#thank you louise I had fun with this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chelseeebe · 2 months ago

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happy coincidences

18+. smut. mdni. modern au.

day four of spooky week back with steve who meets reader at robin’s halloween party, only, you may have more than just costumes in common

a/n: in honour of joe saying he thinks that modern steve would have a swiftie girlfriend.. i had to make r a swiftie

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Louise had called it off.

Again.

“I think you just need to get the fuck over it and get the fuck over someone else,” Robin states plainly, continuing to decorate her scarily bright orange pumpkin cookies.

“Rob,” he sighs, dipping his finger into the leftover batter, “it doesn’t work like that.”

“But it does,” ignoring his pleas of despair, “I’ve seen you break up with hundreds of women and not once have you been so pathetic about it,” snatching the bowl from his reach, “we’re going to get you laid and if you’re still sad about it after then I’ll take pity on you.”

Steve frowns, a deep set crease between his thick brows. Sex would’ve normally cheered him up, no doubt. But Louise was different.

They’d been on-again, off-again for almost a year now, too far gone for some meaningless pussy to fix.

“No fucking way,” Robin exclaims, grabbing his hand and tugging him off towards the other side of the kitchen, “this is perfect! Perfect!” muttering along to herself as Steve's heels dig into the floor in protest.

“What’re you doing?” he spits, almost knocking her over when she stops abruptly in front of him.

A group of girls sit equally as confused on the couch, smiling up at Robin with a shared baffled look in their eye.

That’s when he sees the hat, pink and sparkly, slowly trailing down to the matching costume. So that’s why she’d dragged him over here. You were unintentionally matching with him. The perfect Barbie and Ken duo, a fitting part in Robin’s master plan to get him over Louise.

“Can you believe you’re matching?” she fusses, fingering the details of your jean jacket, “I don’t think you two have met before? How crazy is that?” pinching Steve's arm, nudging him to say something.. anything really.

You hum, smiling up at him from underneath the brim of your cowboy hat, “you look great,” eyeing the tassels around his pecks, the vest that now felt a touch too much.

He felt stupid before but now, he felt utterly idiotic. Realising quite how extravagant and completely unnecessary the costume was.

“Thanks,” he nods, receiving another sharp pinch from his best friend, forcing him to cough up a real reply, “yeah.. you do too.”

Your eyes fall back to Robin as she backs slowly away, “I’ll let you two get to know each other, okay? i’ve gotta check on my.. cookies! Yeah! My cookies!”

A bare-faced lie. Those fucking cookies had been out of the over for hours at this point. Steve had taxed a few for the inconvenience of her pestering him all night.

You flash him a thin-lipped smile, clearly as interested in this as he was. “Your girlfriend make you dress up as Ken, huh?” your own friends shuffling to the other side of the couch, away from the awkward conversation.

“Oh! No.. no, Rob made me,” unsure of whether you were implying the massive lesbian that had forced him over here was his girlfriend or if there was another lady in his life.

Neither would be true.

Robin hollers from across the room, “he’s a liar! He wanted to be Ken all on his own!” before disappearing into the kitchen to check on her cookies.

Your smile grows, “hey.. I don’t judge,” taking a slow sip from your glass, totally undeserving of having Robin force Steve onto your night.

God he needs a drink. Or five.

Maybe after a couple beers he’d have the confidence to talk to you properly.

“I really liked the movie, okay? it was fun,” deciding to lean into it, slowly but surely. “And you know, Barbie’s hot.”

Oh.

He doesn’t just mean Margot Robbie either.

Your cleavage spills out of your shirt, only really visible from this angle he was leering from.

“She is,” you laugh, “I’m sorry- what was your name again?”

“Steve,” offering his hand for you to shake. Why did he do that? You aren’t agreeing on a new marketing strategy for fuck sake.

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” rabbiting your name as if his brain would do anything other than call you Barbie all night. “You look like you need a drink.”

He nods, chuckling under his breath, “I do.”

“Well,” you stand, unexpectedly a lot closer than probably intended, ��let’s get you a drink, Steve.”

The party thumps on, you and Steve still reluctantly circle around one another, both too awkward or maybe just unwilling to take it further.

Robin makes it known that Steve would be a colossal fucking idiot for not immediately trying to win you over, making it very obvious as she sidles up next to him at the makeshift beer-pong table.

“What is your problem?” she hisses, shoving a cup of liquid courage into his chest, “make a move before someone else does, idiot.”

“I dunno,” exhaling pathetically, “I just don’t think I’m ready yet,” eyeing you from across the table, too engrossed in the game of beer-pong to care about his whining.

Robin’s sharp elbow connects with his ribcage, “don’t be so fucking stupid,” snarling loud enough for him to hear over the music, “I think you should go for it. God knows I’m sick of hearing you cry over Louise.”

He truly wants to be offended, even opening his mouth to offer a rebuttal, though nothing comes out.

Regrettably, Robin was right.

Louise had made it clear that she no longer wanted him, so why was he still so hung up over her? It was exhausting. Not only for Robin, but him too.

The ping pong ball lands in Steve’s drink with a loud plunk, pulling him out of his head to find you already smiling back at him.

“I think that means I win,” rocking on your heels, a syrupy sweet smile sticks to your lips. You deserved far better than the lacklustre night he was giving you, that’s for sure.

Steve nods, downing the rest of his drink and attempting to hide his grimace as the liquid burns his throat. Robin had slipped him pure ethanol or something, her grin made her ill intentions very clear.

You continue to beat his ass for a while, Steve was better at basketball than beer-pong that’s for certain. He didn’t care anyway, the new-found haze in his head was welcomed, sidling closer and closer to your side as his chest warms up.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he whispers, lips practically touching your ear, this was the bravest he’d gotten all night, perhaps he wasn’t such a lost cause after all.

He stumbles into the bathroom, finding his balance against the cold wall when his phone buzzes against his thigh.

what r u doing tonight?

The message reads, sending a sinking feeling through his chest.

Louise, making sure than even though they’re not together anymore, he can’t move on.

Why does she even care?

Why does he care enough to respond?

He stews on it, using the bathroom to buy himself some time to figure out what he should do. Slinking off into the hallway after a moment of consideration, finger hovering over the call button for an embarrassingly long amount of time until he just does it.

It rings. And rings. And rings.

“Hello?” Louise’s voice echoes into his ear.

“Hey.”

There’s an empty sigh down the line, “I didn’t mean.. that text wasn’t meant for you.”

“Oh.”

Another dagger to his chest, piercing through his thumping heart. The confirmation he needed that not only did she not care about him but that she had moved on.

“Steve I’m-“

The tone beeps, not allowing her to take up any more of his time. She didn’t care, he shouldn’t care. That was the end of it.

He slinks down onto the stairs, eyeing the door. He could be out of here before you even remembered he existed, sulking in his room like he’d wanted to in the first place.

The music gets louder, light creeping in as the door creaks open, your face soft as your eyes meet his hunched over frame, like a pathetic little weasel.

“I thought I should find my Ken again,” chuckling awkwardly.

Your Ken? That was a little presumptuous of you.

He’s immediately sorry.

Soured by the conversation with Louise. An unnecessary hindrance to his entire night.

“You okay?” you pry, no doubt noticing his glum demeanour, coming to sit on the cramped step next to him.

Steve sighs, looking at the blank phone screen in front of him, deciding whether to impede all of his misery onto you or to not ruin this entire night.

Remembering Robin’s, albeit harsh, words.

He goes for the latter.

“Yeah.. I’m good,” knee knocking into yours, “are you?”

You nod, smiling softly, “I’m gonna head home now, I just wanted to let you know that it was really nice to meet you, Steve,” standing from the staircase, leaving a sudden, cold ache to his side, “I hope your.. girl problems get better soon.”

they would, almost immediately, get better if he just stopped acting like a pussy.

You weren’t exactly being inconspicuous with your flirting either. This was on him and him alone.

He’s not shocked Robin had divulged to you all about his lingering annoyance of a relationship, no doubt trying to sell him to you at the same time too.

So Steve does something he never does. He thinks on his feet.

“Let me walk you back,” jumping up, “it’s dark and i can’t let you walk home alone,” a contained smile, the previously empty confidence now coming back.

You pucker your lips, tilting your head to the side, all the while Steve prays to God that you’ll give him one last chance.

“Sure,” shrugging coyly, as if you weren’t banking on him volunteering anyway.

“Alright,” he grins, enthusiastically nodding his head, “I’ll just say goodbye to Rob and then we can.. go,” faltering now that he’d made the leap into uncharted territory.

Steve had been a master at one night stands, only that was two years ago and Louise had served a harsh knock to his confidence. Besides all that, you were worth more than just one night.

“I’m gonna walk this one home and then head home myself,” announcing your departure to the dwindling room, heads spinning to watch the door.

Robin contains her grin, only just. Sipping on her drink to keep her blathering mouth occupied, she’d put in the work to even get him here in the first place, now all he needed to do was not fuck it up.

A chorus of goodbyes ring out behind you, stepping into the cool October air, he suddenly wishes he was wearing a little more than just his rhinestone shirt.

“This one?” you tease once out onto the street, wrapping

your arms around yourself.

Steve inhales, staring at the star filled sky, fully embracing his cringe, “don’t.. don’t talk about it.”

“Why?” you laugh, stumbling into him as you traipse down the road, “you don’t remember my name, do you?”

“Of course I do,” blowing the air out of his cheeks with full confidence, “your name… is Barbie,” so certain that that’d work on you.

You scoff, stopping dead in your tracks, “you fucking forgot,” in complete disbelief that he’d even attempt to bullshit his answer, “you’re unbelievable Steve,” really making your point, only slightly pissed off.

“Don’t do that,” unable to hold the smile from his face any longer, “I can’t help that you’re the best Barbie I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Your eyes roll back, striding past him but not without reiterating your name again, perfectly clear and right into his ear. You’re not really annoyed, at least he doesn’t think so. Steve’s sure he’ll remember your name forever after tonight, one way or another.

He expertly changes the conversation for the rest of the duration of the walk back, asking about your job and not-so-discreetly slipping your name into every other sentence.

“Well, this is me,” you smile, stopping just before the house with the extravagantly decorated door, a plethora of pumpkins litter the steps all as badly carved as the other.

He marvels at the display, the dedication to the holiday, Eddie would laugh in his face if he ever suggested carving pumpkins for their house. “Alright.. it was really nice to meet you tonight,” standing with his arms tucked neatly behind his back, “I’ve had a really nice time with you.”

You nod, slowly ascending the steps to the door, “you too, Steve. Are you.. close to here or..?” weighing up whether inviting him inside was a sane idea.

“Oh no,” shaking his head, once perfected hair now falling into his warm face, “I live like.. two miles that way,” pointing in the direction you’d walked from.

“And you decided to walk me home? Why didn’t you say something?” falling into a fit of laughter. He didn’t blame you, really, it would be crazy to anyone else.

“Because I’m a gentleman,” smiling sweetly, “it’s not a big deal,” he shrugs, though he really doesn’t anticipate having to actually walk home.

“Well thanks a lot,” unsure of the sarcasm twinge to your tone, “I didn’t realise Ken was such a gentleman.”

“Of course I am,” bowing down to tip his imaginary hat, a total performance all just to earn a sweet giggle from your mouth.

You turn, just before opening the door, your eyes low and dark, “you wouldn’t wanna.. come in, would you?” shivering under the moonlight.

“Do you? Want me to come in, I mean,” Steve can’t really think straight at all, he’s been so preoccupied with Louise to even think about the possibility of anything more happening between you two.

But now he’s here, he can’t stop his dick from twitching in his pants. You are pretty, gorgeous really. He’d be an idiot to say no.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to,” scoffing quietly.

“Well I wouldn’t want to upset you now,” cocking his grin to the side as he makes his way up the steps.

You shake your head, unmoving when he reaches the top, your bodies inches apart. The tension thick, as it had been all night. only now he was able to really feel it. Had you been looking at him like this all night? With your features pinched and your chest heaving.

Steve doesn’t think so, but then, he was so oblivious that it wouldn’t surprise him at all.

Excitement and slight intoxication courses through his veins, an excitement he hadn’t felt in months. Louise was never this happy or eager to have sex with him, it felt something like a chore most times.

You spin, breaking the tension abruptly, unlocking the door to your dark house and ushering him inside.

“You live alone?” he asks, wondering if any nosy roommates would be interfering tonight.

“Nope,” flicking the light on, “they’re all still at the party,” it’s obvious now, in the light. Pairs of shoes strewn across the floor and pictures of grinning girls line the walls, his gaze is drawn to the one of you in the summer, beaming from ear to ear as the sun beats down on your face.

Not to mention the cherry red bikini peeking out of the bottom of the picture.

“That’s.. good,” twisting his lips into a shrouded smirk.

“Oh yeah?” kicking your shoes off, the tense atmosphere made slightly softer by your nonchalance, “why’s that?” you level with him, the space between you shrinking with every step.

“I just meant.. it’s good that you don’t live all on.. your own,” struggling to make sense of his rambling with your eyes staring up at him like that, glittering while ever-so-slightly judging.

You laugh, loud and sudden, “I think you should just stop talking and kiss me,” teetering on your tiptoes as you wet your lips, an entire night of dancing around one another had led to you barking instructions at him.

He needed it, to be honest, completely fumbling around, his nerve shot and depleted.

Soft skin meets his cheek, making the first move while he stands buffering, only snapping out of his trance when your thumb grazes his lip, pressing his lips to yours in a haste. Steve had wasted too much time overthinking every move, decidedly trying not to fuck this up all night.

He can feel your smile grow against his lips, taking the control over the kiss back by finding your waist with his cold hands. Opening up an entirely new world, the metaphorical sparks fly from your skin, a passion unfelt for far too long.

You pull back only just, still brushing against his lips with your eyes pressed shut, “should we go upstairs?”

Steve thinks the answer is obvious, his grip on your waist gave that much away for sure. He nods anyway, for good measure, letting you take his hand to lead him up the cluttered stairway, almost sprinting as the urge to get you out of your clothes explodes.

“Ignore the mess,” you warn but he’s not paying any attention to anything other than you, drinking in your hips and the way they sway.

He knocks the hat from your head, hands finding solace on your back as he pulls you in again, this kiss more fiery than the last, grabby and hungry making you hum in shock. Eager to satisfy the ache in his cock, even if it were just by making out.

Your fingers work at the buttons on his shirt, brushing against his chest as his tongue moves between your lips, a fervent battle with your own. There had been no this with Louise, that was certain, a vanilla love affair that often ended in disappointment for the both of them.

The cloth leaves his shoulders, hitting the ground with a soft thump to welcome your hands around his neck, clammy as they grasp his skin. He’s a novice now, once filled with an overbearing confidence to now, a fumbling mess.

His hands feel around for your bed, laying you back across the mattress tumbling on top clumsily. Unbuttoning your waistcoat with a trembling hand, you take the reins even from underneath, sliding your legs up against his waist, further closing the distance.

Your lips unlock, allowing him time to take in a much needed breath. You’re braless underneath your costume, shimmying the fabric off and tossing it to the ground all the while actively ignoring Steve’s gawping.

“It’s rude to stare,” you jest, though you don’t attempt to hide at all.

Steve’s gaze flickers, once to your eyes and back down again, eyes wide and adoring, “I’m not sorry,” he quips back before resuming the kiss, focused on getting your pants down.

Your panties already soaked, legs opening to welcome him inside perfectly, he sits up on his knees, mouth slack as he admires the view laid before him. There hadn’t been any thought in his mind that this was how you’d end up tonight, but he’s sure glad he’s here.

His hands glide up the soft skin of your thighs, squeezing gently for good measure, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, taking his time to slide them down your legs. The tight feel of his pants suddenly becoming too much, his leaking tip pressed against the shoddy costume fabric.

“I haven’t.. it’s been a while,” he warns, a subconscious effort to turn you off as if you weren’t glistening before his eyes, pupils blown and aching for him.

“I don’t care,” you huff in response, tightening your calves around his waist.

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, in awe of your vigour, struggling to get his own pants off with the newfound tent in his crotch. Clambering back over to hover above, his dick straining against his boxers.

Your hands come to find his shoulders as his boxers come down, “you’re.. Jesus Christ,” you remark, looking down at the space between your bodies.

It was no secret that his dick was on the bigger side, that was made clear very early on in his life.

“I’m not.. not quite,” laughing to himself, the pressure easing only the tiniest bit as he fists his cock, guiding his fat tip to your weeping hole, sliding between your slick folds before easing himself inside.

Your breathing stutters in synchronicity, digging your fingernails into the sweaty skin of his neck. “Fucking.. shit,” Steve splutters, fisting the pillowcase with an almighty need to not cum right then and there.

Quickly finding his rhythm, kept in time by your in heady moans and the slight rut of your hips against his. You were an entirely new experience, your pussy drinking him in immediately and with every stroke he loses brain cells.

You whine, needily bucking your hips to meet his, sending shivers up his spine when your fingertips graze his scalp alongside the gentle tugging of his hair.

He’s grateful you’re alone as the mattress creaks inconspicuously in time with his hips, one night stands had been his forte a few years ago and he’d been caught out by rusty bed springs more times than he’d like to admit.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, jaw slack, allowing your sweet wails to escape. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Steve gushes, a bumbling mess transfixed by your warmth.

You breathe airly, cracking a smile at his blown out eyes and furrowed brow, “not while they were inside of me no,” sliding your calf up his side, allowing him deeper.

“They should’ve,” he pants, unsure of where this was even coming from. He feels giddy, like this was always meant to happen.

You brush back the loose strands of hair from in front of his eyes, clung to his sweaty forehead, “thank you, but I kinda need you to move,” his cock stilled while he babbles on.

“Yeah.. yeah,” Steve nods, leaning down to lazily connect your lips, drawing a dulcet whimper from your throat when he sinks back into your cunt.

Warmth arises from his stomach to his chest and almost back out of his mouth, his head turning to complete fuzz. You taste like sweet wine and peppermint, your tongue dancing between his lips to battle with his. If your plan was to make him fall in love, you might’ve just succeeded.

“Shitshitshit,” you mumble, leaving the kiss to press your lips to the stubble on his jaw instead, vibrating the skin with every desperate curse and plea.

His fingers grip the space around your head, moving over to gently stroke your cheek, slowly losing his stature as the knot tightens in his stomach. “I’m gonna.. shit, I’m gonna cum,” rushing the words out before they lose all meaning in his noisy brain.

“Yeah?” lips twitching upward, “just.. just not inside,” making sure to get your very important point across before the line was blurred forever.

Pulling out of your pussy in record time before he shudders, hot ropes of his seed paint your stomach, Steve’s brain collapses in on itself before he has time to move himself. Sputtering a half-assed apology before collapsing onto the mattress next to you, breathless as he reels.

“Holy shit,” panting softly, reaching over for some discarded item of clothing to clean yourself up, letting him recover with his face pressed into your pillow, his deep, heaving breaths eventually slowing.

“Sorry for uh.. that,” glancing downward, hoping you wouldn’t now make him walk home in his costume and acres of shame.

Instead, you throw the blanket over him before snuggling in closer, a particular shine in your eye before delving into your barrage of thoughts about the night.

The sun beats through your blinds, forcing him awake far too early.

You don’t stir, still peacefully asleep on the pillow next to him. Steve couldn’t even remember falling asleep, one minute asking about your major to waking up with your legs intertwined.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the bedside table shocks him fully awake. Robin probably thought he was dead. Five missed calls and the barrage of texts definitely solidified that.

are you alive???

steve

this is serious now can you reply to me before i call the cops

He reaches down, swooping the pink bejeweled hat off of the ground and lazily placing it on his own head. sticking his tongue out at his phone before snapping a quick picture, his thumb immediately sending the picture to his, no doubt, curious best friend.

She replies almost immediately, making sure to heart react to the image before going on her tangent.

i fucking knew it!

i knew ot!!!!!!

how was it?

do u like her??

His phone vibrates in his hand, afraid he’d wake you with the incessant sound.

great

and

yes

Steve replies, leaving everything to her wild imagination.

you bastard tell me more

i knew you’d like her!

why don’t u ever trust me

He sighs, knowing that once again Robin was right.

shut up

dinner later?

She pings back instantaneously.

yes.

He clicks his phone shut, placing it back on the nightstand, the bright pink hat still perched on his head. He wanted to wake you, hoping you’d still like him the same now that you were sober.

Black streaks of your mascara are smeared across your under eye and cheeks, hell, Steve was definitely wearing it too. There’s glitter everywhere, scattered across your bedsheets and his tan skin and almost certainly his hair. His eyes slide around your cluttered room, the pictures and Taylor Swift posters that adorned the walls, piles of unfinished books on your desk. He’s particularly interested in the shelf of vinyl records, though he could fathom a guess as to what they probably were.

You rouse from your slumber next to him, sighing softly as you awaken, “nice hat,” mumble from the pillow, squinting at the sight before you, he probably looked a mess. Sure as shit felt like one.

“Oh shit,” Steve laughs, forgetting he even still had it on, “Robin was just making sure you weren’t a murderer,” tossing the hat back to the floor, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet red.

“Not a murderer,” you chuckle, “but I might murder you for an aspirin and some fries though.”

“I think I could make that happen without you having to kill me,” he smiles, volunteering to venture into the depths of your scary house for an aspirin.

“Please do, and quickly,” grumbling from your perch on the pillow, suffering worse than he was.

“You just wait here and I’ll be back in no time,” he’s just about to clamber from the bed when the door swings open, hurriedly grabbing the blanket to keep his dignity intact as some girl he quickly identifies as your roommate bursts in.

“Oh woah,” she exclaims, pretending to cover her eyes while she peeks through the middle two, “so that’s where you went! We weren’t sure if you were dead or not,” not so unfamiliar with his snooping friends.

You groan, shuffling around your cocoon to face her, “I feel like I’m dying,” your voice gruff in comparison to the angelic tones ringing in his ears last night. He still absolutely loved it either way.

“That’s a shame,” the girl sarcastically pouts, “I was just about to ask if you and your friend would like to join us at Flannery’s tonight but if you’re dying…”

Your head perks up ever so slightly, “oh really? I think I could get myself together enough to come..” turning back to ask Steve, “what about you?”

He nods in a rather overzealous manner, “yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”

“You should invite your friend Robin I think, I mean- it’d be cool if she was there too,” shrugging her obvious pining off before flouncing out of the room in a cloud of curls and sickly perfume.

He looks over to you, your eyes already staring back, glinting with a withheld laugh, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.. I’m sure you and Robin have something way better to do.”

“No!” far too enthusiastic a response for an invite to some college town bar, “I mean, I’m sure we could show our faces.. if we really had to,” Steve wasn’t blasé about anything ever, much less confirmation that you just might like him too.

You beam, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, “okay.. good, because.. I’d really like you to be there.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #chelseeebespookyweek

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intoanotherworld23 · 2 months ago

Text

All Fogged Up

Summary: Joel hates being the jealous type, but he sure does love the fun part that comes after it

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, slightly dominant Joel, jealous Joel, submissive reader, car sex, minor spanking, public sex, dirty talk, praise kink

A/N: If you enjoyed this I would greatly appreciate comments and reblogs in show of support! If you wish to be added to my list please don’t hesitate to ask! Thanks so much! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

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Joel Miller was never the type of guy to show his jealousy when it came to you. Until when he saw one of the guys from the village flirting with you all he saw was red. Wasting no time in pulling you into his truck. Ripping your clothes off so fast you could feel the fabric burning your skin.

“Were you trying to make me jealous princess?” He hissed into your ear as he gripped your cheeks in the palm of his hands. Using all the muscles in your thighs to bounce up and down on his cock. “Nobody can fuck you like I can.”

“Oh my fuck.” Whimpering into his shoulder biting on the flesh so much his hand came down and smacked you on your ass cheek in warning.

“That all you got to say to me?” He taunts as he moves a hand up to grip your chin to look at his red face with sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked absolutely sexy like this, and you were the main and only reason he looked like this. It was such a turn on. “I know you can do better than that baby.”

“Joel please.” Crying out to him as you took notice he stopped your movements completely.

“Please what sweetheart?” Smirking as he looked up at your pathetic state, and licking his lips. Joel loved to tease you whenever he had the opportunity, and this was one that he wasn’t going to let pass him by.

Joel knew he was in complete control over you, and he was becoming drunk on power. He wanted so much more of you he couldn’t get enough. Something always took over him, and he would become some type of animal. It was one of his favorite feelings with you.

“Please fuck me harder.” Grinding your hips back and forth in an aggressive manner he couldn’t help but laugh at how desperate you were becoming.

“What? What was that baby? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of your wet cunt.” His words had you squeezing around his cock just wanting nothing more than to feel him move. Driving you wild with lust at how provocative he could talk to you sometimes. “Come on, use that pretty mouth and tell me.”

Running his hands up and down your body as he waited for your response. His fingertips felt like fire running across your skin, the sweat just dripping down your back. Almost like you were in a sauna just soaking in the heat.

“Fuck me harder please Joel.” The air in the truck was so thick you almost couldn’t breathe for a second. Your mouth was becoming so dry you could’ve chugged a bottle of water. The windows in the truck were fogging up nobody would be able to see the two of you engaging in adult activities.

Joel was pounding into you relentlessly and with no mercy. Nails digging into the headrest behind him scratching along the leather. His firm grip on your hips as your body aligned perfectly with his. Cries of pleasure escaping past your lips just for him and him alone.

“You fucking like this don’t ya?” He demanded with a devilish glint in his eye as he mocked your pleasure. “That fucking pathetic excuse of a man could never make you feel like this?”

All you could manage was a rapid nod and pathetic moans. A low chuckle rumbling in his throat as he took in your disheveled state knowing exactly how close you were. Well and the fact that your pussy was squeezing him like a python wrapped around its prey was a clear sign.

“Your ass looks so fucking good like this baby?” He coos as he looks around you watching you bounce on top of him your cheeks jiggling with each motion only to slap your flesh. The smack is so loud and obscene you good that nobody heard it. Joel didn’t seem to care cause he did it over and over again.

“Shit.” Your muffled voice curses as the sensation goes all the way down to your toes. “Right there Joel.”

Joel could feel you slowing down as you rest your head on his shoulder. Not wasting anymore time he clasped his hands behind your back, and bucked into you violently it made the whole car rock.

“I want to feel that creamy cunt cum around my cock.” Crying out as you gripped onto Joel’s body like your life depended on it. Toes curling as your whole body shook into a crumbled mess on top of him. Chest rising and feeling with each trembling breath you took. “That’s my good girl. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

His lips find yours with a fleeting taste of pure bliss before his sultry voice commands you to surrender to him. Leading you to make a complete mess all over him as you explode with ecstasy.

Stomach trembling with the resounding orgasm you had just experienced. It was so intense and hot you felt like you could pass out any second. Your cunt was puffy and sore from the beating that you just took. Joel couldn’t have been more proud of himself right now. A huge smug look on his face as he panted heavily taking in your facial expression.

“Fuck I will never get tired of that feeling.” He chuckled his hands running up and down your sides in a soothing and such gentle matter you almost forgot what he just did to you. “Only one I know who can fuck me like that in a truck.”

“Shut up.” You giggled as you covered your face into his chest feeling slightly embarrassed at his teasing you. His lips finding yours again in a sweeter and tender embrace. Only to be interrupted by hard knocks on the truck.

“When you guys are done fucking your brother is looking for you Joel.”

#Joel miller #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal smut #Joel miller fanfic #Pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller imagines #Pedro pascal imagines #Joel miller x reader #Pedro pascal x reader #Joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

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When We Begin Again

Warnings:this fic will include dark content such as blood and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find the man of the dreams, but your life slowly distorts into a nightmare.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: And so we come to the end of Halloweek 2024. Thanks for those who read.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me❤️

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You hear the murmur from across the office but don’t look up. You're too enraptured by the cells of the spreadsheet, trying to figure out what won’t balance. There’s something missing. Something obvious and you just can’t see it.

Your eyes narrow, nearly turning inward to your nose, and your name yanks you out of your Excel-induced trance. You sit up sharply, nearly sending yourself and your rolling chair to the ground. You grasp the arm rests and snap the seat straight on the axle.

“My, my, looks like someone special’s thinking of you,” Louise plunks down the crystal vase of flowers on your desk, nearly demolishing your mouse at the same time. “Roses. Red? Three dozen, looks like.”

The office clears and you glance around slowly as the fog dissipates. You have an audience. You’re not used to being the center of attention. Not until recently.

You know who the flowers are from but it’s still a surprise. A pleasant one, yet a bit awkward. You take the card from the long plastic stem and read the message inside. It’s signed S. Rogers.

“So, you’ve got a new man?” Louise prompts, still hovering by your desk.

“Ooh, do tell,” Sella rolls over in her chair.

“Please, we’re just getting to know each other,” you put the card in your pocket.

“Just getting to know each other,” Sella guffaws as several other women turn to eavesdrop. “Seems like he wants to know a lot about you.”

“Really. We only had one date.”

“One date?” Louise exclaims. “Well, you must’ve put out if he’s sending roses.”

“Lou,” Sella warns.

Louise gives a naughty look, “pardon. I’ll file the HR report myself.” She cackles and a few others join in. You’re burning hot in embarrassment.

“It’s new. I don’t want to get my hopes up,” you stand and grab the vase. “These are too big and pretty for my desk. I’ll put them in the break room.”

“Is he handsome?” Louise goads.

“Oh, I hope he is,” Sella chirps. “To be young and fun again, ah.”

You carry the vase away, an odd clink against the glass with your steps. You keep your head down, overly aware of the eyes watching you. You enter the shared kitchen and put the flowers on one of the empty tables. Something dangles against the back of your hand.

You turn your palm to catch the small locket before it can slide free. You don’t know how you didn’t notice before. A rose is engraved into the gold and the chain is a length of delicate links. You can tell it’s genuine gold. Oh my.

You quickly wrap it up and slip it into your pocket with the card. You hurry back to your desk and sit. You try to focus on the spreadsheet but your vision is blurry with self-consciousness. A soft buzz draws you from your deconstruction.

You swipe up your phone. It’s Steve. You can’t leave him hanging. Not after all that.

You get up, keeping your cell up your sleeve as you march into the hall and to the restroom. You lock yourself in and answer.

“Hello?” Your voice is wispy.

“Hey, honey, did you get it?” Steve asks.

Honey? He’s too good to be true. One date and it’s like it’s been one year.

“The flowers, yeah.”

“What about the necklace?” He asks.

“Oh, yes, that too. Um, all the other ladies at the office love the roses.”

“But what about you?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty,” you assure him.

“Are you wearing the necklace?” He asks.

“I hadn’t had a chance--”

“Put it on,” he says abruptly then clears his throat. “I mean, you should wear it. Send me a picture.”

“Right, yeah. Totally. Sorry. I just started work and... oh Steve what a lovely surprise that was,” you chime. “I’m kinda in shock. It’s so sweet of you.”

“You’re easy to be sweet to,” he purrs. “Did you have a good night?”

“I did. Dinner was great.”

“And... after?”

Your cheeks are blazing. Your lips press together as you think of the kiss. So soft and tender.

“I liked it,” you babble.

He chuckles, “me too. So, we’ll have to set a date for the second.”

“Of course.” You agree as you cradle your hot cheek.

“I don’t want to keep you from your work, as much as I do want to,” he says. “Oh, don’t forget the necklace.”

“Yeah, I’ll put it on now,” you promise. “I should go.”

“Alright,” he says reluctantly. “See ya, honey.”

You hang up and put the phone on the edge of the sink. You fish the necklace out of your pocket and untangle the chain. You admire the little rose before you stretch it around your neck and clasp it into place. It hangs perfectly around your throat, right at the hollow of your collar bone.

You marvel at it, stroking the edges, and feel a tingle on your chest. It’s beautiful.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” A lilted voice drifts through your ears.

You flinch, startled. You look around the empty bathroom. You frown. Who was that?

You check your phone. It’s locked. Then you go to each stall and peer inside. No one.

It... must’ve been in your head. Yet it was so clear. Like someone was speaking right next to you. Even as if the voice were inside your mind. Well, that’s it, isn’t it? You’re imagining things.

You turn back to the mirror and raise your phone as you open up the camera. You should send that picture before you forget. You snap the shot and check it.

Oh. Doubt needles at you once more. Just like yesterday before your date. That disbelief you can’t shake. Steve is too good for you. You’re the mousy woman who can’t help but trip over her own toes and rambles about old BBC period pieces. He’s tall and blond and handsome.

Yet he likes you. He has to. He would give you such pretty things if he didn’t.

🥀

“One month already,” Steve sweeps in with a glass in each hand.

“Oh gosh, that’s not--”

“Champagne,” he declares.

“Really?” You squeal.

“Nothing’s too special for you, honey,” he nears and hands you a glass. You take it and keep it over the edge of the couch, afraid to spill even a drop on his pristine white cushions. “I just love to spoil you.”

“You do,” you agree. “It makes me feel a little... lacking. I wish I could give you more.”

“You’re more than enough,” he assures you as he sits down next to you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echo and clink his glass.

You tip the glass to your lips and a weight shifts in the crystal. You hum in surprise and trickle a drop over the corner of your mouth. You dap it away as you examine the golden champagne. Tiny bubbles flow up from around the band sunk to the bottom. You gasp.

“Steve,” you nearly choke on the dregs. “What--”

He slides off the couch and sets his glass on the table. You shake your head. He’s not...

“Honey,” he takes your other hand as he kneels. You’re overly aware of the moisture left on your fingers. Of course, you’re that ungraceful. “I know it’s early but I don’t want to wait. I just feel... this is everything. I want you forever.”

“Huh?” The noise makes you cringe. You sound so dumb.

“Please, will you make me the luckiest man in the world--”

“You can’t...” you gulp.

“Marry me. Please.”

You stare at him. Stunned. Your hand shakes. You reach to put the glass down and fan yourself. It can’t be real. So soon?

“I’ll beg,” he squeezes your hand. “Honey, please.”

“Steve,” you eke again. “I... I’m just so... surprised.”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much, you’re all I think about.”

“I...” you look at the glass and the ring at the bottom. “Yes, Steve. Oh my god. Yes.”

He smiles triumphantly and grabs the champagne. He drains it and reveals the ring between his teeth. He takes it and dries it on his shirt. You lift your hand, trembling and let him slide it on.

“Oh, yes, a lovely ring, indeed. His mother’s, you know? Cushion cut and look at the trim...” You recoil and scratch your ears. It’s that voice again.

It can’t be Steve. His lips haven’t moved and it isn’t a male voice. It’s a woman. Her tone is rich and sultry and she has an accent. It doesn’t sound like anyone you know.

“Honey?” Steve blinks at you with concern.

“I... I’m sorry, I just... can I use the bathroom?”

“Uh, yeah,” he looks disappointed. “Sure.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to ruin the moment, I just have a tickle,” you pat his hand gently and let him go.

You stand and hurry away.

“He asked me on London Bridge. At midnight. Wonderful. Back home, lovely weather,” the woman speaks again, booming in your brain.

You swallow a yelp before you hide behind the bathroom door. You shake your head and cup your ears, but that only makes her louder.

“Then we went to Paris. Oh, it was splendid.” She sighs dreamily.

You look in the mirror. You appear maddened as your eyes are round and your mouth is twisted in dismay. You lean in as you notice the glint in your iris. There are flecks you’ve never seen there before. A subtle pigmentation. You blink. Is there something in your eyes?

It’s unmoving. That slender grey speck. You bat your lashes again. They’re longer too.

You grip the sink as you lean into the mirror.

“He always liked it when I wore red lipstick.” She preens in your ears and you whine. You push yourself back and look down at your hands. You step back and raise them to examine your fingers. They look more tapered than before. Not so stubby and thick.

You shake them out and take a breath. There’s something wrong. Something strange. With you.

Yet, what can you do about it now? You can’t run out on Steve after such a nice night. And a proposal. You’ll wait until the morning and you’ll call the doctor.

You shrink and lean against the wall. It’s just your luck. You meet the man of your dreams, get engaged, and now your mind is fraying. You’re terrified.

“Please,” you whisper, “be quiet.”

You wait. There’s no answer. You must sound as deranged as you feel. You’re talking to yourself. There’s no one else there.

“Honey,” Steve taps on the door gently, startling you, “everything okay?”

“Um, yeah,” you croak out. “Yes, I’m good.” You unlock the door and make yourself smile. “I was just admiring the ring.”

“Nice, huh?” He takes your hand. “It was my mother’s. If you need it fitted, we can go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You wonder. “Mm, well, I have to see the doctor.”

“Oh,” his brows draw together, “maybe after then.”

🥀

“I can’t offer you answers today,” Dr. Lichten drones. “I can refer you to someone who can. It could be a temporary episode. Or something more... chronic. The best place to start is with someone who can determine which.”

You nod solemnly. His expression remained unmoved as you explained the voice in your head, almost as if he didn’t believe you. You didn’t bother to mention the changes you could see. You fear doing so might land you in a room with soft walls.

You take the referral form and leave. Your phone is buzzing. It’s Steve. You love how attentive he can be but at the same time, you feel suffocated. You just need space to figure out what’s going on.

“Quite simple, dear. You’re not me.” The voice taunts. You stop short in the hallway, nearly bowling over a nurse. You apologise and keep going.

You continue out of the clinic and idle in your car as you call the psychiatric office. You have an appointment set. You’ll be okay until then.

“He could never be happy with someone like you. Look at you, honey. You are a mess.”

“Shut up,” you growl as you shift into drive.

The voice is saying all the things you’ve said to yourself before but this time, it’s not the same murmuring doubt. It’s bold and brazen and cruel. And that accent.

Your eyes flick to the ring shining on your finger. You nearly forgot it that morning until Steve reminded you. It’s so beautiful.

“And you’re not,” the voice mocks.

You sigh and close your eyes. You’re not doing this. You’re not arguing with whatever this is.

You drive back to your own place. You’ll sleep and hope it goes away. You haven’t been doing much of that since Steve came around. He fills your evenings and the mornings comes too quick. Can you really keep up with him?

“You cannot,” she snickers and you smack your ear as you push through your apartment door. You groan and try to rub away the stinging pain.

You lay down but don’t get much sleep. Even as the voice recedes into silence, you’re unsettled as you wait for it to pipe up at any moment. When you surrender to your consciousness, you run a bath and ease into it.

You close your eyes once more and linger in the steaming water. As it cools, you open your eyes. You look down at yourself. Surely it must be the water distorting your body. Where did that freckle come from? Is your skin a different shade?

Strange things. You wish they’d stop.

Steve calls as you wrap yourself in your robe, as if he knows. You answer.

“Hey, whatcha up to?” He asks.

“Nothing. Just... chilling out.”

“You back at your place? I can swing by with lunch,” he offers.

“Oh, Steve...”

“I might already be here...” he chuckles.

That’s his way. He doesn’t leave room for no but it’s never a bad thing. You sigh.

“Alright, come on up.”

🥀

“We can do some evaluations for schizophrenia but you have no genetic markers for it. No family history. Dissociative Personality might be something too,” Dr. Percy explains, “even a degree of body dysmorphia. Unfortunately, your systems are inconsistent with anything in the DSM-5.”

You nod.

“So that means?”

“We have work to do,” she says. “But we can figure this out. Patience.”

“Patience,” you frown. You don’t know how much longer you can handle this.

“I’m patient,” the voice sneers and you wince.

Percy inclines her head curiously, “you hear it now?”

You give a quiet, “yes.”

“And?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as your head rattles, “she’s laughing!”

You wrap your arms around your head and fold over. Percy rushes over. She puts her hand on your shoulder. The voice goes silent. You whimper.

“What is it?” She asks.

“Nothing,” you utter. “It’s gone.”

She clicks her tongue. “You need sleep. I can prescribe sedatives. I want you to be careful, alright? You only need one at night. Just so you can rest.”

“Thank you,” you sniffle as you sit up. “I just want to be better.”

“I know. We will find stability,” she stands and takes her pad from her desk. “Come back on Friday.”

“Okay,” you rise grimly.

Outside the office, you sit in your car and cry. You feel yourself splintering apart. The seams are unraveling in your mind, the voice getting louder and louder as yours fades away.

“Look at us,” she trills. “Dear, please, have a look. You can be so foolish. Come, the mirror.”

You lift your head and grab onto the rear view. You tilt it down and grimace. Red lipstick. You don’t even own a stick, you didn’t put that on... huh?

“Just a bit of touch up in the ladies’,” she drawls. “Better, don’t you think?”

“Why-- what are you? Why are you doing this?”

“Those are my favourite pearls,” she ignores your desperate plea. You touch the earrings Steve gave you. “They made it through the Blitz, you know?”

“No, you’re not real. Not. Real!” You shriek and beat your temples, “get out. Get out! GET OUT!”

Your nails scratch your scalp and you recoil. Oh, heavens. Your nails. Oval, pedicured, pretty. No, those aren’t yours. You turn your arms over. Another freckle that doesn’t belong.

You lean back again and look in the mirror. Your eyes are a shade of blue you don’t recognise. Your face is longer too, cheekbones more defined. That’s not you. You’re hallucinating.

“You’re right, it isn’t you,” she chimes and laughs again.

You bend over the steering wheel and scream. You need it to stop! Stop! Stop!

🥀

You take another pill. The third one that day. She’s still there. You’re barely.

You should be happier than ever. You’re engaged. Your wedding is almost there. You’re miserable. You want it to end.

“Honey,” Steve calls through the door.

“I said leave me alone,” you snivel and pull the blanket over you. “Please, leave me alone.”

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there all day.”

“I just want to be left alone!” You snarl.

“You want to be left alone, dear, you can go,” the voice sneers. “Go on, then.”

“No,” you mutter.

“I’m not leaving so...” she insists.

“No, no, you won’t win!” You holler.

“Honey?” Steve turns the handle and you keep the blanket around you.

“Go.” You tell both of them.

“Please, don’t do this. I know there’s a lot going on but we can face it together.”

“No, Steve, we can’t... I... I’m not good enough for you. I’m... I’m... I’m going crazy,” you whine.

“Crazy? Honey, no. You’re fine. The doctor said--”

“I lied. She doesn’t know what’s wrong,” you groan. “So leave me alone. I deserve to be alone.”

“Dear, you can end this. You just have to go.” The voice chirps.

“No!” You snap at the lilting jeer. “No, I will not let you...”

Your head swirls as the drugs seep into your blood flow.

“Isn’t that nice, hm? The darkness?” She asks.

“Mmmm,” you grumble and go limp.

“Honey,” Steve rubs your arm through the blanket, “you tired?”

You garble. The pills smother you as the edges of your mind haze. Your body is heavy and warm. You cling to the relief. You just can’t be you for a little. You just want to sleep.

“That’s it, darling,” she goads, “close your eyes. Relax.”

You drift down into the depths, swirling slowly through ribbons of silk. They wrap around you and cover your face, drawing tight until they suffocate you. Until they silence you. You whimper as the fabric draws tight around your throat and you flail through the void.

You spin and open your eyes. A swath of light sears into your eyes. You see Steve, distant, far away. He leans in and cradles your face but you can’t feel his hand. His thumb strokes your cheek.

“Margaret?” He says breathily, “Peggy,” he brings his other hand up as your vision narrows, “I’ve been waiting.”

That voice hums as the light turns to a slit, “so have I,” she slithers and the darkness glazes over, dragging you down into the abyss.

You are bound in a shroud within yourself. You cannot speak, you cannot move. You have no mouth, no body to do so. You have nothing. You are nothing.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #au #horror au #halloween 2024

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zialltops · 1 year ago

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky attitude or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: hi guys!! I’m fresh off finishing east side of sorrow and couldn’t wait to hop into this work. I can not thank everyone enough for the fun we had with esos, but i am beyond stoked to meet this joel because i am ferallllll for him all dirty on a ranch with a cowboy hat on a horse ughhhh, give it to me already. anyways, let me know if you like it 🤍 thank you to @sawymredfox for letting me idea dump on you and give me all kinda of ideas! i love you to pieces! this ones for you my dear!

A03 Link | Spotify Link | Masterlink

Pt. 1: Oklahoma Smokeshow

Half a mile from the turnpike, two miles from home, along the winding and twisting asphalt of Cold Creek road, Joel Miller rasps his gloved hand against the steering wheel of the Rising Sun Ranch’s newly bought—second (maybe fifth?) hand old pickup truck. A beat up nineties chevy with rust on the floorboard and a new-car tree hanging from the rearview mirror. Beside him, his brother Tommy bounces his knee while he takes a long drag off his second cigarette since this drive started. The smoke plumes through the window, then back inside when the chill outside pushes the hot smoke back into the cab, whirling around Joel's senses like it belongs there. The smell is insufferable and makes Joel’s skin crawl, takes him to a time before ropers scars and belt buckles.

“Know that shit’s gon’ kill you, right?” He doesn’t need to look over at his brother's form beside him to know the younger man is anxious, like he usually is on long car rides. “You used to do it too, big brother.” Joel scuffs at him, keeps his one gloved hand on the wheel as he keeps on driving. He’s not wrong, if he wants to talk about the Joel of ten years ago, a distant, ragged and angry version of himself. “Don’t remind me.” He keeps his eyes fixed on the snow coated road ahead of him. He’s cautious at this time of the year, the winter storms usually leave them stranded on the ranch for a few weeks, but he’s lucky enough to have caught the dark clouds before they started to let down too much. The salt on the roads seem to do the trick for the time being, so long as he stays away from the embankment and keeps his eyes on the dimming road ahead.

It was mid day, but the sun sets early in the winter, so it hangs low in the sky amongst the cold abyss, like it’s desperately reaching out for the horizon—like it wants to run from this place too. He looks ahead and silently wishes to himself that he could follow those last rays of sunshine into tomorrow, like maybe he would find something there.

He shakes the thought and sets his mind back on track, why they were out here. “When we get back to the ranch, you need to find a way to apologize to Miss Lou. She really was just tryin’ to be helpful, Tommy. She ain’t wrong for that.” Louise had always been more than welcoming and kind to them, she’s saved their asses more than once and she feeds them more than she needs to, but his brother can never seem to let a good thing be, always biting the hand that attempted to feed him.

“Don’t like it when people go through my shit, man, you know that.” He’s nearly done with his cigarette, thank fuck because Joel wants to grab it from his hand himself and chuck it out the window. “She wasn’t goin’ through your stuff, dipshit, she was doin’ your laundry! Doesn’t give you any right to snap at someone like that. Especially a nice lady who’s husband give’s us a dollar in our pocket and a roof over our heads. Do you have any Idea where we’d be without that?”

It cuts deep because Tommy flicks his butt out the window and sinks down in his seat, he knows Joel is right because they are incredibly lucky to be where they are now. They would probably never find somewhere as appealing as their little shared hunting cabin a half mile from the main house. “Hank ain’t happy,” he adds, like Tommy doesn’t already know that after the argument that led to them leaving. “We wouldn’t be out in a goddamned snow storm for fuckin’ flowers if Hank was happy.”

Joel finally glances over, but when he does, it’s at the bouquet of flowers sitting beside him on the bench seat. “Doesn’t matter, you still need to apologize—to both of them. We wouldn’t have shit if it weren’t for them—“ they wouldn’t, they were on their last leg, hitchhiking across half the country when they found an ad outside of the feed store in Jackson looking for a ranch hand in exchange for room and board. Joel gave them two for the price of one and the rest was history. Tommy makes an annoyed sound and interrupts. “Joel, what's that?” Directly in front of them, on the side of the road caught in an embankment is a little blue car sunk all the way down to the lug nuts. It doesn’t look like the person lost control, but they just drove into the embankment.

This road isn’t frequented and the cell service is spotty, but the taillights on the car tell him there's someone inside. “I’m stoppin’ to help,'' Joel informs him, but Tommy shifts and rolls his eyes—he’s never been the humanitarian type. “Why? I’m sure they can pay for a tow truck. Besides, if they are stupid enough to get stuck in an embankment, they can suffer.” Usually, Joel would agree, but the closer they get to Christmas, the more that iced over heart of his starts to thaw out.

Joel stops the truck on the road and leaves it running while he looks over at his brother. “Ain’t leavin’ nobody stuck out here in this storm, even if they’re stupid. They won't make it through the night.” He shuts the door behind him and stuffs his hands into his pockets. An agitated gust of air leaves his lungs in the form of cloudy condensation amongst the snowfall. He walks up to the car, leaning down so he can glance inside without getting too close. Through the fogged window, he can make out the figure of a woman leaned against the steering wheel, her face casted by her hair hanging all around while she slumps her head against the wheel. Stupid—stupid girl. What the hell is she doing way out here?

He rasps against the window and she jolts just as Tommy comes up behind him, finally having left the comfort of the truck cab. “S’a girl, should have guessed.” Tommy interjects with a crude tone, thankfully before she rolls the window down. She looks a little scared and a lot embarrassed, her eyes are red like she’s been crying her heart out. It doesn’t make Joel sad, it makes him uncomfortable. Emotions make his skin crawl, make him uneasy. He doesn’t handle people crying well, he doesn’t know how to react to it, what he should say or do.

“You need someone to pull you out?” He asks, trying his best to sound mellow tempered and helpful. He’s not, but he won't be able to sleep tonight if he has to drive by the coroner unsticking her frozen body from the seats in the morning. “I’m so sorry—I was checking my phone because my mom texted me and I didn’t see the corner—“ stuck in the snow because she was on her fucking phone? “You hit a snow embankment because you were textin’? You dim or somethin’, girl?” She gives him a hard glance, eyebrows pulled together tightly. “I’m not dim, but I can tell you’re dense.”

Tommy scuffs from beside him and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll grab the chain,” he tells his brother as he heads towards the truck. “I’m gonna pull you out, but after that you’re on your own, kid. This storm is just starin’, might be smart if you headed back to whatever city you blew in from.”

She’s the furthest thing from appreciative when Joel hooks a chain to the frame of her car and the hitch on the front of the old red chevy. When she gets out of the little blue car, Joel gets the full extent of how unprepared she is for a full on impending whiteout snowstorm. Her pants have rips and holes, like they are meant to be there, no way they are offering any kind of protection from the chill. Her boots have a three inch heel like she’s walking along some new york sidewalk with a tiny dog in her arms. She has a jacket, fur lining the hood and yet she’s still shaking like it all does nothing to protect her from the snow.

“Thank you for doing this, but I really could have called a tow truck or something. They probably would have been a lot nicer about it.” Her voice is dripping with disdain when he stands upright again. “You want nice, or you want to be dead? Because there ain’t no company sending a driver out here when were forecasted to get two feet overnight.”

She puts her hands on her hips in an attempted threatening manner, like that might scare Joel into an apology when she looks like an angry child who didn’t get their way. Joel hated people like this, too good for the world with their nose up in the air. He turns around to head back to the truck when he spots the piles of boxes in her back seat. Great—another fuckin’ know it all who think’s living out here is romantic and rustic. “You movin’ out here somewhere? You know there ain’t a mall for like, a hundred and fifty miles, right?”

She’s irritated now, with all the rude comments Joel is throwing her way—but he doesn’t care because the last thing this place needs is more city people thinking they can tame this untouched land. It shouldn’t bother him, because how long could she really last out here anyways? With those three inch heels and clothes fit for a concrete jungle, not muddy plains and cattle. She won't make it a month out here in the dead of winter.

“Just pull my car out, or leave me be, because the last thing I need right now is to get harassed by some old dumb fuck cowboy.” Dumb cowboy? Old? Like he’s the fucking moron out here in the middle of a blizzard in a car with bald ass tires and pants with holes in them. Maybe he should fucking leave, let her strand around trying to find a signal to call a tow company that wont come. “You know what?” Teach her a lesson, maybe then she’ll learn this place isn’t for people like her. With her done up hair and makeup—she’s pretty, unnaturally so—like she’s trying to damn hard to look that good—god damnit—“walk around in those stupid fucking shoes and see if you can find your own way out,” he leans down and undoes the hook under her car roughly. “Come on Tommy, were out of here.” She stomps her foot in the snow and starts to pace back to her car.

Joel makes his way back to the truck and unhooks the chain from the front. He’s had a long fucking day of taking care of his idiot bothers problems and he doesn’t have the patience to help some girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her.

“Hey, big brother.” It’s Tommy’s voice in his ears when he finally closes the door behind himself, huffing in discontent as he puts it in gear. “What.” He snaps, backing away from the stuck car and those sinfully tight jeans on that tight little—mother fucking son of a bitch, stop it!—he cant stand people like her, fucking with his head and getting under his skin. The type of girls who have looked him up and down and laughed in his face at the thought of someone like him being up to standard for someone like them. That snot nosed brat can sit in the snow, for all he cares.

“No need to get all hostile at me, man—I’m just checkin’ on ya. You’re all red and pissy, and nothin’ gets you all worked up like that.” He shrugs beside him with a cocky sort of snort. “I mean, unless—“ Joel jerks on the wheel and sneers over at his brother. “Drop it. Not another fucking word or I’ll leave you here too.”

Tommy’s jaw snaps shut and he looks out the passenger window, the radio playing quietly while the storm picks up, and the road carries on. Joel doesn’t think about what he’s done, only how his knee bounces and his hands flex the whole way back to the ranch. How his heart pounds and his blood rushes and it makes his head throb.

When they pull into the muddy drive, he shuts off the truck and turns towards his brother and the bouquet of flowers. “You really need to mean it when you talk to them, I’m serious. They are nice people who’ve looked out for us for two years. We owe them that, at least.” His little brother seems serious when he nods, so Joel passes him the flowers and heads inside. They have sacrificed so much to help Joel and Tommy. They’d been through dark winters with them, when they lost half the herd to the cold and Joel spent the night in the barn with what was left to make sure they all stayed upright and dry. They’ve all had empty bellies at night, didn’t have two nickels to rub together between the four of them and they’ve stood by each others sides through it. They’ve seen Tommy lose his shit a few times, too—so they know he’s capable of coming back from it. He just hopes this time wasn’t too far—Tommy had yelled at her for simply washing his clothes for him.

When the door to the big white farm house creaks open, Joel steps inside to the warm scent of roast in the oven and potatoes on the stove, Hank in his recliner with the newspaper in his hand and his reading glasses on while the game plays in the background. Hank was a large man, kind of chubby in the joyous kind of way, kind eyes and balding on the top. He laughs a lot, but he takes no shit while he’s at it.

“Kitchen,” Joel directs Tommy, who makes his way to the conjoining room where Louise was probably busy cooking dinner. Joel makes his way over to the couch across from Hank, who drops his paper and gives Joel a long look. “You talk to him?” He nods his head and glances down at his snowy boots. “He’s been real anxious all day. Storm comin’ in is messin’ with him and he knows it's no excuse to snap at anyone. He’s in there apologizin’.”

The older man nods at him and glances over his shoulder where Joel can barely see Tommy handing her the bouquet. “She was really shaken up over it, I hate seeing her so upset. She’s been excited all day and trying to make the house looks nice. I think it was just a misunderstanding, but don’t give him any excuse to yell at her like that.”

Joel twists his hands around and looks up at Hank who wears a solemn expression. “I know, I’m real sorry, Hank.”

The man across from him sigh, then offers a faint smile as he stands from his chair. “It’s alright. You boys are like family, families fight—it happens. Lets get some dinner, forget about all this mess, alright?” Joel is thankful for the reason to drop the conversation and stands with the older man as they head towards the kitchen. Louise and Tommy are talking quietly, smiling at each other until she reaches out and embraces him in a soft looking hug. It's an ease on Joel’s wound tight mind, thinking Tommy had finally thrown a wrench in the only good thing they’ve had in ten years.

Dinner is delicious, savory roast that he can dip soft bread in, let is soak up all the juice that he tries and fails to not get all over his beard. When his bowl is empty and his stomach feels distended, he leans back in his chair and sighs contently. “That was amazing, Miss Lou—I don’t know how you do it.” The smile she gives him isn’t like one of her usuals, it’s slightly saddened and disheartened when she looks across the table at him. For a moment, he worries that Tommy’s words are getting to her again. “Everythin’ okay?” He sits up a little in his chair.

“I'm a little worried. Our daughter was on her way home from college today, she’s finally graduated and she called me this morning to tell me she’d be home before supper, so I made her favorite.” She looks towards the window. “The storm is getting worse, I’m worried her little car wont make it,” Joel’s whole stomach lurches into his throat and he nearly throws up in his hands. “I told you we should have gotten her a truck, Hank, you know she’s not the best driver in snow.”

Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!—he’s such a fucking idiot. He knew she was coming home today, Lou has been talking about it for weeks, the impending return of the prodigy child, home with a degree to save the ranch—or whatever it is that she was doing. He’d heard them talk about her so many times, she was all brains and no know-how, Hank always talked about how clumsy and awkward she was, but how brilliant her mind was at the same time. He’d always questioned how uncoordinated she really was, based on the photos of her as a young woman roping in the rodeo. Fuck—he should have recognized her... “What’s her name again?” Tommy asks like he has no fucking clue Joel is losing his ever loving shit right now. They left her stranded on the side of the road in the middle of this damn snow storm. He hears Louise say her name but it doesn’t register because he feels like he’s on fire and drownings at the same time. “But everyone’s always called her Honey. Since she was a little little thing. She was always so ornery and stubborn until one day she got into a bee box and got covered in bee stings. Ever since that day she was so sweet, so we started calling her Honey.” Lou has this soft smile and all Joel can think about is how he’d told her to crawl back to whatever city she came from in her stupid fucking shoes. “She’s got a real mouth on her till something puts her straight.” Hank chuckles and Joel abruptly stands from his seat.

“I’m finished, I can go out and have a look incase she got stuck somewhere.” He slings on his jacket, but Tommy is still eating and doesn’t think much of it—dumb ass. “Are you sure? She’s probably fine, she knows better than to get caught out in these storms, she probably got a hotel in town.” Joel shakes his head at them and throws on his thick Carhartt jacket that Hank gave him his first winter here after watching him shiver in the fields. “I’m sure, it’s gettin’ bad, just gonna make sure she ain’t stuck somewhere.” Joel makes his way out the door quickly, grabbing the keys to the truck that they had given to him—“how are you supposed to manage a ranch if you don’t have a way to get around?”

He starts up the old chevy and it fires to life despite the snow coming down in heaps now. He’s worried about the road back to her car, about the probably eight inches lining the long driveway, but he throws it in four wheel drive and tries his damndest to get through it because despite all the things stacking up against him, his biggest worry is the police finding her frozen to death in the morning and her parents faces when they find out it was Joel who abandoned her there to die. God—he’s such a prick.

The road is slippery and tricky, a winding snow covered path along the hillside leading towards Jackson. It takes him twenty minutes in this blizzard to get there, all he can think about the entire time is the half freezing girl hiding in her car and the warm food in his belly that was meant for her. He stops the truck when he gets to the car, the lights are off and it looks abandoned—his gut lurches again, what if he’s already too late? Two hours have passed since he left her stranded and the sun has set now, real cold is creeping in.

He jumps out of the truck and walks up to the window. He can't see inside because the glass is fogged, so she has to be alive in there. He knocks on the window and the door jerks against the cold. “Hey,” he pulls the door open more, she’s sitting in the driver seat, pale and shaking with a small blanket pulled around her to keep in some warmth. The look she gives him could kill a man if he didn’t feel like he was already going to die the second she tells her parents that he left her there.

“Y-Your conscious f-finally get to y-you, asshole?” She’s absolutely shaking, her fingers look purple. “I’m so sorry—C’mon, it’s warm in the truck.” He reaches for her hand, but she snaps it away from him like he might burn her. “I c-can get o-out on my own.” She can and does, wobbles on her too tall heels and starts to head towards the running truck. Joel grabs the door for her and she sneers at him—yeah, yeah—he deserves that. He closes the door behind her and runs over to the other side. When he jumps in, she’s got her hands pressed against the heater while she relishes in the welcomed heat.

He pulls away from her trapped car, he’ll come back for it when the snow has cleared up a little bit, but for now—it’s too dangerous to try and yank it out just for it to get stuck in the road because it has no traction. It's ten agonizing minutes of silence while Joel taps his fingers against the steering wheel, trying his damndest to keep a close eye on the woman beside him. She’s warming herself up and thawing out that burning rage Joel knows is inside of her. When they get closer to the driveway, she starts to fire off. “You takin’ me to some backwoods shack to tie me up and keep me?” He scoffs and looks out the windshield, trying to keep the truck steady in the snow.

“If I was going to tie up and keep some girl, I’d make sure she was less bitchy.” She growls at him, growls lowly and it actually does the job, makes his skin prick in goosebumps while he drives. “Wouldn’t be so bitchy if you didn’t leave me on the side of the road. You know I could have died, right?” He is painfully, agonizingly aware of that fact. “I came back, didn’t I?” The driveway is in view, a long fenced path up to the old farm house. “How’d you know I was comin’ here?” Her voice is a tad quieter now, less abrasive on his ears.

“Cus’ I’m comin’ here too.” He says quietly, halfway hoping it won't reach her ears, but her mom was right—she is quick, smart too. “You’re Joel, aren’t you?” She laughs menacingly, crossing her arms across her body and her left leg over her right with a scoff. “You know, my parents said it was Tommy I wouldn’t like. Said you were this big southern gentlemen.” She laughs a little harder, looking over at Joel. “They were half worried they’d have to chase me out of your bed, that you were right up my alley. My daddy said you were the type to charm any woman’s pants off. Guess they don’t know you like they thought they do, huh? Under all that chivalrous facade is just another self centered, selfish cowboy.”

Joel shuts off the truck and glances over at her. “Look, I’m real sorry. First impressions aren’t my strong suit, got a thing for people who don’t belong out here. Didn’t know you were their kid. Would’ve pulled your car out if I’d known.” She opens the door of the cab and steps out into the snow. “So you’re only a good person when someone’s lookin’, I’ll keep that in mind, dickhead.”

She slams the door and storms off towards the house while Joel slumps against the wheel with his head in his hands. Fuck…if it’s not Tommy risking their welcome, their jobs, then it was him, making an absolute ass of himself in-front of the bosses daughter. The bosses fiery, too good—too good looking—

“Son of a bitch!”

—

He gets into the house ten minutes after she does, his hands stuffed in his pockets and half expecting her parents to kick him out right then and there. He pretty much told her to fuck off and left her to freeze to death. There’s no doubt in his mind that they would have found her dead in the morning, the temperature was below freezing already.

To his surprise, it's quiet when he gets inside. Hank and Louise are in the dining room with their daughter, laughing and smiling and surprised to see her, to see her with Joel. “And he just found you there?” She looks so…so..chipper standing there beside her dad with her arm on his shoulder while he sits at the table. “Yep, got my car stuck because I was texting, I know—not bright.” She sounds so fucking fake and dramatic in her tone, Joel’s hands flex and unflex. “And I couldn’t get out and find a signal because of my stupid fucking shoes. I probably would have died there if not for…good ol’ Joel.” She cocks her head with this shit eating grin on her face that makes Joel's gut clench up and his heart pound.

This fucking bitch—is she blackmailing him right now? In those stupid fucking pants and that top he’s finally getting a glimpse at—and then…shit…

Look at you…just—his brain is going haywire right now. He hates your fucking guts right about now but his brain makes other notes about your guts and its desire to be in them—and that tight ass shirt with your tits just pourin’ out of it—Jesus CHRIST, Joel, get it together here.

He shakes his head, bites the inside of his cheek and meets your eyes, everyone else is looking at you, but you’re looking at him, fully aware of the way his eyes just ate your body up for dessert until he was stuffed. “Real winner you guys have here, mom and dad…real winner.”

If there’s one thing Joel is certain of, it’s that he is in big, big fucking trouble.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #archive of our own #joel the last of us #joel tlou #rancher joel #joel miller moodboard #cowboy joel miller

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prettyyoungandbored · 3 months ago

Note

hi, me again, desperate and lacking in Charlie energy lately. I fear I need to read something about him that doesn’t require me putting any effort in so I’m here with a request.

Adult Charlie, working a job he always feared, and wasting away another Friday night at the bar with expensive whiskey and stale cigarettes. That’s when a girl shuffles in looking gorgeous as ever and soaked from the rain. He obviously can’t help but flirt, the night turns out different for the both of them. I need the tension, I need it 😩

I took this, ran with it, and decided to make it part of the engaged Charlie and Y/N universe. Think of this as how they first met.

Hope you enjoy!

Charlie Meets His Match - CHARLIE DALTON

Pairing: Adult!Charlie Dalton x Fem!Reader

Same couple from this and this and this

NOT MY GIF

Charlie exhale, cigarette smoke escaping his lips and the week’s stressers leaving his body. He was grateful for the noise of the other bar patrons laughing and chatting as it kept him from his thoughts.

Just like he’d suspected, and feared, he ended up in the banking industry. He was working for his dad and while the gig paid well enough for him to have a townhouse in New York City, he could still feel the weight of the mindless and boring work crush his soul spirit.

“This shit doesn’t get easier, does it, Lou?” he asked his secretary earlier that afternoon.

Louise, or Lou as she preferred to be called, shook her head. She was a few years older than him and had become his confidant in the office.

“That’s why you’re supposed to go out and enjoy your weekends, Dalton,” she reminded him. “Go out. Get laid. Have fun while you still can.”

She paused and pouted teasingly. “Or did you already screw your way through the Upper West Side?”

“It was two women.”

“Didn’t your old boarding school buddy want to set you up with someone?”

“His girlfriend did and I’m not in the mood to pretend to be interested in a woman.”

Lou set down her pen. “Go to a bar, Charlie. Not one of those fancy bars. Like I’m talking packed on Friday and Saturday night kind of bar. Like the floor is packed. That’s more of your scene anyway.”

He went to a bar Knox had told him to check out. He asked Knox join him, but his childhood friend had to leave the city for the weekend.

Charlie also considered wandering around the city, but the heavy rain made him reconsider.

So there he was, enjoying his whiskey in between puffs of smoke. He turned his head to scan the room when his eyes fell to the door opening and she walked in.

Charlie’s fell open slightly as he took in the sight of her. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that drew him to her, but all he knew is that he couldn’t look away from her.

She eyed the room herself, looking for someone. He prayed that whoever it was she was looking for, it wasn’t a man.

She ran a hand through her soaked hair as she walked toward to the bar area and cursed the group of guys sitting next to him. She took a seat at the end and Charlie knew exactly what to do.

He flagged down the bartender.

“See that girl on the end there? I’d like to pay for her first drink.”

The bartender nodded and made his way to the woman. Charlie watched her light up at the bartender and order a drink.

When the bartender returned with a glass of red wine, she tried to give him cash. He shook his head and motioned to Charlie.

And when her eyes landed on him, he could feel his heart burst. He smiled, toasting his drink at her.

I look like a fucking moron, he thought to himself.

That voice went silent when she smiled at him and suddenly, he felt like the luckiest man in the entire world.

His heart clenched as she grabbed her drink and walked toward him.

“Thank you,” she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Happy to make your night,” Charlie nodded.

She held out her hand. “Y/N.”

He shook it. “Charlie.”

As luck would have it, the person next to Charlie got up from their seat. He gestured toward it and Y/N sat down.

“So have you bought drinks for all the women tonight or am I just really lucky?” she teased, taking a sip of her wine.

“Just you,” he said. “Your boyfriend gonna beat me up for it?”

She chuckled. “If I had one, maybe. But for now you’re safe.”

Waves of relief washed over him. She was single and appeared to be interested. All he had to do was keep her interest. He could do that, right?

That’s when he realized he never felt this worried about losing a woman’s interest before.

“What brings you to this bar?” he asked.

She set her glass down on the wooden bar top. “I was supposed to be meeting a friend but it appears she’s late.” She paused. “Well that or she’s waiting for the rain to settle so it won’t ruin her hair.”

“In her defense, not all of us can look good with wet hair like you can,” he remarked.

He watched her bite her bottom lip. “You’re quite the flatterer, Charlie.”

He shrugged casually. “I aim to please.”

Y/N snorted. His demeanor softened a bit. He’d never had a girl snort at him before.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re cute.”

In any other circumstance, he would have rolled his eyes. But with her, it was the highest praise he’d ever received in his life.

“So what is it you do when you’re not trying to woo women at bars?” she asked, leaning forward a bit.

He set down his drink, sighing softly. “I work in banking.”

“Doesn’t sound like you like it very much.”

He shrugged. “It pays the bills…and for drinks for girls I think are beautiful.”

“And if you weren’t worried about bills or paying for other girls’ drinks, what would you do?” she asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“If you could do anything -anything at all- what would you do?”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him that. He thought for moment.

“I don’t know honestly,” he finally answered, rubbing his chin. “Maybe travel. See the world. Or just play the saxophone professionally.”

Her eyes lit up with intrigue. “You play the saxophone?”

“Yeah. My parents forced me to play an instrument and basically forced the clarinet on me. I hated it and decided to try the saxophone instead.”

She grinned. “And how often do you practice safe sax?”

He nearly spit out his whiskey from laughing.

“Are you ok?” she asked, watching him cough.

Oh yeah. Just making an ass out of myself in front of the woman of my dreams, he thought.

“Yeah I just…wow,” he said, collecting himself. “Sorry. I’m not used to women making those kind of jokes.”

Y/N cocked her head back. “What do you mean by that?”

“A beautiful girl with dirty humor,” he explained with a smirk. “That’s my kind of girl.”

Her smile grew as she took another sip of wine. “What a coincidence. I like handsome men with a dirty sense of humor.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded her head and Charlie leaned on the bar. “And what do you do when you’re not charming men with your dirty humor.”

“I work at a hair salon,” she said.

“You must be very good with your hands then.”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” she purred, picking up on his tone. “In fact, I’ve actually had people tell me I have magic hands.”

Charlie leaned forward. “I might have to-.”

“Oh this is perfect!”

Charlie turned his head to see Izzie, Knox’s girlfriend, beaming at him and Y/N.

“Well look who decided to show up,” Y/N giggled. “Took you long enough.”

“It’s a long story but I see you found company.” Izzie’s eyes turned to Charlie. “Well, I was hoping to introduce you two during that double date that you refuse to go on.”

Charlie opened his mouth to respond when he heard Y/N snickering. He was relieved she wasn’t offended.

Izzie whipped her head. “Oh you don’t get to laugh,” she told her friend. “You’ve been putting it off too.”

The red head took a step back and said, “I’m gonna let you two enjoy your drinks and head home, but clear your calendars for Monday night because that’s when we’re all having dinner.”

With that, she turned away, her red hair bouncing with joy.

Y/N turned to Charlie. “So, you’re the friend I’ll supposedly be giddy over.”

“And are you giddy?” Charlie smirked.

She hummed lowly. “I don’t know.”

He put his hand on his chest. “You know how to kill a man’s ego.”

It was her turned to smirk. “How about I make it up to you?”

“How’s that?”

“You wanna get out of here?”

#charlie dalton #dead poets society fanfic #dead poets society #charlie dalton x reader #charlie dalton imagine #gale hansen

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sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year ago

Text

A Duplicate of Earth

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around.

Warnings: minors DNI, swearing, implied depression, implied eating disorder (the reader is going to be in recovery in this fic, if it gets graphic I will absolutely warn y’all. This is mostly therapeutic for me lol).

a/n: This fic was so fun to write!! I love grumpy Frank with all of my heart and I think he deserves to have someone teach him how to feel joy again. So this is my attempt at that. It is loosely based on the poem "A Myth of Devotion" by Louise Gluck at the beginning of the chapter (which is SO Frank!Coded imo, like absolutely fits his fears and self-deprecation) and the myth of Hades/Persephone.

Lastly, a HUGE thank you to @saradika for the beautiful free divider I used in this fic!

w/c: 5.4k (poem not included, this is 17 pages y’all)

When Hades decided he loved this girl he built for her a duplicate of earth, everything the same, down to the meadow, but with a bed added.

Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness

Gradually, he thought, he'd introduce the night, first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars.

Let Persephone get used to it slowly. In the end, he thought, she'd find it comforting. A replica of earth except there was love here.

Doesn't everyone want love? He waited many years, building a world, watching Persephone in the meadow. Persephone, a smeller, a taster. If you have one appetite, he thought, you have them all.

Doesn't everyone want to feel in the night the beloved body, compass, polestar, to hear the quiet breathing that says I am alive, that means also you are alive, because you hear me, you are here with me. And when one turns, the other turns—

That's what he felt, the lord of darkness, looking at the world he had constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind that there'd be no more smelling here, certainly no more eating.

Guilt? Terror? The fear of love? These things he couldn't imagine; no lover ever imagines them.

He dreams, he wonders what to call this place. First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden. In the end, he decides to name it Persephone's Girlhood.

A soft light rising above the level meadow, behind the bed. He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you're dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.

Tracing his fingers along the page, Frank reread the stanzas. He was not quite sure what kept drawing him back to this piece. He’d never been a fan of modern poetry, more drawn to the subtlety of the Victorian era. Yet every night this week, when his sweat-soaked body bolted upright with a gasping breath, he read through this piece while his heart rate slowed.

He has a blurry memory of the story from his childhood. Studying the Greek gods in school, reading excerpts of the Iliad or whatever. He has always been drawn to this specific myth, for whatever reason. Hades and Persephone, darkness and light. But he doesn’t remember it feeling so…corrupt.

The story he had learned was one of great romance: two unlikely lovers fighting against the odds, reshaping the earth to remain together. But the way Glück illustrates the story illuminated a more sinister interpretation. One night, in an insomnia-induced haze, he’d read page after page about the two gods, trying to find a definitive answer to the question that bounced around his mind. Did Hades ruin poor Persephone? Was their love itself ruinous?

Glück sure seemed to think so. Maybe that was what sparked his interest in the piece. The idea that love could tarnish something so pure—Frank sure had a fair share of experience with that.

With a hefty sigh, he closed the book, glancing at the clock. 4:05 am. Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, he weighed his options.

“Up for a jog, Max?” Frank murmured, looking to the canine who was curled up in his crate. The dog just snored. “Suit yourself, bud.”

Slipping into a pair of athletic shoes and a light sweatshirt to accompany his sweats, he stepped out the door and towards the stairs, almost colliding with a young woman frantically darting down the hall.

“So sorry. Have a nice day!” The figure whisper yelled at him as she ran past.

He takes a second to regain his bearings, before plastering on a scowl and heading off on his run.

The outing was refreshing to a degree, but his mind was still plagued with thoughts of his wife and the darkness that had consumed her, just as it had Persephone.

Curtis let his eyes follow the pacing form in front of him as he let out a sigh. Having been a friend of Frank’s for some time now, he wasn’t a stranger to moodiness or the other man’s incredibly fiery temper, yet Frank had been worse than usual lately. It seemed like the drop of a pin could set him off these days, and Curtis could practically see a cartoon storm cloud following him around with the way he’d been glowering lately. Curtis had hoped David would be able to shed some light on the cause of the behavior, but the technician was as clueless as him.

They (they is a term very loosely used, given that David was overtly opposed to the idea,) decided to ask Frank about it the next time he visited Curtis. So, here they both were, watching Frank stomp across the floor and waiting for him to explain himself. Finally, Frank turned to them.

“You gonna keep starin’ at me like I’m a goddamn explosive or are ya gonna ask me your fuckin questions so we can move on?” Frank’s growl made David flinch.

“Hey, easy there, big guy. This isn’t an interrogation.” David pleaded, trying to wipe off the coffee he had inadvertently spilled on himself.

“We’re here to help you, Frank. Same as always. Something’s been eating you away recently and we wanted to check in.” Curtis reasoned, looking between David and the marine.

“M’ fine.” Frank grunted, draining the rest of his own coffee and stalking over to the machine for a fresh pour.

David rolled his eyes, gesturing to Frank pointedly. “Told you he wouldn’t want to talk about it.”

Apparently this was not the right thing to say, because Frank stilled with the pot of coffee in his hands. “You two are talkin’ ‘bout me now? Am I entertainin’ enough for ya? Jesus.” He slammed his cup down, grabbing his jacket from the seat next to Curtis and heading for the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere else to mope?” Curtis asked with a raised brow, almost amused by how childish Frank was being.

“Anywhere but here would be nice. That way I’m not interrupting your fuckin’ drama club.” Frank snapped, twisting around to face Curtis. “You wanna make me your pet project? Fine. Keep doing it when I’m not fuckin’ here.”

“Frank, we weren’t—we were just worried about you, that’s all. You’ve been really…down lately and—“ David struggled to reason with the furious man.

“Oh, have I? So sorry to be such a goddamn stick in the mud, Lieberman. We all know life has been real nice to me so I should be more grateful, ‘s that it?.” Glaring at the pair of men before him, Frank threw on his jacket and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Curtis sighed, sipping his coffee and turning to David. “I should’ve known better than to think he would talk this out. He says he’s fine, we treat him like he’s fine. He’s a grown ass man who can work up the balls to ask us for help if he needs it.”

David barked a laugh. “We both know he won’t though.”

“Yah…you’re probably right about that.”

Frank was still fuming as he trudged through the city streets at sunset. His mood had been worse than usual lately, but his friends’ inquiry just made him feel guilty and stupid for not knowing why. Things hadn’t been too bad recently. The past few missions he’d taken on had gone smoothly—to the point where it had been over a month since Curtis had to help stitch him up, and that had to be a record. Not to mention, he’d stopped an international arms dealer last week while on his own job, putting him on Madani’s good side for the first time in his miserable life.

His fist clenched around Max’s leash, but the dog seemed entirely unbothered by his irritation. Happily trotting next to him, gazing up with adoration every once in a while.

Frank sighed as they reached the entrance to his building, stopping his brisk pace for a moment to give the dog a scratch. “I’m sorry I’ve been out so much, bub. We’ll do this more, promise.”

Max simply spun away from him, sniffing the air. Frank gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head at the dog’s ambivalence. The pair started up the stairs towards their floor, Max pulling harder than usual. When they reached the landing, Max froze as Frank headed for his front door. Stumbling backwards briefly, Frank tried to start moving again, but Max held firm—letting the leash grow stiff between them.

“Max. C’mon, bud. Le’s go.” The pit bull simply gave Frank a piercing look, before abruptly jerking backwards, wriggling his head.

“Max, what the hell, stop that!” Desperately, Frank tried to grab his dog, but Max was too quick. Within moments, he’d slipped free of his collar and taken off.

Frank sprinted after him, heart sinking as he realized Max was beelining for an open apartment door. The last thing he needed was a goddamn dog-induced injury suit.

Reaching the doorway, Frank saw Max sniffing around a young woman happily—the same woman who had almost run into him this morning. To Frank’s disbelief, she laughed. The sound was surprised, but bright and it pulled at his heart in a way he did not have time to unpack.

“Hey, big guy!” You held your hand out for Max to sniff, which he did enthusiastically. “You lost?”

Max gave you a few exuberant licks before sticking his nose back to the ground and snuffling around your kitchen, clearly looking for something.

Eventually, Frank unfroze from his stupor and spoke. “I am so sorry, ma’am. He’s never gotten loose like that before. Max, c’mere.”

Seemingly through with his rebellious phase, the dog sauntered up to Frank, tail wagging, before turning to allow Frank to reattach his collar.

Standing in front of Frank, you gave another beautiful laugh, beaming up at Frank from where you were standing before him. “That’s quite alright. I’m never opposed to a new friend. Besides, my kitchen is quite literally filled with dog treats at the moment, so I can’t exactly blame him for his actions. Still smiling, you pulled a tray of dog biscuits from the counter next to you, giggling as Max sat down expectantly.

“Can he have one? They’re chicken flavored, if that’s an issue.” You looked at Frank, questioningly. Still mortified by his dog’s outburst and quite honestly shocked that this gorgeous woman was still talking to him, he stammered. “Uh—yah, that’s. That’s fine.”

Your smile widened as you grasped a few treats. “Here, bubba.” Max snatched the treats from your hand, greedily gulping them down before moving closer to you and holding up a paw.

Laughing again, you set down the tray and crouched to shake his outstretched paw. “Well aren’t you a talented pup. What’s his name?” You turned to Frank, one hand scratching behind the dog’s ears.

“This is Max…And I’m Frank.” His vocal chords seemingly operating on their own, Frank cursed himself for the honesty. Why on earth did he feel compelled to give this woman his life story?

“Nice to meet you, Max!” You ruffled the fur on the pit’s head, chuckling as he kissed your arm. “And you as well, Frank. My name is-“ and your name tumbled off your lips. You held out a hand to him. Frank gave a small grimace of a smile, grasping your hand and repeating your name back to you. It was beautiful and more than suited you.

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am. I should, uh, we should go.” Frank said lamely, tugged on Max’s leash to exit your apartment.

Grinning at him still, you waved goodbye. “Have a nice night, Frank. Stop by anytime”

The next time he saw you, you were struggling to lug massive cardboard boxes into your apartment. It had been a few days since Max made your acquaintance and he’d been avoiding damn near everyone, which had only worsened his bad mood.

As he took a few steps towards his front door, trying incredibly hard to not stare at your beautiful figure in the low cut sundress you were wearing, a loud crash caught his attention.

“Shit!” You cursed, jumping back quickly to avoid smashing your foot underneath the box you’d dropped.

“You, uh, need a hand?” Frank grumbled, shuffling closer to you.

“Oh, hi Frank! Sorry I was so focused on this thing that I didn’t see you.” There was that beaming smile again. Frank shied away like it would burn him.

“Ain’t a problem. So…you want help?” He asked again, rubbing at his nape as he blushed. Why on earth would you want his help when he acted like he’d never met another human before?

“That would be amazing. This bed frame is way heavier than I was prepared for.” You kicked the box lightly, glaring at it.

Frank shifted it up into his arms with ease. “Where would you like it?”

“The room to your left please!” You chirped, pointing him in the room’s direction. “Thank you so much for your help.”

Frank set the heavy box down, turning back to you. “Looks like you needed it. You ain’t exactly dressed for lifting this.” Frank scoffed, before realizing in horror what he’d just said.

“You don’t like my dress?” Your voice was soft and you looked at him with round eyes. He cursed himself for being born. If the world was fair, no one would ever make you look like that. His darkness was all consuming.

“Oh, shit, I wasn’t thinking. I—“

You bit your lip, a sly grin spreading across your face. “I’m teasing you, Frank. I came right from work and didn’t have time to change. It’s a ridiculous outfit for building furniture. Please, sit! I have something for you.” You ushered him over to your couch.

Frank tilted his head ever so slightly, surprised that you weren’t immediately put off by his harsh demeanor and towering stature. After a moment of thought, he practically collapsed to the cushions, the exhaustion of the past few weeks crashing over him. He was acutely aware that he hadn’t been sleeping well, but he hadn’t realized the ache that had settled in his bones until now.

You retreated to your kitchen, pulling a tin of cookies out of your pantry and offering them to Frank. “As a thank you for your assistance: my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.”

Gently lifting the tin from your hand, Frank felt the corner of his mouth quirk down at the thought of mooching off of you when you’d just met. “It wasn’t any trouble. I don’t want to take your food.” He grumbled, eyeing the tin for a moment before you groaned.

“You’re killing me here, Frank. Indulge me, please!” Your eyes flickered between the tin and his grumpy face pointedly. He rolled his eyes, pulling a cookie from the box.

The cookie was truly one of the best things Frank had ever eaten. Soft and buttery with a sprinkle of salt on top. He finished the treat in three bites, licking his fingers before your giggling reminded him that he was being observed.

“So…are they sufficient payment?” A shit-eating grin appeared across your face and Frank felt his mood lift even further despite his brief embarrassment.

Popping his thumb out of his mouth, he felt himself flush. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You waved a hand, brushing aside his embarrassment. “Oh please, I’m just glad you liked it! Half the reason I bake for other people is for the compliments.”

“You deserve them. That was…a damn good cookie.” Frank rubbed a hand over the back of his neck but you seemed completely unphased by his stiff social skills. “What’s in that box?” He nodded to the opened one in front of your couch, snatching another cookie from the tin.

“Well, I moved in a few weeks ago and didn’t have the foresight to order my furniture in advance. So,” you spread your arms, gesturing to the myriad of tools and wooden pieces on your floor. “Tonight is night one of furnishing my apartment.”

“That seems…like a real chore.”

“Oh it is. But I’ve been sleeping on a mattress on my floor for three weeks, so I sort of need a bed frame. Like ASAP.” You narrowed your eyes at the box in the other room like it had bested you in a fight.

“Did ya, um, did ya want some help with…” Frank trailed off, gesturing to your inanimate foe.

“Oh gosh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I wouldn’t wish IKEA furniture on my worst enemy.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Ain’t a problem, if you’re ok with me snackin’ on those miracle cookies while I work.”

“Ok, one:” You began, holding out a finger. Frank bit a lip to keep from laughing. Bossy little thing, aren’t ya? “You can eat all of those cookies if you help me build that motherfucking thing.” A boisterous laugh burst out of Frank at your pretty mouth cursing so openly. “And two: you will be snacking on them while we work because I would actually be the devil if I made a sweetheart like you build the hellscape that is the ‘Songesand’ all on your own.”

“Trust me, I’m no sweetheart.”

You grinned at him. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart.”

Hours and an empty tin of cookies later, you were ready to call it quits.

“If this bolt doesn’t tighten all the way, I swear to God I am going to lose it.” You pouted dramatically, dropping the pieces you were attaching to the floor with a clatter.

Frank huffed a tiny laugh. “Lemme see.” Inspecting the piece, he unscrewed the bolt a tad and tightened it with ease. You groaned.

“I swear it was broken a second ago. Are you a witch or something?” You flopped to the ground with a sigh, looking up at him through thick lashes.

“Nah. Just good at building things, I s’pose.”

“Well, I really appreciate your help. Can I cook you dinner? As a thank you?”

“I don’t wanna overstay my welcome…” Busying himself with the furniture in front of him, he avoided your studious gaze.

“It’s not a big deal. And it would actually encourage me to eat today.”

Frank whirled to face you. “You haven’t eaten today?”

You shrugged, “Yah, I tend to get distracted.”

“That ain’t good for ya.” Frank sighed, trying to decide what the priority should be. “A’right. If it’ll make ya eat, ya can cook for me.”

You smiled, your eyes catching his with a soft gaze. “That’s so sweet of you.” And, with that, you bustled away to start dinner.

Throwing himself back into the task at hand, Frank had your bed frame assembled and was pulling your mattress onto it in no time. Brushing his hands together, he returned to the living room, tidying up the scraps of cardboard and styrofoam littering the ground.

“Frank, please sit down! You’ve just saved me hours of work, I can clean up.” You raised your voice so he could hear you from the kitchen.

“It’s no trouble.”

“Dinner’s ready anyway. Sit, please!” You encouraged, handing him a bowl of some delicious smelling pasta.

Eagerly digging in, Frank almost moaned at the first bite. “How are you so good at this?” He asked, stuffing another forkful into his mouth.

You giggled, “Culinary school, and years of practice.”

“Culinary school, huh?”

“Yah…” You laughed a little sadly, moving the pasta around in your bowl. “I’ve always liked cooking and I had this crazy dream of opening a bakery a while ago.”

Frank swallowed, forcing himself to continue the conversation even though he could feel himself blushing at his inability to talk like a normal fucking person. “You’re really good at it. What happened?”

Stiffening slightly next to him, you waved off the question. “Oh you know, killer capitalism and all that. But, I work in a cafe which means I get to bake to my heart's content without all the nitty gritty business stuff. Like taxes.” You made a face at the thought and Frank snorted.

Finishing his dinner, he noticed you studying him again. It had been a while since someone had shown such genuine interest and care towards him. His heart fluttered in a way he hadn’t felt in years, and it struck a nerve. Minuscule grin falling from his face, he stood abruptly.

“I gotta go.”

“Oh, ok.” He didn’t dare look at your face and risk seeing it fall.

Pacing to your doorway, he turned towards you marginally. “Thanks for the food.”

“Thank you for giving me a platform to sleep on tonight. You’ve saved my hips a world of pain.” Your smile was small but genuine. You seemed almost…hesitant. As he was about to tread down the hallway to his own place, you wrapped him in a sudden embrace. “Have a goodnight, Frank.”

His heart tugged, insisting that he return the embrace, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead, he squeezed your shoulder and quickly headed home.

After another night of restless sleep, he woke up in an even fouler mood than before. Yanking the door open on his way to work, he almost stomped over a package sitting on his doorstep. Given that it was just past 5 in the morning, he was a little suspicious of the bag at his feet. Gingerly picking it up, he turned it around and, despite himself, broke into a small smile.

The brown paper bag had a handwritten note, “Don’t be a stranger, Sweetheart” with your signature and phone number underneath. Stapled to the present itself was a brochure for one “Rainy Day Bakery”, complete with pictures of your smiling face surrounded by other employees. Feeling his shitty mood melt away, just a little, he opened the bag and found a short stack of fresh chocolate chip cookies. He sank back against his door, closing his eyes.

Screw it.

Twirling around the kitchen, softly singing the lyrics to the song playing overhead, you placed your tray of bread into the oven.

“God. You’re worse than usual today.” Your coworker, Stacy, groused, hefting a giant sack of flour up onto your prep table. You laughed at her, nudging her shoulder.

“It’s a great day, Stace! It’s beautiful outside and we’ve had steady business all morning. Plus, Janet is letting me try out some new flavors this week and I am stoked!” You squealed.

“How did I ever become friends with morning people,” She fake gagged and you smacked her.

“You love our exuberance, don’t lie.”

“Yah, yah. Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

“Did someone call for a morning person?” Your other primary coworker, Leo, entered the room with a dramatic spin.

“The only thing worse than one of you, is both of you. I’ll take the counter.” Stacy mumbled, stalking back out to the front of the store. You and Leo giggled after her, knowing she was hiding a smile.

“So, what’s on the docket for the rest of the day, princess?” Leo positioned themself at the stainless steel bench next to you, looking ready to take on whatever weird ideas you threw their way.

“I’m thinkin’ more classic cheesecakes, those did well last week. Then maybe lemon meringue bars or key lime minis? Something citrusy. Thoughts?” You tilted your head, awaiting their response.

“Let’s do the lemon pie shortbread bars. Those are always popular. You want to prep the dough, I’ll start juicing?”

“You read my mind.” Whipping out the ingredients, the two of you danced around each other in a practiced waltz. You’d been friends since culinary school and had pretty much been a package deal for every employer afterwards. You acted as a well oiled machine, and the cafe was booming because of it.

As you gently pressed large wads of shortbread into pans, Stacy poked her head back through the staff door, breaking your focus. “Someone’s here for you, princess.”

Scrunching your brow, you shouted over your shoulder. “I told her I didn’t have time to grab lunch this week.”

“It’s not your mom. It’s some guy. Says he’s your neighbor?”

Your hands stilled. “Yah, ok, I’m coming, Stace.” Scooting past Leo—and their eager, teasing grin—you gave them a pointed look. “Stop it.”

“He came to visit you. At work.” Leo singsonged.

“It might not even be him.”

Leo rolled their eyes back to the pot in front of them. “It’s him.”

Traipsing after Stacy into the customer portion of the cafe, your face broke out in a massive smile as you saw Frank at the register. His arms were crossed and he looked nervous, eyes shifting around, trying his best to avoid Stacy’s cold gaze.

“Hey, Frank! Welcome to Rainy Day! What can I get ya?” You placed your hands on your hips and looked at him with excited expectation.

“Coffee?” You giggled at his simple response which made his blush deepen. “I uh, shit, that sounded stupid. I don’t know…”

“It didn’t sound stupid, sweetheart. I was just thinking about how nice it is to not have to make a super complicated drink. Stace can you get me a large cup of the dark roast. I’m assuming hot and no cream or sugar?” You looked at Frank, waiting to see if your prediction was correct.

“Fuck, am I that obvious?” He groaned, his face beet red as he avoided your eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the simple things, Frank.”

Stacy passed over the drink. “2.50.” She stated with no emotion, feigning disinterest in the conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her giving Frank a subtle once-over.

Frank passed over a ten. “Keep the change.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet! Thank you,” your lopsided grin was a permanent fixture whenever he was present. It was going to be the death of him. He’d do anything to make you keep that smile.

“I—um, wanted to visit your cafe, since you asked me to, I mean—“

Your smile softened as his nervousness peaked. “I appreciate the visit, Frank. Come by anytime. Oh! Before you go, actually,” You fluttered off, daintily grabbing a pastry from the case to your left. You handed him a beautifully decorated confection, but your signature smile held a tinge of anxiety. You clearly cared about his opinion, he wasn’t really sure why.

“I, uh, didn’t order this.” Frank announced gruffly, holding the pastry in his hands as if it was trying to bite him.

Rolling your eyes, you laughed cheerfully, “I know, silly. You think I’m going to let you leave without breakfast?” Hands back on your hips, Frank felt a familiar warmth bloom as an almost imperceptible smirk flickered across his mouth. Bossy.

“Are you really chastising me for skipping a meal after what you said yesterday?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Do as I say, not as I do.” You shrugged, looking between him and the pastry. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Are you always this demanding?” Frank scoffed with a slight twinkle in his eyes.

“Yes.” Stacy and Leo called in unison, making you gasp in false betrayal.

“Fine, I’ll eat it myself.” You held out your hand to retract the pastry, but Frank drew it closer to himself.

“Never said I wouldn’t try it, Sunshine.” Your exaggerated pout nearly disappeared at the nickname. “Pretty sure you’ll pop your lid if I don’t.”

He took a bite of the pastry, savoring the incredible combination of flavors. “‘S real good, what is it?”

“Baklava inspired croissant. It’s something new I am trying and you strike me as someone who wouldn’t be satisfied by my whimsical ideas alone. You’re…honest, it’s nice.”

Taken aback, Frank hesitated before swallowing his mouthful. “I…uh—thanks.” His voice was soft. He wasn’t quite used to receiving compliments about anything other than his ability to end a life.

“Sorry if I was too pushy, a lot of the people who come in here are more concerned with their hipster image than truth. It’s nice to have someone who gives their actual opinion on my work, is all.” You bit your lip, eyes trained on his.

“I was just teasin’, Sunshine. You can boss me around whenever you want.”

You grinned. “I think I’ll take you up on that, Frankie.” You winked, making him chuckle.

“Oh, you’re a handful, aren’t ya?”

“No turning back, Frank. You’re my friend now. Ask my coworkers, I’m not easy to get rid of.” You batted your eyelashes at him and he shook his head, looking to Stacy and Leo behind you.

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” Stacy gave a tremendous sigh and Leo shoved her.

“Well, thanks. For the…coffee and stuff.” Frank ended with, lamely.

“I’m glad you liked the pastry! If you ever want to be my guinea pig, let me know. I’m pretty sure my friends are tired of me asking.” You chuckled, looking sheepishly at Leo and Stacy who gave dramatic nods.

“I’d uh…I’d like that.”

You beamed. “You’re a lifesaver, truly. Just text me if you’re ever up for trying things. You have my number now.”

“I do. I…uh, gotta run but…thanks again” Frank gave a curt nod to the three of you.

“Have a good day, sweetheart.” You waved him goodbye.

You were definitely going to be the death of him.

Your phone buzzed, startling you out of your post-work tv-induced trance.

Unknown: Hey. This is Frank. In case you need my number or whatever.

You: Hey Frank! Haven’t talked to you in forever 😉

Frank: Sorry to bother you

You: Don’t be silly. You could never bother me.

You: Are you hungry?

Frank: I guess? Why?

You: There’s a cute little Persian place that just opened a few blocks from here. I’ve been dying to try it but was too embarrassed to go alone. They allow dogs on the patio, if you and Max are interested?

Frank: Sounds good. Be over in a sec.

Your heart spun around in your chest. Dashing to your bathroom, you fiddled with your outfit and hair, reapplying makeup and adjusting your floral patterned dress. Catching your own eyes in the mirror, you scolded yourself. Frank wasn’t fully a stranger anymore, but you didn’t know much about him. He didn’t wear a wedding band, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t involved with someone. You were getting ahead of yourself. The knowledge that your efforts might be futile weren’t enough to make you wipe off your fresh coat of lipstick, though.

A knock at your door broke you out of your thoughts. Rushing to open it, you were spellbound. Frank had cleaned up, probably not for you personally, but your naive little heart couldn’t help but hope. His wavy hair was pushed away from his face and his beard had been trimmed. Wearing his signature dark jacket, he looked…marvelous.

Prying your jaw from the floor, you smiled at him. “You look really nice, Frank.”

“So do you, sunshine. Max was napping and refused to get up. Is it alright if it’s just us?”

“More than.” You grinned up at him sweetly.

“Lead the way, Sunshine.” His deep voice rumbled. You grabbed one of his large hands in both of yours (which definitely did not make him blush) dragging him to the stairs.

Frank knew he was treading a dangerous line. This was the 4th time in a week he’d seen you, but he couldn’t get enough. Your smile was intoxicating and your bubbly yet demanding personality was goddamn enchanting. For fuck’s sake, his hand that you had held still burned with warmth and he never wanted it to fade. He knew his darkness could ruin you, but he was defenseless to your lilting voice and endless optimism.

Which is how he found himself across from you in a quaint little spot a few blocks from your building. Strings of colorful lights spanned the perimeter. Apparently you knew one of the chefs because the kitchen had prepared a tasting menu of sorts for the two of you, and Frank was not above reaping the benefits of what you’d sown.

Dish after amazing dish was placed in front of the two of you and Frank was putting them away, you were eating less but seemed to be enjoying everything just the same. As you both moaned around a bite of a sort of lamb stew, your eyes twinkled.

“So, Frank, how was your day?” The question was eager and genuine. He was still taken aback by your desire to know him, to care about him.

“Fine. Yours?”

“My day was lovely! I made a couple of my favorite recipes and had a handsome visitor at the cafe. Now I’m having a fantastic meal. I’m a lucky gal.” Eyes still sparkling, they scrunched as you smiled.

“A handsome visitor, huh?”

“Oh you’d like him. He’s all tough and brooding, but I just know there’s a good man underneath all of that.”

“Ya just know, huh? What’s hiding underneath all that happiness of yours then, sunshine?”

“An overwhelming sense of curiosity.” You smirked at him. Your flirty tone traveled straight down in his being. Giving a breathy laugh, he deflected.

“How are you so…peppy all the time?” At his question, your seductive gaze faded to a much more solemn one.

“I don’t know, I guess it just became a habit… My, uh, my dad died. When I was young. My mom didn’t handle it well. So, it started as a defense mechanism? I suppose? But now…now it’s just who I am.” You averted your eyes, picking at the dish in front of you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer.” You forced a small laugh.

“Hey,” Frank’s firm yet gentle tone forced you to look at him once again. “You’re not a downer. Anything ya wanna tell me, I’ll listen, yah?”

You nodded, smile coming back to the edges of your lips. “Thanks, Frankie.”

“Can I ask you another question?” When you nodded, he continued. “Do you put, like, crack in those cookies of yours? I swear you gave me an addiction, sunshine.”

A laugh escaped you and his heart soared. There’s my girl.

Taglist: @cheshirecat484

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #frank castle angst #the punisher netflix #the punisher x reader #the punisher #the punisher imagine #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #fc #my writing #gray skies

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nominzn · 1 year ago

Text

Try Hard III

punk bassist!jeno x reader genre: fluff wc: 1.7k part I & II a/n: can't believe this baby has come to an end. I had so much fun writing it. honestly, I didn't expect getting any attention, so thanks a million if you've read it and interacted in any way. once again, this is some mindblowing fluff. enjoy <33

Immediately after the boys left the stage, you handed the camera to Chenle. Finding your way backstage was easy, but you couldn't say the same about finding Jeno. Even following the unmistakable noises from the band, you only found three of them. Then, a few doors were opened and... he wasn't in the rooms.

Giving it one last shot, you ran to the back exit, finding him in the dark alley the door led you to.

"Found you." Winded, you let out a gasp. He chuckled fondly. "Heard somewhere you wanted to tell me something?"

"You did? Where?" Jeno joked, hoping to God he would relax a bit. After coming down from the performance high, he panicked slightly. So he hid, knowing you'd look for him. It'd give him sometime. You were quicker than his guts, though.

"Just... at the coolest concert I've just watched." A grin plastered your face.

The atmosphere was tense, awkward. The expectations racing faster than words made the hands tremble, the glances focus anywhere else but each other's eyes.

Enough is enough, fuck it.

"I like you." He blurted out. "Have. For a long time." It was like his shoulders were free from months of tension. His steps towards you felt right, so he kept going until you had no option but look at him. His arm supported by the wall behind you, his free hand took yours delicately. Small waves of electricity hit your cheeks, your belly, your knees.

The dim lit space made it easier to connecting your orbs to his. They were sweet, loving and God, were they beautiful. The sight of his features upclose so fluttering.

"I have, too." Your fingertips played with his, but it wasn't enough. You touched the arm supporting him. The alcohol rushing through your veins offered you some help. "I want to take you out."

"Like on a date?" He asked, feigning confusion to make you giggle. Jeno could hide his erratic heartbeat, but not the scarlet tint on his cheeks. "And where will you take me?"

The small jewelry hanging on his bottom lip spoke to you very clearly, and his skin under your digits was tingling. You lightly connected your lips for a brief minute. The urge won over your reason.

"I'll let you wonder." Pecking his lips once more, you left the alley. The feeling lingered right there as you found your friends again, not allowing to think it was just a dream.

Louise and you arrived at Renjun's party together after you'd spent the day together. You hadn't been much for parties lately, but you must admit your friend really helped you get hyped while you got ready together.

As soon as the girl stepped into the room, Renjun took her away from you. She apologized a few times, but you couldn't get mad when they had those lovey dovey eyes. Left alone, the first thing you did was scan the room looking for your best friends.

"He is upstairs, weirdo." Jisung's voice startled you, and you almost punched him. "I'm a bad bitch, you can't kill me."

"Nobody gets vine references anymore, Jisung. Let go." Chenle reprimanded, offering you some of his beer.

"Well, I do." Jisung looked at you significantly. "We do, right?"

"Yeah, totally." You answered sarcastically and sipped from Chenle's cup. Jisung sighed in betrayal.

"She does get it. She only wants to be nice to you."

"Jealous much?" You eyed the tallest. He mumbled the cutest 'whatever'. "I'll look for Jeno and meet you here later?" Chenle forced a laugh and you frowned.

"I doubt we'll see you again tonight." He said, tapping your shoulder to let you know it was just a joke. "Go get him!"

You had never felt more like a little girl than at that moment, when you found Jeno by the pool gazing at the stars with a drink in his hand. The view was so mesmerizing you wanted to tattoo it in your memories.

"Hey..." You approached Jeno carefully so as not to alarm him. "Are the stars so much better than the party downstairs?" Rhetorical question. You knew for a fact the boy wasn't a crowd person, apart from concerts.

"I have the best view now." He said as you were sitting down beside him. He heard you snorting and thought of how much time he'd lost by letting his insecurities get the best of him.

"Is that the best you got?" You asked, trying to play it off. It felt like you unlocked the dork inside him last time.

"Ouch." His hand flew to his chest, but shortly after, his eyesmile was seen.

His grin was so pretty, and once again you couldn't help being drawn to his labret. It made you weak. It wasn't until he touched it with his tongue that you noticed he had caught you red handed. Jeno shortened the distance between you a bit, allowing you to feel his breathing intertwining with yours. He licked his bottom lip slowly this time, just to watch your reaction.

"Don't try me." Your voice came out in a whisper. His eyes became little crescents again, as his face got even closer.

"Or what?"

Just like that, you kissed him for real. As slowly as you could, you captured his lips in yours repeatedly. While touching his tongue ignited you, he melted in your hands stroking his nape and shoulders.

"Gotta be careful." You teased his piercing this time, not wanting to hurt him.

"Don't be." He murmured before kissing you again. And again. And once more.

As much as you didn't want to give Chenle the victory, he was right. You didn't see your friends again that night.

After promising you'd never hear the end of this, Jaemin actually gave you some nice suggestions for a date with the bassist over text.

jaemin: just take him on brunch date lol jaemin: he loves it finds it romantic and shit jaemin: he's been blushing non-stop since you sucked face you: will do you: u mad he got bitches ((only 1

While waiting for you, Jeno admired the sun kissing sidewalks and cars outside the cafeteria you had chosen. His feet tapped the floor, his fingers played with the seat, he glanced at the door for what seemed like a thousand times.

It went without saying he was nervous. And yet, it was the very first time he looked forward to a date. He couldn't put a finger on whether it was only because of you, or also for the fact he hadn't been the one in charge of it. He really felt the pressure off his shoulders this time, and honestly he enjoyed taking steps after you.

"Have you waited long?"

"No, not actually." He broke his trance, smiling widely at you. "I already ordered, though. Hope you don't mind. They have this thing here... chef's kiss."

"It's fine!" You said, laughing at his hand gesture following his words. "Let's see if you have good taste."

"Of course I do. I like you." Bold of him. But when he saw he could make you chuckle as easily as that, he got a huge wave of confidence.

"JENO LEE!" You played around, watching him shrug. But then, he reached for your hands over the table and you blushed even more.

In fact, Jeno had taste. His order was delicious. You wouldn't forget the expression on his face when you first tried it, the smug smile and the small claps. He was proud of himself.

You talked for what seemed to be only a minute, but you shared so much. He made your ribs hurt over the simplest jokes. As a matter of fact, you had so much in common – music, series, fashion, hobbies. Every new discovery made you wish you'd been closer before.

"Wanna go for a walk? We could check this exhibit near here..." You didn't even finish your sentence and he grabbed your hand to leave.

"What kind of exhibit is it?" He questioned and you just smiled, hurrying through the streets.

"I promise it's gonna be worth it."

Jeno seemed fascinated by the immersive experience. He was never one to look into Art, however, each painting seemed to be tangled with your bodies and it was so different. Good different.

Enchanted, he watched you jog to your favorite composition. The canvases were splashed all over the walls, and the brushstrokes gained life as the aroma of water lilies and lavender wafted in the air.

He didn't fight back the urge to take pictures of you, whom was covered with Claude Monet's colors. When you found him again, he registered your precious smile in his phone.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Your eyes never stopped exploring the place. "Let me see your pics."

"They're nothing compared to real life." He chuckled, showing you the last picture of you, giggling like a child. "You'll have to teach me some photography, though." He said, seeing the blurry memories. "Good thing you're so beautiful."

"The rumors about bassists are true, then..." He gazed at you tenderly. "They're the flirty heartbreakers of a band."

"I won't break your heart."

Why resisting to kiss you when you already knew he was so into you? That crossed his mind before he swiftly took your lips in his again. It all happened so fast, but he couldn't bring himself to say he disliked it. Both of you had been holding back for so long, it was only right that you made the most of your precious time together.

Jeno desired to let you know how much of a fool he was becoming for you, so he poured his everything into the kiss. He hugged you tight just as your own hands carressed his back for support. He pecked your lips several times, smiling with those cherry lips you were learning to love. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, just as he would from that day on.

Slowly you got used to being Jeno's. Whenever he confided his sweet, sweet words to you, he knew your heart was his as much as his was yours only. Whenever you held his hands to play with his calloused fingers, or whenever you smooched his whole face in the middle of campus, shamelessly telling him how cute he was, or even when you roamed around sharing earphones, holding hands... You both knew you were safe. You'd never have to try so hard again.

#nct fic #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fic #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct timestamps #nct dream timestamps #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno scenarios #jeno fanfic #jeno fic #nct dream college au #nct college au

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rapha-reads · 7 months ago

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Things from Interview With The Vampire s02e04 (ep11) I noticed:

[Edit 1: Actually this turned into a live-commenting, sorry]

[Edit 2: Keep in mind, I haven't read the books, so all of these observations are born from the show itself and the few (lots of) spoilers and narrative plot points I've gleaned here and there.]

Both Claudia and Louis are so bored with the coven. Or maybe bored isn't the word, but... Done? Frustrated and annoyed? Restless? Louis because he never intended to join and so cares not all for all their internal affairs. Claudia because she thought she'd finally have the life she wanted and instead is being forced to relive the tragedy of her life day after day.

And Armand rejoices in drawing them further apart, scolding and punishing Claudia while begging scraps from Louis.

And he's soooo jealous. The face he makes when Louis starts explaining what Dreamstat feels like is priceless.

Also, personal theory: either Louis is indeed suffering psychotic breaks after psychotic breaks, or just manifesting his own version of Lestat because he doesn't want to let go. Or Lestat can astral project and has been stalking Louis from the moment they left New Orleans.

The coven is tearing itself apart. And normally I'd add "and Armand isn't even seeing it/taking it seriously yet" but given that the whole of them are unreliable narrators and that Armand is a shady ass bitch whose only agenda is himself, I'd say he's well aware and purposefully making it worse.

I can't make sense of Santiago yet, though. Is he jealous? Ambitious? Is he fond of Claudia? Does he hate her? He definitely hates Louis, but is it just jealousy or real antipathy? Oh, but Louis is still my precious special kitten and that speech about Paris, art and modernity, as a contemporary culture student, made me vibrate a little out of my chair, and Santiago clowning him makes me want to claw his face. We get it, you hate him and you think he's pretentious, now can you shut up and let us talk a bit more about the art scene in Paris post-WW2 and why Louis is absolutely right, Picasso isn't all that impressive in the end? Thanks. Bacon tho, Bacon is interesting. My contemporary art teacher last year was excruciatingly boring, but he had a boner for both Louise Bourgeois and Bacon and we spent several hours on them (and not nearly enough about Mapplethorne, alas). Anyway. I feel ya, Lou. I have been called pretentious too for simply getting excited about art, culture and folkore.

I'm rooting for Louis and Claudia to kill them all off and run away to Italy. I know it won't happen, but one can dream, eh.

Is Armand messing up with both Daniel by getting into his mind and Louis by switching the photos? Interesting. Two people who have a shitton of issues stuck with a sadistic, insecure and bitter control freak who's been pulling the threads since way before anyone realises. And Louis is so lost in his trauma and grief and anger, he trusts Armand and doesn't see what's happening and been happening to him for 70 years, while Daniel is just a sad, sick old man who thinks he knows his life and what his future entails. Armand is definitely having fun.

"Je n'aime pas fenêtre quand fermée" is NOT FRENCH, MY EARS. I will be picky, I don't care for artistic licence. Correct sentence would be "je n'aime pas les fenêtres quand elles sont fermées". Admittedly, if it goes into a song, you'd have to respect the length of the line and all those musical measures. But still. You could shorten the numbers of syllables by dropping the language register: "j'aime pas les f'nêtres quand elles sont fermées" ; from 12 or 13 to 9, the original line being 8 or 9. Depending on whether you say "je-n'ai-me-pas" or "je-n'aim-pas" and "fe-nê-tres" or "fe-nêtres". Anyway. I'm sure the writers had those discussions (I hope; hey, AMC, hire me, I'm a good proofreader and I speak 5 languages).

Me: oh, Louis isn't even bothering now, he's directly talking to... Wait, is Lestat eating that photo? If it's Dreamstat: the hell is going on in your head, Louis? If it's Astral Lestat: that is certainly a choice, my friend.

"Barely Balthasar", LMAO, Lestat I fucking love you. Poor Balthasar always gets forgotten in adaptations. Nope, we're not here to talk R&J, moving on.

Armand: "this is my tragic backstory. Feel pity for me. I'm the good guy." Me: yeaaah, how much of this is actually real? And, uh, no, like Lestat said: ha! You're a storyteller and a conman, Armand. You weave your story to pluck at the heart's threads of your audience, modulating it to their sensibilities to better serve your own interests and your plans. What are those interests, these plans? Hell if I know. But I absolutely do not trust you at all.

HANDS OFF CLAUDIA OR I'LL BITE

"The wilderness that is our daughter" have I said lately how much I love Lestat.

Oh, hello, the Loustat scene on the bench just broke my heart, which is funny if you consider that that's just Louis breaking up with himself. Also, do we consider Louis knew about the initials in the pocket, and Dreamstat is saying what Louis wants him to say, or is it another unreliable narrator Louis, or is it Lestat himself...?

Aw, going from the Loumand scene on the bench to "toxic gay divorce with body count" sure is a tonal shift. Lmao. You're losing your touch, Armand. Louis' awakening. Daniel's awakening... San Francisco next, that will be fun. Excited to see how they've changed that part, knowing it's the red thread of the first book.

...

Oooh, that got long. Apologies. I really need to sit and read those books.

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be-my-ally · 1 year ago

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Splashing Around

for the prompt "Quit splashin' me.”

can you tell i’m that annoying girl wanting to play mermaids in every pool?

Now, this is pretty much my first foray into writing early Elvis... it's very much a little fic with no background that is part of a larger story that is growing every day in my head, and also in my computer. It's also my first ever OC ever so please, bear with me with it + my suddenly terrible dialogue.

Silly as it might sound about an Elvis fanfiction, thank u to @whositmcwhatsit and @thatbanditqueen for cheerleading me to try the different style. and also, ofc, @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love

wc: 3k

This is sweet and fluffy and boring but! I have another fic Wet Bikini which is, uhhh, just pure smut, with a similar 'fun in the pool' premise which I've linked in case anyone is missing the smutty sexy fun times.

c. July 16th 1957.

It’s surprisingly early when the phone rings, Louise’s parents having only just left for work, and she rushes to pick it up - hoping it would be the call she was waiting for.

“Hey little Lou-Lou,” The familiar voice rings out, perfectly confident that it would be Louise who answered.

“Hi, Elvis is that you?” She asked excitedly, perhaps a little stupidly she thought after, no-one else would call her little Lou-Lou.

“Who else is callin’ you up?” She giggles in response and can hear the smile in his voice as he continues, “I’m at home darlin’, but I’m all alone - and it’s so hot today, and I was just thinkin’ how maybe a ride on the Harley would cool me down,” he pauses while she takes a sharp breath in, was he - was he about to ask her to go for a ride? “And I was thinkin’ maybe you’d like to come with me?”

“Oh yes, yes - of course!” She takes a second to collect herself, “That sounds like fun, yes Elvis, absolutely!”

“Pack a swimsuit, hon, you’ll need it when we get back - I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“Ok - I’ll meet you outside.” She’s aiming for nonchalant but she thinks it might just be coming across breathless.

“Alright darlin’ I’ll see you later - bye now.” He hangs up and Louise stands there for a moment, still clutching the receiver as she does an excited little hop in place. She hurriedly puts the phone back on the cradle and runs back up the stairs to her room - rushing to get herself ready.

As she’s brushing out her curls, styling them as tightly as possible in preparation for the wind on the motorcycle - she’ll wear a scarf she decides, she considers if she should call any of the other girls. On the one hand, she already felt a little guilty, as if she was stealing him from under their noses, and she didn’t know of anyone else who had been picked out for a totally private date from the group. On the other, she somewhat selfishly wanted to be the only one who knew he’d asked just her. Besides, she thought to herself, it’ll only be for however long they were on the motorcycle for - by the time they get back to Graceland he’ll be surrounded by all the guys and girls.

An hour and a half later and Louise can hear, out of her bedroom window, the unusual sound in their quiet dull suburb of the roar of the motorcycle. She hurries outside where he's waiting, assessing him for a second; He’s not really dressed for the occasion, a light jacket over top of what is clearly a sleeveless vest, and soft white trousers, silly little cap atop his head. But he is dressed for the weather, and as always, he looks good. He pats the seat behind him.

“Hop on then darlin’,” She doesn't have to be told twice, immediately clambering on behind him. She comfortably wraps her arms around Elvis, glad that this wasn’t the first time she was going for a ride.

“Where are we heading E?” She takes the chance before he starts the engine properly to talk to him.

“I don’t know baby - just around.” He pauses, “We won’t go far but isn’t it just nice to be out? Nice to spend the day with one of my favourite girls,” She grins against his back, thrilled to be given such a title. A second later Elvis is kicking the bike into action and tearing off down the street.

It was a pretty drive as he somehow, amongst all his other skills seemed to have a knack for picking the best and least busy routes. Louise was enjoying herself, the scenery was pretty, Elvis felt solid and sturdy, and the breeze was helping to cool her down. Although, the burning engine underneath their legs, and the heat of the sun from above rapidly made it less effective. He pants a little jokingly when he pulls off the quiet country road a little way out of the city.

“I don’t think this is working out huh?” She shakes her head against his back,

“It’s too humid for it to help I think, it feels like I’m suffocating out here.” She can tell he’s suffering too, his shirt sticking to his back - damp patches clearly evident and hair curling on the nape of his neck. She’d been concerned at first - weren’t they meant to be wearing leather? Or helmets? Or something? But as the day warmed up even the thought of an extra layer, or of heavy plastic and metal on her head, was terrible.

“Hang on then, hon, I’ll get us home.” He barely gives her enough time to regain her hold before he’s zipping off and away. His desire to just be home right now making him drive even faster than before, although from the way he lets out a little whoop every now and again he must also be enjoying the additional speed.

Louise on the other hand, was terrified, he had to be going close to a 100mph and she could feel it in the way the air was whipping past them and in the way his turns were getting wider and wider on the corners. “Slow down El! You’re scarin’ me!” She shouts at his ear, he laughs, but nonetheless the speedometer (if she could see it) indicated he was slowing, albeit not by a lot. It’s under ten minutes before they’re zipping up to the newly-installed gates of Graceland. They’re waved through quickly, and Elvis doesn’t so much as park as much as he simply kills the engine just inside the carport.

Louise climbs off the bike shakily, Elvis holding out a hand to help her balance.

“You weren’t really scared were ya Lou?”

“No, no, course not!” She shrugs her shoulders back, shaking off the last of the fear and undoing the headscarf from under her chin, pulling it down her shoulders. She can feel her hair stuck to the back of her neck from the sweat - probably formed by both the heat and the terror.

“Good.” He steps towards her, fiddling with a now loose lock of hair, “Promised I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt ya didn’t I?” She nods back at him, almost shyly, as he tucks the wave back, resting his palm on her shoulder briefly before patting it and moving away.

“It’s so hot out here, must be almost a hundred degrees today!” He wipes at his brow, over-exaggeratedly flicking it as if wiping away dripping sweat. Louise gives it the appropriately polite giggle, “The pool’s ready for action though, had them fix it up before we moved in.” He seems to forget she was in it only last week, “It’ll be nice to get in that water!” She nods in agreement,

“Oh yeah! Is -“ She stops herself from asking who else was invited, that’s no-ones business but his. From where they’ve stopped in the carport she can’t see anyone else’s car but, as she well knows, that doesn’t mean there isn’t people in the house. He doesn’t notice, instead gripping her hand and pulling her with him into the house. He rushes them up the stairs once they’re in,

“C’mon you can get changed in the dressing room!”

——

It’s hot and humid as hell and Louise is sure her hair’s already been wrecked by both the weather and the motorcycle ride, but still - she’d spent hours on it the night before, and taken such care to keep it looking as good as possible despite the conditions that as much as sinking into the cool water of the pool sounded like bliss - she was determined to keep her hair dry.

So, she sits demurely on the edge of the pool, her legs dipped in, splashing her feet about and feeling her skin start to tan as she leans back while watching Elvis play and dive around. She’s been here before a few times, in the past couple of weeks since Elvis returned and moved in, with the others but never by herself - and while they typically spent much of their time watching him, gushing and gossiping, it felt far more intimate to be the only one around. The only one today to titter at his tight little black trunks, or the way that he still hasn’t learnt to remember to take his watch off until he’s already in the water. She smiles down at his grinning face when he swims a bit closer.

“You having fun, E?” He nods, brushing his hair back off his forehead and looking shyly back down at the water,

“Uh-huh, you gonna watch me dive?” She nods, happy to be his adoring audience for as long as he wants, until that is, his enthusiastic diving down causes a splash. He comes bobbing back up, a mischievous look at the sound of her shriek, intentionally moving closer and causing a wave to rise up and knock against her knees. “See if I can get the whole way across on my belly!” She laughs at his boyish behaviour, shaking her head fondly as he forces his body under the water. When he surfaces again he comes up with a splash that carries up and over onto her lap, the spray catching her chest.

“El- Stop it! You’re gonna get my hair wet! Quit splashin’ me!” He frowns, swimming closer to where she’s still sat, resting his elbows on the edge of the pool on either side of her legs.

“Awh doll, ain’t no fun just watching me!” She nods as if to say actually yes it is, but he ignores her, “No-one around here but us, c’mon honey, come and have a splash around,” She shakes her head, protesting,

“It took me hours - and I have a busy d-“ Elvis interrupts, imploring her to join him,

“Oh c’mon - I’ll, I’ll help dry ya hair if it gets wet!” She looks down at him, considering it for a moment, but before she knows it his hands are sliding up under her thighs where she was sat. He digs his fingers in as he tries to wedge them under and around her legs, and she giggles in response - somehow he was getting her exactly where she was most ticklish just above and behind her knees - and she thrashes around a little, but is trapped by his hands and the pool.

“No Elvis! You stop that rig-ight now - oh stop it!” She manages to get out between bouts of shrieking laughter, “You’re gonna make me - you’re gonna make me pee myself! Or, or,” He doesn’t stop but instead he seems to dance his fingers around even more at the threat, laughing himself, “or, or make me fall -“ He grins in sheer delight, tickling her once more before gripping her thighs tightly and tugging. She falls in with a splash, clutching at his arms and wet, soft, chest. She comes bobbing back up to him, gasping a little at the shock of the submersion.

“Oh for goodness’ sake Elvis. It’s gonna take me hours to reset this; I’ll charge you the bill from the salon.” She sounds exasperated but she is, nonetheless, smiling. He just looks back at her, blinking, cheeks swollen like a chipmunk. “Don’t you dare - don’t even thi-“ The water shoots out his mouth, arcing up into the air before splashing down between them, his cheeks deflating as she squeals, backing away from the spray. He laughs joyously - boyishly, the kind of irrepressible giggle small boys seem to have while chasing someone - gripping her to him and pulling her close.

“You wanna be my little bitty baby dolphin?” He offers her his back, “Wrap your arms round my neck and climb on.” She sighs a little resignedly but still enthusiastically clambers around to wrap her legs around his middle, the water’s natural buoyancy helping her to stay up, holding onto his neck and shoulders. “Go on then, hold tight!” She nods, tucking her head into his back,

“I’m ready!” He dives under the water, travelling for as far as he could with one breath before bopping back up just long enough to take a deep breath in and diving back under. As childish as Louise would find it to admit or confide to anyone else, she does close her eyes, pretending to be a little dolphin on the back of it’s mother, feeling the way the water seems to stream past in a way distinct from if she herself was doing the swimming. They come back up for the second time, this time to the sound of her gentle, giggling, breathless laughter matched to his own.

Elvis turns her in his arms, pulling her around to be facing him but keeps a hand on her thigh, holding her legs still hiked around his waist. His other wrapping around her middle, to rest his palm on her back. She leans into his hold, her arms still wrapped around his neck holding him close, their faces practically touching. She takes a moment to examines his face. It’s funny, in some ways you’d have expected that by her frequent proximity she would have gotten over her tummy flipping every time she noticed something tiny, like the start of a pimple on his jaw, or the way his pores lay on his nose and yet still she feels almost giddy with being this close.

“You wanna…” She’s sure he’s about to say kiss, and her eyes fall closed in permission, but before she knows it he’s pushing her to the side, “wanna race?” By the time she’s even registered what he’s said she’s a second behind, and he’s already swimming ahead. Louise rushes forward, grabbing his ankle and tugging him back,

“Hey! Where d’ya think you’re going! You’re such a little cheat!” He laughs as he goes with his foot, hopping back to end up close to her again. He shakes his head, vehemently denying her accusation,

“No - No! I was just gettin’ into position! Gonna go from this end to that end.” He points down at the curve of the pool. She drops his ankle,

“Hmm, well, if you say so…. So from here then?” She swims to the spot indicated and he joins her, agreeing. She nods at him as she gets into position, “You can call it.”

“Ok.” He takes a moment to get himself ready before calling, “Ok, on your marks! Get set! Go!” He shoots off from the wall, Louise trailing behind for a second before catching up to him pretty closely. She could see, as she hit the wall on the other end, him coming towards her but she was pretty certain it had been a tie. He’s doing a victory pose, arms up, his tummy out, fake crowd noises coming from his mouth, “I won!” She shakes her head at his bragging,

“Nu-uh! I totally won!” Elvis turns, hair flicking back,

“No, darlin’.” She goes to protest again but he steps closer, backing her against the wall of the pool, his tone lowering - crooning, “No, I’m pret-ty sure I won and, that means I get a prize.” Louise has no desire to do anything but agree, his arms crossing behind her, his wide palms spanning across the small of her back. She leans forward, it’s not like they haven’t kissed before, but it had always been a brief thank you, or a stolen moment - and her tummy is suddenly aflutter with butterflies at the knowledge they were by themselves, in no rush nor with any other eyes on them,

“What do you want for your prize?” He looks at her, eyes bright with the fun of the games and the anticipation of what was to come He just shrugs, waiting for her suggestion. She bites her lip, looking sideways for a second, trying for bashful but perhaps just coming across a little shy. “Hmmm, how about a kiss?” His eyes crinkle as he smiles fondly at her, almost as though he found her offer of a prize endearing. Louise blushes, immediately, as soon as she meets his eyes after saying it and for a brief moment panics that he might refuse.

“Oh, I think that’s exactly what I deserve.” She pulls him closer, arms winding around his neck again, and her legs coming up to wrap around his waist as he stumbles forward to support her back against the pool wall. Their lips meet and she can’t seem to stop herself from gasping a little at the contact, at the feel of his full lips catching hers between them and the distinct taste of the chlorinated water still clinging to his lips. She tries to act casual, like she’s unbothered by the way the privacy of the moment feels like a revelation or in the way he catches her lip in his teeth causing a warmth to spread from her hips and stomach.

He brings a hand up to cup her face, thumb lightly brushing her face, but as he tries to brush it down further to her neck it gets stuck - his pinky ring snagging on her now limp wet strands of hair. For some reason even after getting himself untangled the heavy atmosphere remained and she arched her chest into him, mouth opening as he pressed his lips back against hers. It feels like pure sparks crackling in the air when they pull apart, the air seemingly thrumming with it. It only takes a second, however, for them both to realise it wasn't just in reaction to their kiss, as a sudden crack of thunder and accompanying downpour explains the atmospheric change - humidity suddenly breaking.

“C’mon!” Elvis grabs Louise’s hand and pulls her around to the steps of the pool, pushing her up them before climbing out himself. He bundles up their towels, grabbing her hand and dashing for cover.

They both end up in the kitchen, dripping everywhere, and tripping over themselves, laughing as hard as they can as lightning cracks overhead.

#writing prompt game #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis presley x oc #elvis fluff #1950s elvis #elvis smut #be-my-ally #50s elvis #elvis imagine

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mercurygray · 1 month ago

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Hi Merc! May I request “grey sky” and “memories” for resistance!Joan in the BoB MotA crossover please? Thank you 💕 — @floydmtalbert

I had a little too much fun with this. Thanks for letting me borrow Lou - I hope I did okay! Paris, early 1944, Atelier de Warrenne.

The street outside was quiet, for a Friday.

Joan looked out the window of her office, arms crossed over her chest, and considered the view outside, gray cobbles under gray skies. There'd been a time once when it would have been hard to see the cobblestones - but a lot had changed in four years, and if the empty streets were only the smallest change, it also seemed like the most ominous. The question of where they had gone would not have a happy answer.

She shivered and considered reaching for another sweater, or one of her furs. It was always cold up here now, with fuel rationed, but somehow putting on another layer felt like an admission of defeat. And she was not defeated yet - not by a long chalk, even if the streets were empty and her clients were all speaking in raptures of Berlin. It was not over, and too much depended on that. Downstairs in her salon an officer was helping himself to champagne while he waited for her to emerge so he might ply her with compliments and take her to dinner. Upstairs in her attic another officer was waiting with baited breath until the man downstairs left, and it was rather tenuous whether he would get dinner at all, and that was what was going to make all of this worth it.

It was hard to remember the woman she'd been four years ago - was she still the same now, as she had been then, even after so much change? Some days she didn't feel like it. And yet the sign on the outside of the building was still the same, the labels in her dresses still the same script and scroll, the suggestion of an oriflamme. Maison de Warrenne.

Not quite French enough for the French, not quite American enough for the Americans, and altogether too much of everything for the Germans - except Hauptmann Havermeyer, who like so many of his colleagues wanted a special souvenir from Paris. She would be quite a prize - her uncle the general, her society connections, the strength of her name and her designs. One more beautiful thing to carry back to Germany - assuming that she was deemed worthy of the honor, of course, when all this was over. Perhaps she'd only be the pleasure of a moment. Both possibilities were within consideration, and she didn't have any stars in her eyes about it - unlike some of her cutters and seamstresses, who'd gotten a little heady in those early days over gray uniforms and promises of chocolate. One of the gossip sheets being circulated by the increasingly underground press had written scathingly that this Joan would not be coming to save France, and after six months of being ferried around in his handsome black Mercedes someone had slashed collaborateur in black paint across the doors of her apartment.

Joan's smile brightened a little, thinking about that. Louise and her little English friend had done a good job with that - the right amount of rushed vitriol, letters smashed together in haste, the abandoned paintbrush, like they'd been forced to flee. The silent judgement of her neighbors was worth something, where her reputation was concerned. And Kurt had been so solicitous after that, fretting over her like she'd been wounded, and not the paintwork- did she need guards, better shutters, a watchman?

No one needed to know that it had been carefully planned - the long-ago meetings with her shop steward and her sewing room mistress and one of the chief operators of the Deuxieme Bureau. I am a target of interest - and too high up to simply disappear. They want me for the propaganda value of it - the woman who once dressed as Marianne for her uncle's victory parade. Make me one of your villains, and I'll give you every scrap I can. I have trucks, drivers, warehouses, contacts. We can move things, move people. There will be too many bodies coming in and out of the studio to make an exhaustive study.

And here they all were. The designer in her lofty atelier was a traitor- and hiding behind her were half a dozen people working tirelessly to protect France.

Her stomach rumbled, and she thought again of the man upstairs in the attic. She'd been working late last night when Louise had smuggled him in, the two of them trying to be quiet on the back stairs. "Louise?"

Her assistant's face had been difficult to read, emerging from the stairwell. "We're alone," Joan offered. "I sent the others home."

Louise had nodded, and, with a little trepidation, pulled her companion forward into the workroom - an airman, with a man's greatcoat pulled hastily around his own flying jacket. American - he had that look. "This is Madame," she said, gesturing tersely to Joan and speaking in English. "She is doing you a great favor letting you stay here."

He nodded and had touched his head, reaching for a hat he was no longer wearing. "Many thanks, ma'am. I'm Captain Robert R -"

"Your manners are a great credit to you, Captain, but with respect, it will be better if I don't know your name," Joan said, cutting him off quickly, her English feeling rusty on her tongue. "I really shouldn't have seen you at all." She turned her attention back to Louise. "He'll need clothes, I'm sure."

"And papers," Louise confirmed. "The network is working on it."

"I'm very grateful, ma'am," the airman added.

"As am I to you, Captain," Joan replied. He must have been rather handsome, in peacetime, though at the moment it was hard to see - he was in need of a shave and his mustache required trimming, but it was still evident, behind those things, the shape of his jaw and the way his hair curled. His eyes were also a rather fantastic shade of blue - the kind of eyes a woman would notice in a crowd, be entranced by, remember. "And Louise? Be very careful about the suit - something that doesn't bring out his eyes."

Louise nodded, and continued chivvying him up the stairs, leaving Joan to wonder, with a small smile, whether her assistant had made the same distinction about Captain Robert's eyes. She hadn't stopped holding the man's hand, while they'd been standing there - a nervous habit, or something more?

She took another breath and finally reached for the fur stole - her own, not the one Kurt had gifted her. A costume, like the suit Louise would find for the airman, a way to play pretend. His battle was over - but hers continued, and she would continue with it.

#asked and answered #floydmtalbert #i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #tds cinematic universe #masters of the air OC #masters of the air x oc #all the alternate universes #resistance au

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fanficshiddles · 7 months ago

Text

Eternally Mine, Chapter 5

Louise arrived at the café twenty minutes earlier than the arranged time to meet Chris. She just wanted to make sure she wasn’t late, but time was dragging while she waited which made her nerves ramp up more and more.

She really liked Chris and wanted to make a good impression. Though she wasn’t sure if she would be quite as confident without Claire around. Even if it was still a public place, her stomach was swirling with nerves and also excitement at the thought of having a more intimate date with Chris, being on their own.

Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long with her own thoughts, Chris arrived fifteen minutes early, his smile widened when he saw her waiting outside for him.

‘Hello, darling.’ Chris beamed as he reached her, he leaned down and kissed her cheek softly. His lips were soft against her cheek, yet she felt the hard coolness from his lower lip piercings in contrast.

Her heart fluttered and she found herself taking a moment to get words out, she felt so flustered. ‘Hi.’ Was all she managed to squeak out for now.

Chris loved how easily she blushed around him.

‘I hope you’ve not been waiting for me for too long.’ He said as they went into the café, he held the door open for her.

‘No, not too long. I was way too early.’ She admitted sheepishly.

‘Damn… I should’ve booked a table.’ Chris said as he looked around the busy café, there wasn’t a seat left.

‘We could sit outside? There’s bench tables out the back.’ Louise suggested. It was more secluded and quieter there too.

‘I don’t want you to get cold.’ Chris said in concern.

‘It’s not too bad today, the sun is out. I’ve got my jacket.’ Louise shrugged.

‘If you’re sure. If you get too cold though, just say and we can go somewhere else.’

‘Deal.’ Louise smiled up at him.

They ordered their food first and got their drinks, then went to one of the bench tables outside. There were only a few other people outside, though there was plenty of privacy for them. Chris was pleased as punch when she decided to sit next to him instead of opposite. He noticed she sat quite close to him too, not at the other end of the bench.

Which was both a blessing and a curse, as her scent was so intoxicating. He was glad they were outside, as it helped a little. He did have some vaseline in his pocket, he’d applied some before arriving, on Loki’s advice.

‘How are things with the school? Did you manage to win the appeal about remaining as head teacher?’ Louise asked as she sipped her coffee.

‘I did indeed, thanks to Loki’s help. I found out just yesterday, actually. So it’s a big relief.’ Chris smiled.

‘That’s brilliant news. Claire said you were gutted at the thought of losing the job.’ She said softly.

‘I was… I was in a bad headspace, thankfully your sister has a kind heart and was able to talk sense into me before I did something really stupid.’ He said honestly.

‘She does have a way of seeing good in people, and bringing it out. Well, those that are genuinely good.’

‘She certainly does.’ Chris agreed.

‘She did tell me about you and Loki disagreeing when it comes to getting blood and stuff, also about how you had to turn him to save him. It must’ve been difficult being faced with that decision, then have him hating you for it for so long.’

Chris nodded. ‘It was, but I didn’t help the situation either. I’ve been an ass to him all these years, which just pushed him further away… Does it bother you, the way that I feed? Compared to Loki and a lot of other vampires.’ Chris asked, he tried to hide his anxiousness over the question.

‘Not really, no. I mean, you are a vampire. That’s always what I grew up believing that vampires did, feed from humans. Though I won’t lie, she did tell me that you have a tendency to… kill humans too when you’ve fed from them, for fun. Which is a bit questionable, but again, I know you’re a vampire and you have instincts like that. I’m not worried, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’ve not given me a reason to be scared of you, Claire told me that you look out for people close to you in your life. I’d hope being essentially your sister in-laws sister would make me safe enough.’ Louise laughed.

Chris felt so much relief flood through him. He leaned in closer and nudged her slightly with his arm. ‘Well, you’re safe enough not just for that reason.’

Louise blushed as she glanced at him, then looked back at her coffee. ‘Besides, you got rid of the actual monster in my life. You’re like my prince charming.’ She giggled a little.

It was Chris’ turn to blush a little at that, no one had ever called him a prince before. He slid his right hand closer to her on the table, she understood his meaning and moved hers closer too, so the back of their hands touched on the table. Chris then slowly glided his fingers over the back of her hand and she turned her hand palm up so they could hold hands.

‘I am trying to do better… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be like Loki, to just take from the blood bank. I can’t contain that side of me. I am trying to just go for the bad ones, to not outright kill any innocents I feed from. The last thing I want to do would be to scare you, but I want to be honest with you too. I don’t want to hide anything from you.’

Louise nodded in understanding. ‘I appreciate that.’ She smiled widely and looked at him, her heart melted at the way he was looking at her, she could see nothing but kindness in his eyes to her. ‘I’m not scared of you… Well, I am a little bit, but I’m a little scared of the world, if I am being honest.’ She laughed nervously.

‘I’m not scared of you though, of who you are. It's more what's happening between us that's a bit scary for me. It’s odd, though, I actually feel really safe with you. More than I have with anyone else before. I haven’t really let myself get overly close with anyone since… him. I guess I’m still adjusting, and trying to better myself, too. You could say.’

Chris rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand, making her skin tingle. She’d never felt this way before, even with Ray in the early days.

‘Perhaps… we can work through our issues together?’ Chris hummed softly.

Louise smiled widely and squeezed his hand. ‘I’d like that.’ She nodded shyly, then her gaze focused to where their hands were joined. She admired the tattoos on his large hand.

Chris knew that she would need someone patient, Claire had told him a little bit about the trauma she had endured. Though she didn’t explain absolutely everything, knowing it was better that Louise told him when she was comfortable enough to.

The waiter arrived with their food, breaking their little moment.

‘I hope there’s no garlic in that pasta.’ Louise commented to Chris as she tucked into her own toastie with crisps.

Chris chuckled and sniffed at his pasta. ‘Nope. I’m safe.’ He winked at her.

‘Claire did warn me about what happens if you have garlic.’ She laughed.

‘I bet she did. Well, I’m not as much of a garlic lover as Loki is, so no need to worry there.’ Chris chuckled.

‘Claire and Loki told me that because you’re an original vampire, you’re a lot stronger than any of the others? That you can levitate, while they can’t?’ She asked curiously.

Chris smirked and nodded. ‘That is true. Lucius and I are physically the strongest. We can levitate, while the others can’t. We are also immune to silver bullets, whereas the others aren’t, unfortunately.’

‘Wow. That’s… really cool.’ Louise shifted slightly, trying not to think too much on it as she continued eating.

Though Chris could subtly pick up the scent of her being ever so slightly excited… He had to take a few deep breaths behind his hand to keep himself calm. Whilst she was perhaps excited at the thought, he knew she would be nowhere near ready for jumping into bed with him.

Once they finished eating, the waiter brought them the bill. Louise quickly took out her purse, but Chris shook his head. ‘This is on me.’

‘Are you sure? I can pay.’ She looked a little panicked for a second.

‘Absolutely. I’m the one that invited you out, after all.’ Chris said as he took his wallet out and paid the waiter.

He could sense she was still a bit unsure about it though. When they’d gone out with Loki and Claire, they’d all shared the bill between the four of them.

‘How about you get the next lunch date?’ Chris suggested, noting her face instantly relaxing as she nodded quickly.

‘Deal.’

Louise nipped inside to the toilet before they finished. When she went back outside to him, she thanked him for lunch.

‘You’re welcome, sweetheart.’ He smiled.

Louise wasn’t sure where her moment of braveness came from, but she found herself stepping in closer to him and sliding her arms around him. He instantly put his long arms around her too, and he tucked her in under his chin as he hugged her closely. She pressed her head against his chest and inhaled, he smelled so good it was unreal.

Though she felt a wave of calmness and safety wash over her in his arms, it wasn’t anything she had experienced before. She found she really didn’t want to part ways with him yet.

Chris inhaled deeply as he buried his nose into her hair, he just knew this was meant to be. It felt so right. He didn’t want to let her go, though he knew they couldn’t stand there embracing forever.

‘What sort of business are you here for today? Do you need to head off?’ Louise asked as they both reluctantly pulled back a little bit.

Chris looked sheepish as he ran his hand through his hair. ‘You caught me… I’m not actually here on any business. I just wanted to see you again.’

The biggest smile spread over Louise’s face. ‘Do you… do you want to go for a walk? There’s a lovely park down the road with a pond. If you don’t have to get going?’ She rambled quickly.

‘Sounds perfect.’ Chris grinned.

As they began walking down the pavement, Chris swiftly put himself at the road side of the pavement. It was a simple gentlemanly gesture on his part, but for Louise it meant a lot. When he brushed his hand against hers and then took her hand in his, she looked really surprised.

‘Is this ok?’ Chris quickly asked upon seeing the surprise on her face.

‘Oh… yes! If you want to… I just, didn’t think you’d want to in public like this.’ She stammered.

Chris felt his heart hurt at the thought of how Ray had treated her.

‘I’d like nothing more, but only if you’re comfortable with it.’ Chris said softly.

She nodded very eagerly, he could’ve sworn he saw her eyes water a bit, though she quickly composed herself.

‘In the summer, the park has the most beautiful rose bushes. All kinds of colours.’ She said happily when they entered the park.

It wasn’t too busy, but there were some people going about, dog walkers and a few joggers.

‘Are roses your favourite flower?’ Chris queried.

‘They are.’ She nodded, her face lit up when she spotted the ducks and a few swans on the pond. ‘Look! There are so many ducks today.’ She said excitedly, though then seemed to try and dampen down her excitement.

‘Sorry… I just love ducks.’

‘Please, don’t apologise. I like the way your face lights up when you’re excited.’ Chris said as he lifted her hand up so he could kiss the back of it. She blushed hard and looked down shyly.

‘I’ve had them eating out of my hand before, once they trusted me.’ She smiled as they made their way over to take a closer look. ‘Not the swans though, they’re a bit too big for my liking.’

Chris laughed. ‘Yeah, they certainly look beautiful but I wouldn’t like to get too close. Next time we will need to bring some seed for the ducks.’

‘Definitely.’ Louise grinned.

They carried on walking through the park and up the hill which had a really nice view over the town.

‘Louise… I have a question. Don’t feel like you have to, if you don’t want to. However, the Christmas Ball for the school is coming up in a few weeks’ time. I was wondering… well, I am looking for a date for it and I wondered whether you’d like to be mine?’ Chris asked, so hopeful that she would say yes.

He could tell by the way her eyes lit up, that she was going to say yes. Though he was still relieved when she answered him.

‘Yes! I’d love to!’

#tom hiddleston #loki #the redbridge hunts #vampire loki #Chris Motionless #Chris motionless x ofc #eternally mine #vampire chris motionless

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training4theapocalypse · 2 years ago

Text

On Her Majesty’s Supersonic Service (Adrian Chase x Reader) Ch. 4

Chapter 4 No Time to Cry

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: SMUT (less than usual tho), Plot with a little bit of porn, Mostly fluff, Moving the plot along, Romance, Descriptions of murder, Descriptions of violence, Descriptions of injury, P in V, Praise, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It’s time to kill the cow. Adebayo reveals two secrets. Adrian is being Adrian and having the best time mass-murdering butterflies.

A/N: IT'S EARLY!! This is mostly plot and I am obsessed with tying things into canon. There’s some pretty graphic injury description and some totally made-up medical bullshit that I hope you can get past. Thanks so much to @stealsteels for your encouragement to get me over the finish line.

Tagging because I think you might like it: @ladymacbeth1987 , @likeficsinthewnd

Masterlist

Chapter text:

The van is gone from the motel car park, and all signs of Peacemaker and Economos have gone with it.

“Go with the others. I’ll find Peacemaker.”

The sun still hasn’t risen but the orange glow of the streetlights is bright enough for Adrian to see you chewing your lip worriedly in the passenger seat of his car.

“Unless we hear different, stick to the plan. We’ll meet at the ranch.” His earnest green eyes meet yours. “I promise.”

You breathe deeply to calm your nerves. Usually, you’re exhilarated before a mission- ready to fight. But that was before you had something to lose.

“C’mon, it’ll be great! We’ll kill the cow, dish out the same ass-kicking as usual, and drive off into the sunset.”

You’re unconvinced.

“Like Thelma and Louise!”

Now you’re even less convinced. You pull out your phone and text him.

Blackbird: You know they kill themselves at the end of that movie, right? xx

His phone pings, and he reads your message. “What? No way!”

Blackbird: There’s a freeze frame as they drive their car into the Grand Canyon xx

“I don’t think so. I think their car took off and started flying away like at the end of Grease.”

You raise your eyebrows but don’t argue any further. Instead, you study every detail of his profile hungrily as he enthusiastically tells you how the movie’s ending can be perceived differently. His curly hair, still a little messy from spending the night in the sleeping bag, the dimples at the corners of his mouth when he smiles, the way he adjusts his wire rimmed glasses- you try to memorise it all.

You lean over to kiss him goodbye. You grip the chest plate of his suit, pulling him closer to you. You try and put a lot of meaning into the kiss- words left unspoken that you probably wouldn’t have the emotional capacity to vocalise even if you physically could. An assurance that you’ll meet later. A promise that you’ll both live long enough to see tomorrow.

You pull back before he does, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in the kiss. His face is lit up with excitement.

“We’re saving the world- it’s gonna be fun! Well, for me. I know this is, like, your day job.”

He points at a billboard across the street displaying an array of supercars- Evergreen Exotic Car Rentals. “And then that’ll be you and me tomorrow, cruising down the highway in a Corvette.”

You give him what you hope is an optimistic smile- even though your insides are squirming. Then, you climb out of his car and walk quickly towards your motel without looking back so you don’t have to watch his Sebring drive off into the dawn.

As you pass Adebayo’s room, you can distinctly hear the sound of her and Harcourt in a heated argument. Just what we need at 5 am on the day of the mission.

You knock on the door.

“Who is it?” comes Harcourt’s aggressive bark.

Slowly, you open the door and peer around the corner. Harcourt and Adebayo look relieved at your familiar face for a split second before turning on each other again.

“You were gonna lone-shooter the poor bastard?” Harcourt demands.

“He has a history of instability and conspiratorial beliefs. Couple that with violent outbursts- he was the best choice of the two options.”

Your eyes dart between the two of them. What the fuck is going on?

Harcourt sees your confusion. “Adebayo did it. She planted the diary in Peacemaker’s trailer.”

Adebayo?

“That’s why Peacemaker was chosen in the first place,” says Adebayo by way of explanation.

“And that’s it?” asks Harcourt. “Cut the shit and tell her who else was chosen expressly for this mission.”

No. Your stomach drops. Adrian was just a tag-along- he wasn’t even meant to be part of this team.

Adebayo tosses a book in your direction which you catch mid-air.

A black, leather-bound notebook with the UK Government coat of arms embossed on the front in silver.

Not Adrian.

Hands trembling, you open it up. There’s your name written on the inside cover in your handwriting.

You flick through, eyes skimming over pages upon pages of diary entries. Conspiracies about a secret society of aliens in America controlling Her Majesty’s Secret Service and how you’re going to eradicate them yourself. Paragraphs about how you’re not in control of your powers. All easily corroborated with dates and times of places you’ve been, emails you’ve sent and texts to your boss.

Your eyes sting as you read how they’ve described your loneliness since your accident. Some of it they got right. How much you hate having powers (even if they are useful), how you wish you could talk again and how, more than anything, all you want is someone to confide in. It seals the narrative of a very unwell, isolated woman who’d be desperate enough to commit mass murder.

They really did do the thing properly. You had always assumed MI6 had access to your messages, but you honestly have to applaud the handwriting expert- it’s uncanny.

But… Adebayo? You swallow the lump in your throat and look at her pleadingly. Tell me it isn’t true.

She shakes her head.

“You were the preferred choice. Win-win for MI6 and A.R.G.U.S. MI6 lets you take the blame for the murders; they stage an inquest into the actions of a single employee and get off lightly. Nobody needs to find out how close we came to being invaded by the butterflies. And in return, they get rid of a renegade agent.”

Get rid of? Wait… renegade? You look up and try to catch her eye. What does she mean by that?

“Waller, on the other hand…” Adebayo continues to look away uncomfortably. “Waller keeps A.R.G.U.S out of it completely and gets herself a new member of the Suicide Squad.”

This was never a mission to win the favour of MI6 again. You were their scapegoat. And to Amanda Waller - a new weapon.

You lower yourself onto Adebayo’s sofa in shock.

“They were your fucking friends.” Harcourt’s tone is the coldest you’ve ever heard her. “How did you choose? How could you possibly manage to choose which soldier to sell to Waller?”

“It wasn’t a choice- it could only be Peacemaker because Blackbird’s story didn’t make any fucking sense anymore!”

Adebayo looks between you, like it’s obvious.

“Everyone’s seen the way she’s been skipping around with Vigilante. Everyone in this team has seen you guys literallyscrewing around. The texts don’t match the diary anymore.” She looks at you sadly. “Before you met Vigilante, the last message you sent that wasn’t about work was over a month ago. And it was your fucking landlord!”

Before you can hide it, a single tear runs down your cheek as you stare at her in disbelief.

Of course. Now your messages are filled with flirting and two little x’s. And there’s fun and laughter in the 11th Street Kids group chat. No evidence that would hold up at an inquest.

Adrian… Adrian inadvertently stopped you from being thrown into jail with a nano bomb implanted in the base of your neck. And Harcourt made it all possible by adding you to that group.

Air. You need to leave.

You gesture to Harcourt, excusing yourself. Then, you open the door and are face-to-face with Murn.

“Guess what? Adebayo planted Peacemaker’s diary and had another ready for Blackbird to take the fall,” Harcourt calls over your shoulder.

“Only because my mother made me!”

What the…?

“Holy fuck! Your mother is Amanda Waller?”

“Yes, I figured her mother had her do it,” says Murn.

You give Murn a curt nod and blow past him, not waiting to hear the rest of the conversation. You can’t process this right now. You need to call your boss and have her tell you straight.

Your boss.

As you descend the motel stairs, it dawns on you that she hasn’t messaged you once since you landed in Washington. She doesn’t want the paper trail to show she knows you’re here.

What a cunt.

You let out a small groan of frustration, setting off a car alarm. You head around the back of the motel and video-call her. It rings out.

Blackbird: You were going to Suicide Squad me?!

The message is marked as read. She doesn’t respond.

Blackbird: Fuck you.

You grip your phone and consider throwing it against the wall but then-

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The unmistakable sound of gunshots coming from the motel startles you.

You pull your gun out and tiptoe back around the corner. Police cars- three of them. Silently you watch as half a dozen butterflies in police officers’ bodies exit Adebayo’s room.

Not good.

Your finger hovers over the trigger. You’re reasonably confident you could take them all on your own… but you heard three gunshots - you have no idea if Murn, Adebayo and Harcourt are even alive. As far as you know, you could be the last one left to take down the cow.

Then you see her. Detective Song. The queen who used to be Goff. The one who brutally tortured Adrian. Blinding rage vibrates through your very being as you leap out from your hiding spot and scream at the top of your lungs.

A sonic shockwave is sent across the car park- several butterflies are sent flying backwards. Song manages to sprint out of reach and yells for the others to cover her.

“You tried to cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”

You’re going to torture her, you decide. And you’re going to enjoy it.

The shockwave sends debris flying across the car park, and you hear the sound of the windows on the ground floor of the motel shattering. The fear in Song’s eyes as she watches you walking towards them spurs you on. The atmosphere above shifts as you breathe in and let out another ear-splitting scream.

The heads of the three nearest butterflies explode into bloody pulps. Parked cars are blasted into the air and come down violently onto the concrete, narrowly missing the remaining butterflies.

Song turns and runs for her life. You’re quick on her heels but are thwarted when you need to duck and cover behind an overturned car as her associates start firing at you. The three of them run towards a police car in the distance, shooting over their shoulders.

Fuck.

You jump out from behind the car and chase after them, as fast as possible. But it’s too late. The engine of the police car starts, and rubber squeals on the road as they speed off into the distance.

“Oh my god, my car...” says Adebayo.

“And mine...” echoes Harcourt sounding shell-shocked.

They’re alive. You whip round to face them. They don’t look good- Adebayo has a gash on her forehead, Harcourt’s nose is bloody, and her face is streaked with tears.

“We heard you screaming but our hands were tied with Judomaster. And Murn…” She chokes and blinks up at the sky. “Murn’s dead.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, and you point at the motel room. Judomaster killed Murn?

“It was Goff. I mean, Song,” says Adebayo.

Harcourt takes a moment to compose herself and straighten her jacket. “We need to find the others. None of them are answering their phones. But what are we gonna do?” She looks at the overturned cars. “Get some Uber driver to go around aimlessly looking for them?”

The three of you look around the parking lot despairingly until your eyes fall on a billboard in the distance.

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

The road stretches out ahead as the three of you speed your way towards Peacemaker’s trailer- the guys still aren’t picking up, but you’ve got to start looking somewhere.

Your phone is connected to the Corvette’s sound system and you blast Stop by the Spice Girls through the speakers. This is the best thing you’ve ever used your MI6 expenses account for.

The car’s roof is down, and the wind whips your hair as you weave in and out between other cars on the road.

“Slow down! Some of us don’t have a seatbelt back here!”

Adebayo sits in the back hatch behind the two front seats. You’re perfectly happy for her to be uncomfortable, considering she conspired to have you thrown in jail. Maybe fearing for her life will do her some good.

Harcourt grabs your phone. “I’m gonna call Vigilante. Maybe he won’t ignore your calls.”

The ringing stops your music and comes through the speakers.

“Birdie?” comes Adrian’s voice. He’s still alive.

“She’s driving. Why haven’t you been answering my calls, asshole?” says Harcourt.

“Did somebody tell her we drive on the right here?”

Harcourt looks at you in exasperation.

“I hope for your sake he’s better at fucking than using his last two brain cells,” mutters Adebayo.

“Why haven’t any of you been picking up your phones? And where the hell are you?”

“Well, we’ve been kind of busy murdering Peacemaker’s dad, and now we’re on the way to the vet with Eagly. We should- ow!” You hear him wince in pain, and you look at Harcourt in alarm.

“Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we just went over a speed bump.” Economos answers now. “Peacemaker is just going through some stuff with his dad, and Eagly’s injured. Vigilante was hit by a grenade-“

A what?! Harcourt notices your knuckles turning white as you grip the steering wheel.

“...Who threw the grenade?” Harcourt sighs pointedly.

There’s a pause at the other end.

“Vigilante-“

“It was intentional!” Adrian cuts across him. “And it was fucking badass- ow! Watch the speedbumps, Economos!”

“Listen, I’m dropping you the location of the vet. We’re almost there,” says Economos. Your phone pings and the satnav automatically updates.

“10-4,” says Harcourt, as you do a U-turn and speed off in the opposite direction.

“Y’know, we could have just got a four-seater like I suggested,” complains Adebayo when you arrive and open the back hatch. You begrudgingly help her climb out.

Harcourt marches ahead inside the vet,, and Adebayo seizes the opportunity to speak to you privately.

“Blackbird, I…” She chooses her words carefully. “I’m sorry. But I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You whip out your phone and start typing furiously. She watches your screen.

“Okay, okay! Stop with the expletives. And cut the bullshit! It’s fine if you want the others to think you’re the victim here, but I’ve read your file. I know what you’ve done.”

You raise your eyebrow, calling her bluff. Nobody knows. Not even MI6.

“You thought MI6 wouldn't find out that you were gonna double-cross them and sell that jet to a private buyer?”

You freeze. How…?

“And don’t even pretend you didn’t know who the buyer was.”

Now you’re perplexed. Clearly, Adebayo is too straight-laced to understand. So you shake your head and type a new message on your phone.

Blackbird: It’s always better not to know who the buyer is

She kisses her teeth in disapproval. “Wow… and I thought you worked in intelligence? Haven’t you figured out that the buyer was Goff? Who else would need something that big, fast and powerful? Something big enough to transport a giant cow?”

Bloody hell.

“You might be a traitor but lucky for us, you suck at stealing jets. The cow’s been stuck in that barn for over a year while they build their teleporter."

You’re not naive- you knew you weren’t selling a stolen jet to good guys. You thought terrorists or maybe the KGB or, like, Elon Musk. Not a race of aliens trying to take over planet Earth. She watches the regretful realisation dawn on your face.

“Look, B bird, a lot of what they said about you and Peacemaker in those files is true, and when I read them, I thought you both deserved to be in jail… but I think Peacemaker’s changed. And I think there’s a lot of good stuff about you they left out.”

She smiles at you tentatively.

“I actually believe you didn’t know you were stealing that jet for Goff. If we make it out alive, I promise I’ll make it right.”

Honestly, you don’t blame her- you’re sure that your file paints a grim picture. And to top it off, your previous actions would have fucked up the entire mission if you’d been successful.

You extend your hand to shake hers. Adebayo grips it and looks at you with mutual understanding.

“We good?”

You nod.

The sound of a fist pounding on glass makes you both whip around.

Adrian is banging on the window from inside the veterinarian’s office with a goofy grin on his face. He points at the car, and you smile and jingle the keys at him in response.

“Fuck yeah!” You see his lips moving from behind the glass. He turns back around, and you can see he’s pointing an assault rifle at something inside. Shit.

“Thank God you guys are here. Dr Hurwitz kindly stitched up Eagly, and Vigilante's being a total freak,” says Economos when you and Adebayo burst in.

Adrian is pointing a gun at three people in scrubs. There’s a streak of blood down his face, and his suit is badly damaged from the explosion. It gives him an entirely unhinged appearance.

“Dude, they saw us. Peacemaker and I are wanted.” Adrian turns to look at you. “Blackbird’s not wearing her mask, and MI6 will probably fire her if civilians see her.”

You rush over to Adrian and the vet staff and put a finger to your lips urgently. Stop talking!

“Well, now they know someone called Blackbird from MI6 was here,” Economos sighs.

“Oh, great! Thanks, Economos- now we definitely have to kill them,” says Adrian aiming his gun around you.

“Do we really have to kill these people?” pleads Economos.

Everyone looks at Harcourt. She groans.

“...No. We'll tie them up, and by the time the morning staff comes in, we'll be long gone.”

“They've seen our faces,” says Adrian, still aiming.

“If we can't stop the butterflies today, it won't matter,” she says with finality.

“Okay. But we can't use duct tape. That'll hurt their skin when they try to pull it off. Right Birdie?”

You touch your almost healed lip but then blush deeply when you realise everyone is staring at you. Thanks, Adrian.

“So, you're compassionate about tape but not brutally murdering people?” asks Economos

“...Yes.”

He lowers the gun and grins at you. God, as you come closer, you realise the full extent of his injuries from the grenade blast. Your eyes linger on his suit- the hard exterior chest plate is scratched pretty severely, and his suit has ripped in places, revealing burned bloody tissue across his abdomen and thighs.

You try to get a better look at the damage, but he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. He winces in pain. You try to pull back but he just hugs you tighter.

“Worth it,” he groans and kisses the top of your head.

You pat the countertop, gesturing for him to sit on it, and grab some cotton pads and antiseptic. When you dab the wet cotton pad on the burned skin on his abdomen, the muscles there twitch involuntarily.

He stifles a moan of pain and it makes you stop what you’re doing to look up at his face. This only causes you to blush again. What’s wrong with me? You bite your lip and try to concentrate on cleaning the debris from his cuts and burns.

“Hey,” he whispers so only you can hear him. “Are you turned on right now?”

You try to give him a defensive look but it falters when you see the longing in his eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

We need to make sure you're okay first. You tilt your head sympathetically. His wounds will probably need further attention later so this’ll have to do for now.

When you’re done, you hop up on the counter beside him and type on your phone, letting him read over your shoulder.

Blackbird: It WAS kind of romantic that you were gonna kill those vets for me xx

“Romantic?...Really? You’re more twisted than I thought.” His gloved hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “I can still kill them for you if you want?”

The vets overhear this and look at each other in alarm. You shake your head.

“Hey, what do you say we find an empty exam room and we-“

“Hey, we should get a move on killing this cow,” Adebayo cuts him off as she and Peacemaker return to the room.

“Okay, how do we do this without Murn?” asks Economos.

You all automatically turn to Harcourt. Adrian nods his head towards her in encouragement. She takes a deep breath and dives into an explanation of the plan to get to the barn to kill the cow before the teleportation device is ready.

“…Hopefully, we can make it in there before they make their move,” she finishes.

“I’m in,” says Peacemaker

“Hashtag me too,” says Adrian

You nod fervently

“I guess,” says Economos

“Yeah,” adds Adebayo

“Fuck yeah!” says the vet, and one of the nurses cocks a rifle.

“No, I think you need to calm down,” Peacemaker replies. “You’d just die.”

“But we are gonna need to sequester your vehicle out there because somebody rented a sports car with only two seats.” Adebayo looks at you.

“Me and B call the Corvette!” says Adrian as he hops off the counter.

“Fine. But keep up. We’re in a hurry.” Harcourt looks at you directly. “No screwing around.”

As you’re in the middle of typing, ‘We’re not teenagers - we can keep our hands to ourselves’, Adrian blurts “Well, it’s on your conscience that I might die today without ever having sex in a Corvette.”

You delete the message and put your phone away resignedly, rolling your eyes at Adrian.

“Gross dude, that’s a rental,” says Economos as you file out of the veterinarian’s surgery and into the van.

“Surprisingly nice people considering,” says the vet.

“Expect the guy in blue and his girlfriend,” adds one of the nurses.

“Yeah… they’re both a fucking mess.”

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

A few hours later, after an unsuccessful attempt to get Eagly to drop Peacemaker’s sonic boom helmet onto the roof of the barn, you all watch from the bushes in the dark night as Economos goes undercover to place the helmet inside. He’s the only one who Goff wouldn’t recognise.

“Blackbird, when did Goff see you?” asks Peacemaker, confused.

“You should have seen her this morning when she sonic-screamed the butterflies at the hotel. She nearly got Goff,” laughs Adebayo. “You cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”

“Boyfriend? I thought you guys just hooked up!” He turns to Adrian. “I thought you were supposed to share these things with your BFF!”

Pretending to fix your holster, you try hard to avert Adrian’s gaze. You haven’t seen any point in labelling your situationship. But he doesn’t seem phased.

“You tried to kill Goff for me?” Your eyes meet Adrian’s from behind his red visor. “Woah, you were right- that isromantic!”

Just when Economos seems to be in the clear, you hear one of the butterflies on the walkie-talkie yell. There’s sudden chaos outside the barn.

Oh shit.

You watch as the butterflies swarm him. Adebayo fumbles with her walkie-talkie.

“Activate sonic boom!”

You hear the first explosion, and the barn starts tumbling down. The butterflies leave Economos and start running towards the barn.

“Activate sonic boom,” she says again. Another sonic wave decimates the barn- the blast radius sends dozens of butterflies flying back.

There’s one more blast as Adebayo triggers the sonic boom again, and you wait, but the barn doesn’t crash into the depths below, where you know the cow is hidden.

“Yep, that's it for the charges.” Peacemaker pulls on his other helmet.

“We need you to stay here, Ads. If something happens to us, you're the only hope,” says Harcourt.

“The fuck am I?” mutters Economos, offended.

“What's the plan, man?” Adrian asks.

“We’re gonna get into the barn-” Peacemaker gestures to himself and you “- Blackbird’s gonna scream at the cow, then we’re gonna try and find a way out.”

“That’s suicide,” says Adebayo

You type a message on your phone and show Adrian, who reads it out loud.

“She says she and Peacemaker will probably end up in the Suicide Squad anyway. They’ll do it,” he says, mildly confused.

You and Peacemaker exchange meaningful looks.

“Let's go kill a cow,” he says.

You, Peacemaker, Harcourt and Adrian hop over the fence and start running towards the barn.

The atmosphere cracks as you inhale deeply and scream. It bursts the heads of a small group of butterflies running at you.

The four of you start firing, and it draws the attention of even more butterflies towards you.

Adrian laughs as he unleashes a massacre on your opponents. He’s in his element. Sometimes he’s such a goofball you forget how fucking good he is in combat.

“On your right, Birdie!” Shit. You take cover from the bullets behind a haystack.

Adrian brings out a machete and cuts down foe after foe. A group of butterflies round on him, and you leap over the haystack and yell, sending them flying back from him He gives you a quick nod before stomping on a butterfly crawling out of one of their heads.

“Blackbird, Chris- go! We’ll hold them off here!” yells Harcourt.

You and Peacemaker make a break for it.

“Fuck, yeah!” You hear Adrian shout behind you- he’s genuinely having fun wielding a machete in one hand and a handgun in the other.

As you reach the barn stairs, one of the butterflies almost catches Peacemaker. Adrian plants the machete directly in his skull.

“Don’t fuck with my BFF!” yells Adrian as Peacemaker jumps down the staircase as fast as he can.

Suddenly a hand covers your mouth, and your eyes bulge as you realise a butterfly is attacking you from behind. Not again, fucker. You elbow them in the ribs and struggle until the cool metal of a gun barrel pressed against your temple makes you freeze.

“Stop fucking squirming.”

The words make Adrian whip around. You’re about to wave at him, to tell him not to do anything rash, but his reflexes are too quick. Before either you or the butterfly realise what he’s doing, he shoots the butterfly in the head. A warm blood splatter hits your body, and you feel the thud of him dropping to the floor behind you.

“The only person who says that shit to my girlfriend is me.”

You check there’s no butterfly crawling out of the dead body behind you, and as you turn back around to smile at Adrian, you see it- a tiny gleam of silver flying towards you.

Instinctively you whip your hand up to block it. A gasp of pain and shock escapes you, as you see a steel throwing knife protruding through your extended palm.

Another gleam of sliver. Sudden pain. You choke. Your other hand comes up to touch your throat. Dazed, you feel a knife stuck deep in your neck.

“Fuck!” Adrian turns around and shoots the butterfly before they can throw a third knife.

The ground seems to come up from nowhere to hit your side. You gasp, trying to stem the bleeding from your neck with your left hand. The smell of grass and the blood pooling out in front of you makes you feel faint.

There’s the distinct sound of a bullet finding a soft target, then a thud as Adrian drops to his knees beside you. Momentarily distracted by your injuries, he was shot in the back. He falls flat on his front, masked face turned towards you.

You cough more blood. The pain searing through your neck is almost beyond endurance. Adrian fades in and out of focus.

“Birdie,” he groans. “Stay awake… We’re still gonna… drive off into the sunset.” He lifts himself onto his elbows to crawl towards you.

Every breath of air you take hurts- each tiny inhale slightly moves the knife in your neck.

You feel Adrian’s fingers remove your left hand, so he can put pressure on the wound. Even now, you feel comforted by his touch.

Hazily, you think that you’re glad to be dying knowing what it feels like to be loved.

There’s another strange cold sensation in your neck- a rush of air. But before you have time to wonder what’s happening, everything fades to black.

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

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You open your eyes blearily- it’s bright. Daylight. Your throat is raw. You’re in pain. But wait… you can feel pain- that’s a good sign, right? The smell of antiseptic is suffocating.

Looking down at yourself, your eyes try to focus on your heavily bandaged right hand. Your hands fly up to your throat, and you feel more bandages around your neck. There’s a pulse monitor attached to your finger.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay.” It’s Adebayo’s voice. As your vision becomes clearer, you see she looks different, as she sits beside you on a blue plastic chair. She’s wearing a white shirt, vest and a blazer. Sort of like she’s dressed for a funeral.

A funeral.

Where’s Adrian? You sit up and take in the rest of the bland room. You need your phone. Where’s my phone? So many questions fly through your mind.

“Hey, hey, hey- sit back down. Adrian’s alive.” You sigh in relief and lie back. “Everyone’s alive. We did it. We killed the cow.”

She tosses you your phone.

“Adrian’s in surgery. The bullet didn’t go too deep, but they need to get the fragments out. He’ll be out soon.”

Blackbird: And the others? x

Her phone pings as your message arrives. She reads it.

“Let’s see… Harcourt was shot right after Adrian- she’s in a coma, but she’ll survive. Chris is fine- he’s waiting with her in case she wakes up. Economos broke his leg. I was human-torpedoed through the cow and didn’t even sprain my neck.” she grins.

Blackbird: I don’t understand how I’m still alive x

“It was Adrian he-”

“Good, you’re awake.” Adebayo is interrupted by a doctor coming into the room. She introduces herself and picks up the chart at the end of your bed.

“The wound to your neck was deep… fortunately, it didn’t hit your spine. Patients with this kind of injury usually die from blood loss. But your boyfriend extracted the knife and stopped blood flow with duct tape.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Removing a knife from a wound like that is normally very dangerous. But on this occasion, it saved your life.”

Adrian’s impulsivity has somehow paid off.

“Your throat, however-” she hesitates “-we had to do an endoscopy to check for trauma to the larynx, and we’d never seen anything like it. There were strange lesions all along the membrane of your vocal cords.”

You nod, absently fidgeting with the bandages on your injured hand. This is old news.

“We were able to remove the majority of them.” Your eyes dart up to meet hers. “But there are a few tiny ones left that were so embedded they couldn’t be removed without damaging the healthy tissue.”

Her words fly over your head as you and Adebayo exchange glances, clearly thinking the same thing.

“Your powers…” whispers Adebayo. Your heart thumps in your chest. You refuse to let yourself believe what you think might be happening. “Can she use her voice?” she addresses the doctor.

“Sure,” the doctor replies indifferently as she puts the chart back. “Just try not to speak too much or too loudly over the next few days. Otherwise, you’re good to be discharged.”

“I mean her superpowers. Her supersonic scream?”

“Her what?”

You’re unsurprised by her scepticism; this is classified information and unlikely to be on your medical records.

“Uh, never mind. Thank you,” says Adebayo as the doctor leaves the room. She turns back to face you. “...Can you?”

The last thing you want to do is cause an accident. You shake your head.

“C’mon- try and break that old-ass TV.” She jerks her head over her shoulder.

You concentrate and let out a small hum. It hurts. But nothing happens.

“Break,” you whisper- still nothing. Your throat is too raw to try yelling.

“It’s okay, B bird.” Adebayo notices tears forming in your eyes and moves over to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. She touches your shoulder, and the tears spill down your face.

“Happy tears.” Your voice is hoarse and incredibly sore. “There’s no way they’ll want me for the Suicide Squad now.”

She beams at you. “About that… I’m on my way to a press conference exposing Project Butterfly. Nobody’s joining the Suicide Squad. I made a deal with MI6 behind my mom’s back-”

“Bad idea-”

“Well, after this, I’m basically untouchable. I told MI6 I’d keep their name out of the press conference if they fired you. They still keep their hands clean, and if you check your email, you should be getting a pretty sweet severance package on Monday.”

“Kind of sounds like blackmail,” you whisper as you pull up your emails on your phone.

From: HM Government Secret Intelligence Service MI6

Subject: Agent Blackbird - Notification of redundancy

“Eh, I call it negotiation.”

“Thank you, Ads,” you say softly but sincerely.

She gets up from your bed and goes to leave but pauses at the door and laughs.

“What is it?”

“Adrian told the doctors he wanted to see you before his surgery. He was asking- asking for-“

She snorts and has to stop speaking. She begins laughing so hard that she’s struggling to breathe.

“What is it?” you ask hoarsely, waiting for the punchline.

She composes herself, “He was asking for someone called Blackbird. He said it was one name. Like Cher.” She cracks up again.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. It’s kind of sweet, but Christ…

“Did you even tell him your real name?”

You shake your head, and the ridiculousness of the situation hits you both simultaneously, and you can't help but burst out laughing. Adebayo doubles over, clutching her stomach, and you dab tears of laughter from your eyes with the hospital bedsheet.

“It never- “ you choke with laughter “- it never came up.”

You both collapse into hysterics. Ouch. Your good hand runs over the bandages on your neck.

“Damn, and I thought Adrian took his secret identity seriously.”

God, poor Adrian. You make a mental note to give him your real name when he wakes up from surgery.

“Hey, I almost forgot.” She tosses you a set of car keys which you catch with your uninjured left hand. “Think you have a few days before you need to return this.”

Once you’re dressed and discharged, you go to the car park for fresh air while you wait for Adrian to wake up from the effects of anaesthesia.

Blackbird: I’m alive. Text me when you’re awake xx

You find the Corvette and sit in it with the top down, the sun on your face. You listen to the radio and hum along gently. It’s raw on your throat, but the vibrations of the tune seem to come from your very soul. It feels… good.

Your phone pings twenty minutes later.

Vigilante: DUDE are you watching the news? xx

You flick through the radio channels on the car's sound system until you hear Adebayo’s voice.

“Peacemaker never wrote any diary. He was part of a team working in a deep-cover operation for the U.S. Government called "Project Butterfly."

Blackbird: She’s actually doing it… xx

“This is all part of a black-ops program known as ‘Task Force X’, where convicted criminals are undertaking dangerous missions in exchange for time off their sentences. It's been running for years, under the command of a woman named Amanda Waller…”

Vigilante: Which room are you in? xx

“Who happens to be my mother. Now, I'm calling for an immediate investigation into these inhumane conditions-“

You turn off the radio and breathe a sigh of relief. No mention of MI6, as promised.

Blackbird: I’m outside in the Corvette- I’ll come back upstairs now xx

You look over at the hospital and clap your hands over your mouth when a man in a gown jumps out of a window on the second story. He lands inelegantly in a flower bed and gets up.

It’s Adrian.

Of course, it’s Adrian.

He waves as he jogs towards you and hoists himself into the open-topped car without opening the door.

He twists his whole body to face you, clasps your face with both hands and kisses you passionately. It happens so quickly that it takes your brain a second to catch up.

He’s alive. We’re alive.

You return his embrace, and your hands wander down his back, trailing along the bare skin not covered by his hospital gown, resting on his waist where you feel the bandage wrap around his back.

Just feeling his warm skin beneath the medical coverings sends a wave of gratitude through you. Your heart races as Adrian kisses you deeply and tangles his fingers in your hair like he’s trying to feel every different texture of you. You’ve missed him so much, and the relief of being back in his arms is almost overwhelming.

You never want this moment to end.

He presses his forehead against yours. “God, I’m so happy you’re okay,” he murmurs “I thought. Fuck… I don’t wanna say what I thought.”

You know. You thought it too when you heard him collapse next to you in the field.

“I can’t believe you jumped out a window just after having surgery,” you whisper.

“I’m fine. I just-” He pulls back in surprise. “Wait…what the fuck!?”

“They removed some growths on my vocal cords,” you say, your hoarse voice barely audible.

Stupidly, you feel tears coming on, remembering your first FaceTime conversation.

‘Birdie, I fell for you the first time I saw you burst someone’s head open with your sonic scream.’

“I… I don’t think I have powers anymore.”

God, the lump in your ragged throat sears in pain. He gives you a concerned look. You don’t know how else to phrase what you’re about to say next, so you blurt it out.

“Do you still like me?”

You stare at him determinedly, refusing to let yourself cry.

He laughs. A loud, maniacal laugh that goes on way too long. You scowl.

“That’s hilarious, Birdie. I love this back and forth we get to have now you can speak.”

“Adrian, I’m serious,” you say sternly, but you think your heart might burst with joy. “I'm not the same person anymore. And I know you… I know you liked that I had powers.” You emphasise the word ‘like’ - you both know you mean ‘turned on’.

“Oh no,” he says mockingly. “I’m so sad that my girlfriend is going to moan all over my dick and scream my name.”

Even after all you’ve been through, your stomach twists in excitement when you hear him say girlfriend again.

“That… that was actually really good sarcasm, Adrian.”

“Uh, yeah, I learned from the best. The most sarcastic, second-best marksman in the team.”

“I’ll be the best marksman again soon. I was getting lazy when I had my powers.” You stretch your injured hand.

“Well…” He tries to sound upbeat. “We could squeeze in some more target practice before you go?”

“That can wait til we’re both healed…I have a bit more time than I thought.”

“How long?”

“MI6 has basically fired me. So I suppose until I find a new job.”

Grabbing your uninjured hand, he turns to look you in the eyes.

“Stay,” he says simply.

“Adrian, I…” you hesitate.

What’s waiting for you back home? Conversations with nobody except your landlord?

“Birdie, this feels right. Me and you. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it.”

“Adrian, you hardly know me… If you knew half of the things I’ve done… I mean, Adebayo read my file and wanted to send me to Belle Reve.”

“Oh, come on! I was in jail like last week.”

You chew your lip.

“Don’t go back to London. Not yet, anyway. Crash at my place… or if you decide you never want to leave, that’s cool too.”

You grip the wheel as excitement courses through your veins. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Wait… really?”

“Were you not serious?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No, I was! I just thought you’d take more convincing.”

“I’m never getting rid of you, Adrian. Just like you said, remember?”

He lunges forward again and kisses you again with unbridled enthusiasm. His glasses push against your face. Butterflies - the good kind, not the alien kind- flutter in your stomach. You’ve fallen for him. Adrian. Vigilante. All of him.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Can you drive a manual?”

“What?!”

“A… a stick shift?”

“I know what it is. I just can’t believe you don’t think I can drive one.”

You hop out of the car and round to the passenger side. “You can drive us to your flat then.”

“You sure?” He launches himself into the drivers seat and turns on the engine, not waiting for your reply.

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

The first few days, you hadn’t had the strength to do much more than just lie in Adrian’s bed. You ordered food. Watched TV. Changed each other’s bandages. You’re grateful to have been able to rest during the day because your sleep has been interrupted by vivid nightmares.

Tonight, you wake up in another fit of sweat, hand clutching your neck. You dreamt that a butterfly had snuck up on you again from behind. Adrian wasn’t there to save you. And so they opened your throat with a silver throwing knife.

“Birdie?” Adrian says blearily, as he wakes up, and his eyes make out your hunched-over silhouette in the dark. He finds his glasses on the bedside table. “Did you have a nightmare again?”

You nod, heart still pounding in your chest.

“You can use your voice,” he reminds you again gently. Sometimes you forget you can talk after spending so long suppressing it. “Same as last time?”

“Same as last time,” you echo.

The light-up display on his alarm clock shows that it’s two o’clock in the morning. Adrenaline from your night terror pumps through you. You’re wide awake.

“We’ll work on disarming someone from behind as soon as you’re feeling better,” he says in an effort to reassure you.

Adrian stretches his arm out, giving you the perfect space on his chest to nestle into. You lie back down on his burgundy sheets and breathe deeply as you rest your head on him. He smells so good. Like home. Your shoulders become less tense, and your heart rate starts coming back down as you relax into his warm embrace.

“Can you put on a film for us to fall asleep to? Preferably something long and boring.”

“Have you ever seen Titanic? It’s like 3 hours long.”

Before you know it, you’re both engrossed and eating popcorn in bed.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” he says, absent-mindedly stroking your hair.

“I never understood the point. I mean, we already know what happens at the end.”

You both sit quietly as Jack and Rose kiss passionately in the back seat of an old car.

You roll your eyes. “We need more popcorn.” You get up from his bed and walk down the hall into the kitchen.

“I can skip this scene if it’s getting you too worked up?” He grins as he calls after you.

You hold up a middle finger behind you as you walk away. “Shut up.”

“Aha! You’re being a big meanie, which means you’re horny.”

You scoff and call back towards the bedroom. “It does not! I’m rude to you all the time.”

“You’re giving me the same look you gave me the first time we had sex. Like you’re so annoyed with me that you want to shut me up by kissing me.”

“I am not. I just find it boring watching people pretend to have sex.” Especially when we’re supposed to be taking it easy right now.

“Fine. I’ll find something else to watch.”

You run back to the bed and grab the remote control before he can. “No! I want to know how this ends!”

“I thought you knew how it ended?”

“And I thought you said it was boring!”

“Sit back down and watch it with me then if you’re so interested,” he challenges.

You forget about making more popcorn and sit beside him on the bed defiantly - much more upright than before. Both of you remain silent, eyes fixed on the TV. You watch as they grope each other in the back seat of the car. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the heat between your legs. You discreetly push your thighs together, but the seam of his borrowed boxers that you’re wearing to bed rubs up against you dangerously.

“Stop looking at me, Adrian. I’m fine,” you say, feeling his gaze linger on you from the corner of your eye.

He moves closer to you. “I don’t think you are.”

“Ugh, please. Do you honestly think I’m horny for softcore nineties romance?” You keep your eyes fixed ahead, trying to look disinterested.

“I know what you look like when you’re turned on.”

“You’re projecting. But if you can’t wait a few more days and need to take care of yourself, then...”

“Yeah? Maybe I will. I’ll even let you watch.”

“Oh my god, Adrian,” you scoff, trying to ignore the hot, sticky feeling in your underwear. “If I need to wait, then so do you.”

“I don’t think you can, B.”

“I can wait longer than you.”

“Well, you don’t have to look at you all day. And you’re always wearing my stuff - it’s killing me!”

“Yeah, well, I have to look at you all day too.” You turned to face him. “You and your stupidly pretty face and your fucking abs. I mean, Christ, who actually has abs?”

He looks pleasantly surprised that you’re finding it difficult to be around him.

“Now I know you’re all riled up because even your compliments are super aggressive.”

You cross your arms. “We’re supposed to be resting.”

On-screen, Rose presses her hand against the car’s fogged-up glass, and you close your eyes involuntarily.

Your weight on the mattress shifts suddenly as Adrian leans in, and his lips meet that sensitive spot a few centimetres behind your earlobe, making you softly sigh. You tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to him, your body leaning into his mouth on you. He plants kisses across your sensitive skin, avoiding your fresh scar.

“Adrian…” you say warningly but it falls on deaf ears as you feel his warm tongue trail over your neck. His hand cups your pussy through the fabric of the boxers, and your body responds automatically, hips tilting towards him.

“You might be able to use your words now, but I can still read your body language like a book.” His firm hand squeezes and puts pressure between your legs. “I think you’re done waiting.”

Of course, you are. It’s been torture being stuck in this apartment with him for days. You want to fuck him, obviously. But more than that, you want to please him, thank him for saving your life yet again, and show him how much he means to you with your body. To fulfil his every desire and fantasy-

Fantasy.

You sit upright suddenly.

“Oh.” He withdraws his hand, surprised. “Is everything okay, B? I was just teasing, sorry, we can just-”

“I don’t believe the window would steam up like that if you had sex in a car.” You cut across him and walk over to the bedroom door. You turn back with a smirk. “Would you like to find out if it does?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

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

You don’t even make it out of his apartment complex’s underground car park.

Adrian sits in the driver’s seat of the Corvette with you straddling him. In a state of semi-undress, you’ve ended up in just his t-shirt that you were sleeping in- everything else you were wearing lies forgotten on the passenger seat beside you.

His hands grip your hips as you grind yourself on him, rubbing your wet pussy along the length of his shaft. Your thighs are soaked. The friction feels so, so good, and your chest heaves as you feel his hips rocking, desperate to be inside you.

His hands leave your sides and lift your shirt up. “You are so fucking hot.” His tongue swirls over your nipples sloppily, and you grab the back of his head, pushing his face into your chest. He lets out a muffled moan with pleasure.

You help him pull his T-shirt off and toss it in the seat next to you. You drag your hands down his lean chest, avoiding the newly healed scars from the grenade blast a few days ago.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he says, watching your flushed face as you grind back and forwards in the constricted space of the Corvette, feeling the sensation of his hard cock against your clit.

The space in the car is limited- his legs take up most of the room on the seat. You lean back in the tight space between him and the steering wheel to give him a better view and feel the cold wheel against your shoulder blades.

“Hey, careful you don’t lean on the horn.” He steadies you with one hand on your lower back, and gripping his cock with the other. You lick your palm and move his hand away, replacing it with your own. His thick cock is warm as you grip the shaft and move your hand up and down.

“Fuck, how are you so soft?” His hips jerk upwards into your clenched fist. “We have the same fucking job.”

He loves the softness of you as much as you love the sculpted, sharp edges of him. Your grip of him falters when his hand moves between your legs, fingers sliding through your folds, making direct contact with your clit. His fingers are broader and rougher than yours, and a small whine escapes your lips when he begins rubbing circles onto the bundle of nerves there.

Your fist keeps pumping up and down the length of him, and you feel pleasure begin to wash over you as his fingers deftly tease your pussy. He traces the entrance of your wet cunt, and your walls clench desperately over nothing.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

You eagerly adjust your hips over his, and position the head of his cock so it’s pressing up against your lips. He grips both of his hands under your thighs and stops you from lowering yourself onto him.

“Use your words.”

Oh.

“I… I want you to fuck me. Please,” you whisper. For some reason, it makes you shy. You’re out of practice when it comes to dirty talk.

“That’s my girl.”

Adrian’s green eyes meet yours, and it makes your skin feel red hot. His hands return to your hips, helping you down slowly, and you feel the familiar pressure as his length disappears into you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, leaning his head back. You get a glimpse of his Adam's apple moving up and down as he swallows.

You pause at the base, getting used to the intrusion. Rocking your hips slowly, the sensation forces you to take a sharp inhale of breath- even though your pussy is sopping wet for him, you still need time to adjust to how thick he is.

“C’mon, nice and easy. You’ve got this.”

His praise spurs you on. You grip the headrest, giving yourself leverage to ride him.

You lean in and suck on his bottom lip, realising that this is the first time you’ve ever been able to kiss him while his cock has been inside you. You allow yourself a soft moan into his mouth. It feels alien to be able to express yourself like this while sliding up and down on him.

The realisation seems to hit him too when he hears you moaning. It makes him hungry for you- his tongue enters your mouth and rolls over your own.

He bucks his hips, and his hands move to your ass so he can control the pace of your movement on his cock. The obscenely slick sound of his achingly hard cock driving in and out of you is only amplified in the constricted space. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, tasting the slightly salty sweat of his skin on your tongue.

“Fuck, you’re taking it like such a good girl,” he says through gritted teeth.

A searing heat ebbs through you, and you feel it creep up to your neck at his words. His words. You remind yourself you don’t have to stay silent either.

“Your cock feels so good,” you say, lips moving to press against his ear. You hear Adrian’s breath hitch in his throat.

You pull apart so he can watch your still-exposed tits bounce as he guides you up and down, fucking you open. The swell inside you begins as you watch his brow furrow in concentration, looking from your tits to the desperate look on your face as you grapple the headrest behind him helplessly.

“Is this what you needed, baby?”

You nod, feeling the heat in your lower abdomen tighten.

“C’mon, say it,” he instructs.

You hear the wet sounds of your pussy and thighs slapping into him. You’re on the brink as he rocks up into something heavenly inside of you, hitting your g-spot. It feels so good- you can’t stop yourself from babbling what comes out next.

“Yes… Needed you. Wanted to - to make you feel so good. For saving me. Again.”

He pushes down on your hips, fucking you with newfound ferocity, and continues hitting that one spot that makes your whole body sing for him. Your fingers move to grip his shoulders, and you lock eyes with him.

“Fuck, tell me… Tell me,” he says urgently.

“Always- fuck- always fucking saving my ass... My fucking hero.”

You clench around him, holding on for dear life as he quickens his pace, working you higher and higher. Your ass slaps against the front of his thighs, faster and faster in rhythm with your panting.

“Don’t- I’m gonna cum if you say that,” he warns.

“That you’re my hero?” you whisper, staring into his eyes, his pupils dilated and swimming with lust. He leans his head back and groans in response. “You are, Adrian. My- my hero. My Vigilante.”

You suck the skin of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut, squeezing everything below your waist as you tumble into sheer ecstasy. You bear down on him as he jerks his hips up, fucking into you like a starved man. The force of his thrusts makes you bounce so hard that you need to lift your arm to stop yourself from hitting your head on the roof of the car.

“Shit,” he gasps. “You can’t say that. I’m gonna cum- oh, fuck I am. I’m cumming. Fuuuck.”

His rambling doesn’t even register clearly in your head- you’re too busy burying your face into his neck again, and with a muffled moan, you cum with him- hard. Your teeth graze his neck, and your walls contract around his cock, as you feel him coat your insides.

You slump into him, your dead weight on top of him. Every inch of your sweat soaked body in contact with his. He wraps his arms around you as you both catch your breath, endorphins lighting up your insides like fireworks. You nuzzle into his neck as his cock still pulses inside you, and cum leaks out of your pussy.

The windows of the Corvette are, in fact, steamed up. His glasses are too. You both silently enjoy the post-orgasmic bliss for several moments. From this position, his heart is pressed against yours, and you can feel them both beating loudly against your ribcages as you begin to resume normal breathing.

“So that was like…That was like my kryptonite,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Being called a hero?” you ask hoarsely. Your throat feels scratchy again.

“Yeah…” And for the first time ever, you think, he sounds embarrassed. “I guess it’s something I always wanted to hear.”

“You’ve saved my life at least three times in the past month.” You trace your fingers across his chest. “And you literally saved the world from an alien invasion five days ago.”

He cups your face, and you lean into his hand, kissing his palm softly.

“Do you think we’re the good guys?”

You hesitate. “I don’t think it matters. We’re good enough for each other.”

“But what about, like, Superman?”

“You don’t wanna be a hero like Superman.”

“What?! Why not?”

“He’s an idiot. Peacemaker told me that Wonderwoman says he can’t find the clit.”

“Well… at least I can do that.” He pauses. “Wait, I can, right?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I'm totally joking… I think.”

“You can.”

“Thank god.”

You laugh and clamber off of him into the passenger seat.

“He didn’t even offer to fly you and Harcourt to the hospital either,” he adds in disbelief.

“Superman? When was this?”

“Right, I forgot to tell you that Adebayo’s mom did send the Justice League to the barn after all! They turned up super late. The cow was already dead.”

You laugh. Ouch, your throat feels raw. You lean back and massage your neck, swallowing thickly.

“Is your voice sore from using it too much?

You nod.

“Well, we probably should be resting.”

You give him a stern look, and he grins.

“There it is! You’ve still got it!” He pulls his jeans and boxers back up and switches on the engine. “Do you wanna go and get ice cream for your throat?”

That does sound good, you think and hastily pull your clothes on. When you’re both decent, he puts the car in first gear, and it starts moving.

“Ooh, okay, I’m gonna guess your favourite flavour, and you tap the dash one for yes and twice for no.”

You smile at him fondly, secretly pleased that he’s finally mastered the art of yes-or-no questions.

Chapter 5: From Gotham with Love

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