blended into a bright blue by the shore. The cliff sides around them guarded the little alcove, feeding into the tranquil atmosphere.

“How did you find this place?” Y/N wondered as she kicked off her sandals, and shimmied her shorts down her legs before kicking them over her sandals. The yellow bottom of her bikini was visible, and she turned her head just as Harry took a large gulp at the sight of her in front of him; Just for him. Her blue wet-shirt stayed on though.

It piqued Harry’s interest as to why she never took off her shirt. He understood for the competitions, but even when it was just a casual outing, just him and her, or them and their friends, she always kept it on. It wasn’t his place to ask, but he wished she would’ve broken this barrier down just this once. Just for him. “Tha’s a secret for me to know and you to maybe find out.”

Y/N let out a giggle - why? she didn’t know - and turned her attention back to the boy that brought her here, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she caught Harry taking off his white t-shirt, now only clad in his little pink shorts next to his little pink board. His skin looked extra dewy, and his tattoos seemed to glint under the setting sun. Before she could devour him with her eyes, she picked up her board and took it with her, running down to the water and shouting, “C’mon slow-poke, gotta get in the water before the sun sets!”

It wasn’t a surprise to Y/N that this didn’t keep on track of a teaching lesson. Harry doesn’t need to be taught, he’s amazing on his own. He pulled off his own tricks that Y/N didn’t even know the name of, and she was asking him to let her in on his little secrets. He locked his lips in return, throwing the imaginary key somewhere over his shoulder, “Y’think I’m g’na tell you? I’m far too narcissistic to let you beat me at my own game.”

“Who said I’m gonna beat you?”

“Have you met you?”

There’s a reason Y/N’s name circulates throughout people’s brains, why her name is common in any Hawaiian household, why Harry was itching to meet her. She’s good at what she does. Insanely good that it’s kind of concerning. Not everyone can come back from a life-altering experience, but Y/N took those stereotypes and crushed them beneath the tail of her infamous yellow surfboard. She reveled in the doubts and came back stronger than ever. Of course she would beat him at his own game. She’s the only one who could.

There wasn’t any telling how long they had been riding wave after wave, in the water with no one else but just each other. But, the sun almost halfway past the horizon line was a good giveaway. They were probably nearing the two hour mark, and they knew they couldn’t stay out here all night, but Jesus, how they wished they could. Y/N wasn’t expecting to be so content, thinking this would be some strange, awkward, uncomfortable time they would want to forget about the moment they left each other’s sides.

It’s the opposite.

Just for him. Just for her.

They both laid on their boards, limbs sprawled out and dangling into the water as their bodies shut down in exhaustion. Y/N can’t remember the last time she went so long without taking at least a ten minute break. Her body was most definitely not used to it as she felt her back mold into her little yellow board, accepting the relaxation. When she finally opened her eyes back up, she turned her head to the side, admiring Harry’s profile as his arms were pulled over his head, the skin of his torso being stretched, which also stretched the ink that adorned him.

Y/N got lost in the mirage that is Harry, that she didn’t even realize he had turned his head and caught her ogling. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that her eyes snapped to his, heat traveling up through her body and rushing to her cheeks. “M’eyes are up here, love.”

“Uh- right. Yeah, I know.”

“Cool. Hey d’y’wanna play twenty questions?” He asked, sitting up to straddle his board and paddling himself around so he was facing her. 

Y/N squinted her eyes, “Are we children?”

“I mean, I guess not. Doesn’t stop my five year old humor though,” he smiled, kicking his foot up to splash her with an inkling of water as his childlike, petty comeback. “You ask first.”

Y/N pushed her hand through the water to spray him in an ounce of sea salt before turning her head back to the sky, contemplating her first question. “Mm… favorite color?” She already knew the answer.

“And you asked me if we’re children? C’mon, darling, know you wanna know more than tha’. Pink. What was your first impression of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, even though she couldn’t see his face. This has been one of those things that’s been nagging at the back of his mind ever since they first met. Their first encounter wasn’t awkward per-se, but the fleeting moment of introduction wasn’t exactly one worth remembering either. But, Harry was always going to remember it. And depending on Y/N’s answer, he hopes she will too.

At this, she turned her head back to Harry, hand covering her eyes as the sun glared at them over the reflective water. It was a sight to behold, seeing Harry glow in the golden hour light. “Intimidating. But, also unique,” she began, moving to sit herself up and paddle her board around so she was now facing him. “You remind me of a singular cloud in an otherwise clear sky. You’re not meant to be there, yet you’re not out of place.”

Harry sat for a moment, staring. Completely in awe. Head over heels. Never would’ve guessed those words to be the ones tumbling from her lips. It was the way she didn’t hesitate in her sentence, as if those words had been formulated a while ago and just now was she able to spew it from her wordbank. Just for him. “Fuck, that was beautiful. Your turn.”

“Do you really think you’re better off alone?”

Harry pursed his lips, looking off into the distance for a brief moment before shrugging, “I do. But, I don’t. If it comes down to going back to my family and friends from home or being alone, I’ll choose being alone.” And he wanted to sprinkle in the little bonus that he doesn’t feel alone when he’s around her, but something tells him that’ll just turn her away. “What’re you so afraid of?”

It’s a brash question Y/N wasn’t expecting to be thrown at her so suddenly. She has a mix of answers, and there’s a specific one flashing in her mind like a bright, neon yellow sign, but she’s not certain how comfortable she is with telling him yet. Though, she notices that whatever question she could throw his way, he’d answer it truthfully, not scared of opening himself up, just for her. She wants to be brave like that, and maybe she can be, but she’s not sure how.

It comes as a surprise to her when she does say, “I’m scared of going through everything that happened last year all over again. Everyone’s afraid of dying, or at least most people are, but experiencing death… there’s really no coming back from that. ”

“Experiencing it?” He looks at her wide-eyed.

“What, you haven’t heard of what happened last year?” She looks at him, eyebrows scrunched. 

“Only know you had some accident. No offense, but I didn’t really bother myself with reading the fine print,” he shrugs, running his pruney fingers through his salted hair. He didn’t know if he wanted to read it, especially not with the sudden news that apparently this very alive, lively girl in front of him… died? He doesn’t think he could stomach reading about that.

Y/N hasn’t met a single person who hasn’t heard about what happened to her. Or at least the details of it. In reality she doubts anyone outside of Hawaii knows of her existence, but in her world it was the biggest news to affect the state in a while -- aside from, like, actual serious matters, her accident was up there on the news.

She evades his second question though, not wanting to cough up the traumatic details of her past; not yet at least. “Well, it’s my turn anyway. Why surfing?”

“I could just look it up, but I get it; you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he gave her a playful look, pursing his lips while giving her a pointed stare. “It’s different. England isn’t known for surfing. It’s known for rain and football. But, with every possible detail of m’life, I wanted to make sure I was different. My dad wanted me to become a professional footy player, so I said no. M’mum wanted me to go and get a degree and a real job. I didn’t want that. So, I turned to surfing,” he swung his arms around, gesturing to the vast sea and the board below him.

“Plus, it’s given me an excuse to leave home and come here. And y’know, so I could meet you.”

Y/N felt a small blush creep up her skin again, her eyes shooting down to her lap and her feet that were distorted under the water. Harry’s infatuation with the girl isn’t a secret, but anytime he purposely makes it known, it’s like a little secret that she’s unsure if she’s supposed to know or not. “Meet me?”

Harry kicked his foot up again so water would splash at her. “Uh-uh, my turn,” he laughed, shaking his head. He knew she thought she was slick at the way she bit her lip, containing her laughter. If she wants to play by the rules of the nonsensical game, then so will he. “Sunrise or sunset?”

“Sunset. Favorite song?” She wanted to reel back from the serious talk for a moment.

“Too many to choose from. Favorite movie?” He wanted to know every nitty-gritty detail about her.

She pondered for a moment, “Mamma Mia.”

“No shit! Me too!” His mouth dropped in shock, his hand flying up to his chest. 

“Really?”

“No,” he shook his head, immediately blocking the massive splash he sensed coming. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, huffing at him whilst crossing her arms over her torso, “Are you always so insufferable?”

“S’my middle name, babe. You hungry?” He laid himself down on his board on his belly, paddling himself to face the beach, ready to make a head start for the beach. Y/N hummed a response, following in suit and settling her stomach against the belly of the board and pushing herself to land. “Cool, let’s go get something to eat then I’ll take you home.”

Y/N’s legs felt weak, yet appreciative back on the sand. It felt like she was walking on Jell-O as she went to pick up her towel and clothes. Looking down to her shirt, she knew it was out of the question to let him see her take it off. And she could turn her back so he wouldn’t see her front -- whether or not it’s clad in a bikini top -- but even then her heart raced at the thought. She held her t-shirt in her hands and thought it over for a moment before blurting, “Could you turn around please?”

Harry looked up from checking his phone quickly, tilting his head in confusion before looking down to the shirt in her hands. The dots are connected and the bright neon pink sign in his head is telling him to listen to her, and not to question it. So, he doesn’t. Just for her. It’s still unbeknownst to Harry why she never takes her shirt off, but he knows better than to think with his dick, and accepts her wishes, turning his back to her. 

Y/N lets out a small breath of relief, grateful he didn’t question her on it. She’s quick to rip off her shirt and pat dry her wet skin before hastily throwing on her dry one, giving Harry the OK to turn back around. 

“Sorry, I just… I’m not comfortable with anyone seeing my, uh, my scar,” she mumbles, nervously moving her hair from one shoulder over to the other. Harry shrugs in response, picking his board up from the ground and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they began their walk back to his car.

“You don’ have to explain yourself to me, babe,” he smiled down at her, squeezing her to his side softly.

Y/N looked up at him, and she’s sure that if she could see herself right now, her eyes would be twinkling in delight, with adoration. Just for him. “Thank you.”

They didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, walking the distance to his lonesome Jeep in peace. The silence gave Y/N time to think and to mull over all of the gushy feelings she was feeling inside about the guy beside her. She had no reason not to like him, realizing it was only fear that was pushing her away. But, this night displayed a soft side to Harry that she fell head over heels for. His smooth, easy-going approach to life, mixed in with respect for her, and a hint of witty humor was enough to tell her how she truly feels about him. And she’s scared, not because she’s afraid, but because she’s not.

Y/N can find herself easily opening up to Harry quicker than she has anyone else because she trusts him. She can just tell he’s got nothing to hide, so in-turn she wants to be the same. She doesn’t want to cower away, but revel in happiness. Because she deserves it.

Harry quickly secured the boards back into their previous spots before sliding into the driver side and whisking them away from their little getaway. The wind swept through their hair and chilled their still slightly wet skin, causing goosebumps to trail up Y/N’s arm as chills raked through her body. This time around in the car they both were more laid back, not singing along to the songs playing on the radio but rather just listening and taking in the blissful atmosphere they’ve created.

There’s been one question dancing across her mind though ever since he brought up the little game of twenty questions. It was the first one to pop up in her mind when she was thinking of something juicy to ask. She didn’t want to ask it though, in fear of what his answer would be. But, now she’s not afraid. She’s curious though.

“Is this a date?” She queried, turning the volume of the radio down a bit so he could hear her and vice versa. 

Harry glanced at her through his peripheral, one eyebrow cocking up on his forehead, “Is the sky blue?”

“I mean, right now it’s like orange-blue,” she retorted, looking at the newly sun-ridden sky that blended shades of orange into the usual night blue. 

“Brainiac. There’s your answer. It’s however you want to look at it,” he digressed, reaching over to pat her thigh - in more of a friendly manner rather than sensual.

She appreciated his answer, absolutely adoring the fact that he wasn’t putting pressure on her about anything. It was hard to comprehend just how nice he truly is, and how someone could be so perfect. She couldn’t see a flaw in his looks or his personality or his morals, and all she could wonder was how someone like him could possibly like someone like her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Harry.”

He side glanced at her again, this time raising both of his eyebrows in puzzlement, “I’ll take tha’ as a good thing?”

“It’s good. It’s… it’s a good thing.”

❊ ❊

The two of them had discussed where they wanted to go, neither of them wanting to decide and going back and forth with one another, saying, “No, you decide,” “No you.”

Y/N was never good at decisions, especially mundane ones like where to eat. She always lets Kalani decide because she could eat anything, and it’s her friend that’s the picky one. But, Harry is the same way. Whatever is put in front of him, he could probably eat (except for pickles, he absolutely hates pickles).

They settled for pizza. And it was going to be Harry’s first time trying a slice of Hawaiian.

Y/N hates Hawaiian slices, finding the sweetness of the pineapple and the savor of the ham unsettling atop her pizza. It sends her taste buds into shock and her mind into a meltdown. But, she insisted he try it, because how could someone be in Hawaii and not try its state-named slice?

They sat at their little table in the corner of the restaurant that was alongside a window, giggling to themselves as they played a little game of eye-spy, waiting for their food. For some odd reason, Harry was really good at this game, always picking the hardest of objects to point out, always stumping a frustrated Y/N.

“You’re cheating.”

“How the fuck am I cheating?”

“Dunno, you just are.”

And in retaliation to her accusation, Harry pointed to her shirt, stating she got a little soda on it, causing her to look down to her chest and see nothing but finger as he flicked her nose. “Too easy. Sore loser.”

Y/N huffed, sticking her tongue out at him. The playful banter between them was the best part of their days lately. Before Y/N even realized her feelings for Harry, she always looked forward to what they would bicker about -- in a friendly matter of course. Now, she constitutes that to just wanting to see him because she really enjoys his company, and him. 

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way about anyone, and she’s sort of glad she gets to feel this way about Harry. He’s an enigma, but a good one. She’s totally transfixed by him and she never wants this euphoria to end. He radiates this bright and bubbly energy that lifts her mood whenever she’s around him, and she’s afraid of losing that. But, she chooses not to dwell on the what-if, instead completely basking in the present and his gooey aura of happiness. 

When the food finally came out, they both were quick to stuff their faces, their stomachs practically turning inside-out from how hungry they were. It came to no surprise to Harry that he was absolutely in love with this Hawaiian slice, already looking forward to ordering two more. 

Y/N looked at him a tad worried. He was scoffing down three slices as if there were no tomorrow, all within a matter of two minutes. She was slightly worried he was going to reach over and take her dinner, because that’s how hungry he seemed to be. But, he should know better than to get between Y/N and her food. Like the one time he tried to take some of her fries, to which she punched him in the shoulder and then took them back.

“Hey, y’gonna eat that?” He points to her not yet touched slice of pizza, earning a glare that could kill in response. “Cool, you are, just making sure. Can’t let precious food go t’waste. It’s my turn for a question right?”

Y/N thinks back for a second to determine if he’s right or not, remembering she did ask a question last. She nodded her head before biting into her little piece of heaven. 

“Was it hard getting back in the water?”

She brought her napkin up to her mouth to wipe away the drop of sauce she felt on her cheek, mulling over her answer. “Kinda. I knew I had to eventually because it’s all I know, it was just a matter of when. My parents were terrified, and I mean I was too but I can’t let that dictate my future. I love surfing and nothing is going to take that away from me.”

Not even something as horrifying as death could take her away from her true love. Not until she’s truly six-feet under, riding silver waves in the silver palace. 

“Do you think you’re going to stay here? In Hawaii?” Y/N wondered, taking a sip of her Coke.

“Got nowhere else to be,” he shrugged, mindlessly tapping his fingers on the table in an arrhythmic pattern. “Home is where the heart is, right? Well, think mine’s here right now.” Across from her. Just for her.

Home is where the heart is.

“Does it count if my heart isn’t mine?”

Last year, Y/N was going about her day like she always did. She was fine, in tip-top shape just like she had been for the past twenty years of her life. The bright sun was out and shining over all of the surfers and onlookers, and it seemed just like every other regular day. She was paddling out into the water, and the perfect, golden first wave was approaching her. She pushed herself up onto her feet, balancing her body, in tune with the wave, executing a nearly perfect opener. Then, she felt her chest tighten and her body suddenly felt weak. Breathing rapidly grew difficult, causing her to instantly panic. She fell off her board, plummeting into the water, trying to gasp for air but choking on the sea that swimmed down her throat. 

Feeling herself sink as her chest was on fire was the last she remembered. The baby blue sky blended into black and that was it. Her life was over. 

Kalani was the one who went in after her, screaming for help as her best friend was blue in the face and not moving. 

Y/N suffered a heart attack. Apparently, she had a condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, that went unnoticed all her life. On this day, her heart had thickened extensively, making it difficult to pump blood to the rest of her body. The strain on her heart caused it to give out, right when she was feeling the high of riding a solid wave. She was pronounced dead for a total of forty-five seconds before EMT could revive her. Supposedly she’s lucky to be alive, because if not treated basically instantly, there’s a slim chance of survival. But, she was able to stick it out until the hospital.

Her heart was in brutal shape, so she was sent to the top of a donor waiting list. Y/N and her family are forever grateful for the team of doctors and nurses that stuck by her side, knowing she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them. Or her sheer luck.

Y/N felt a little crazy for feeling so comfortable spilling all of this information so suddenly to Harry, but at the same time she didn’t. And the best part about it is that none of it seems to freak Harry out. Nothing about who she is or how she is scares him. And that’s what makes her feel so comfortable. “My scar, it’s from a heart transplant. I had a heart condition all my life apparently. Then suddenly one day, it couldn’t handle it anymore, so it gave out. A girl named Shauna’s heart is keeping me alive right now.”

Harry didn’t blink for a whole minute.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to come up with something, anything to say to the girl across from him. But, he had nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

His silence was a little concerning to Y/N, making her wish she could just be swallowed whole by the ground below her. Was it too soon to drop the HT bomb? He was bound to find out eventually, and she figured it was best to rip the bandaid off on her own time rather than someone else telling him or him looking it up on Google. 

She’s kicking herself over it. 

Harry cleared his throat, taking a sip of his water before licking his lips and leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Y/N merely shrugged, “Don’t be. Shit happens. Who knows, if it never happened we may not be here now.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, his signature small smirk back on his face in its usual spot. He raised his glass, leaning it forward a bit toward her, stating, “Cheers to that, babe.” She raised her own glass and clinked it against his, a smile on her lips as she sucked up the remaining bit of her soda through her straw. She’s happy he didn’t turn and run away.

Cheers to that, babe.

By the time they both filled their guts to the point of feeling overstuffed, mindlessly chatting and spending time together, it was already past ten o’clock. The time had passed them by like it was nothing, but they weren’t necessarily complaining. The older couple next to them were though. Y/N had to pull Harry out of the restaurant before he bit the woman’s head off for how rude she was. That’s when they knew it was time to skedaddle.

Then they just drove around for another hour before Harry figured it was time to bring her home, much to his dismay. But, when her head lolled against the passenger seat headrest and her eyes would softly shut in exhaustion. He wanted desperately to reach over and tuck the loose strand of hair that fell out of her ponytail, behind her ear. He wanted to reach over and place his hand on her thigh as they drove down the highway, softly squeezing her skin before teasingly inching up towards her hidden gem.

Is it too soon to be in love?

It was like a slap in the face when Harry parked in front of her house. Reality stuck its nose into their little wonderland bubble, and unfortunately, they couldn’t push it back out.

Harry hopped out of his seat, unfastening her board from the trunk and tucking it under his arm as they walked side-by-side to her front door. He gently placed it down where he had initially found it earlier on, tucking his lips into his mouth as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I uh… I guess this is it. I had a really ni-”

“I’ve got one more question before you leave me,” he interrupted her little speech, stepping impossibly closer to her, barricading her between him and the banister on her porch. It wasn’t hard to notice the long stares at her shiny lips that glinted in the dull yellow glow of the light by the door. He purposely took extra time to rake over the features of her face before finally meeting her eyes. 

Y/N swallowed nothing but air as she softly bit at her bottom lip, “Yeah?”

She already knew his question.

“Can I kiss you?”

He already knew her answer.

Y/N slyly looked at him, bringing her hands up, a bit hesitant to rest on his shoulders. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“Sky’s blue.” Y/N looks up at the sky and notices it’s dark blue hue, twinkling stars layers on top, surrounding the fullest, brightest moon. It was a beautiful sky, perfect to share a first kiss under.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as his hands came up to her hips. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the climactic moment to overcome them, the air of the night chilling up her spine.

But, then she felt fiery, red hot as their lips locked together in a soft kiss. It was as soft as they felt towards one another. This giddy, slow paced, admiring kiss that had their insides melting but their hearts pounding. This kiss is exactly how Y/N images Harry. A pale yellow that’s not harsh on the eyes, that resonates happiness. Harry imagines it as a hot pink, one that takes his breath away and captures his mind.

It wasn’t long before it turned heated, Harry’s tongue sweeping into her mouth, and one of his hands travelling further south to grab hold of the flesh of her behind. Y/N let out a soft moan into his mouth as her hands tangled into his mound of curls, tugging softly on his roots.

Then the disturbing image of either one of her parents opening the front door at any moment flashed across her eyes, causing her to pull back, kissing his bottom lip softly before trailing her thumb over the swollen skin and opening her eyes to look into his gaudy, green ones.

The sounds of their breaths mingled together as tired smiles adorned their faces, little giggles leaving each of their mouths as they basked in what just happened. All Harry could think was, ‘It’s about damn time.’ All Y/N could think was, ‘Why did I ever push him away?’

“My turn,” she spoke after a few moments, standing up straighter and fixing her shirt around her body. “Pick me up tomorrow?”

A wide, shit-eating grin spread out across Harry’s face as he ran his hand through his mangled curls. “Sunrise. If y’not in this exact spot in the morning, m’knocking the door down and dragging you out by y’hair.” He hopped down off the porch, completely skipping the steps as the adrenaline of their first kiss kicked into his system.

“Sunrise,” she agreed.

He hopped back into the driver’s side of his Jeep, throwing his hand up in a goodbye wave as he sped away, already counting down the seconds until he would see his golden ray of bright and bubbly sunshine again. He’s not so sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep.

Y/N didn’t have that same problem. The moment she landed on her bed, her eyes shut faster than the speed of light, her last conscious thought being of Harry. Her smile never leaving her face. 

❊ ❊

Meeting at sunrise had become part of their routine. Not always to surf, but just to be together. Sometimes they surfed at their little alcove, other times they would watch the sun from her backyard, snuggled up in blankets on the beach. Or, they would surf, get breakfast, then fall back asleep in his bed until a more decent hour of morning.

But, their day always began at sunrise. It would be the equivalent to say that it also ended at sunset, but sunset was always too soon to part ways. 

This wasn’t an everyday occurrence, mostly at random. Except for Sundays. Sundays are specifically their day, as per request of Harry. How could he be in love with a girl that coined yellow as her color, that had a smile as bright as the huge burning star, that claimed golden hour was prime sun time, and not deem Sunday as their day? He didn’t put any second thought into it.

Despite their sort of fast paced first date, they’ve been taking things slow, truly getting used to the feel of one another over the course of the next couple of months. It wasn’t until a month later that Harry popped the question, officially making Y/N his forever buddy-buddy. Well, not necessarily forever, but they both know it’s basically forever.

Harry never wants to be alone again.

It wasn’t until the night after they became official that Y/N finally took her shirt off in front of him. She was going through one of her episodes, and Harry was the only one around who could help her. He managed to calm her down and bring her inside her house - that was empty because her parents had gone out for the night - and get her to the bathroom so she could take a shower.

Initially, he was going to let her get in by herself, knowing her boundaries in regards to her body and not seeing it. But, when he saw how worn down she looked, he whispered words of reassurance in her ear, asking her permission to help get her in the shower. He wasn’t thinking with his dick, he just wanted to help the girl that didn’t know how to help herself.

Y/N looked him in the eyes, nibbling softly on her bottom lip before averting her attention to her chest for a few moments. She trusts him, and if they’re bound to work out, she needs him to be comfortable with seeing all aspects of her both mentally and physically. Which includes her scar. 

So, she nods her head in agreement.

She lifted her arms and allowed him to remove her shirt, immediately feeling self-conscious. She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she stepped out of her shorts and underwear, going into the shower to avoid any lingering stares. Harry was quick to follow behind her, shutting the curtain after him. That’s when Y/N turned around and completely broke down, the tears that have been building behind her eyes finally pouring out. Harry wrapped her in his arms, letting her cry her eyes out for however long she needed.

When she stopped, Harry washed her hair, washed her body, washed away her bad thoughts, then washed himself as fast as he could so he could get her into her bed for the night. She snuggled up to his side, enjoying the warmness of his body that contrasted her cool ones. 

That night when her parents came home, they spotted Harry’s Jeep in front of their house. Though when the house was eerily quiet, and found the door to her bedroom slightly ajar, they peeked inside and saw the two of them fast asleep. Parents usually would get angry at the sight of their child in bed with someone of a different gender, but not Y/N’s parents.

Over the last two months, they saw their daughter break back out of her shell, slowly returning to her former self, and all because of Harry. They saw how happy she became whenever he was around, or they’d overheard happy she was when just talking about him to Kalani. How could they ever get angry at the fact that Y/N was happy?

With the blossoming of their relationship taking place at the same time as the Vans Triple Crown, word got around fast and soon enough they were the star couple leading the ranks in their respective divisions. The world -- or really the surfing world, because no one really pays attention to professional surfers, was in awe of them. They were the hype of the news, of the town, of the state. Rightfully so, because they’re awfully cute. 

It came as no surprise to everyone when the two were crowned the champions. The press went wild with this one, stating there was some scam happening behind the scenes, because what were the odds that this new star couple could both win? Or, how could Harry, a newbie, shoot his way up to the top in just one year? Or, how could Y/N dominate with her physical ailments? 

There wasn’t a hoax and there wasn’t any cheating. They both were just that good.

The day of the final competition, they may have worked just a little harder to land the championship title. Harry had picked Y/N up and they traveled to their secret hideaway bright and early in the morning. After being out at a party the night before, the two were in no shape to get in the water already, opting to snooze under the shade of a cliff on the beach for a little while. 

They didn’t sleep for very long before they got wrapped up in one another, indulging in a morning session of intimate love. They slept for maybe an hour before Y/N was ready to get her swim on, but Harry was the biggest sack of lazy mush that morning. He didn’t want to get up for nothing. He was laying down on his surfboard, completely comfortable under the shade. Y/N tried tugging on his arms to get him up, but he wouldn’t budge, a half-sleepy and dazed smile on his lips.

At one point he tugged her back, causing her to land on his lap, legs straddling his hips as her face crashed into his chest. His arms wrapped around her back, securing him to her as he said, “See? Isn’t this so much better than physical activity?”

“C’mon tubby, we got shit to do,” Y/N giggled, but Harry just held onto her tighter and nuzzled his cheek to the top of her head.

He hummed, “S’comfortable here.”

Y/N didn’t know what else to do, so the only maneuver left was bribery. Harry’s no different than any guy in the sense that once sex is brought into the mix, his ears perk up and his dick stiffens. So, Y/N was going to use that to her advantage. “If you get up, you can fuck me all night tonight.”

Harry was quick to sit up, her still in his lap, eyes squinted in suspicion. Y/N bit her lip to refrain from laughing, but she was mentally patting herself on the back. His hands shifted down her back to grab onto the flash of her behind, pulling her center closer to his and building up a bit of friction. “How about right now and tonight?”

“I can’t be exhausted for today, H,” Y/N rolled her eyes, moving to get herself off his lap, but he kept her grounded.

“You don’t ‘ave to get in the water now. You’ve practiced, you’re prepared, you got this. The championship is practically in your hands already,” he disclosed, peppering kisses up the side of her neck, a few across her jawline, and then landing on her lips.

Even if that may be true, she doesn’t want that to stop her from putting effort and time into winning. “Harry…” she started, getting lost in the feel of his lips suckling a lovebite right in the crook of her neck, her most sweet spot. He lifted his hips up slightly, pushing against her heat, eliciting the smallest moan from her mouth.

“Bet y’soaking your suit. Can I see?”

They only have a limited amount of time before they need to get to the Northshore at Ehukai Beach Park for the competition. It was about a forty-five minute drive alone. But, Harry’s lips and fingers were way too persuasive, so Y/N nodded her head.

“Good girl.”

He lifted her up so her back was now against the belly of his pink board, her legs immediately wrapped around his broad shoulders as he placed a chaste kiss to her clothed core. She whined as he hooked his fingers into her bikini bottoms, dragging them tortuously slow down her legs. His eyes immediately attracted themselves to her glistening slit, her wetness practically inviting him in. “So fucking pretty, baby.”

Harry’s hands pushed her legs as far apart as they would go, licking a fat stripe up from her little hole to her sensitive clit. Y/N threw her head back as he focused his attention on her clit, swirling his tongue around the little bud before sucking it into his mouth. She was a whimpering mess, but that earned her a smack on the ass and a first warning from Harry.

“No one’s around. Let me hear you loud and clear,” he gave her a pointed look, keeping their eye contact as he went a little further south, pushing the tip of his tongue into her cunt. Y/N tried closing her legs around his head but Harry just pushed them open further, keeping a firm grip on her thighs that were bound to leave bruises. Bruises just for her. 

Her jaw fell slack, moans tumbling past her pink lips louder and louder. Her nails dug into his shoulders, most likely leaving scratches he’ll find later when they’re stinging in the shower. Just for him.

Y/N was growing restless as he inserted his middle and ring finger inside of her, pushing and pulling them at an intense pace that caused her toes to curl in the sand by his hips. When he managed to push his index finger in alongside the other two, Y/N began to see stars at the stretch of her walls.

“So tight f’me. Imagine it was my cock instead. Would feel so good and full, but you’d be too exhausted for later, hm?” He cooed, letting her adjust to the extra digit inside of her before fucking her harder and faster than before. He kissed up her tummy that was visible from under her shirt before landing his forehead against hers.

His free hand grabbed a hold of her jaw, making her face him which caused her eyes to open up quickly, locking eye contact with one another. “S’a shame. M’so hard, like a fucking rock. But you’ll be too tired.”

Teasingly, Y/N nodded her head in agreement, earning a hard glare from her lover. At this, he stopped the movement of his fingers, slowly pulling them out of her. Y/N’s mouth opened wide, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion as Harry sucked his fingers past his lips, indulging in her sweetness that tasted like a little sliver of heaven. 

“Wh-wha…?”

“Close y’mouth, Y/N. Gonna catch flies,” he smirked, reaching over for her bikini bottoms and sliding them back up her legs until they were nestled against her soaking wet, throbbing pussy. “Said it y’self. Can’t be exhausted for the finale today, gotta be quick on your feet and coasting the gnarliest waves. C’mon slow poke, gotta get some practice in.”

So, Y/N was pissed off to say the least. And because of this, she was extra determined to push herself as far as she could to come out on top today. Harry on the other hand, well he was just mad that he had an insane hard-on that his own girlfriend didn’t want to tend to. He should’ve expected his little stunt wouldn’t go over nicely, but the look on her face when he stopped was absolutely priceless.

When it was announced that Y/N and Harry had won in their divisions everyone was beyond elated at the news, cheers and hugs and kisses spread all around the group. Though when it was their turn to congratulate each other, they looked at each other, small smiles on their faces before they turned to make conversation with someone else. That didn’t stop them from reaching for one another though, slyly interlocking their hands together.

They were whisked away quickly for pictures, holding their trophies high in the air, the biggest smiles on their faces. Y/N’s parents were cheering them on, more specifically her because they were so proud she was able to take her life back. Y/N could cry at the sight of her mother being a blubbering mess, and her dad’s admiration sparkling across his eyes. Though, with the support of her family, Y/N’s mind couldn’t help but wonder about Harry’s family, and how they couldn’t support their son with what he loved. 

With this, Y/N squeezed his hand harder, and despite the cameras around them, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss to his lips, the clicks of the cameras and the chatter of the crowd increasing. But, neither of them cared as they looked at one another, full of love.

Because that’s what this was. Love.

It didn’t matter that they had only met a little over three months ago, only dating for two months. They were in love. And that’s all that mattered.

Going out to dinner that night, they hardly left each other’s sides. They were being that obnoxious clingy couple that no one likes being around, but they didn’t care. Because they both knew they were in love. An unspoken love that didn’t have to be announced because the whole world knew, and so did they.

“Cheers to the love birds! And for the love of God, could you stop looking at each other like that,” AJ gagged, causing everyone to laugh before they clinked glasses.

When they left the restaurant, Harry and Y/N hopped into Betty, driving around for a little while before they decided to stay at his for the night. It was when the wind was blowing in her hair again, the moon shining above them and shining through her hair, his hand gently on her thigh, squeezing softly in contrast to that morning, that Harry truly felt it. This love that he has for this girl. Love that’s meant just for her. Her, and only her.

This gushy feeling was put on hold for a little while though the moment they walked through the door of his apartment. Y/N was bent over the arm of his living room couch, her one leg bent and on the armrest beside her while the other was trying its best to keep her steady on the ground. Harry’s fist was wrapped up in her hair, proving to make it more difficult for her to keep her balance. Though she wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“What’s the matter, babe? You said I could fuck you all night.” Harry’s hot breath coated the shell of her ear, “Y’tired?”

She gasped at a particularly hard thrust that felt like it had hit against her cervix, trying to get the word No out in between her moans and whimpers. 

“Hope not. Had me aching all day for your tiny cunt. M’gonna need a few hours to really appreciate it.” She could feel his menacing smirk against her skin as he again thrusted so far deep inside of her, her one leg gave out. If it wasn’t for Harry holding her up, she would’ve fell right over, too weak to even try and get back up.

They went twice on the couch before Harry helped her get to the shower, where they did it again. And then when they finally cleaned themselves, they got into bed, where they did it again, but this one could be classified under love-making. It was slow and sensual and sweet, just like them. Harry paid extra attention to her scar, trailing down the tissue with soft kisses as they softly climaxed together.

It was a little past midnight at this point, and they were both extremely tired. Y/N was on the brink of dozing off into dreamland before Harry interrupted her exhaustion. 

“We never finished our game of twenty questions, did we?” He murmured, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/N lazily opened her eyes, shaking her head, “Don’t believe so.”

“Think it’s my turn,” he hummed. “Do you love me?”

There was silence for a brief couple of seconds, making Harry think Y/N had dozed off before answering his question. But, Y/N just needed those seconds to collect her mushed thoughts inside of her mushy brain before giving him a coherent and valid response.

“Yeah. I do.”

Harry smiled, probably the biggest he’s ever smiled, leaning down and taking hold of her face and smashing their lips together in a ceremonious kiss.

“Sick. Ditto, Sunshine.”

[thesupersaiyanprincess]

Hello again! Chapter 2 has finished undergoing it's revision and so here it is :)

Word count: ~1400

Warnings: not much actually, blood, more ooc angry Vegeta, ooc soft!vegeta

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Chapter 2                      

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Darkness. 

Nothing. 

Lost. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” you heard someone calling your name in the distance. “Please, no no no!” The voice sounded familiar. Gravely and deep. “Y/N please! Wake up!” But there was a very big difference to it that you'd never heard before. “No please, you have to be okay!” You could hear pure distress and pain. “My girl, not my precious girl.” 

You began to regain feeling in your body again. Your fingers started to tingle and you felt strong arms wrapped around you, you were being rocked back and forth. You tried to open your eyes, but they were too heavy. You felt like you'd been hit by a bus. The most you could manage was to squint your eyes and scrunch your nose. You felt Vegeta's grip on you loosen ever so slightly as he realized you were alive and you could hear the relief in his voice when he finally spoke. 

“Y/N! You're alive! I'm so sorry Y/N, I'm so sorry!” You managed to open your eyes just a crack, enough to look up and see your Saiyan, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks and pain in his eyes. He really thought he’d lost you and it broke your heart to see him like that. That was until you remembered that he’d been the one choking you out in the first place. 

You scrambled to get away from him as fast as you could, using all the strength you could muster, but he held you in place against him. As you were struggling, you started to become more aware of your surroundings. The walls were crumbling around you, giving you a perfect view of your back garden. The roof was blown to oblivion and the nice wooden flooring was littered with singe marks and blood. It looked like a bomb went off, but you knew it was the aftermath of a saiyan fight. You stopped fighting against his grip as you took in your destroyed home, and your eyes moved back up to Vegeta.

“What is.. What the fuck happened?” You managed to croak barely above a whisper, fear trembling in your voice. Your throat hurt from being manhandled, and it made talking painful. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was hesitant to reply. It looked like he might break down and cry if he spoke.

“I.. It’s.. I don’t know.. I just, something happened today.. I came home straight away and.. I was too late.. And you were.. And he was.. And now the house is destroyed, and you're so hurt. I’m so sorry Y/N.. Can you forgive me?” he finally managed to stutter out. You’d never seen him like this. He was crying and concerned about you. 

It was strange, unnatural even, seeing his face shine by a substance that wasn’t sweat. The sight of your strong Saiyan breaking into pieces around you made your eyes well up with tears. “Fuck you. You hurt me so bad Geeta.. You nearly.. n-nearly..” Your words were falling from your mouth incoherently between sobs. He was holding you tight around your shoulders and chest, and you had your legs hanging off the edge of his lap. He was still rocking slowly back and forth as he stroked your hair gently and whispered apologies and promises against your temple. Seeing Vegeta like this broke your heart almost as much as it scared you.

When you calmed yourself down enough, you asked him again “What happened? Why are you crying? You tried to kill me!” His face took on an expression of guilt as he realized what you meant. He opened his mouth to explain, but you heard another voice speak from behind you. 

“Well, well Geeta.. I didn't think we’d ever get this emotional, let alone over a low class piece of scrap like that.” The voice was the same as the person whose lap you were sitting in, but something was different, no subtle hint of warmth like it always had. You were frozen in place and didn't dare move your head for fear he’d see and decide to hurt you again, whoever or whatever this... this thing was. Because whatever it was it sure as hell was not your Vegeta. Your Vegeta was holding you tighter than he'd ever done before, gripping you to his chest with an almost painful force. You felt his arms cling to you tighter as you heard and felt thudding footsteps approaching the two of you from behind. 

“It's so good to finally be rid of you. All this time, having to deal with your stupid emotions in the back of my mind. You make me sick!” The second Vegeta called out to your Vegeta who held you tighter as the other neared. You felt Vegeta's head rise from your shoulder to look the imposter in the eye.

“You barbaric fool! You need me! How else will you know when to stop?” You felt the words reverberate through his rib cage and into yours as he spoke, with the softest aggression you’d ever heard from the prince of all Saiyans. “You know you need me, you just wont admit it over your stupid Saiyan pride.”

“A Saiyan doesn't need to stop, therefore has no need for feelings.” The imposter snarled back at your Vegeta. As you clung to Vegeta’s chest you began to think “this must be a dream” You couldn't help but think back to the events of the morning, before all this. 

You woke up bright and early before Vegeta and gave him a kiss on his forehead. His tail wrapped itself firmly around your thigh when you tried to climb out of bed. It was so cute that even in his sleep his tail wanted you near. Vegeta loved it when you touched his tail. A Saiyan’s tail is one of the most sensitive parts of their body you know. So as it tightened around you, you stroked the tip of his tail ever so gently so that it would release you, allowing you to go make breakfast. He loved when you woke up early and cooked for him, especially on days when he was going to go train with Goku. His favourite was bacon and eggs with pancakes before training. He always insisted on strawberry jam, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce with his pancakes, so that's what you decided to make.  

You were halfway through stacking Vegeta’s tower of pancakes when he walked into the kitchen, wearing only his boxers while he wiped the sleep from his eyes and stretched his back, flexing all his gorgeous muscles as he did so.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” he breathed through a yawn. “You're making my favourite? You're the best!” he said sleepily as he came up behind you to wrap his arms around you.  He pulled you back against his bare chest as he planted soft kisses down your neck, making you squirm against him.

“Knock it off Vegeta, you'll make me knock over your pancakes!” You said playfully as you struggled against him. He finally let you go and you went back to cooking breakfast. You loved mornings like this with Vegeta. It was the only time he was this soft with you, being the one initiating hugs. Any other time of the day and you were lucky if he would even hug you back, but you wouldn't have it any other way, it just made his tenderness all the more special. 

“You! Are weak!” The shout tore you away from the memory as you pressed yourself tighter into Vegeta's chest, tears threatening to fall again. “Without me, you are nothing! You may look and sound the same as me, but power comes from anger, and you left that all with me.” It was then, when you opened your eyes again, that you realized the Vegeta holding you was hurt. Bad. There was blood soaking through his tattered clothing and into yours. There was so much blood you could smell the distinct warm, metallic scent of it. “Without you in here, I can finally reach my full potential, unclouded by your stupid adoration of this low class pig.” 

You felt the air around you crackle with energy. He must have transformed. You couldn’t help but turn and look. Fear squeezed tightly in your chest for the second you saw the other Vegeta. His hair had turned the brightest blue, and a blindingly bright ball of energy was forming in his outstretched hand. “Time for you to go, both of you. So pathetic you don't deserve a goodbye.” 

In an instant you were there, about to be blasted to oblivion by some evil version of your mate, and then you weren't. Your head was spinning and you were confused, your vision started to blur with images of your house and then of the med bay at bulmas and then of Vegeta limp underneath you. The last thing you remember is being laid down in a soft bed, your tail entwined with Vegeta's.

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I hope you enjoyed! Sorry for having 2 chapters in a row ~fade into unconsciousness~ i just didn't know how else to end this chapter 🤷‍♀️ as always comments and reblogs make my heart sing 😁 thank you for reading!