#whatever. it don’t matter. i saw this comin’

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: billy butcher, hughie campbell, frenchie, mothers milk, kimiko, and soldier boy

↳ warnings: canon type violence and happenstances. hinted to take place during season three at some points.

↳ notes: sorry butcher is in here so much. he's the kind of guy that can't shut the fuck up, so i feel like he's always getting in everyone business no matter what

↳ song: rock me like a hurricane—scorpions

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

• He has mixed feelings about you

• On one hand, you’re a great team player. Always making sure the job gets done, willing to put yourself on the line for the team, one of the most willing to kill a supe in a snap—second only to him—and always managing to make shit up on the fly whenever something inevitably goes wrong on a mission. Butcher has seen you fend off an entire team of armed Vought men before with nothing but a well timed lie and piece of pipe. That’s not something to scoff at, even if he does anyways

• But on the other hand, he has a feeling that you were just as much as an annoying shit as he acted sometimes

• “Sorry to say this guys—“ You said one night through the food in your mouth as Chinese takeout sat on a dirty table in front of you, curtesy of M.M and his pocketbook, “—but I think I’d betray you all for a fortune cookie. I’d betray my country for a fortune cookie.”

• "You say that like we ain’t already betrayin’ the cunts, sunshine.” Butcher eyed you from across the room as you nicked Frenchies own cookie from him while he was staring off at Kimiko for the tenth time that night

• “Too right, Butch.” You grinned like a shark at your idiotic nickname for him, and he ignored you as you did so; like he always did

• He definitely appreciates your enthusiasm behind his plans. Unlike Hughie or M.M, who despite working in the business of taking down supes seem to be hesitant about doing too much shit, you don’t seem to have a very strong moral code. That’s not necessarily a good thing in anyone’s eyes except for Butcher’s, who knows that he can always count on you to have his back in whatever situation he manages to squeeze himself into

• “Thanks for comin’.” He grunted at you while vomiting into a toilet, green bile spewing from his mouth. Butcher’s eyes burned with the urge to let out a laser beam, and he did so for a moment, splitting the porcelain throne we was leaning over in two

• “Want me to hold your hair back for you, honey?” You didn’t even miss a beat to start making fun of his situation, which made Butcher growl at you even from his current position. Despite your sarcastic demeanor in the moment, and the way he had just scorched an unexpected hole through the shitty bathroom, Butcher knew you’d help, no questions asked. And that’s exactly what you did, grabbing whatever he asked you to as he gave you a run down on the latest solo mission he had been attempting to get by with on his own

• “Jesus, poor Gunpowder huh?” You mused as you crossed your arms and leaned on the sink above him. For a moment Butcher thought you were granting the dead supe a bit of sympathy before he saw the glint in your eyes. “If the last thing I saw before I kicked it was your mug, I’d probably wanna get it over with yeah?”

• “Do me a favor. Go grab the toaster in the other room an’ take a nice bath with it, would ya?”

• “You first, Butcher.”

𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

• The two of you are like peas in a pod. Two very weird, very cautious peas in a pod

• Even if Butcher is beside himself with annoyance at having another, as he put it, “soft cunt with a morality complex,” join the team, Hughie couldn’t be happier that someone seems to share his values on supes, on Vought; on the world, really

• In the first season or so, the two of you would probably spend a lot of time in between working with everyone else in the field to come up with a way to take Vought down the right way. Eventually,as we all know, that later falls apart, but it exhilarates Hughie to know that there’s people out there like him that want to try and put in the effort for things like that

• “Yeah, so if we can get one more witness about the Termite incident to come forward and testify—“ You bit your pen between your teeth and nodded as Hughie waved his hands over a stack of papers and talked at a million miles an hour, somehow understanding each and every word.

• “—then we could finally take a supe down legally. And that would make way for a whole round of others; Hughie you’re a genius.” You finished his sentence for him, slapping a hand down on the table with a grin as Hughie smiled. Somewhere in the distance someone snorted wryly, no doubt having heard the entire conversation. You had no doubt it was Butcher, but that didn’t matter to the either of you with how happy you were at the revelation. No matter how temporary it would turn out to be

• Hughie finds himself trusting you quite a bit. He can get attached pretty easily, so he finds himself willing to do anything to back you up—within reason of course. He still has some semblance of sanity left

• Listens to Billy Joel with you! Doesn’t matter if you all are coming back from a mission covered in blood—once it was whale guts—he will stick one earbud in and leave the other out for you as he presses play on a mix. More than once the others have found both of you passed out and snoring as the faint sound of Billy Joel plays through the headphones

• “Think we should wake them up, mon amie?” Frenchie tilts his head as he looks down on the both of you. Hughie chest rises and falls with a softness he couldn’t afford on the regular. You were positioned far away from him to have your back to him, somehow keeping your end of the earbud in as you drooled

• “Nah, let em sleep. God knows they need it.” M.M shook his head with crossed arms, the sight reminding him of better times

• “Oi! Stop ogling at the knackered sods and come help me with this, would ya?”

• “Fuck you, Butcher.” M.M said with a sigh, leaving the room to go and help anyway

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞

• He fucks with you so hard

• I mean, come on, someone that’s as excited about making bombs as he is? Someone that is willing to understand French? To shit talk everyone else to their face—especially Butcher?? He might have to marry you on the spot

• Please learn French. He will literally beg you to start. Conjugates, vocabulary, even a simple ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Anything at all. Will absolutely not judge you for your horrific accent or pronunciation if you have any

• Bomb lessons on the side, too. If you already know the basics, or are a pro, it’ll be a lot more breezy, but he’s willing to start from scratch. It’ll be nice to have a partner to help him with his creations on the team for once, and even better since he likes you

• The two of you, and Kimiko obviously, are practically joined at the hip. What I said about the shit talking earlier was real, too. All of you use different languages or sign to voice whatever you’re thinking. It’s nice to be able to speak your mind freely, and there’s the added bonus of not having M.M give you that sharp look of his, or Butcher calling you names. Anymore than usual, that is

• “What do you reckon the three of ‘em are always on about?” Butcher took a swig from his drink. He was sitting next to Hughie with a beer on one of their down days as the younger man typed away on a computer. He was watching you Frenchie and Kimiko from across the room as you all signed at each other with giant smiles on your face. Frenchie would speak occasionally, but all that came out was his mother tongue, and your face would pause for a moment as you let your brain process what he was saying. Then all of you would break out into another round of grins, something that Butcher had to deadpan at

• “Probably planning a coup.” Hughie answered Butcher without even looking up from his screen. He knew who he was talking about anyways. It wasn’t hard to guess thanks, to the occasional loud exclamation from Frenchie as you signed something particularly risqué or funny

• Butcher flitted his eyes away in annoyance from you all after he recognized the word ‘cunt’ in the passing conversation, along with a sign that was clearly supposed to represent him

• “I think at this poin’ I’d prefer tha’.” He grumbled into his cup, and all of you laughed

• “Cheer up, Butcher. At least Frenchie isn’t teaching them how to make homemade cherry bombs again.”

• “Shut up.”

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤

• Finally. Someone other than him can be the voice of reason in the group

• It’s tiring being the one to hold everyone together all of the time. It might help if Butcher wasn’t so much of an ass, or if Hughie didn’t feel the need to derail every plan with thoughts of his own, but M.M knew that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So he’d take any help he could get with reigning everyone in

• Definitely bonds with you over your shared habit of wearing band t-shirts to meetups or hideouts. I’d like to imagine that at one point the both of you show up wearing the exact same one, and it goes exactly how one would expect

• “Same shirt.” M.M notices one morning, pointing at your torso with the initials N.W.A written over it. He’s smiling, and so are you as what he’s wearing in turn dawns on you

• “Same shirt!! Hell yeah.”

• Fist bumps. Fist bumps galore, man. The two of you fist bump a lot. To punctuate sentences, drive a point home, agree on stuff—anything. It’s your own way of communicating with each other without having to bat an eye

• It’ll take M.M a while, but eventually he’ll start to really open up about missing his family to you. Beyond just showing you pictures of his daughter at soccer practice, I mean. If he trusts you enough to have his back in a shoot out, then he trusts you with this

• At one point, it goes farther than his (regrettably ex) wife and daughter, and eventually branches out into what he’s willing to tell about his dad and brothers. You feel like you know all of them by the time he’s done, and that only makes the typewriter story hit harder when he finally decides to reveal it

• Let’s just say you were pretty willing to jump Soldier Boy on M.M’s half the first time you were left in a room with them

• “Just one swing I swear—“

• “He will literally beat you into a pulp.” M.M deadpanned, doing his best to avoid looking at the other imposing figure in the room as he clasped two hands on either of your shoulders

• “Listen to your friend, sweetheart. Would hate to have to scrub my hands clean of any of your blood. Getting under the fingernails is always hard.”

• “See what I mean, just one punch that’s all—“

• “No.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨

• It’s honestly great for her to be able to hang around someone that feels the same way that she does. Maybe it’s how silent you are that really draws her attention at first, but Kimiko really grows to appreciate you as a member of the team

• Probably gets a lot of joy from having a friend like you. She constantly asks to do things like have you watch movies with her or to do ‘sleepovers,’ which are really just the two of you crashing on the main room couch together

• She never got a chance at a normal childhood or friends, so you and Frenchie are the closest she gets to a peace of mind

• Not even a question about it, she’s making you learn her sign language

• Will stare at you for days on end, saying nothing but everything at the same time until you agree to learn. Once you do, it’s all over. She gets the biggest most happiest look anyone ever seen, and there’s no turning back from that

• “Kimiko, what are you doing. It’s two in the morning.” You groan at her from under the thin covers of your bed, doing your best to ignore her hands as they fly about. It’s the childish equivalent of ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’

• ‘No time to sleep. We have to go over stuff before the mission tomorrow. It will help us communicate.’ She was unnerved by your lack of enthusiasm. If anything it only spurred her on more, shaking your bed and pulling at your covers as you groaned. Even with the progress you had been making with signing over the past few weeks, your knowledge was still a bit shaky, and being half asleep didn’t help, so you only caught a few words. Enough to know what she wanted, however

• “Go away, Kimiko.” You whined. The shaking stopped, and for a moment you thought your request had worked. You were more than happy to fall back into whatever dream you had been having beforehand

• Then you heard the rushing of feet and a large weight slammed onto your legs

• “Goddamnit!—“

• Frenchie found the both of you the next morning; Kimiko looking bright eyed and bushy-tailed while you were practically falling asleep from where you sat. It was a teasing point for you over the next two weeks

• Between you, there’s moments like that where, despite Kimiko’s silence and your habit to keep your thoughts to yourself, nothing ever goes unseen or unsaid. The two of you know each other like the back of your hands, and sometimes you wonder if you’d even need her sign to communicate

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

• If the saying ‘this town ain't big enough for the both of us’ could apply here, it absolutely would

• It’s almost ironic how bad Soldier Boy handles another version of himself. You’ve got just as much snark and anger as him, and it pisses him the hell off. Constantly.

• Maybe it’s because you didn’t fan boy over him as soon as he flashed a few cheesy lines that keeps his disdain for you boiling, or that you didn’t keep your distance when he threatened to eradicate your entire bloodline if you didn’t stop running your mouth at him

• “Need help with that?” He cocks a brow at you one day, watching with poorly hidden annoyance as you struggle to tie a knot in your shoes for the fifth time in a minute. The offer isn’t serious, and even if it was, he has no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to kick him in the face if he bent down to tie your shoe for you

• “Need help taking my dick down your throat?” You parroted back at him while raising your voice in a false-happy tone. Finally you get the shoestrings to cooperate, completely missing the way Soldier Boy glows in a harsh warning at your attitude

• “Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty.” Butcher calls from the room over, no doubt tired of the bickering between the two of you that had been nonstop for the past few days. “Let’s get a move on before one of you decides to claw the others bloody eyes out, yeah?”

• The fact that you’re not even a supe just ticks him off more. Only a few people have ever pushed his buttons like this, most of them being supes, and they always ended up being nothing but red paste in the next few minutes

• You make sure to point it out to him several times that you’re just acting like he always does, making sure to don a shit eating grin when he clenches his fist at your comment

• Please for the love of everything that’s holy tone it the fuck down. Some people may say that Soldier Boy has no self-control, but it sure is taking a whole lot of it not to kick you in the crotch as hard as possible

• “The feelings mutual.” You deadpan at him when he eventually shares that fantasy out loud. He knew full well that if you even so much as tried that, you’d end up with a broken ankle and your front pinned to the closest brick wall, but he had no doubts that you would go for it anyway

• Seriously. How has he not murdered you in your sleep yet

[wh0relibrarian]

sunshine

a/n: a continuation of this post, although altered to be a summer break instead of winter. completely got lost in that 😭 please excuse any informalities, i’m still getting used to writing in second person (or smut for that matter), and tumblrs post format! so don’t be mean ;(

context (if you don't want to read the previous post): Reader is visiting her hometown for the summer. A rising grad student who just so happens to bump into Sukuna at the airport. After quick introductions, he gives her his number in case she gets too lonely...

content ahead: southern sukuna au, black coded!reader, afab!reader, d referred to as dick bc i don’t like using ��cock”, v referred to as cunt or pussy, age gap (reader in her early 20s, sukuna is in his early 30s), cowgirl, daddy kink, rough!sukuna (but he’s still a softie), needy!reader, clit stimulation, nicknames such as sweetheart, princess, baby/babydoll, creampie, ass/face slaps, lots of praise, a decent amount of plot

word count: 3.9k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’ve been texting Sukuna for a week now. Off and on, trying not to seem too interested, but interested enough to keep his attention. It sucked that he was a man very obviously out of touch with technology, because you can’t find pictures of him anywhere. Not even a Facebook page. You’ve just been grasping at straws, trying to remember each detail of his face. Each tattoo. You didn’t even get enough time to admire the one’s on his face, way too engulfed in his general appearance.

And oh, Sukuna. That poor man. He knew from the moment he saw you that you’d keep him up at night. From the curvature of your lips— only being the opening act to the beautiful smile you had hidden beneath. He tries to remember what color your shirt was, but can only remember how plump your tits looked. Practically spilling out of a… tank top? Or maybe it was a crop top. You had a jacket on, which he knows was gray because you kept trying to wrap it around your waist like you were embarrassed by your body. He couldn’t figure out why, though. You’re beautiful from head to toe, every part of you.

But today, today was the day you’d ask him to take you out. Or just ask to go out in general. Hell, you’d take anything at this point.

You: Hiii Sukuna. How’s your wrist feeling? I know a couple days ago you said it was progressively getting worse, any updates?

Sukuna: Hey babydoll. I think it’s all good now. Nothin a lil icyhot can’t fix. How are you?

You: I’m happy to hear that :) and I’m okay, just bored, per usual.

Sukuna: Ya know I’m always around.

You: It’s funny you mention that… I was wondering if you were busy later today? Or tonight. Either or, whatever works best for you. If you would even want to do anything of course.

Sukuna: City girl finally ready to get some sunshine?

You: Don’t make fun of me 😑

Sukuna: Oh I’d never do such a thing. Are you free right now? My lunch break’s comin up, could use the company.

You: Yes I am! I can be ready in 15, I’ll send my address.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t as nervous as you thought you’d be. You know you looked good, you felt good. You put on a casual outfit, just a pair of bell bottoms and some old t-shirt your mom left around. This wasn’t a date, and you didn’t want to scare him, so you treated it like a normal hang out with a friend.

He picked you up in an old pickup truck, run down from the years spent riding on dirt roads and an occasional swamp. (Things can get messy the further south you go.) It was normal where you’re from to have at least one beat up truck per household, so his car was not a problem. You were all smiles, nearly skipping your way to the passenger side. Sukuna rolled down the window and he too had a bright toothy smile plastered on his face. It almost looked malicious, but you overlooked it once you got in. Something about his presence had you in a trance, you couldn’t focus on anything else but him.

When you opened the door, he stretched his arm out to help you into the chair. You made it a point to act as if you were struggling to get in and shut the door, nerves suddenly keeping you from wanting to look him straight in the eye. “Damn sweetheart… just look at you,” he said while leaning his body back, taking a moment to take in your appearance. “Hiii Sukuna, you aren’t too bad yourself,” you said giggling.

“We’re just goin’ up to Milo’s, hope that’s luxury enough for ya.”

“You think I came dressed like this for somethin’ luxury?”

“Well if that ain’t luxury, I’d be curious to see what is.”

Smirking, Sukuna went back to putting his full focus on the road. The butterflies in your stomach had died down, finding his presence incredibly inviting and safe. You were looking out the window for a while, until his hand found yours which was resting on your thigh. You turn around to him surprised, only to see his eyes still trained on the road in front of him. His hand clasped yours and gripped it tight, and you found the silence warm, like a gentle hug you wanted to last forever.

The lunch date was sweet. You both ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and a large sweet tea; reveling in its taste since it had been some time since you had genuine sweet tea. He started asking you about your schooling, learning that you’re majoring in business and will soon start working on your master’s degree. This charmed him— you were both alike even if it was in different ways. You’ve always provided for your mother, and so has he. You won’t stop reaching new opportunities, and neither will he. As the date went on his attraction only grew deeper. Your physical appearance did not mean much to him, you were to die for, but right now he wanted to know every single thing about you and didn’t care about anything else.

But… this wasn’t to say he’s not a curious man.

When ordering the food, you took a step back to look at the entire menu. This caused your skin tight shirt to rise up ever so slightly, showing off your cute tummy and belly button piercing. You noticed him staring, and he was never one to lie.

“Sukuna, order some damn food and stop looking at me like that,” you slapped his large bicep jokingly, making that same smirk from earlier slowly grow on his face.

“Mmm, you hidin’ that accent from me girl. Soundin’ so pretty bossin’ me around.”

You could tell the cashier felt a bit awkward at this point, so you pushed Sukuna in front of you to get him to focus.

Even though he would have moments like those, you didn’t feel like he was objectifying you. It never became the focal point of your conversations. It seemed like he was genuinely interested in getting to know you and it made you feel so… different. Sure you were young, but you’d never experienced such a natural yet interesting conversation with a man. You were shocked by it, to say the least, and it only made you want him more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After that day, you two were basically inseparable. He made it a point to try and see you after work, and if there was a day where he couldn’t do it, he’d make it up to you x2 the next day. He immediately started spoiling you, whether it was food or sending you money for new makeup, it’s like he couldn't do enough for you. You were always beyond grateful, and would even tell him to tone it down a bit, but he’d always say, “Princesses deserve princess things.”

It’d been around four weeks of this, the dates would get more romantic, and his time with you only more cherished. Although the flirting continued to grow, he never made a move on you. You definitely didn’t want to be the one to initiate anything. Maybe there was a reason for him not wanting to get physical, but not even a kiss? It was killing you at this point, every night you spent just dreaming of what his pretty lips felt like on yours. Not being able to help your hands traveling down to your aching pussy. You were so horny it hurt, and nothing you did could satiate the feeling; knowing good and well that his fingers— let alone his dick could reach spots you didn’t even know were there. Your own fingers would suffice for now, but you would be leaving in just a few weeks, you needed to know what Ryomen Sukuna was like in bed.

So, the next time he picks you up, you make sure to look drop dead gorgeous (not like he didn’t think that about you regardless.)

A few days ago, he paid for your hair and nail appointments. Large knotless braids with curly pieces coming out of them, and the prettiest french tip set you’d ever got done. You told him you wanted everything to be a surprise, and that you were planning to get a new outfit as well AND that he didn’t have to send you money for that. But you know he did anyway. The plan for this night was a drive-in movie closer to the heart of the city rather than where you both resided. There was a wing place you loved, different shops, and the movie would be the last activity.

After picking up a new sundress, a black one with thin straps and a slit at the bottom, you felt confident enough that tonight would go well. You took a shower when you got home, lathered your skin with shea butter from head to toe, and put on all the gold jewelry you owned.

There’s no way he wouldn’t want to fuck you dumb.

As always, dinner with Sukuna was to die for. He was such a gentleman, making sure to pull your chair out for you, telling you to get whatever you wanted from the menu. “Don’t be scared sweetheart, want you nice ‘n full.”

You shopped for a little while after, well, it was really window shopping. You felt so bad that Sukuna was paying for everything, even though he always insisted. You decided to just point out all of the things you liked, kind of like a test— if he really liked you then he’d remember all these things for a future event.

The drive-in was dead. Which I guess isn’t too surprising, you can’t remember the last time someone talked about seeing a movie here. Nonetheless, this was your dream scenario. With basically no one to catch you guys, it was the perfect breeding ground (literally.) The movie was some rom-com looking thing in black and white which you begged to watch, only because you knew neither of you would want to pay attention. Once he grabbed some popcorn and soda from the concession stand, he pulled up in front of the big projection, claiming he needed to be as close as possible because of his eyesight. After a few minutes of pretending to be interested, you turned to him and finally broke the ice.

“‘Kuna, do you like me?” Sukuna couldn’t believe the question.

“Of course I like you baby, why else would I be here?”

“Well,” you started, “I don’t know…”

“Oh, you know.”

“I know you like me, it’s just like— we aren’t like… you know.”

“Gonna have to use your words sweetheart.”

You looked forward as you tried to find the best way to say this, you decided to just rip the bandaid off.

“We haven’t kissed! Or anything! You just hug me or wrap your arm around my waist, but we haven’t done nothin’ ‘kuna. And I’m not sayin’ that’s any indicator of how much you like me, I’m just sayin’ it’d be ni—”

You anticipated this kiss, not only because you did everything in your power to set it up, but you could feel Sukuna’s eyes latching onto the way your lips moved while talking. His lips were just as soft as you imagined, tasting like cherry carmex and popcorn. His hand found its way to the side of your face, cupping it gently until he moved it to tilt your chin up towards him. Your mouth opened a little from the change in angle, giving Sukuna’s tongue access to the warmth yours had to offer. He melted deeper into the kiss, and so did you, as it continued to get more sloppy and wet. You could tell he was eager, swirling and dancing on the tip of your tongue, sucking it harshly like he was trying to gather as much saliva as possible. Just to pull back and have it leak out of his mouth, dripping down both his and your chin. It was downright nasty the way your fluids were colliding, but it turned you on an unbelievable amount. Whining and groaning into him, rubbing your thighs together, lacking the correct amount of friction from wearing a dress instead of pants.

Your hand started traveling to his chest and lower, and he could tell you were really riled up at this point simply from the way you were tugging on his shirt. He pulled his lips off yours, making you reach out for him still since your eyes were closed. When you opened them, you were able to see the true mess you two caused. Sukuna was drooling, his heavy lidded eyes not daring to move from your frame. His hair was everywhere, and you couldn’t be happier with your hairstyle of choice.

“Fuck baby,” he said while rubbing on the sides of your stomach, “I really need you. I’ve been needin’ you. Yer just so damn sexy, of course I’ve been wantin’ to do stuff. Just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” He leaned in to kiss your cheek and up to the shell of your ear, “Never want you uncomfortable.”

And that sent you over, you cupped his face with both of your hands, kissing him hard. He growled from your sudden dominance, and with a few swift movements, pulled his seat back and slid you over the middle console and into his lap. Your dress hiked up to your thighs once you straddled him, allowing Sukuna to feel just how wet you were. With one hand on your face, and the other on your waist, he slowly made his way down to your cunt.

“So fuckin’ wet for me,” he whispered against your lips, making slow circles on your puffy clit. “This f’me? Say it’s for me babydoll.”

“It’s for you ‘kuna, it’s all for you. Please–” His fingers slid your panties to the side, revealing just how sticky you were for him. Your pussy was basically crying to be touched, and Sukuna was a gentleman, of course.

His mouth never left yours, left hand now resting behind your neck, while his other is furiously rubbing your bare clit. Your moans were being swallowed by Sukuna’s mouth, and when the pleasure finally got to be too much, you suddenly threw your head back with a yelp. Catching yourself immediately, you press your forehead into his.

“‘M sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry— it’s t-too much.”

“Don’t apologize princess, I love seein’ you act like this. So slutty.”

Your tits have barely been able to stay concealed in your already showy dress. They spilled out on their own from your sporadic movements, and once Sukuna could see one, he dropped everything to unveil the other and fondle them both. You kept grinding on his very hard dick, keeping up the rhythm he set up for you while he went to town on your boobs. Massaging them, pinching and flicking the nipples, mumbling things like “fuckin’ shit they’re so soft,” and “need to fuck you.” It wasn’t long before he popped one into his mouth, sucking on it, making it soo much more sensitive. You were squealing at this point, Sukuna looked up at you to see the tears forming at the corner of your eyes. With a ‘pop’ he brought his attention back to your beautiful face. Somehow fucked out just from dry humping. How cute, he thought to himself.

“Look at me, princess.” You struggled, but your eyes met his, still striving for your release. “‘M gonna fuck you, okay? Is that what you want?” You started nodding your head yes like a damn puppy.

“Need to hear you say it princess. Tell me you want it.”

“Wan’ it s-so bad baby, fuck me, I need you to fuck me.”

The thing about pick-up trucks is that there’s not really a backseat, which means you’d have to ride him right where you were. This wouldn’t have been a problem, until Sukuna quickly pulled down his pants and boxers, revealing probably the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. It was the fucking length that scared you. It wasn’t too thick, but girthy enough that it, plus his length, would have your legs shaking for days. He gave his dick slow strokes while you took off your dress, suddenly feeling embarrassed from being the only one naked. He could see you get self conscious by the way you try and hide yourself like the day he met you.

“Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for,” his eyes were still focused on yours while he prepared himself, licking his lips like he was genuinely going to eat you later.

“I can’t look at ya? You just look so damn good sweetheart. Can’t believe yer all mine.”

“You don’t have to gas me up now,” you said looking away.

“Nuh-uh,” he grabbed your cheeks and turned your face back to his, “I’ma always tell you how good you look. Don’t act so shy now baby.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing at his statement, still leaking from the previous foreplay. He pulled your forehead to his lips, kissing it tenderly, and when he let go of your face he asked you one last time if you were ready. You whisper out a shy yes and grab his dick cautiously, lining it up with your entrance as you slowly lower yourself onto it. You let out a sharp grasp as Sukuna rests his hands on the sides of your hips, trying to assist in any way he can. Once you’re close to bottoming out, he starts whispering praises.

“Doin’ so good babydoll.”

“Look at you takin’ me so well.

Every time he spoke your pussy would clench around him, making him hiss and choke back a whine. Once he was all the way inside you, you let out a breathe you didn’t realize you were holding. You raised your head to look at him instead of the way he was stretching you out. There’s that smirk again. One of his hands finds it’s way back to your clit, rubbing slow circles like before to help you relax. You were so tense but you tried to keep a level-headed face, even though it literally felt like you were being split in two.

You felt your walls get used to his size and shape, feeling them contort and mold into Sukuna’s cocksleeve. With that, you start riding him slowly, using his shoulders to stay balanced. You got the hang of it quickly and began picking up pace. He was still stimulating your clit, using his other hand to keep guiding your body up and down. It was clear that you were struggling to take him all in though, pausing every few seconds to catch your breathe or readjust yourself. And this would just not do for Sukuna.

He gripped and slapped your ass hard.

“Gotta do better than that baby.”

Smack

“C’mon sweetheart, put your fucking. back. into. it.”

Each emphasis on a word was coupled with a hard thrust and loud whines coming from the depths of your throat. The sounds you were both making at this point bounced around the truck. There wasn’t a moment of silence and you felt blissful. Lulling your tongue out just for Sukuna to catch between his teeth; moving his hand back to bully your clit, and using his free hand to grab your face and continue fucking his hips up into yours. He was growling obscenities into your ear, “Yeah baby, just like that keep fucking me like that.”

“Sukuna, please! Fuckfuckfuck I can’t,” you were bouncing on his dick beautifully, tits bouncing in unison and he truly believed you were unreal.

“Yes you can baby,” he gave your face light slaps, “keep those eyes open, keep lookin’ at me baby. Doin’ so good, I promise.” You were leaking like a faucet down his dick and balls, and with a certain thrust, you were sure he was hitting your cervix. The string of cries that came out of your mouth made him go faster, harder, knowing that he finally found the spot that makes you weak.

“Am I makin’ you feel good baby?”

“Mhmm, y-yesss, so so good.”

“Yes who?” Your eyes were crossing trying to look at him, confused at what he meant at first, but as his thrusts got rougher you knew exactly what he was getting at.

“Y-yes daddy, it feels so good.” You were slightly embarrassed by the things you were saying, the noises too. You felt so dirty, but in a good way. Searching for your release that was so close.

Sukuna was close too, but he didn’t want that to come before he made you gush all over his dick. When he found his way to your neck, kissing and biting and sucking on your precious skin, you were done.

“Fuck daddy right there!”

“Here sweetheart? You like this?”

“Yesyesyes don’t stop please don’t stop–” and with a cry you were creaming all over Sukuna’s dick. Your pussy clamped down on him so tight, he couldn’t help but look down at the beautiful mess you made all over his thighs. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, causing you to become incredibly overstimulated. Sukuna was getting close, you could tell by his relentless strokes, forgetting any type of consistent pace. His hands were on your hips now, pistoning up into you as your head rested gracefully on his shoulder.

“Mm babydoll gimme a kiss, c’mere.”

When your shaky lips met his, he was sent into overdrive.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum. Fuck baby, where do you want it.”

Absolutely fucked out, you tried to come up with some sort of cohesive thought. “I-insi..de ‘kuna. In m-me.”

“You sure? Tell me you’re fuckin’ sure, yer milkin’ me baby.”

“I’m s-sure. Please please just cum inside me!”

“Oh, fuckkk…” Sukuna’s load filled your pussy to the brim, leaking out to coat the sides of his dick. He made you feel so full and warm. Finally stopping his thrusts, you hunch over his shoulder and he begins rubbing what feels like hearts on your back, humming into your ear how good you were for him, dick never leaving your pussy.

“Did such a good job princess. So fuckin’ good, are you an angel? Must be an angel, the way you dropped into my life like this.”

“Mmmm I’m your angel ‘kuna. I was made for you only.”

Although the moment was wholesome, your mind immediately flooded with the thought of you leaving in a few weeks.

How were you supposed to leave after this?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

hope you enjoyed ;) and let me know if i missed anything as far as my content ahead section goes!

tags: @aiyaaayei

[romanarose]

About a Girl: Chapter 8

Beautiful header by my beloved @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Joel Miller x Trans!Fem!Reader (Nickname, Blue)

Series Masterlist : The Last of Us Masterlist : Full Masterlist

Summary: For week 5 of my pride event: Struggles. Joel, Sarah, Blue, and

Warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter: 18+ ONLY!! I cannot warn against everything, but these are major themes. Joel is a lil ignorant but not out of hate. He just doesn't know. He's trying his best. There will be smut. Penetrative sex, all of the anal play, oral. There will be transphobia from other people. Addiction and alcoholism. QUICK child neglect not by Joel but I promise, Sarah is fine and is having a great time in life. Fetishization of women attracted to women by a shitty guy. Will update as needed. Again, this is adult content. Expect adult content.

Immersivity: Reader is transgender, AMAB female, reader has had gotten bottom surgery, not top, and is on hormones. reader has visible hair and a blue streak in hair, but not described. Could be braids, could be natural hair, whatever. Header is for aesthetics only. Reader is about Joel and Tommy's height. Let me know if i miss anything!

TRANS LIVES MATTER! TRANS YOUTH MATTER! TRANS ELDERLY MATTER! TRANS WOMEN MATTER! TRANS MEN MATTER! NON BINARY TRANS MATTER!

She was wearing the dress you bought her. They both were. 

Joel watched from the kitchen as Sarah and Ellie had their little tea party in the cute matching dresses you had bought them. Ellie was over for a playdate, a tea party to be exact. For Sarah’s birthday, which Joel spent much of the time wishing you were there and Sarah mentioned multiple times she missed you as well, Tommy had handmade her a table and chair set.

Since Joel kicked him out, things had been… shitty. Joel missed him a lot, even though they still saw each other almost every day at work. It was the off season so hours were reduced, but Bill and Frank never left the four of them hanging, and made sure they had some contacts for extra hours at other farms or under the table work to make up their hours. Tommy had been riding with Tess now, and it seems in his spare time Joel wasn’t privy to had been making the set in Bill's garage. Sarah was ecstatic and first thing was asking if she could have Ellie over for a tea party the next weekend. Joel confirmed with Ellie’s very uninterested foster mom, saying he could pick up and drop off when she didn’t seem enthused about bringing her over two weeks in a row. Ellie was Sarah’s best friend, and since you were gone Sarah seemed down, so Joel was going out of his way to cheer his little girl up. She deserved it. She deserves everything. She deserved to have you in her life, Joel didn’t.

The night Joel came home to Tommy doing heroin was one of the worst nights of his life. He was so scared for her, scared she’d accidentally stuck herself with the needle or wandered off into the street to get hit or kidnapped or worse…if something happened to Sarah, his life would be over. There’d be no point anymore. He put her to bed the second time, comin downstairs to an empty living room but knowing you’d be coming in soon. He was scared, embarrassed that Talia had seen all that, and worried what Sarah saw and heard. Worried how he’d explain Tommy being gone… If he’d just gone to rehab it’d be easier, but he still refused. Instead, he lived with Tess and came over sometimes because of course he did, they were still brothers… it was hard to explain why Tommy didn’t live here anymore. And it was going to be hard to explain why you were gone.

“This isn’t gonna work.”

You blinked at him, mouth agap. “Joel… come on don’t do this.”

“You don’t wanna be with me like this.” Joel shook his head.

“Baby, no…” You try to approach him, raising your arms to hold him but he held out a hand. He was still surprise that you stopped. Kayla never respected his boundaries like that. “You think I care about this? I mean- fuck I mean I care, you know I care about Sarah and Tommy but I mean… I don’t view you differently. It makes me sad Tommy is hurting like this but I don’t view him different… Joel I wanna help-”

He cut you off. “You can’t.” Joel’s face was hardened, his soft eyes looking lost. “This isn’t a good time and… I can’t have distractions.”

Joel’s heart breaks when he see’s your lower lips quiver. “Am I a distraction to you?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say you were everything, you completed him, you were apart of his little found family and he loved you so, so much… but he couldn’t. Sarah was left alone for anything to happen because Joel was with you. It wasn’t your fault. It was his.

“Yes.”

Joel was sure Ellie wouldn’t like the dress, but she was wearing it. Maybe she just didn’t get nice things as a foster child. Joel thought that was a shame. Ellie was a good kid, nice if a little rough sometimes but never malicious. Her and Sarah were playinging some game with sticks as Joel sat on the deck drinking coffee with Tommy. He watched as she got a little over zealous and THWACK, a stick across Sarah’s face. It looked worse than it was, and sure probably hurt bad, but nothing but a few cuts on her face. Joel ran down the deck to hold a screaming Sarah, not noticing Ellie disappearing when his back turned. Tommy did.

As Sarah calmed down, Tommy appeared holding Ellie’s hand. Ellie tried to run out the gate but it was locked, she just managed to take get it undone, smart kid she was, when Tommy scooped her up.

As Sarah’s sobs turned into sniffles, Joel turned to see Ellie frozen, eyes wide and body shaking.

“Hey now…” Joel said softly. “It’s alright Ellie, it was an accident. See? She ’salright.” Joel motioned to Sarah who was wiping her eyes.

“Joel.” Tommy mumbles. “I don’t think that’s what she’s worried about…”

Oh. She was scared of him. “You’re okay, Ellie. I ain’t mad, game just got a little wild, that’s all. Right Sarah? You’re okay aren’t you?”

Sarah whipped her tears, standing up. “Yeah I’m okay!” Although her voice still wobbled and her face was still wet. “Daddy can we have a snack?”

“Yeah, of course babygirl. I’ll bring your chairs and table out so you can eat out here, sound good?”

Joel and Tommy’s eyes connected. The pieces were there to conclude what they thought, but the evidence was all circumstantial. 

As Sarah and Ellie ate their snack, he noticed how quickly Ellie ate her food, asking for more. Joel decided to ask her foster mom is she could stay for dinner. He heard them talking as they ate.

“Where did you get these dresses? Did you buy them?” Ellie asked her.

“Uh-uh. Daddy’s girlfriend Blue bought them!”

“Where is she?”

Joel watched as Ellie glanced down at her food. “They broke up.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I miss her. My mommy is gone too.”

“Did she die?”

“No, she and my daddy broke up too.”

“Your dad breaks up a lot. He shouldn’t be so picky, he’s too old.”

Joel couldn't help smile at that. Ellie didn’t have a filter. It wasn’t that he being picky; it wasn’t about you. You were perfect. Joel pictured himself marrying you, having a life with you. You were perfect. He was wrong. Everything about Joel’s life was chaos and it wasn’t fair to you or Sarah or Tommy to split his attention even more. And now, it seemed, he was taking on a lot of responsibility for Ellie too. It was just too much. 

Joel turned on the TV while he cooked dinner, Ellie and Sarah playing upstairs.

“Grunge pioneer and Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain found dead in his apartment today, thought to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

Joel dropped the spoon into his spagetti sauce. “Shit.” He murmured, trying to fish it out with a spatula. Nirvana was your favorite, you idolized Kurt Cobain. He knew more about the beef between him and Guns “N Roses or Nirvana and Pearl Jam than he ever thought he would; he didn’t even know who Nirvana or Pearl Jam were before you, honestly.  He loved hearing your passion, even if it was all so new to him, an he loved when you showed him new songs, but nothing got your mouth going like Nirvana did; the absolute excited way you talked about their music made your eyes light up and you’d bounce in your seat, joyful and enthusiastic, a love for life Joel admired. 

He loved how someone who’d been through so much could be so… happy. It gave him hope. From life as a depressed, addicted “gay man” couch surfing and sometimes homeless, to a school teacher, happy and loving and stable as a woman. Before you, he only vaguely knew what being trans was. No one really talked about it except occasionally some article or an episode of TV. Joel didn’t think much about it, but he knew what others thought. Many said it was a sin, or unnatural, or that it was body mutilation… Some said things like they would regret it, that it was a mental illness… Joel didn’t know much about mental illness, if he was being honest. He knew it was considered a mental illness by the big book psychiatrists use… but he always knew until the 70’s being gay was considered one too, and Joel didn’t think Tess, Bill and Frank were mentally ill. Well, Bill was a conspiracy theorist and a little cooky at times, but his head was on straight. Joel didn’t really care what anyone said. You were living and looking the way you wanted to  save your life, and Joel was glad you were alive, even if you weren't a part of his world.

After serving up his girls, a heaping serving for Ellie to make up for what she’s not getting at ‘home’, Joel leaned against the counter, spooning the left over right into his mouth. One less dish to clean. He liked Ellie, he thought as he ate, even if she was a bit of a pain in the ass. She was spirited in a way Sarah wasn’t, but a good kid. She also liked baseball, and would watch with him sometimes before Sarah dragged her away.

He heard the doorbell, and Sarah ran up shouting “I’ll get it!!!” and as Joel walked over to the door still chewing a big mouthful of spaghetti, she informed him it was Aunt Tess.

“Hey Tess,” Joel swallowed his food, “Sorry, I can’t have anyone other than Tommy over, Ellie’s over for a playdate.”

Tess didn’t look like herself, sollem and worried face mareing her expressions. “Joel… something happened with Blue…”

His heart dropped. “Is it the Kurt Cobain thing? Is she okay? I know thats probably really upset-” 

She cut him off, hand raised but not rudely. “No, Joel I- jesus… Tommy say anything to you?”

Joel furrowed his brow. What did he do now? “No… he get into trouble again?”

“No… he was pretty out of it the other night but… him and me with with Max. Joel, I swear, he said he dumped Kayla.”

Taking a deep breath, Joel cringed at her name. “Y’all can do whatever you want, it’s none of my business.” But it still hurt, just a little, even if it was irrational. 

Tess scrubbed her face. “Joel, it’s bad, it’s so bad. Tommy got drunk, and he started talk’n, and you know how he gets… well Max was talkn ‘bout Kayla and her beef with Blue and I swear, no one was talk’n bad about her, Tommy was say’n how much he likes her, and I don’t even know how it came out but Tommy mentioned her being trans-”

“Shit- To Max? Tess, you know how he is!” Joel turned into the house, bellowing. “TOMMY!”

“I know! I know, okay but listen…” She shifted her feet. “I guess he wasn’t done with Kayla…” Tess’s face looked wracked with guilt, biting her lip and struggling to get out the story.

It was bad.

*

Joel dropped Ellie off with her foster mom, sending her with some fruit snacks. Not trusting Tommy with Sarah alone yet, Joel left her with Tommy and Tess; Talia answered Blue’s door.

“Joel.” She sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “This isn’t a good time. You know I love yuh, but she don’t need this right now.”

Joel shuffled, placing his hands in his pockets. “I’m- fuck, I’m sorry I just… I wanted to check on ‘er…” 

Talia’s face softens, her body language relaxing. “I know… and I’m sorry. Maybe come by in a few days, I’ll let her know you stopped by, but she said she didn’t wanna see anyone-”

“Talia? Is that Joel?”

Signing at the voice of her best friend, she turned around. “Yeah babe, I told him to come by in a day or two.”

The sound of you sitting up made his heart leap. The idea of seeing you after months was exciting and nerve racking. 

Acquiescing, Talia opened the door to your apartment where Joel saw you. You were still in your PJ’s, hair a mess, your eyes bloodshot and puffy. You were still the prettiest woman he’d ever seen in his life.

“Hey.” Nirvana played in the background. Something in the Way.

“Hey…” You lip quivers, and Joel runs over to you with no hesitation, scooping you into his strong, farm-worked arms and keeping you close to him as you cried. Your body wracks in heaves and sobs, and Joel knew something was very wrong, his heart aching for you, hoping so badly you were going to be okay. He never wanted to stop hugging you. When you’re crying slowed, Joel still held your body. Talia offered to go get some food, trusting Joel to watch you while she was gone and giving you both time to talk. When you finally lifted your head off his soft flannel, Joel guided you to sit on the couch.

“I’ve missed you so much…” You sniffled, not looking at him. “As soon as I heard about Kurt Cobain, I just wanted to call you…”

“You could’ve…” He reassured you. “I know how much he meant to you… I don’t want you to have to go through things alone, Blue…”

You shake your head. “I don’t. I got Talia, I always got Talia… and Tess and Tommy…” 

Joel didn’t know Tommy was hanging out with you. “I know… I just…” He sighs. “I still wanna be there for you, you know? And with what happened…”

You groan, flopping back on the couch dramatically. “I can’t fucking beleive it. Years, i was here for years completely fine! Then this shit happens!”

“I’m sorry-”

“Joel, don’t-”

“But I am! I’m sorry, this is because of me.”

“No, this is because Kayla is a bitch. Sorry Joel, I know you don’t like us talk’n bad about her but she is!”

His voice was soft and gentle. “I think you earned the right to call her that, Blue.”

He hears you huff a sardonic laugh. “So have you.” You scrub your face. “Three years with this school, not so much as a talking to, no bad performance reviews… Not even a parent complaint.” You pop your head up. “Parents will complain about everything! But not me!” Back down. “All down the drain.”

Apparently, Max wasn’t done with Kayla. This didn’t surprise Joel; Kayla wanted Max to get to him, and Max was stupid. Of course he was still cheating with her. Kayla was, obviously, beautiful. That’s just a fact. After finding out Blue was trans, he scampered off to Kayla like a little rat and told her. Kayla, in turn, outted Blue to the entire school.

“Can’t you sue for wrongful termination? I mean, they can’t fire you for being trans.”

“Nope” You popped the P. “But they fired me on grounds of poor work performance which is bullshit. Texas is a will to work state, which means they can basically fire me for anything except being a protected class, so they just make something up. Texs has ass workers rights, I don’t got a leg to stand on.” He watched as your eyes welled up with tears. “Parents who always said their children adored me complained I was a predator and was grooming their children… One called me a satanist, which is wild.”

Joel chuckled a little at that, but only because you had a smile at the corner of your mouth. “I’m sorry this is happening, Blue… you’re a great teacher and they are fucking missing out.”

“I know, thank you. Being good right won’t pay my bills, though.” You’d be moving in with Tess, Talia, and Tommy, making for a full house. Joel wanted to bring Tommy home, he really fucking did… Tess and Talia woud have a full house once Blue was there, Sarah missed him… and fuck, Joel missed him. A lot. But Tommy refused to get help, and although he said he was clean, he’d said it before. He couldn’t risk Sarah’s safety like that. Honestly, he wasn’t sure Tommy even wanted to come back with the way Joel had talked to him sometimes. 

You rested your feet on his blue jeans. “I’m glad you’re here, cowboy.”

Joel just can't stay away.

Two chapters left! One more seeing how things come back together for Joel, Blue, Sarah, Ellie, Tess and Talia

then, the finally where everyone is happy for the finale of pride event!!!!

I went to pride today (before and after being The Bikeriders AGAIN)

Before, I cried a little a free mom hugs

then i cried at The Bikerriders

then!! After bikeriders I went back to check out everything fully with more time and ended up breaking down sobbing at the free mom/dad hugs tent. It was so much a lady from anothr tent hugged me too ;-;

i love my mom but she'd never fully accept me.

Anyway, love y'all!!!! You are loved just the way you are! You are sacred!

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[frvnkcastles]

DISAPPEARING YEARS ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When you get a diagnosis you’ve been dreading, Frank is there for you.

Warnings: Unspecified illness, feminine nicknames, hurt/comfort

Word count: 894

Author’s note: A short but sweet one inspired by That Phone Call from your doctor that confirms what you’ve been expecting. I remember what a gut punch it was to be told I have C-PTSD, and then another one when I was told it was causing psychosis in me, but most recently I got a not-so-nice physical health diagnosis that made this lil fic happen. It sucks. But at least we’ve got Frank, right?

Frank’s hand was heavy but steady in yours as you sat on the edge of the bed with your phone raised to your ear. As soon as it had rung with your doctor’s name blinking on the screen, it had been as if the world had slowed down to nothingness, like everything else was on pause except the bad news you were awaiting. And one look was all it had taken for Frank to take your hand and grip it tightly, silently promising that he was there for you no matter what your doctor would have to tell you.

When a tear escaped your eye and trailed down your cheek, Frank was quick to wipe it away with his thumb, right before he pressed a kiss onto your shoulder and left his chin resting there. The way he attached himself to you was borderline clingy, but he needed you to know he wasn’t leaving your side, needed you to remember the good you had — he rarely saw himself in such a flattering light, but right now, he acknowledged he had the power to keep you going and give you strength. So, he made it his mission to invade your senses from gentle kisses to soft touches and quiet whispers to assure you were doing wonderfully.

It was almost funny how quickly the phone call was over, how your doctor had given you world-stopping news and then just wrapped it up like any other call. But indeed, within minutes, you found yourself dropping your phone onto the mattress and then looking over to Frank who stared back at you with expectant but loving eyes.

”It’s… it’s what they suspected. Just… confirmed it for me. It’s an official diagnosis now”, you whispered after licking your dry lips. You took in a deep breath, and with your face twitching as you tried to avoid crying, you looked away from Frank who was allowing you the time to get it all off of your chest. ”I know we saw this coming, but it just feels so—”, you tried, but like a tidal wave, the first sob broke through you and you lifted your hand to your mouth.

”Hey, hey, shh”, Frank reacted instantly, assuming his turn to speak, and with tender hands he weaved you into a tight embrace that squeezed all the ugly cries out of you.

”I just don’t want to deal with this”, you hiccuped, and still shushing you, Frank nodded against your head and massaged firm circles on your back.

”I know, sweet girl, I know. Hell, it ain’t somethin’ anyone wants to hear. But you took it like a champ, y’know that? You’re a fuckin’ badass”, he insisted, his gravelly voice filled to the brim with love and sincerity as he went on, ”I’m amazed by you every time. I mean it.”

You let your eyes fall shut and felt the tears pour down in response. Still, even as they wet the collar of Frank’s shirt, he was unmovable; constant and reliable as he held you tight to his chest. He didn’t falter for one second, didn’t make you doubt his affection for you as he began to softly rock you side to side.

”You’re right, you saw this comin’. Don’t make it any easier, I know. But in some way, you’ve been preparin’ for it, yeah? We looked up things to make it better together, ’member? You got this, baby. You absolutely do. You have what it takes to get through this, and shit, you know I’d do anythin’ for you. So whatever you need, I’m here for ya”, Frank assured, not even an ounce of hesitation in his voice. The words mixed with the warm embrace made the world seem a little less cruel, and with whatever courage you had left, you mustered a nod.

Sniffling, you leaned back just enough to look at Frank, a small smile impossible to resist when you saw his dark eyes fixated on you and his lips curved up in a hopeful way. ”The doctor did say a lot of kisses and cuddles might alleviate the symptoms”, you pointed out matter-of-factly, and the loud laugh you got from Frank made it all seem worth it.

”That right?” Frank grinned before leaning in to kiss your forehead, followed by your nose, cheek, jawline and finally, your lips. It was long and sweet and warm and safe and you wanted to live in it. ”Won’t catch me denyin’ my girl some lovin’”, he promised before kissing you once more, this time in a way that took your breath away with the heated connection between your lips.

Giggling, you dropped your head against his chest and sighed. ”This all seems a lot less sucky when I have you with me”, you admitted, and with a quiet chuckle, Frank dipped his finger under your jaw and tilted your head up so he could give you a knowing look.

”That’s how I feel about every day, sweetheart. You make life worth livin’. And that’s why I’mma make sure you enjoy waking up every day, too”, he promised, his forehead colliding with yours as he breathed you in.

”This may be a bad thing, I know, but we’ll have lots of good ones. I swear”, he added, and with a quiet nod, you gave him a smile.

”I believe you, Frankie.”

[charleslee-valentine]

Flesh and Blood need Flesh and Blood

For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Month event: Day 6- Underestimated

Word Count: ~3,100

Warnings: Blood and violence. Accidental killing. Period typical ableism & ableist language. Mild panic attacks. Domestic abuse. Religious aspects.

_________

“Take him home. Now, boy.” Drayton Sawyer barks in his middle brother’s face, keeping his yelling hushed to avoid causing a scene.

“Y-Yessir.” Nubbins, for his part, gives a nod and takes off running, only stopping when his clammy hands wrap around the handles of a wheelchair.

Franklin’s wheelchair.

It’ll be a long walk from here, takin’ the road shoulder all the way from the gas station to home, but Drayton’s got a mess to clean and customers to serve that oughta take priority over drivin’ the boys home. Couldn’t be arranged unless it was planned, and nothin’ about today had been goin’ in that sort of direction.

The boys were all together in the station’s yard, running not wheeling or wobbling to the best of their abilities. Using whatever toys they could scrounge together they’d made a game, pitchin’ crushed soda cans, wads of dry gum, a bouncy ball, and so so long as they could smack it around with a bat. Ain’t no objective, though eventually they started trying to catch each other’s swings.

Bubba’s only nine still and learnin’ to upkeep all the things he’d been taught. It’s harder work for him to retain things in his brain, so he stumbles when he walks and struggles to hold a fork at supper, but that’s just Bubba. Mangled little face and all, that’s the Sawyers’ kid brother and he’s goin’ to be included in their play.

Ain’t up to no yuppie scum t’ decide who’s doin’ what and where. Don’t stop them from sharin’ uncalled for opinions.

“That boy out there, you ought lock him up ‘fore someone gets hurt. Teenaged, child, whatever. Don’t matter to them like that. Those are freaks of nature, ‘n whatever they are, they’s goin’ ruin it all the same. Comin’ after the comfortable. You know what I’m sayin’.”

The man wouldn’t stop lecturing Drayton about allowing Bubba to play in the yard with his brother and a friend, like that was the worst option. Like he had any clue of when Mama was perfectly willing to let the state take Bubba for a price, just before her disappearance from the picture. Had a lot of nerve bein’ so ignorant out loud.

Well thing is, Franklin was playing batter, and the man was storming over to lecture here too, and Drayton wasn’t quick enough comin’ ‘round the counter to stop it, and he just reacted. Swing the bat.

Broke the man’s nose on the first swing, saw blood and panicked. Kept swingin’ and jabbing with the bat ‘til his instincts told him the threat was gone and he could stop. Just like swatting a bug.

Except a man’s skull was spilling its contents all over the ground, and nobody even said a word. Nubbins went straight to helping his big brother carry it, Bubba took the bat and ran it inside. The practiced nature of what they were doing, hiding the evidence, didn’t really occur to Franklin just yet. His mind was focused on the trouble he’d face from the law or his parents or even God for this, nevermind if the Sawyers didn’t care.

Now Nubbins is just pushin’ him along like it’s not an issue in the world, and Franklin can’t help but worry out loud, “Oh Lord, why’d I do that?”

“D-Do what?” Nubbins tilts his head and leans down into Franklin’s line of vision, slowing their forward progress from leaning on the wheelchair so heavily.

“You saw me! I killed that man!” Franklin’s voice cracks harshly, his cheeks tinging pink from the embarrassment of that, as if that’s worse than homicide.

But Nubbins straightens out some and casually reminds him, “He was mean.”

Franklin blinks away the surprise of his casual nature and sputters, “Lots of people are mean! But I hit him ‘cross the head with a steel bat! That’s mean too, dontcha think?”

“Nawh.”

“Naw?! Nubbins I'm goin’ to prison. I beat a guy to death and my fam’ly gonna hate me, they ain’t never gonna let me back! Not even God’s gonna want me, it’s gotta be a sin to kill another man. Oh Lord I’m goin’ to Hell Nubbins!”

With Nubbins behind him and nobody around for miles, Franklin won’t deny he started crying.

Nubbins shocks him out of it again with a curious comment, “Wh-What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Franklin sniffles, picking at his nails nervously.

His friend downright giggles, “Hell. What’s Hell l-like? I-I never been there.”

Sometimes he forgets the Sawyers aren’t of the faith, seeing it’s so common in his own life. Had to lie downright and tell his mama that they’re church goers alright, just a different sect so they’ll never see them on Sundays. Think he said they was witnesses or somethin’. Sometimes it felt like God was more important to them than even he was, a lonely child ignored for the sake someone they don’t even know’s grace.

Now ain’t the time to be doubtin’ his beliefs, so he sticks to them, and explains, “Hell is where the bad people go when they die.”

“You isn’t a.. a bad people. That other guy was. H-He was mean to Bubba. Anyone m-mean to Bubba gots to sp-splatter.” One of his hands comes down on the rubber lined handle of the wheelchair, making a dull thud that rattles Franklin’s bones. Almost worse than his comment, “H-He smashed up r-real good too, Frankie!”

“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick..” Franklin gets overwhelmed until it tightens in his stomach and feels funny in his throat. He covers his mouth, “You got a bag I could throw up in?”

Despite Franklin’s urgency, Nubbins sounds so casual, “Jus’ lean o-over.”

“My spine is paralyzed silly, I cain't just lean any way I wanna.” Correcting him works to calm Franklin down some at least, staying level headed so he don’t yell at Nubbins over forgetting a good excuse to breathe normal.

“Oh. I c-can help lean ya.” He offers patiently, impressive for Nubbins.

Franklin decides a few deep breaths’ll do. “It’s alright- No I don’t think I’m gonna be sick no more. It’s alright.”

“My sick lasts a.. a l-lot l-longer than that!” There’s something like admiration there in his voice. Like it’s got nothin’ to do with Epstein-Barr and it’s just some talent Franklin has that makes him feel better.

He laughs softly, “That’s ‘cause you got a condition.”

“Nuh-Uh.” Nubbins argues, even though it isn’t true.

“Oh, alright.” Franklin just agrees ‘cause that’s easier. And things are good for a while, pleasant. ‘Til his worries come out again and the reality of running away from murder with Nubbins sets in, “You think your brother is mad at me?”

“N-No. Not you. H-He don’ hit no o-outsiders.”

“I ain’t an outsider. I’m your best friend.”

Switching to pushing the wheelchair with only one hand, he shakes out the other, happy from hearing Franklin say that. Nubbins wants Franklin to be happy too, “That’s true. B-But.. I won’ let him hurt ya! I-I’ll take the beatin’. It’s no t-trouble.”

Somehow, that brings more dread into Franklin’s heart, “Critter, that don’t make me feel better.”

Not knowing a better way to settle it, Nubbins just shrugs and keeps down the path towards home, imitating buzzing car engines as they pass, or the crunch of Franklin’s wheels along the cracking road. Ain’t all that worried honestly for the crime scene they’re leaving behind.

That’s when Franklin remembers that the second he had swung the bat, Bubba got overwhelmed by the confrontation and run off towards home. Can tell he’s in there from the curtains being drawn up tight when he knows for certain they was open when he got dropped off this morning.

Nubbins seems to remember about the same and takes off jogging a little faster down the rest of the drive, shaking Franklin’s wheelchair around accidentally. He lets it slide since it’s a big brother’s concern for his sibling causing the rush and don’t ask him to slow down.

After dragging him backwards up the stairs, Nubbins shoves the door open and calls out, “B-Bubba, you home yet?”

If they’re quiet, they can both hear a quiet chuffing noise deep in the house somewhere, Bubba making noises like a pig to soothe himself.

“C’mon L-Leatherface, answer me if- if you’s here!” Nubbins raises his voice some impatiently while pulling Franklin inside after himself.

This time they get some babbling in response, and though Franklin wishes he understood the little Sawyer’s language, he’s not a master yet.

It’s a good thing Nubbins answers his question just fine, “Yeh, I-I got Frankie with me. You c-come out. I need- I need helps with supper.”

Out of the basement he emerges, no sign of the distress beyond an extra layer of clothes, a soft jacket he wears when he needs the comfort. Don’t know who it belonged to for it to be so large, hanging down past his curled up hands and almost to his knees, but he loves that thing. At some point, Franklin realized it was a woman’s robe and thought it might belong to his mother, but she’s a mystery to Franklin too.

“Cook gonna be o-ornery when he gets home, so’s I-I want you to help make s-somethin’ good!” Taking on the big brother role, Nubbins bosses him around, “Me ‘n F-Frankie, we gonna clean up and get- get the house nice, s-so you gonna cook!”

All together they get it presentable, sweeping the floors and wiping down the counters. Franklin is assigned to the dining room only since he’s never been in the kitchen, setting up a fancy table cloth and some plates. Never seen the place look so tidy before, wonders if they only do cleaning up for the holidays or guests.

Somehow it all feels like he’s preparing for the gallows, sentenced to a hanging the very moment Drayton gets home and subjects him to whatever punishment he’s got to face. An eye for an eye, killed by the same bat maybe? The police called on him and shooting him blank in the head when he cries. Hopefully not one of the oldest Saywer’s signature beatings, he’d almost rather one of the other choices.

He’s shaking like a leaf by the time Drayton cracks the door open, talking to them at a low tone ‘cause he knows they’d be close, not stupid enough to hide after this.

“Boys. Today’s uh- been a big day, huh?”

Draytons words trail off into a chuckle, but everyone else stays silence. Franklin gives a wet sniffle, on the verge of tears again.

Putting his hands on the back of the master chair, he leans forward and glances down the table, showing a crooked smile. “Supper don’t look too bad. Uh. I brought you uh- somethin’ down from the station-“

Over his shoulder, he gestures to a grocery bag he left by the door.

Nubbins starts bouncing in his seat, drumming his palms against the table, “I-Is it the beeve!?”

“Don’t you go ruinin’ the surprise!” Drayton kicks the seat of his chair, all that modest cheer melted into fury in the literal blink of an eye, “Did you tell him?!”

Franklin swallows thickly, “Tell me what, sir?”

“About the meat!”

“No.. I.. No sir. I don’t got a clue what you’re talkin’ about. Either of ya.”

“In that case-“ He goes off to retrieve the bag and brings it to the table, raising it up along with his eyebrows at the same time, nudging it forward until he unveils what’s inside. Butchered meat, it seems, but the third piece comes out with lightly burnt skin left on, and a tattoo. “Congratulations, Franklin! You’re one of us now!”

“My- My firstie t-time was a long time ago. You’s jus’ a l-late bloomer like Bubba!” Nubbins adds, clapping Franklin on his shoulder over and over, like he’s petting a dog.

Franklin who’s mouth has gone so dry he’s got to down half his whole glass of sweet tea, “You’re talkin’ about killin’.”

“Uh-huh! Mine was a.. Bank man! B-Bank man come to take Drayton’s truck away, h-he put his hands on me, a-an’ I slashed his ugly neck r-right open!” Nubbins excitedly imitates an over-exaggerated spraying of blood by pushing air between his teeth and making the splatter with his hands.

It’s amusing, but the gravity of what they’re telling him holds Franklin’s joy down deep inside, “I jus’ don’t understand why. I never known anybody in the whole world to be like this. Killers this way.”

“We gots to eat.” Clearly repeating what somebody else told him, Nubbins gives a noncommittal shrug, “D-Dogs in the world ‘an stuff, w-we gots to eat each other.”

Ah. So he is right about that. Drayton cooked up the man he killed on accident and brought it home as some kind of treat for the boys.

Franklin tries to avoid havin’ to do the act by bringing up his own condition, diabetes type one, “Surely that ain’t good for my blood sugar. I got that disease you know, makes my sugar go up and down and I gotta watch it real close-“

“B-B-But you been eatin’ it j-jus’ fine all this time!” Nubbins interrupts him.

That’s when it clicks. He’s been doin’ what they do. Gettin’ so close to the Sawyers, the town loonies, was gonna end in somethin’ like this he s’posed. Everyone who said he’d always be a weak little baby, well they just didn’t know that he had it written in the stars he was gonna be a killer.

“Sally said the meat tasted rotten.” He comments vaguely, realizin’ he really is special this time.

Nubbins scoffs, never the biggest fan of Sally. “Sh-She would.”

“Oh hush. You aren’t to lay a hand on her, you hear?” Franklin scolds, but it’s just gently, just to make sure he isn’t doin’ the wrong thing by sittin’ at this table and not running.

Well, wheeling. He’d probably not outwheel Nubbins’ run, even if he’s got the arm strength to cave in a human skull.

“Never ever.” Making a cross over his heart, Nubbins declares it to him, “I swears, o-on my s-sick Granny.”

Dead granny. Franklin knows the woman ain’t still kickin’ no matter how much Nubbins insists she is. Though with this revelation he’s goin’ through lately, it prob’ly ain’t a lie that she’s in the upstairs of their house.

“Jesus. Well alright.”

The rest of the agreement is eat the evidence of his crime with the boys, then he’s free to go home. Seems so simple, it gets Franklin’s heart just pounding in his chest.

“I don’t.. Gotta keep up the killin’ now, do I?” He asks, on his way out to get driven back next door.

“Wouldn’t imagine.” Drayton is the only one out here yet while Nubbins runs around like a madman packing back up a bag of toys he’d scattered all around, forgetting Franklin wouldn’t get to stay forever.

“And I’m allowed to go home?” Franklin keeps asking, sounding feeble and scared.

This time he gets a scoff, like he should find that obvious, “Don’t do kidnappin’. Never let the boys keep one longer than a single night. After that- Lights out.”

One more, “And you really won’t hurt my family?”

“Not the girl, anyhow. No promises on your old man.” Drayton cackles, downright, like some kind of witch.

Franklin knows the bastard ain’t kind, certainly not to his own uncle Lefty or his wife, or actually his kids now that he thinks about it, but he’s not sure his Daddy deserves death over that. “That ain’t funny.”

“Wasn’t joking.” The oldest Sawyer assures him, cold smile dropping away again. “Siblings, they mean a lot more to the heart. You’ll understand that someday way I do.”

He extinguishes the cigarette he’d been smoking right in Franklins face by crushing it against a window sill, “That’s your little sister an’ I’ll respect it. Not a hair outta place on little Sally’s head.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“In exchange for that you keep your damn yap shut.”

Eagerly, to show he ain’t gonna two time, Franklin nods his head, “Yes sir! This stays between me and y’all and the Lord.”

He gets a disgruntled comment under Drayton’s breath that he doesn’t even hear, “Shit, you’re jus’ like your uncle, boy.”

His faith been tested today, but he oughta lean into it while he can. Keep himself from goin’ completely off the edge. Somehow the Sawyers seem to have managed that much, though, like Drayton said, they’ve got each other. God is so far away, nothin’ at all like a sibling he can hate or hold in his arms, depending on the day.

God severs the spine of a little baby and leaves him to die with prayers and prayers from his family that never quite reached him. Little babies grow up into boys in wheelchairs, who can’t even eat a handful of sweet berries without his body threatening to give up on him. Grow into killers, given the right support. Ain’t gotta let himself lose now.

Drayton seems to hear all that thinkin’ somehow, some twisted way of his, and goes back on his word on the truck drive. He waves Franklin away, “Go on and get. Nubbins’ll get ya back home. Tell ‘em I needed your help handin’ me tools down the station and lost track of time. They’ll believe that.”

A test of will or an alibi, he ain’t quite sure, but he nods his head. Just one thing he’s worried about, “If they don’t?”

“You tell me. We’ll do what needs done.” Drayton says it like it’s simple, and clenches one hand, bringing it up in the air and then back down. Franklin realizes he’s miming stabbing someone or beatin’ ‘em with a hammer.

“Um… Thank you Mr. Drayton. For not killing me too.” They both flinch when Nubbins finally slams the door open so hard it clatters against the wall, earning him a quick slap before they can continue on their way. “Um. Goodnight, sir.”

Halfway down the trail, Nubbins glances back at the shrinking house light.

“You scared of big brother, a-ain’t ya?”

“A little.” Franklin confesses.

Makes him a little sad when Nubbins whispers, “Me t-too..”

It’s them two that’re bonded. Theres bad on both sides, from a rotten temperament to a lack of care, to stuck up Sally and mean old Drayton. His home is with his best friend, in his heart, just as Sawyer as any of the others. That’s his comfort for a long time, knowing he’s capable, got backup when he needs it, and a dead body under his belt. Ain’t no invalid.

[creepycrawliesanonymous]

The call couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time.

You had just sat down for an episode of Community. Not even 3 minutes in, hand resting on top of an almost full bowl of potato chips, your phone lit up.

Lemon: pick us up

Lemon: now

Lemon: please

Lemon: <3 or whatever the fuck

If the other cars on the road could see smoke coming out of your ears, they wisely didn’t say anything. You pulled over in front of what was probably the grossest (yet cheapest) dive bar in all of London, which had recently gotten a new makeover to the tune of a smashed window and several broken seats both inside and outside the bar. And most notably, the two headaches that you call your roommates.

Lemon stuck his elbow into Tangerine’s ribs at the sight of your beat up Toyota Camry. With a certain amount of wincing from Tangerine, and sheepish-yet-still-angry glances from Lemon, they started to walk over to you. This was not the first time this had happened. The bar owner (a pre-calc classmate of yours from school that was held back a couple times, but that barely matters here) had stopped calling the police, knowing that the pair would be back the next day to put things in order for him. They may be heathens but they didn’t completely disregard the service industry.

Lemon opened the back door of your car and loaded up his companion into the seats, swiping away the various candy wrappers and assorted animal figurines you had floating around back there. Tangerine let out a low grumble, bringing a hand up to gingerly massage at his rib cage.

“Fucker threw me through a window.”

“I can fucking see that.”

Lemon climbed into the seat next to you, and you swiftly, while also obeying traffic laws, pulled away from the wreckage and started home.

“Honestly don’t know what he was thinking. He was being a prick the whole night. Would’ve thrown him out the window myself, to be honest.” Lemon was desperately trying to get into your good graces, but you kept your eyes focused squarely on the road in front of you.

“I can’t believe you two,” you huffed out. “Honestly, what the fuck.” You snuck a glance at Tangerine out of the rear view mirror, who was looking notably morose, yet still clearly a bit fired up from the whole ordeal. “Are you okay? You fucking idiot, don’t even think about lying to me.”

“Ribs.”

“I’ll look at them when we get home.”

Lemon moved to change the music playing, but you slapped his hand away.

“George Harrison stays on.”

He quieted down after that, seemingly content to listen to you quietly seethe. The track switched to “Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M.” while Tangerine poked at his abdomen and quietly groaned. You knew in your heart of hearts that you were unequipped to properly treat whatever he had gone and done to himself. Tomorrow you would call your friend in med school to walk you through the motions, but tonight it was bandages and pain killers for him. Maybe an ice pack or two.

“I’ll get him inside,” Lemon nudged your forearm before leaving from beside you, hoisting his brother out of the car amidst various British-sounding curses (let’s be clear, from both of them, how typical). Giving them a moment, or more accurately giving yourself a moment, you leaned your forehead against the steering wheel and took some measured breaths. You knew once you properly cooled off, you’d be left with a rather embarrassing nervous vulnerability. Not to say you���d never gotten emotional in front of them, they saw you when you were a scraggly awkward teen and by some miracle that didn’t put them off, but now that you were all older you couldn’t help but become hyper aware of the growing differences between you and the two of them. You were wary with how you were finding scarier weapons in Tangerine’s room, or how Lemon started talking about gory ways to make extra money. You weren’t going to stop them, but goddamn it you were allowed to worry.

A rapping at your window knocked you out of you spiraling. “You comin’ out?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scrubbed at your cheeks and stepped out of the car. “He still cogent?”

Lemon huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, for now.” He paused, before pulling you into a hug. “Listen. I know shit’s difficult right now, and we’re both fucking idiots. We don’t like making you worry.”

You tucked your face into his shoulder, letting yourself be held for at least this small moment.

“I just need you two to be okay.”

You leaned back, swiping at any stray moisture that may or may not have collected under your eyes. He swung his arm around your shoulders, rubbing his knuckles into the top of your head, just like when you were 10. For now, that would be enough.

[chiyeko-kurea]

white girl rant

mc tavish scottish accent i hate mini doorways i can’t see if someones comin in until they’re in the middle of my room like jeez stop giving me anxiety i love when i wake up and my dog is on my bed. i know it’s because im the only one who allows her to sleep on my bed but i like to think that in the middle of the night her brain just thought of me and went ‘i wanna go sleep next to her’ i know it’s not the case she’s just bored of sleeping on the hard floor yet she always falls alseep in my sister’s bedroom she prefers to go there just to be beside her oh my god the only thing that makes her finally go in my room is discomfort. but when she wakes up she asks for cuddles and to be pet a bit and i like to imagine she’s my dog only and she’s mine and she gets me and she’s not my freaking dad’s favorite daughter. and she prefers my dad he made me so upset today i cried and i felt ashamed and like a loser because i asked him several times to sign me up to a tennis class to try it out and he did and then i panicked so much i couldn’t do it because i dont want to be alone with a man but then it was gonna be a woman days later so i said yay but the days flew by and i realized to matter who i can never find what to say and im awkward and ugly and my whole lower face skin is peeling away and my teeth are fucked up and my chin skin is flayed raw and bright bloody red and i have acne and dark circles and an embarrassing smile and i can’t play tennis for shit. for. shit. so i acted all moody teenager and i thought my dad was gonna be like you know what it’s fine if you dont wanna do it i don’t get why you changed your mind but that’s okay i’ll just cancel it. he didn’t. he was aggressive and mean and purposely shamed me in front of the family and reminded very loudly the price even though he didn’t even paid yet and my sister had to go for me and i sat there watching her be so extraverted and comfortable with a stranger when i know i wouldn’t have been able to say a word that didn’t sounded weird and wanting to cry every second and burst in tears and my dad was so so mean and usually he gets me, and my sister saved me and went i got home i burst into tears in my room and he just wanted me to try a new thing and i just wanted to cut cut cut and why on earth am i this fucking awkward loser with my earphones in and too big black hoodie like im some kind of pseudo rebellious annoying emo kid i just want to be pretty and funny and shine like why do i the worse part is i kind of really wanted to try tennis. and i think i would’ve been good. i think would not have made a total fool of myself thing is whatever i do i am a fool anyway, i am a fool for even thinking for one day of my goddamn life i could have not ruined everything. my dad looked at me weirdly the rest of the evening and i wanted to yell maybe im reminding you of your loser son you lost to drugs no shocker we get along i also want to lose myself and you saw my scars you know there’s something wrong with me and there’s something wrong with him and with you and with all of us and wherever your blood is. i like my dad, he’s a good father but at the end of the day he’s a man, and not a better one than the others. if i have good grades and a pretty face let me tell you there is NOTHING you can complain of me. i am working on my appearance to be prettier to not embarrass you anymore but one day you will have nothing to complain about and i will do whatever i want and you will try to say what changed and i will say it’s not of your business anymore you can introduce me to anyone and say yes she’s my daughter she is clever pretty she has friends she reads and she jogs and i will be perfect and i will throw plates at your head and i will be the worse and no one will know. montgommery forever and ever and ever and i will blow up and i will become a doctor and have a boyfriend and you will say we used to laugh and i will say you were there but somehow the moments when i NEEDED you to understand me you didn’t. you got me but never got me. i cant stop seeing you as a man no matter how fathe

[rumor-weed]

Anything more on Stephan or this 'Cassidy'?

“Boy, I know ya asked this nine years ago, but we didn’t really have an answer ‘til now. Looks like Stephan - er, was it Stefan? Never knew how to spell that pronunciation - might’ve been disappeared by a few guilty vegetables who all seem to be claimin’ THEY did it. Maybe they all did. Maybe nobody did. How come they all got alibis for why they couldn’t have done it, but they’re all swearin’ they did? Stephan’s gone, though. We haven’t seen the prince in ages - rumor has it he wasn’t even a prince, Anon. Maybe he was just some rich kid pullin’ some weird of sort of prank, one of those scam ‘fake prince’ emails that found someone who took the bait. Could be. That’s just a theory. A Rumor Theory.”

Audrey paused and considered the next name.

“Cassidy… ah! The child Archibald adopted without really askin’ his wife first, huh? That’s a good question, Anon! But uh… well, I don’t think we ever got answers. Sometimes I wonder if she was even real. The twins sure weren’t! But we all thought we saw them, right? Weird. But Cassidy… well, I liked her fine, I guess. I’d hope, if she was real, she’s just grown up, unlike the rest of us, and escaped to somewhere safer. Something weird about this town. Water that makes ya never age? Vampires? Serial killers? Paparazzi for a mildly popular but dyin’ kids show? It just doesn’t add up. And now Archibald is back. He’s back, Anon, and I don’t know what to think of it. It just isn’t right. He claims not to remember the last ten years! But Lovey claims she murdered him. Well, he’s not the first person to come back from the dead, a little different from when we last saw him. There’s that whole Art Bigotti thing too. I wasn’t around when he was Jumanji’d, but there’s somethin’ fishy for sure with him. And Mom Asparagus, well, if she’s dead, who’s to say she’d stay dead either?”

Audrey nodded as she determined it. “Actually, I suppose, until we find her, she is simultaneously both dead and alive. Schrodinger’s Mom Asparagus, I guess. But who’s to say for sure? Do we really wanna open that box? Risk the smell? She’s been gone a few days now. Are answers really worth it? So whatever happened to the others who we haven’t seen in years, such as Stephan, Cassidy, or really anyone else, it’s impossible to know for sure who’s capable of comin’ back. Can’t say I’d mind, it’d shake things up a little. Lots more rumors to share. But uh, I just hope they have a good sense of humor. Ten years and a lot changes. We all just want to laugh and poke fun at the people we used to be, affectionately, because we know ourselves now. It’s nice to not take yourself too seriously, right?”

She gave the anon a long look, contemplating. Nine years waiting on an answer they must’ve long given up on. and yet, here she was, answering it all the same. Times moves on, but sometimes no matter how far we walk, we eventually end up in the same places again, just a little different from the last time we were here. She wondered if the anon, who really probably had left the message behind and forgot about it, was doing all right, wherever they were. It was hard not to wonder who wrote the message. A friend? A stranger? A neighbor? The creator of My Immortal?

Anything was possible.

And wasn’t that beautiful?

She looked forward, as if she were looking directly at the screen, and she curled her leaf into a ‘C’ shape. “And that’s how Audrey… ‘C’s it.”

[primusfortuna]

Scar ⟡ Beginning of a Bond (07)

[01] [02] [03] [04] [05] [06] [XX]

“Unshakable Ambition”

Several days after we successfully finished that event in Fairberg, the Land of Toys——

I’d just come back to the guild home after a shopping trip. Two voices could be heard from the living room, clearly having fun.

Scar: Heh~? So when you have five numbers in order, and they all have the same suit, it’s called a ‘straight flush’?

Daste: Yeah. It’s rare you’ll ever get a hand like that, though.

Scar: Does that mean it’s the strongest combination to have?

Daste: Nah, there’s this thing even stronger called a ‘royal straight flush.’

Taking a casual peek at them, I see Scar and Daste sitting on opposite ends of a table littered with cards.

Emma: Hi guys, I’m home. Are you playing something…?

Scar: Ah! Emma-san, welcome back~ Daste’s teaching me how to play right now.

Daste: You’re back? Oh, wanna come join us then? I was just about to start an actual game.

Daste: Poker, baccarat, craps. We can play whatever.

Emma: …I feel like those are all casino games…

Daste: Well, yeah—it’s way more fun when we put somethin’ on the line. I’ll treat whoever wins to some of my signature booze.

Scar: Yay! I’ve never tried alcohol before so I’m excited~

Daste: That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Oh yeah, and the loser will get beat up by the winner.

Scar: Okay!

Emma: Don’t say ‘okay’... Um… Daste, come here.

I anxiously call Daste over to a corner of the room.

Daste: What? This is kinda out of nowhere.

Emma: You’re one to talk! Why are you introducing Scar to bets and alcohol all of a sudden?

Daste: Ohh… that.

After hesitating for a moment, he answers while aggressively scratching his head.

Daste: He’s basically like a human kid, right? He doesn’t even know how to function in life to begin with.

Daste: So I thought I’d just teach him some things about gettin’ by in society. At least enough so no one makes fun of him.

Daste: It’s not just for him… but for you and me too.

Emma: Th-That makes sense? I agree with what you’re saying, but…

Emma: (Why does he have to start with gambling and alcohol…!?)

Just as I’m about to continue, Scar pipes in.

Scar: Hey hey, what’re you two doing~? I wanna play poker~

Daste: Oh, poker! Sounds good, I’m comin’.

Daste raises a hand and walks back towards Scar.

Emma: (...Ever since that night with the fireworks, Daste has been acting like a big brother towards Scar.)

Emma: (And Scar himself seems a little friendlier than before, just like a little brother.)

Emma: (...Hmm. Considering everything that’s happened, this is a change I should be happy about.)

But… for better or for worse, Scar is very innocent. I just hope that Daste’s lessons won’t have a bad impact on him.

Emma: (I might lose a few hairs if he suddenly declares he wants to start throwing bombs one day…!)

(Card shuffling noises)

Scar: Okay, I call two cards!

Daste: Alright, I’ll call three.

Emma: Mm… I think I’ll just leave it like that…

And so—after talking Daste into it, we were a few minutes into a game, without betting on money or anything else.

During a pause in our conversation, I turn to Scar with a question.

Emma: Hey, Scar? When we watched the fireworks, remember how you kept your promise to not open any people?

Emma: Could you maybe… further that promise? To never open up anyone from here on out?

Scar: Ngh…

Scar: I don’t want to promise that I’ll never do it.

Scar: I already made up my mind that someday I’ll find a soul, no matter what. And seeing how beautiful those fireworks were… I can’t ever give up.

Scar’s eyes twinkle with ambition as he asserts himself.

Daste: ……

Daste: …Hey, do you think… it’s my fault he got this weird burst of motivation?

Emma: No way—

Emma: ……

Emma: W-Well, maybe a little… Hahaha…

[Scar’s POV]

Emma-san is beaming with pure joy from across the table.

As I wait for my turn, I remember the fireworks I saw the other day.

Scar: (Fireworks… They’re sparkly and really, really pretty…)

Scar: (They were so, so big and beautiful… That was the first time something impressed me enough to make my heart flutter.)

Scar: (If I could see Daste and Emma-san’s souls someday…)

Scar: (Would it impress me even more than before?)

Scar: …Hehehe.

Daste: Aah? What’re you laughin’ at? Is your hand that good?

Scar: Hehe~ Guess you’ll have to see~! Anyway, next person go! It’s your turn, Emma-san. Still not ready?

Emma: Sorry for making you wait… Okay, I got it!

She calls several cards.

And then, feeling unusually passionate, I bring my focus back to our game of poker as well.

← Prev

TL notes: Regarding the usage of the term "call". In standard poker, a call means betting the same amount of chips that another player bet. The way the term was used in this chapter didn't seem to agree with its standard definition. I'm uncertain if that's because they are just playing their own variation (since Emma wanted a game without bets) or if its defintion can be flexible.

[cemeteryb0y]

!!!

[suckerfordylansstuff]

New Journey (S.H) Chapter 1 Season 4

Pairing: Steve Harrington x henderson!reader

Summary: Back to Hawkins for spring break. Y/n believed it would just be a quiet time to cherish with her loved ones, but one day in and another mess had already began.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drugs, slight smut at the end

Notes: Back with season 4! Okay so I really liked writing this chapter, especially because I did something I have never done before. I wrote smut. Not full on, but I think for the amount I wrote I did pretty good. Go easy on me, I'm new. I want to warn everyone that there is some 'shit talk' about Eddie in this (don't attack me lol). Oh, I also have little to no knowledge about basketball and how the games work on the U.S., so if I made any mistake let me know! I hope you are safe out there and please enjoy the chapter! 💕

Gif not mine

Prologue << New Jounrey Masterlist >> Chapter 2

“Steve, phone!”  you called for your boyfriend to answer the ringing phone besides you. You were sitting by the counter, silently reading the descriptions on some of the movies Steve had lying around, trying to find something interesting for you to watch.

“Yep. Comin’!” you turned to see him as he slightly jogged towards the counter. He was previously rearranging some of the displays around the store. He says it was the perfect time to do it because not many people showed up to the store during lunch time. He passed by you, giving you a quick kiss, which made you smirk, before he answered the phone “Hello, this is Family Video, how can I help you today?”

“How professional.” you whispered, teasing him at how much his voice changed when he wanted to be serious for the costumers. He bit his lip, looking at you, fighting back a laugh, when recognition filled his eyes “Oh, hey, man, how’s it going?” you wondered who was on the other line, but your boyfriend’s next words made it clear “Nothing much, just planning on spending it with your sister.” he smiled and took hold of your hand, playing with your fingers as he listened to your brother’s words.

“No.” was the only thing Steve said after a minute of silence on his line. You were more than certain that Dustin was trying to make him do something Steve had no intention of doing whatsoever.

“What, so I can hang out with you and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson? Uh, yeah, I’ll pass.” the boy in front of you scoffed.

‘Wait- Munson?’ you thought to yourself.

“Who?” you were shocked.

Of course you knew Eddie Munson. He was a year older than you and Steve yet still in High School. He was the one you went to for any kind of drug your heart desired. Buying from him were the only times you ever interacted. You didn’t truly know him; you never felt the need to. You had your friends, and he had his. But you always considered him as dangerous. Dealing with drugs was one thing, but the way he also acted at times, made you wary. You didn’t like judging people (especially after you saw a different side to the Steve your sixteen-year-old self knew), but nothing about Eddie made you feel safe.

You looked at Steve as he continued with his conversation. His face scrunched up “Ew. Ugh. Whatever. Look, there is no way I’m doing anything besides being with Y/n for the next days, so I’m out of the question.” his words would have made you smile cheekily, if you were focused on a certain matter. What was Dustin doing with a drug dealer?

Suddenly a sound caught your attention. Customers had entered the shop “Oh, I got some customers. I’ll call-” his words were cut short as he listened to Dustin speak, then his eyes fell on you and his brows lifting upwards. He must have connected the dots at your frustrated look “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s the best idea, but here you go.” he handed you the phone, before leaving to greet the customers.

“Hello, Dustin.” you said your voice steady, your elbows leaning on top of the counter.

“There she is! My great sister, who surprised us today. It’s so great having you back.” he was trying to butter you up so you would agree at his every request, but you weren’t having it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Eddie Munson?” you went straight to the point you wanted to make.

“What? I told you about Eddie.” Dustin was confused at the new topic of conversation. The only thing he wanted was to find a person to fill in Lucas’ spot so he wouldn’t disappoint his new friend.

“No, no. You told me about an Eddie, not about Munson. How did this happen?”

“He’s the one who organizes the Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.” he simply replied “Which bring me back to my question. Wouldn’t you prefer to ditch St-” you cut him off.

“Dustin, I don’t think it’s good for you to be around him.” as the bigger sibling you always felt the need to express your opinion about something, especially if that involved a stupid thing your brother was doing.

“Why not?” he sounded hurt. He really enjoyed Eddie’s company. He even thought that one day you’d meet and be friends together. He tried pushing Steve to hang out with them more, but he always said the same thing ‘Why would I want to hang out with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?’. He thought you’d be more open minded, and not just like everyone else. Maybe he was wrong…

“He’s a drug dealer, Dustin, need I say more?” you pressed on the matter.

“He’s not like how everyone else think he is. If you agree to be our sub tonight at the final campaign, then you’ll see that’s he’s actually pretty cool.” he hoped you’d agree and see for yourself, Eddie wasn’t a bad person. He was someone he looked up to. Someone he could relate to.

His words confused you “Wait? Tonight? Are you telling me that you will not be at the game tonight? The one where one of your best friends is playing in?”

“Uh…” your brother didn’t know who to respond. He hated missing the game, but D&D was more important right now.

You really wanted to make him come to his senses, but Steve’s words rang in your mind. He’s not a kid anymore. You don’t have to shield him away from the unknown. You knew if Dustin was ever in actual trouble, Steve would help him out, and given the fact that he hasn’t done anything about Munson means that he’s not as big of a threat as you believed he’d be. You sighed “If you’re not going to be there for Lucas, then I have to. You’ll need to find someone else to join you, Dusty.”

“Okay. I’ll go check if Mike had any luck finding someone.” the line got quiet. You didn’t like disappointing Dustin, you always wanted to see him with a huge smile on his face, but sometimes things don’t go your way. You opened your mouth to wish him luck with his game before hanging up when he beat you to it “I’m gonna go now… And Y/n? He’s a good person. You know I can realize when something is dangerous.�� he said and hung up the phone.

You really didn’t give this kid enough credit. He’s been through so much, seen so many things, that you didn’t need to worry about every single thing that bothered you. He knew what was right and what was wrong.

“He didn’t tell you about Munson?” Steve voice pulled you away from your thoughts. He always knew what troubled you.

“He told me about an Eddie that he became friends with. He didn’t tell me it was Munson.” you turned to face him, your body leaning against the counter. He walked slowly towards you, taking your hands in his.

“He’s not bad. At least, based on what the kids tell me. Just crazy enough to want to hang out with them.” he laughed, and a smirk appeared on your lips.

“Well, then we’ll hit it off better than I thought!” you told him sarcastically. His smile didn’t leave its place as his palms found your hips, bringing his body closer, but not as close as you both would have preferred since there were still customers searching for a movie around the store.

“You worry too much.” he whispered making you scoff.

“It’s practically my job to worry about you guys. You’ll be dead without me, quite literally.” you were merely joking, yet the haunted memories that flushed in front of your eyes made your head fall downwards.

“If anything were to happen, Dustin would have talked to one of us. You know that.” he assured you, his long fingers cupping your chin and pushing it up.

“Yeah… I do.” you took in a deep breath as you looked up into his eyes. They were as sweet as honey while he stared down at you. He smiled and kissed your temple bringing your body into his arms for the umpteenth time that day (not that you were complaining).

“Just hang on one more hour and when Keith starts his shift, I’ll take you out for lunch before we need to get ready for the game tonight. How does that sound?” he pulled back a little to take a glance at your smile.

“It’s sound perfect.” you answered, kissing his chin in the process. Steve loved little sweet gestures like that, made him feel special and important.

“You’re perfect.” he returned your action with a kiss on your left cheek before you were interrupted by a customer clearing their throat to get Steve’s attention. You hid a smirk and stood besides Steve, leaving enough room between the two of you.

“So! What movie have we chosen today?” Steve claps his hands to break any uncomfortable tension, after the man caught you in such a state. He takes the movie from the counter to check it on the program before charging him “‘Back to the Future’? Oh, definitely recommend watching it, just not with your mom.” he laughed and looked at the man in front of him, expecting him to do the same, but looking confused when he didn’t receive anything back “You know, cause… the guy goes back to the future and like almost bangs him mom?” still no comment from the person in front of him whatsoever. Steve gave up trying, just asked him for his information and told him the total of the price.

You held your hand to your mouth, trying not to let out any laughter as the customer grabbed the movie from Steve’s hand and handed him the needed amount, then left quickly.

“What’s his problem?” Steve asked, eyes still on the glass door where the man walked out from.

“Well, some people actually like to watch the movie to learn the plot, not hear it from a stranger in a funny vest.” you chuckled, your fingers making their way on top of your boyfriend’s chest, straightening the vest he had on.

“Hey! This is high quality, I’ll have you know.” he played along with your joke.

“I can tell.” you teased, and his smirk stayed on his face until his lips fell on top of yours, muffling your giggles.

___

“Robin!” you were more than excited to see your friend again. You and Steve decided to arrive at school a little bit earlier than most of the students who’d want to watch the match would. You walked aimlessly through the corridors of your old school, telling stories to each other you already knew. At last, you went to the basketball court to look for your dear friend.

Right now, the only people in the school were the basketball team, both your team and the school’s opponent, warming up for the game, the band kids, who were chatting before they had to take their place at the stands and the journaling team, ready to take down notes for the paper tomorrow. Oh and, of course, the ‘Hellfire Club’ was somewhere hidden amongst the school grounds. You had insisted to drive them here, but Dustin refused. Steve joked that he didn’t want to be seen with us anymore since we’re old, and Dustin agreed just to spike him. You laughed at them, appreciating every second you had with these two. They were a hell of fun to be around, you missed them a lot.

“Henderson!” Robin smirked at you and hugged you after you ran towards her. Robin was the one of the people you hadn’t seen in months, and you were so happy to hear her laugh again. She hasn’t changed one bit, only her hair was a bit shorter now.

“How have you been?” you pulled away from her embrace, smiling at her. Steve had gone to catch up with his old coach, so it was just you and her talking.

“You know, trying to survive, as always. God, college suits you.” she chuckled as she started up and down at you. She referred to your ‘new look’. It wasn’t like you rebranded yourself the moment you went to college. You hated people who changed just to fit an image in their minds. But you definitely felt freer, making you more confident in your looks and behavior.

“Oh, stop it. Look at you, green is your color.” you looked down at the costume she was wearing for the band and giggled as she rolled her eyes.

“You have no idea how itchy I am right now.”

You continued catching up, Steve now back into your little group. You talked about your classes at college and your new friends, while she told you all the embarrassing stuff your boyfriend does at work.

“And then he told the woman that Vader is Luke’s father. She left the store in tears!”

“Oh my God, that poor woman.” you felt bad for her yet couldn’t hold in your laughter.

“I apologized for that and let her take the movie without paying. It was an honest mistake.” Steve defended himself and you took his hand in yours as a way to tell him it was okay, you were just teasing.

“You really need to stop ruining people’s movies at some point.” your eyes fell on Steve as he was laughing towards you sarcastically.

“Wait, he did it again?” Robin asked, but before you could answer, a voice interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, Robin! The teacher wants us to take our places.” you all turned to look at the girl, noticing more and more students coming through the doors, taking their place at the stands.

“Y-yeah! Coming, Vickie!” Robin’s voice wavered and the name she used made you gasp.

“Is that the girl you like?” you had a dumb smile on your face. Robin didn’t like talking about these things out in the open, where someone might hear you, but your voice was just a whisper, only for you three to hear.

“You told her?” Robin whined and hit Steve’s arm

“Yeah.” he answered as a matter of fact.

“She seems nice.” You took another glance at the girl before seeing Robin blush just a little bit.

“She is, but that’s not- It doesn’t matter!” she told you, stammering over her words.

“It does, when there is something going on between you two.” Steve said with a sly smile, just to irritate her.

“There is nothing-” a voice called for her again. You friend sighed, pointing her finger at Steve “I gotta go. I’ll deal with you later.”

Both you and Steve chuckled as you watched her make her way to the bleachers, conveniently standing right next to Vickie “Oh, she must be thrilled.” Steve noted.

“Hey, look, it’s Lucas!” you pointed towards your younger friend. He was stretching with some other guys from the basketball team when his eyes fell on you two. You smiled and waved. Lucas looked excited to see you. This game was important to him. He felt like tonight was his night. His final chance to make himself be seen. He thought no one was gonna be there for him except his parents. Seeing you and Steve made him happy and gave him the courage to not give up. He waved back and carried on with his warm-up. He would catch up with you later.

“Ready to go sit down?” Steve placed his hand on the small of your back when you nodded in agreement. After sending thumbs up to Lucas you made your way on the stands. You sat down and let your eyes roam through the students that were walking beside you and on the court. You remembered all your previous games here, the one most memorable last year.

The basketball team hadn’t made it to the finals, but there were still some friendly games happening. The one you were referring to was the last one of the year, it also was the last one Steve was going to play in. He was already sad about not making it into the final teams of the championship game, adding the fact that he was graduating too, made it even more emotional. So, you made it your mission to give him one of the happiest memories you could. You gathered the kids and made banners cheering him on. All night long people could hear clapping and yelling coming from where you were sitting, it made people stare at you funny, even gathered some comments from Steve’s ex friends, Tommy H. and Carol (God, you still despised them), but in the end it didn’t matter.

It didn’t because Steve ended up making the final shot. Your school won by two points and you had never seen Steve jump up in the air that high in your life. He was so happy to win, he was happy to be with you there, he was happy to see the little shitheads cheering him on and he was happy to finally see his father smile at him.

You still remembered how he ran up to you, embracing you with all the strength he had left and dipping you down to kiss you. You remember how whole you felt, all the worries about your relationship’s future leaving your body. Just focusing on you and him.

“Why are you smiling like that?” his voice pulled you away from your thoughts. You turned to look at him, placing your head on his shoulder, still smiling like an idiot.

“No reason.” he chuckled and kissed your forehead “So, how does it feel?” your intention today was to tease him, so that’s what you were going to do.

“How does what feel?” his words were innocent, not knowing where your mind was at this moment.

“That right after you graduated, we might actually win the Championship. Do you think it was just to spite you?” you smiled and looked at his face. He tried not to act at your words, finally catching up to your games. He just kept on facing the court, eyes away from your lingering gaze, because he didn’t know what he would do if he looked at you right now. All day you have been sharing touches along with soft or fierce kisses and he couldn’t wait to just be alone with you.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Really? Doesn’t it bring up doubts of whether you were good enough or not?” your fingers started drawing shapes on his thigh, not caring as more and more people were gathering around you, ready to watch the game. Your movements made shivers run up and down his spine, but he took a long breath not to show anything.

“Now I know you’re lying, because you’ve seen me on the court, and you can never seem to keep your eyes away from me.” finally his own eyes met yours, after he decided to tease you as well, but you weren’t backing down.

“Still, you haven’t won a Championship game.” he knew not to take your words seriously. You had that look in your eyes, the one that always drove him crazy. He knew you were teasing and his thoughts were confirmed when your lips were placed next to his ear, whispering with a low voice “But it doesn’t matter, because the only score that counts tonight isn’t on the court.” you placed a wet kiss on the spot right down his ear and smirked when you heard him inhale quickly.

His tongue ran over his front teeth and sighed with a devilish grin on his face “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.” you gave him a quick kiss, just so he could take a taste and turned to look down on the court again.

At last your principle came on the court, meaning the game would soon start “Everyone now please rise for our national anthem.” you all replied to his request by standing up “Singing for us tonight, we have a very special guest. All the way from Nashville, our very own Tammy Tompson!”

Your and Steve’s mouth hang open as you watched the girl enter the court and make her way to the microphone. After Robin confessed her true feelings about love to Steve, he hadn’t stopped bringing it up just to see if their tastes were similar.

At some point the conversation went to past crushes and Robin told him all about her past ‘hatred’ towards him. About how the girl she liked only had eyes for him even though she knew she would be better for her. That girl was Tammy Tompson. Steve was shocked to hear that, not because Robin believed she would be better than him, but because he couldn’t get past a certain trait of hers. Her singing voice. He argued that she sounded like a Muppet and now hearing her sing you could definitely see his point.

You watched Steve as his head turned to Robin who was already looking at him, knowing where this was going “Told you. Muppet.” he mouthed over at your friend and she grinned accepting her defeat.

“Okay, she does sound like a Muppet.” she replied back and you tried to control your laughter. After a painful minute of listening to the anthem, the game started.

___

“Oh, come on! What was that?”

The game was going smoothly up until one of the opponent team’s players hurt one of your own. Steve’s comment was buried along with all the other people calling out the injury. Your player was too hurt to continue so your team’s coach signaled for another player to take his place. You were beyond excited to see Lucas running to take his spot.

“Go, Sinclair!”

Point after point, shoot after shoot, the game was at its last period. The score was 69-68, visitors winning by one point. You cursed under your breath as you watched Jason, the leader of your school’s team, miss his shot with only a few seconds on the clock. Luckily not all hope was gone.

You watched the ball fall into Lucas’ hands, and he moved away from the players, finding a place where he had a clear shot. You held onto Steve’s arm begging he’d take the shot just in time. There were only 3 seconds on the clock when he got the ball and on the very last second, he swung his arms, shooting towards the net. The clock went off, but the points would still count if he made it. It felt like time went slower as all the people were staring at the ball. It bounced on the hoop, but it was clearer than day, the ball got in, ending the game at 71-69, your team winning. You jumped up and down cheering for Lucas’ winning shot.

You watched as his teammates and coach congratulated him, how he hugged his mother and father and how his eyes search for you in the crowd. You grabbed Steve’s hand and jogged down towards the star of the night.

“You were incredible!” you smiled and hugged Lucas, not paying any attention to his sweaty body.

“It was an awesome shot, kid. Congrats.” Steve high-fived him and Lucas grinned at the two of you excitedly.

“Thanks! I’m so happy to see you!” he hugged you one more time and then left to go cheer with his fellow teammates.

“What a game, huh?” a feminine voice said next to you.

“Nancy!” your arms pulled her into a tight hug. Over the months you have barely spoken to her, but you both knew that it doesn’t matter how often you talk. You will always be friends. You will always be there when any of you need it.

“Hey! I saw you and came to say hello. It’s very good to see you.” Her eyes drifted at Steve for a moment, sending him a quick smile to greet him. He sent her a wave, just standing behind you, giving you time to talk.

“You too! Congrats on the college acceptance, by the way. Are you excited?” you took a good look at her. Her hair was a bit longer, and she wore her college’s sweatshirt. A pen and notebook in hand to take down any notes she needed for tomorrow’s paper. Still the Nancy you knew.

“Very! I’ve been meaning to ask you a few things about college. We should meet up.”

“Of course! Hey, how is Jonathan? I haven’t spoken to him for a quite some time.” you and Jonathan were once best friend, but times change. You still loved him and his entire family to bits, but you don’t really hold the title as his ‘best friend’ anymore. You both have changed but made a deal to talk as often as you could. Those phone calls mostly involved stories about your new lives, friends, and your families. Sometimes Joyce, Eleven and Will would join the call wishing you the best or asking you question about your life there. You loved every single thing about these calls. But sometimes your conversations would center around fears and worries. You may not be best friends anymore, but you would always understand each other’s feeling, talking with no fear of judgement. You knew that moving to California was a big and weird change for him and he has been feeling a little distant from everything. Even his relationship with Nancy.

You lied. You had talked to him just a week ago. He told you everything one night he called when he was very high (he didn’t admit it, but you knew him all too well). He had just gotten his acceptance letter to Lenora Hills Community College, even though his plan was to go to the same one as Nancy, Emerson College. He was worried that if he told her the truth, she would give up her dream for him. You called him stupid for lying to his girlfriend and for underestimating her logical thinking. So, you decided to see her point of view. Those two have been in love ever since they truly saw one another and you wanted to help them, you didn’t want them to do the same mistake you and Steve did last summer.

Your plan was to just mention him for now, see how she reacts up front to his name. You couldn’t tell her Jonathan’s secret, as it wasn’t yours to tell. You only wanted to advise her for the best, since you were pretty sure she would have worries too about what’s about to come. You knew you did last summer. You had no one to guide you back then and you wanted to be that person she could trust now.

“Oh, he’s great. We’re great. Just waiting for the big news from him too!” you could tell her small laughter at the end wasn’t entirely genuine. Her smiled wavered before she pointed back at the court “I must go now, paper to print tomorrow.” she waved the pen and notebook, school duty calling for her. You bid her goodbye, telling her you’d call to set a date for your meet up, when Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body, lips landing near your ear.

“Should we uh… get going too?” his voice was soft, just for you to hear. You giggled as he pressed kisses on your neck and cheek.

“God, Harrington, get your head out of the gutter.”

___

A little while later you and Steve were outside of his house. His parents were on a business trip once again, so in his words it was ‘the perfect place for a quiet night’. He had made his way upstairs, wanting to clean up a bit, while you called home. Your mother answered. You informed her you were back at Steve’s place safe and sound. She knew you were going to spend the night there; you had told her over the dinner you all had before going to the game. She made you promise her to not do anything stupid while sleeping at his house and you just smiled and nodded. She was now telling you her ‘protection’ lecture once again when you heard a door open and close from the other line.

“Hey, is Dustin back home yet?”

“Oh, yes, he just arrived. How was the game, Dusty?” there was some muffled talking before you could hear clearly again “Wait, Dustin, your sister is on the phone. Tell her goodnight.”

“Hey, where are you?” he sounded a bit out of breath, probably from the excitement and riding back home.

“I’m at Steve’s, I’m spending the night here.”

“Oh. Oh. Ew, don’t let the whole neighborhood hear you.” he joked and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m just going to ignore that. So, how was the game?” your body leaned against the wall next to the phone as you listened to him go on and on about tonight.

“We won! Yeah, it was crazy. So it turns out Vecna wasn’t really dead. Eddie brought him back into the campaign as the last battle and at the end it was only me and Erica still fighting. I lost, but she managed to score a twenty! A fucking twenty, Y/n! So, Vecna- Yeah sorry mom.” You laughed as you heard your mother’s voice saying language “Yeah, anyway. We defeated him at the last second. Even Eddie seemed impressed, it was unbelievable.” his giggles filled your ears making you fondly smile at your brother, glad he couldn’t see you because you knew he’d tease you even more. Teenagers are mean at this age.

“Wow, sounds like one hell of a campaign. We had some fun too.”

“Oh, yeah, how was the game? We didn’t get to see Lucas after…” you could tell he was genuinely pretty upset to not see his friend at the game.

“He made the shot and scored our final points, making Hawkins win.” you announced excitedly.

“Woah, that’s great!” he had a big smile on his face, but a bit of guilt had grown in the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah! Maybe you should call him? Let him know you’re happy for him. What do you say?” you urged him.

“Yeah… That’d be a good idea. I’ll call him right now. Goodnight, Y/n, don’t stay up all night.” he wanted to sound stern, but you could sense his grin from miles away.

“Goodnight, Dustin, and I’ll do whatever I want.” you argued back, happy to not fight for once with him after you had arrived back home.

“Tell Steve he’s an idiot!” were the last words you heard from him before the line went silent. Your smile didn’t leave your face as you walked up the stairs, making your way towards Steve’s room ready to tease him more with Dustin’s words “Steve! Dustin asked me to tell you that-” but your sentence was caught off when you opened his bedroom’s door.

Small candles were lit all over the room, the orange hue being the only source of light. It made the room look even cozier than you remembered. A string pulled on your heart when your eyes fell on Steve. He was standing in the middle of the room, a single red rose in his hands. His smile was small, but sweet watching your eyes widen in surprise.

“What- H-how?” you were stammering, your words only a whisper. He grinned and took a few slow steps towards you.

“I had this whole thing planned for next week, when I thought you’d actually come visit, so I had to do it quickly now.” his sentence ended just as he came to stand right in front of me, not even a meter away from each other “This is for you.” he handed me the rose.

“Where did you get the rose?” your voice was small. You were caught off guard with his gesture. You thought tonight you were the one on the upper hand, but of course your stupidly sweet boyfriend had to make your heart swell up and have you at his mercy.

“I took it from my mom’s garden. Let’s hope she doesn’t notice one of them is cut.” his hands moved from his sides, one landing on your cheek and the other by your hip. Your face responded to his touch as a sigh left your lips. You looked up into his eyes and let out a laugh, your own hands locking behind his neck bringing him closer to your body.

“Thank you.” you kissed his lips, then his cheek before you ended up on the crook of his neck hugging him tightly. His arms embraced you with no hesitation, hugging your figure lovingly.

“I bet this is killing you right now.” you could feel him smiling from above you and you groaned in response. He knew you wanted to be in charge tonight and he loved it whenever you were the most confident in yourself, but he couldn’t let you win. Not tonight. Not when he has missed you so much. Missed your touch, your kisses, your body.

“Ugh, I didn’t expect you to be this sweet tonight, and the only thing I’ve been doing was being mean to you.” your head left his shoulder, lips pouting and heart racing when you locked eyes.

“Yeah, you have been pretty mean to me. Maybe we should do something about that.”

With firm hands on your hips, he lightly pushed you backwards, your back landing on the door. Your breaths were getting heavier, and your skin burned with the need to be as close to him as possible. You watched as his eyes exploring your face, acting like this was the first time he had laid eyes on you, and you loved it. You wanted his full attention, right now and forever.

Finally, his lips landed on yours, starting with light kisses that evolved into a heated make out. His tongue slipped into your mouth with ease. You loved how well he knew you. How he knew the exact things that drove you mad, knowing how and when to do them. As you did also. Right now, your hands were playing with his hair, messing it around, destroying the shape he spends hours in the morning perfecting, your nails scratching his scalp lightly. It made him moan into your mouth and your heart skip a beat. He, on the other hand, was moving his hands up and down your body, leaving a trail of fire with his every touch. He was still exploring your mouth when one of his palms landed on your neck, slightly squeezing it, making you gasp and break the kiss.

His stupid grin was back, enjoying his effect on you. He listened to your moans while his wet kisses replaced the grip on your neck. He sucked hard on the sensitive skin, knowing in the morning you’d be mad at him for leaving all these marks, but right now none of you cared. The only thing you cared about was getting more of him, so you pushed yourself off the door and with careful steps you made your way towards his bed. The back of his knees hit the foot of the bed and with a quick move, he had you on top of his lap, his hands on your ass steadying you down.

Your lips were once again locked into his, fingers roaming all over his body. Not long after you sat down, you took hold of his shirt tugging it upwards and throwing it on the floor. He did the same with your own shirt, but you didn’t give him time to do anything as your lips broke away from your heated kiss and made their way on his neck. He slowly backed down on the bed, taking you with him, his hot breath filling the silence of the room. Your teeth biting before soothing his skin with your tongue. He loved it when you took this kind of initiative, but as you moved down towards his chest, he remembered you should be the one with his full attention.

“Don’t think you can get away with your behavior by a few little kisses, sweetheart.” his voice was deep, and you could feel the need and want behind his words.

“But you have been torturing me.” you groaned, his hand guiding you back towards his face, giving you a harsh quick kiss.

“Oh, have I? How so?” he was smothering you with kisses all over your face. Lips, cheeks, forehead, eyelids, everywhere, and for a moment you forgot what you wanted to tell him.

“Yes, you have barely touched me where I need you the most.” You kissed his neck once again, your hips moving up and down Steve’s lap, both of you enjoying the friction. His palms went over your covered breasts, squeezing before he yanked you from his body, straddling you down on his bed, arms placed above your head, locking you into place with his bigger frame.

“We should fix that.” he started leaving a trace of kisses all over your body as he came closer to where you wanted him. He was unbuttoning your pants, taking his sweet time doing so, wanting you to yearn for him even more. You watched his every move. You watched as he took off your jeans one leg at a time, kissing your thighs while his fingers tangled themselves between your panties, touching everywhere but your center. You were a hot mess and he loved it. Your own fingers were on his scalp, tugging his hair, silently begging for more.  Finally, he gave into your demands. With one swift move your underwear was ripped from your body, making you gasp. The sound of his moaning name coming from your mouth giving him a rush of adrenaline to please you in all the ways he could think of. And there were a lot.

~~~

(P.S. I wanted to ask you guys if you'd want me to continue on the Duffer Brother's storyline about Nancy and Steve remembering their feelings for each other. I don't want to have Steve to go back to Nancy, so I think I'll just stick to her just having doubts about whether or not she made the right choice, have some little angst with the reader. Or I could just leave Nancy's story to the worries I described in the chapter. It's entirely your call, so let me know!)

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[apomaro-mellow]

Werewolf Steve x Vampire Eddie

Part 1/?

Steve watched as Eddie back up with that tell-tale look on his face.

“Munson don’t you do it. Don’t you run away from me.” Steve advanced, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Eddie, the bastard, just grinned and transformed right then and there, his wings taking him up into the sky and away from this conversation.

“Dammit!”, Steve hissed, annoyed.

“Yep, saw that comin’“, Dustin had the audacity to comment from the sidelines. 

Steve rounded on him. “This is all your fault Henderson.”

“My fault?”

Yes. His fault. Because Eddie Munson never would’ve strolled into Steve’s life had he not met him on that fateful night. 

The full moon resonated with Steve and he had been running around with Robin and Jonathan when he heard Dustin’s stray howl. When Steve didn’t hear the answering call of any of their pack, he parted from his two friends to see what was up, howling a reply himself.

It was odd for Dustin to be alone. But it turned out he wasn’t. Because apparently, in his abundance of time, Dustin not only made friends with a vampire but the most insufferable one in all of existence. Steve didn’t realize this at first though. He only saw a vampire advancing on a cub and simply reacted. 

So what if he bit Dustin’s new friend? Eddie deserved it. Retroactively. By pulling moves like this.

“I invite him to dinner and somehow I’m the asshole?”, Steve frowned.

Dustin shrugged. “Eddie said he doesn’t do pack stuff.”

“He’s taking the loner thing too seriously.”

They returned back home and Dustin reported Steve’s failure at inviting Eddie.

“Can’t blame the guy”, Robin said. “Vamps aren’t the most social bunch. Pass the potatoes.”

“Also, the first glimpse of ‘pack stuff’ he saw was a grooming”, Max said as she handed the bowl over. “I think that’d turn most folks away.”

“But he has a whole club of vampires he hangs out with”, Steve argued.

“There’s nothing wrong with hygiene”, Joyce piped up. “As for this friend of Dustin’s, we need to let him acclimate at his own pace.”

“He’s one blood sucker going into a den of wolves”, Hopper said. “He’s right to be cautious.”

Cautious. Right. So far, whenever Eddie hung out with Dustin or any member of their pack, it was on neutral ground. For some reason, Steve took personal offense to the fact Munson didn’t want to come over.

------------

A few nights later, when Dustin reported as much when he and Eddie went to the arcade, Eddie pushed away from the air hockey table and began to pace around.

“I knew it. I just knew it.”

“Knew what?”, Dustin moved away from the table too while Mike and Erica moved in to continue the game like nothing happened.

“This is how they get ya”, Eddie pointed at Dustin. “They lure you in with a cute kid. Or a dog. Or both. And then all of a sudden you’re meeting the family, and picking out wedding invitations and before you know it I’m choppin’ the locks and we’re all...Leave it to Beaver bullshit!”

“Uhh, did Steve ask you out and I missed it?”, Erica asked, definitely not missing a beat as she scored on Mike.

“I am also confused”, Dustin said. “Because I was under the impression that you and Steve were at the ‘begrudgingly tolerant’ stage. Are you trying to say-wait, what are you trying to say?”

Erica’s brow raised. “Are you into Steve?”

Mike whipped around, giving Erica a free point. “Eddie what the hell? Steve? Harrington? Steve Harrington?”

“Over my dead body”, Eddie said. “Over my dead body I’m falling for that...that...”

“Watch it”, Dustin warned.

“That hairball.”

“That’s fair”, Dustin shrugged.

“I mean it would explain why you always lose whatever shred of cool you have around him”, Erica said matter-of-factly. “And why you always got full-bat when you’ve exhausted that cool. And why you’re always talkin’ about the way he smells-”

“Cause he smells like wet dog! And...something else.”

“Oh my god.” Mike was going through a crisis. “Oh my god!”

Eddie ran a hand through his hair. “Stop saying that like you’re having a revelation Wheeler.”

“Eddie. Serious question.” Dustin put his hands together. “Do you have a crush on Steve?”

Eddie would’ve brandished his fangs but that stopped working on these kids months ago.

----------------------

“How come you never ask Robin to do this?”, Steve asked.

“I love her to death, but she’s not going anywhere near my plants”, Nancy said as she knelt down.

Steve was watering a bunch of things he didn’t know the names of. Nancy was picking like she knew all their secrets. The full moon was coming up. She must have a spell planned.

“Full moon will be soon”, Nancy said, rather randomly.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re going to do some running?”

“Yeah. Robin will be out too.” Which she should know, the two had been dating for about a year. So why was Nancy asking?

“Steve, what are you and Eddie doing?”

Trust Nancy to cut through the bullshit.

“We are not doing anything. He’s fine with just being friends with Dustin, and the other kids, and just hanging out in town, and that’s fine, and that’s it. That’s it, Nance.”

“Hmm. Well Mike said-”

“I mean how could he not just come to dinner, huh? Like I get that he knows Will and Dustin but Max doesn’t play DnD and call me crazy but I think he and Robin would hit it off and if he’s...masquerading as some kinda mentor for Dustin then he should get to know his family.”

“You’re right”, Nancy said, standing with the basket of her harvest. “He should get to know the family.”

[ratofthemedievalsewers]

Heart of Steel - Part I

DBH Connor x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.5K+

Content warning: Minor injury detail, PTSD, language

Original game dialogue I got from this video:

https://youtu.be/32Np9LKI1Vg

We were attacked in the night.

After returning from a mission back to an outpost several miles from the red zone, we removed our gear save for a few pouches on our belts we could bother with later. Our team leader set up a fire while the SQ800s, CyberLife commissioned combat androids, began loading up the trucks with extra artillery and resources. A job that could have waited until morning, but Alpha always gave the androids something to do. He said that they creeped him out when they would just stand there in a dormant state, waiting for their next mission to be given to them.

"You know what I'm going to do when I get home?"

"Here we go again."

"I'm going to get me a WR400," Foxtrot; not everyone's favourite but he certainly kept us entertained when there was nothing to do.

"Uh-huh and with what money are you going to be using to pay for this WR400? A military salary definitely ain't gonna cut it." Echo always called out Foxtrot's bullshit, he was the only one that had the patience to deal with him.

"Fine, my birthday is comin' up, if you put towards two-thirds of what it costs we can share. How does that sound?"

"I am not sharing anything with you, I don't know what diseases you carry." Their constant back forth sent chuckles through the group.

"Alright, that's enough you two. It's getting late and past everyone's bedtime, I want you all awake by O-five-hundred at the latest," Alpha would often stop them before Foxtrot would take it too far, but he could never hide the twitching smile on his face.

"Yes sir," Foxtrot mock saluted as he stood from his seat around the campfire. "Hey Echo, that offer is still-"

One moment Foxtrot had a wide grin on his face, the next there was a hole in his head between his eyes, the sound of gunshot ringing in everyone's ears.

"SHOTS FIRED! GET TO COVER NOW!"

"FOXTROT IS DOWN! I REPEAT, FOXTROT IS DOWN!"

It was dark, we couldn't see where they were firing from. The android was the only one still standing, firing off in random directions as they were gunned down. The next was Delta, shot in the left shoulder, then the throat. My gun was back in my tent and there was no chance of me getting it. Stupid.

"MEDIC! GET TO DELTA! NOW!"

"GRENADE!"

I heard the thump by my feet before I saw it. You would think it would be terrifying, to know you're staring death in the face, but for a second it was peaceful. My body was cold and I already felt like a corpse, the Rigour Mortis freezing me in place, just softly gazing at what would kill me.

Something grabbed me before the grenade exploded, saving my life but destroying the android.

The bedsheets were crumpled and soaked in sweat again when my eyes shot open. It was hard to breathe, the panic was still running through me and closing up my throat at the memory.

In; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four. Out; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four.

It took a few minutes for me to remember where I was. That I was home and that I was safe. Out of nervous habit, I gripped my dog tags, they were wet from the sweat that had soaked through my shirt in the night.

"Shit." It was four in the morning, there was no chance of getting any more sleep and the station wouldn't be open for another two more hours at the least. Saying that; Fowler wanted to speak to me first thing, which never meant anything good for anyone.

It was aching again at the joint. The biomechanical component always felt itchy where it joined at the elbow. Anytime I would have that dream I would scratch at it in my sleep, it was like my subconscious knew it didn't belong. It knew my rotting left arm was still in the desert somewhere being picked apart by vultures.

It's almost ironic; to be saved by an android and then to have part of one attached to me. I hated it.

*****

"Morning Cyborg, you look like shit." Gavin was forever pleasant to talk to.

"Fuck off, Reed." He constantly hovered around the coffee machine, hogging it like it was his newborn baby. "Is Fowler in yet?"

"Not yet, you in trouble?" He took his time making his coffee, exceeding in being the department's resident asshat. "Did he catch you looking at porn on your work terminal again?"

"I'm pretty sure that's only ever happened to you." Not wanting to be reminded of his previous escapades I got no response. Gavin let out a small huff before moving to the side with his fresh cup of coffee, freeing up the machine.

"Officer (L/N)." Oh for fuck's sake.

"Sir?" Captain Fowler stood outside his office, his coat half soaked from the rain.

"My office, I need to speak to you." He didn't give a second glance to me before turning and letting the glass door shut behind him.

"Ha, good luck cyborg." Shooting Gavin the middle finger, I followed Captian Fowler into his office.

"What was it you wished to talk about, sir?" Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight and hands behind my back; habits from the army were destined to die hard. Often I would find myself moving my hand up to salute before leaving the presence of a superior, something else for Gavin to make fun of.

"You're aware of the deviant cases I've assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, correct?" Fowler sat at his desk, wet coat now hung on its rack, but there was slight dampness to his suit blazer where his coat had been left open.

"Yes sir. I believe he's being accompanied by a prototype RK800 from Cyberlife."

"That's correct. I'm sure you're aware that these deviancy cases are on the more..."

"Dangerous?"

"...Unpredictable side. Now, I can't exactly issue a gun to a prototype android if it's going to be in the field and, while I value Hank as a police officer, his record is on the rougher side."

"Captain Fowler, with all due respect, I don't believe-"

"Office (L/N), with all due respect, you don't have an opinion in this matter. I want you to accompany Lieutenant Anderson in these assignments just in case a deviant becomes too much for him or this android to handle. You've certainly got the skillset for it and you're not unfamiliar with working alongside androids, unlike quite a few officers in this department."

"I understand that, but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say I don't want to hear it." Captain Fowler didn't give me a chance to argue as he stood and walked to his office door, the annoyed look on his face worsening. "Hank, in my office!"

I let out a sigh before Captain Fowler turned back to his desk. Through the office wall made of glass Hank reluctantly made his way towards us grumbling something under his breath at the request, the RK800 model obediently following behind him like a little, lost puppy. Hank sat in the chair opposite Fowler while the android stood next to me, giving a small smile as a greeting.

Captain Fowler was the first to talk, "I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just cyberlife's problem anymore, it's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases, alongside officer (L/N) and see if there's any link."

"Why me? And why do I need a god damned partner? A stupid android is already too much. Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" Props to Hank for trying, but arguing with Fowler was like talking to a brick wall. "I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffery. I can barely change the settings on my own phone."

"Everybody's overloaded. I think you're perfectly qualified for this type of investigation," They were already starting to blow up at each other.

"Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag!"

"CyberLife sent over this android to help with this investigation and I've given you (L/N) as well. You've got a state of the art prototype and a leading police officer to act as your partners."

"No fuckin' way! I don't need partners, and certainly not this plastic prick and some action hero fucker."

"Nice working with you too, Lieutenant Anderson," I said under my breath, not intending for the others to hear. Connor turned his head slightly in my direction, I could see his LED blink yellow for a moment before going back to its bright blue.

"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!"

"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?"

"I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cause it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over."

"Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why are you doin' this to me?" Most of the department knew why he had such a distaste towards androids, no one could necessarily blame him. Ever since losing his son Hank had become completely different as both a person and an officer. Admittedly, Fowler was harsh on him, but if he wasn't then Hank would drift.

"I've had just enough of your bitching. Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Hank left in a strop, letting out his frustration on Fowler's office door.

"Well then..." Connor was quick to break the tense silence. His voice caught me off guard, it was smoother, more human than any android's I had heard before. The SQ800's voices had always been more robotic than other models so it had been a shock when the androids back home had sounded so normal, it felt like that all over again. It was jarring. "I won't keep you any longer. Have a nice day captain."

Connor left and I followed behind, giving a small nod of dismissal to Fowler despite him still looking at his terminal screen.

The android went straight to Hank either oblivious or ignoring the lieutenant's current bad mood, granted there was never a time the bastard was in a good mood. Heaven itself could rain down on Detroit and he'd huff at it like a hair in his food.

"I got the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that. In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very to be working with you." Ever the enthusiast.

"I'd give in now. You're talking to a toddler in a fifty-year old's body and the toddler is having a hissy fit." I half sat and half leant against Hank's desk, using my arms to support my weight.

"Apologies, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name is Connor, I am the android sent by CyberLife." He turned to me, a gentle and manufactured smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to be working with you too, officer (L/N). I'm sure we'll make a great team."

"Er... (Y/N) is just fine."

"Is there a desk anywhere I could use?"

"No one's using that one." Hank points to the desk opposite him, while still sulking like a child.

"Gasp, it speaks," I said in a sarcastic tone while turning to Hank.

"Fuck off. I've already got an android on my ass, I don't need you on it too."

I grabbed a terminal pad before perching myself back at the edge of Hank's desk while Connor got comfortable at the empty one. The light at the side of his head flashing yellow for a moment like he was hesitant to speak."You have a dog, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"

"What's it to you?" Hank shifted in his seat, "...Sumo... I call him Sumo."

"Under all those shitty shirts and questionable stains there's a warm, beating heart," I say more to myself than the other two, skimming over the recent case files sent in by Fowler.

"Officer (L/N)... (Y/N), knowing that we'd be working together I read your academy and field records. You have quite an interesting background."

"Oh yeah, then you understand that I may be a little driven to get these cases over with. I can't say I'm a fan of you terminators."

"I understand you have a... warped view of androids due to what you've experienced, but I hope you understand that I am your partner and not your enemy."

"Connor, you're not my partner, you're cyberlife's latest gizmo for us kick around." I sigh, turning to sit at my desk adjacent to hanks, taking the terminal pad with me. "Just look through the deviant case files. Terminals on your desk, knock yourself out."

They're nothing but machines. They are not your friends.

"Two-hundred and forty-three files, the first date back nine months. It all started in Detroit... And quickly spread across the country." Connor had only connected the terminal moments before.

"Don't work your CPU too hard," I mutter under my breath, catching a quick huff of amusement from Hank.

"An AX400 is reported to have murdered a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation." Hank was doing his best to pretend Connor didn't exist, but the android was persistent. Connor stood from his chair and made his way into Hank's personal space.

"Uh, Jesus..." Hank turned his chair away.

"I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant, but you need to move past them and-" For an android, Connor has some balls on him.

"Hey! Don't talk to me like you know me. I'm not your friend and I don't need your advice, okay?" Hank's mood had soured like milk, it wouldn't be long until Fowler was adding another page to Hank's disciplinary folder.

"I've been assigned this mission Lieutenant, I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working."

"Connor, you're just gonna-" I had wasted my breath, Hank had already stood and was grabbing onto Connor by the collar of his Cyberlife jacket and slamming against the screen next to his desk. "Hank!"

"Listen asshole. If it were up to me, I'd rather throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty."

"Hank," I placed a hand on his shoulder to try and lightly pull him away from Connor but only earned a nasty side-eye. "Leave off him, you don't get paid enough to replace him."

"Lieutenant... Officer (L/N), uh... sorry to disturb you," Looks like the tin can was saved before Hank could knock the light out of him, "I have some information on the AX400 that killed that guy last night. It's been sighted in the Ravendale district."

"I'm on it." Hank didn't glance back when he dropped Connor's collar. The puppy dog look on his face almost made me feel bad for him... almost.

"Come on, WALL-E. Don't want to keep the old man waiting."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Born to Run

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, fingering, kidnapping, guns, and other explicit content.

This is dark!Frank Castle and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are forced onto the road when an unwanted passenger gets in your backseat.

Note: So I’m gonna tag @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ because I promised them I’d write Frank and I finally got to it and it was loads of fun!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You sighed as you rolled to a stop behind the yellow taxi. You craned your neck to try to see around the lines of cars, another deadlock in New York traffic. You couldn’t be surprised as you idled in one spot and leaned your hand on the wheel as you checked the time. 

You heard a siren, saw lights flashing ahead, and heard shouts. Again, not unusual for the city.

You rubbed your forehead as the sun beat down through your window and the humidity built as it leaked in through your open window. You tried not to use the AC too much as it made your old Chrysler overheat in the annual New York heatwave. You shifted in your seat and pulled against the belt as you tried once more to peer past the crowded vehicles.

You heard heavy footsteps, several sets echoing from all directions. A figure appeared on the other side of your car and the back door was ripped open. The man ducked as he slammed the door behind him and laid across the seat. He rolled down onto the floor, a sudden invasion that shocked you.

“What the fuck--get out of my car!” you snarled.

“Honey, you’re gonna wanna keep it down,” he said as his large body barely fit in the crevice between the seats.

“What--”

He poked a gun up towards you and waved it, “eyes forward,” he said, “hands on the wheel, and turn the music up.”

“I don’t have any money--”

“I don’t want your money now shut up,” he hissed, “now you keep it up and I’ll blow a hole through your seat… pity you’re on the other side.”

Your adrenaline spiked and the pounding in your temples deafened you. You turned the knob of the radio to drown out the pulsing and the man’s ragged breaths. Several others appeared, several dressed as officers and few in civilian clothing. You grasped the wheel and made yourself stare at the license plate ahead of you.

The search party dispersed as they called out to each other and the cab slowly crawled forward. The man squinted up through the window as the cars around you began to move as well.

“Drive,” he said.

“What do you want?” you asked shakily as you pressed lightly on the gas.

“To do what I tell you,” he barked and wiggled uncomfortably on the floor, “you keep driving until you’re out of the city and then maybe we’ll talk.”

“It’s rush hour, that could take ages,” you huffed.

“So take ages,” he growled, “you don’t stop ‘til I tell you, got it?”

You nodded and cleared your throat, “uh huh,” you looked in your rearview as a gunshot rang, “exit?”

“Whatever gets you out of New York now shut up and drive.”

You did as he said. You made your way at a snail’s pace until traffic began to thin out and you turned away from your usual route.

“Tell me what street you’re on when you turn,” he ordered, “don’t fuck around with me.”

You looked at the sign and read it aloud. You followed a silver Civic to the next and again recited the name on the dented sign. You checked the clock again. Your meeting would have already started, that was probably why your bag wouldn’t stop vibrating.

“Give me your phone,” he said. You reached over blindly and grabbed your purse. You dropped it to him and he quickly unzipped it, “roll the window down,” again, you obeyed as you recalled the sight of the gun.

He pulled apart your phone and you glanced back over your shoulder. He had the back of and the battery in his hand. “Hey--”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” he flung the battery out the window and bent the phone in half. He tossed it too and righted his gun to aim over the console, “go on.”

“You can take the car, please… people will look for me,” you pleaded.

“Not for a while,” he laid back and gripped the gun, “now someone sees you arguing with your windshield and they gonna get curious so shut up and enjoy the… is that music?”

You changed the station with a flick of your finger, you barely registered the smoky tones of Springsteen as you focused on steering and reading out the street names. Your veins burned as our blood pumped wildly from your racing heart and the man’s scent tickled your nostrils; he smelled of blood and sweat. You hoped he didn’t add your own to the stains on his jeans.

💀

It was dark as your car dinged. You swore and looked ahead for a sign. You shook your head and blew out a long breath.

“I need gas,” you said to the phantom in the back seat.

He grunted as he pushed himself up from the floor and sat up, “gotta be a station close.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“Then we get out and push,” he scoffed, “stop worrying about ‘if’ and find us a station.”

You rolled your eyes. The man was annoying, even if he was terrifying. You scratched your nose and sat forward with a yawn. “I’d know if you hadn’t destroyed my phone.”

“See, right up there,” he ignored your gripe, “yellow sign just ahead.”

“Christ,” you huffed and blinked at the black road.

“I’m sure you had some real important business,” he grumbled, “but I’m sure the coffee can make itself.”

“Excuse me? Fuck off, I’m not some--”

“You’re gonna miss your turn,” he warned and you flipped your signal on.

You pulled into the station and he scooped up your purse. You shut the car off and unbuckled your belt. You twisted in your seat to watch him search your purse. He pulled out your wallet and counted the bills inside.

“Right, we fill up then we’re back to it,” he opened the door and stepped out.

He uncapped your tank and pulled a hose from the meter. He slid it into the slot and kept a hand lazily on the handle. You slowly opened your door and got out. You looked at him over the top of the car as he scowled at you, it was the first good look you got at him.

His dark hair was shaved on the side but he had about and inch or two up top, his nose was crooked, and his dark eyes were set beneath a forehead that betrayed a frequent grimace. You looked at the lights of the station then back at him.

“I gotta… go pee,” you said.

“You wait,” he said, “I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

“You think I’m stupid?” He released the level and tapped the nozzle as he pulled it out, “hold your horses, I’m comin’.”

He put the hose back in and stomped over to you. You saw the gun tucked into his belt and he pulled his jacket over it. He snatched the keys from you and grabbed your arm and marched you to the blazing door of the station.

“You have one minute before I come in and drag you out, pants down or not,” he tore open the door and shoved you through.

You curled your lip as he took a few sticks of jerky from a display and approached the counter. As you got to the sign over the restroom, you looked back as he stared at you. He raised a thick brow and tapped his wrist as if he wore a watch; he did not.

You went into the bathroom and locked the heavy door behind you. You looked around the grimy room and shuddered at the stained toilet bowl. You stepped up on the seat and looked out the small window above. It might be big enough if you suck in.

You stepped on the pipe beside the handle and pushed on the pain. It was just as gross as the rest of the room. The pane finally popped out and you hauled yourself over the high ledge. The glass didn’t quite open wide enough so you had to bend as you wiggled through. You had a high chance of landing on your head but you really didn’t want to chance worse with that man.

You kicked as you were lodged halfway through the window and a knock came at the door, “better pull your pants up,” your abductor called through the door.

You struggled to force yourself through as you tried to angle your hips past the frame. The door burst open with a frightening kick and you flailed your legs as you tried to hit the man blindly and keep him away. He caught your ankles and pulled you back. You cried out and grabbed the window frame so that you didn’t crash down into the toilet.

“Hey, let me go,” you tried to kick him again and he batted away your foot.

“You do that again and you won’t have a safe landing,” he tugged again and you nearly lost your grip on the ledge, “now come on.”

“You got my wallet, my keys, everything, so why don’t you just leave me--”

“Don’t make me count,” he sounded like a father.

“Count? Oh, come on, what am I gonna do? Just let me go.”

“Three,” he swung you just a little, “two,” he gripped your legs firmly, “O--”

“Okay!” you shouted, “okay, just-- let me down.”

Cautiously he bent and put your feet on the floor. He stood and you pushed yourself straight. He grabbed your arm and spun you to face him. He bent and rammed his shoulder into your stomach as he scooped you up. You yiped and pounded on his back as he turned and carried you out of the restroom.

As he strutted down the aisle, the clerk stared at you in confusion. The man reached the door and paused, “on her rag, she gets a bit pissy.” He left the store with a chime and carried you across the lot, “you want the trunk or are you gonna be good?”

You pulled on the back of his jacket and gritted your teeth, “would you put me down?”

“I won’t ask again so either you choose or I do,” he said as he neared the car.

“Alright, alright,” you snarled as he popped the trunk, “I’ll be good just don’t-- not in there.”

He harrumphed and walked around to close the trunk. He brought you up to the passenger side and dropped you on your feet. Dizzy, you grabbed onto the car and he ripped the door open, narrowly missing you with it.

“In,” he pointed to the seat.

You glared at him and stepped under his arm. You sat and he closed the door with a snap. He rounded the hood and the car dipped as he sat in the driver’s seat. He fumbled with keys and shoved them in the slot. He turned the ignition and shifted in the seat.

He took a stick of jerky from his pocket and peeled the plastic. He took a bite as he put the car in drive. He pulled out with one hand on the wheel and chewed noisily and he siphoned through the radio station with his greasy finger. You buckled your seatbelt out of habit and crossed your arms. 

“Get some shut-eye,” he gristled, “you’ll be drivin’ once the sun comes up.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” you groaned.

“Dunno, far,” he answered bluntly, “no talk, just sleep.”

“I’m not a dog,” you muttered.

“Keep actin’ like one and I’ll get you a leash,” he snorted.

“I really don’t get why you don’t just take the car--”

“As useless as I’d agree you are, you’ve seen my face and the longer I keep you from running back and snitching, the better chance I got,” he adjusted the seat as he chewed the last of the salted meat, “but there is another option?”

“There is?” you asked.

“Yeah, I could kill you,” he chuckled.

You swallowed and exhaled as you leaned your head back heavily. You peeked over at him as he focused on the road and as much as you wanted to leap from the moving car, you knew that would be just as fatal. So you huddled down and closed your eyes.

“Would you turn that down?” you nodded at the radio.

“You askin’ me to turn down a classic?” he turned the knob and Robert Plant’s voice whined from the speakers, “a nice little lullaby for you.”

You closed your eyes and turned in the seat so that you faced the door, the belt strained against you awkwardly but you didn’t care. You crossed your legs and tried to drown out the music. Even without the racket, you wouldn’t sleep easy.

💀

You woke after hours of uncomfortable sleep in the car seat. The car was still as you yawned and groaned as your stiff muscles rebelled. You sat up as you heard the sound of water hitting the dirt. The man was just outside with his back to you, pissing on the side of the road.

You looked to the ignition but the keys weren’t there. He finished up and zipped up noisily. He opened the door and bent to look at you. He kept his hand on the door as his eyes met yours.

“Get out, stretch your legs, you gotta piss, there’s a bush,” he jabbed his other thumb behind him.

“Really?”

“Or you can keep holding it,” he shrugged and closed the door. He walked around the front of the car and pushed an arm over his head to stretch his shoulder. You took a breath as your irritation bubbled and reached for the door handle.

You got out and held in a grunt. You walked around the back of the car and glanced around. The bush was small and poor cover. Even so, you really had to go as you spent your only opportunity trying to sneak out of the station. You looked at him and neared the leafy bunch. He blinked at you and turned his back.

“I hear any funny business,” he said over his shoulder, “you can piss your pants instead.”

You shoved your pants down and squatted. You let out a steady stream and almost sighed as the pressure left your pelvis. When you finished, you waited until you were relatively dry and pulled your pants back up.

“All done,” you said as you went back to the car. He shook his head and pointed you to his side.

“You drive, sign says there’s a motel about an hour down the road,” he opened the driver’s door.

You got in and he snapped the door shut before he went to the other side. He settled in the seat and slid the keys into the ignition, turning it until the engine rumbled. He leaned back and pushed his fingers back against his palm.

“Right, let’s go.”

You sniffed and pulled back onto the empty highway. You’d never been down that one before, an old country road with sparse exits. He pushed on his jaw until his neck snapped and you winced. You hated the noise.

“So, what do I call you then?” you asked.

He was silent and you felt him watching you, “like you care.”

“I don’t but looks like I’m stuck with you, so…”

“Mmm,” he pulled out some more jerky, “Frank.”

You nodded and stared at the endless road ahead. He said your name before you could.

“Saw it in your wallet,” he explained.

You drove in silence from there until he flipped the radio on. He chose a country station and you silently cursed his taste. You followed the signs and he pointed you to the old motel as you approached it. You thought of hitting the gas but that would do nothing but piss him off and probably get you hurt. Worse, you’d be stuck in the car with him for who knew how long.

You steered into the lot and he yanked the keys out of the ignition before you could. You mirrored him as he got out but he stomped over to your side. He leaned in as he lowered his voice.

“You can play along,” he pushed his jacket open and showed the butt of his gun, “or there’s still room in the trunk.”

“Fine,” you muttered.

“I mean it, you try anything,” he rested his hand on the gun, “you really wanna get someone else hurt?”

You nodded and chewed your lip, “I get it, okay?”

He pulled his jacket closed again and took your elbow, ushering you up to the front of the motel. You wriggled away as you reached the door and entered ahead of him. He drew you back as he followed you through the door and cleared his throat. The woman at the front desk looked up over her glasses and set aside the novel with a shirtless man on the cover.

“Good afternoon,” she sang as she swiveled in her chair, “how can I help you two today?”

“We need a room,” Frank said as he pulled out a wad of money.

“Deposit’s three-hundred, sir,” the woman replied, “can I get a name?”

“Ben Tacker,” he lied smoothly as he counted out the money.

“Alright, and a piece of ID?” she asked.

“Funny thing,” he peeled a fifty free and held it over the desk to her, “I lost it.”

She stared at him and slowly took the bill. She shoved it in her pocket and counted the rest out. She handed him a paper to sign and he scribbled without caring. She handed him the key and he thanked her in the same gruff voice.

“You two have fun,” she called after him as he swung open the door and waved you out.

He chuckled and shook his head, “sure will,” he said before the door shut again.

He looked at the number on the tag and led you to the door with the same. He unlocked it and waited for you to enter. The lock clicked as he trailed you and brushed past you as he went to the closet. You watched in confusion as he pulled out a stack of extra bedding and shared shredding the tinged top sheet.

He took one of the strips as he neared you. You backed up against the door and he wrenched you away as he pulled the single chair up behind you. He sat you down and held your wrist against the narrow arm of the chair. As he began to wind the strip around your wrist, you twisted and he squeezed so hard your fingers went numb.

“Can’t trust ya but I gotta get some sleep,” he growled as he finished tying your first hand. He went back and took another strip of linen, he repeated the process on your other arm and both your legs.

“And what if I have to pee?” you pulled against the bounds but only added to your discomfort.

“Hold it,” he shrugged and took the remote. He flipped on the television and pushed the control into your hand, “there. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

“You’re not serious? You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“I coulda left you in the trunk,” he turned and walked around the foot of the bed, he plopped down with a sigh, “you should be thanking me?”

He untied his boots and kicked them off. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the far side of the bed. He set the gun on the table beside the lamp and stretched his arms behind his head. As he laid back, he shifted awkwardly and dug in his pocket, he tossed your credit card up onto the table with a flick.

“Now, don’t go pullin’ shit or we won’t get that deposit back,” he groaned as he wiggled to get comfortable, “not my money so I don’t really care either way.”

“You… asshole,” you huffed and he smirked.

“I think an asshole woulda just taken the car,” he said, “and left you with a hole in your head.”

You clamped your lips together and shook your head. You hit a button and searched through the channels. You didn’t really care what you watched, you wouldn’t be able to pay attention anyway. You stopped at an old episode of NewsRadio and let the remote rest on the end of the arm.

The laugh track filled the interminable silence and after some time, low snores rose from the bed. You peeked over at Frank, his arm slung over his face as his chest rose and fell steadily. He might be irritating but you had enough sense to be afraid of him. If you had to guess, he was ex-military and judging by your inopportune meeting, he was also a wanted man.

You fidgeted as much as you could in the chair and turned back to the screen. It was as if the recorded guffaws were at your expense. You slumped as the cotton chafed around your wrists and yawned. Your back was still stiff from your nap in the car and the chair was little better with its thin pleather cushioning and short back.

💀

You didn’t remember falling asleep, not until you woke up in terrible pain. Your head hung over as you were nearly folded over your lap entirely, your bound arms holding you just above. You groaned as you pushed yourself up and it sent a pang up your neck. You heard the rattle of pipes and looked over at the empty bed.

You let out a strained breath and moved your head side to side, just slightly as the pain lingered and throbbed with each pivot. You balled your hands in fists and tried to twist your arms against the linen. You flexed your legs too, wiggling your feet as you tried to loosen the ties.

The chair began to rock as you fought against your restraints. The remote fell to the floor and the television kept blaring. As you were sure you just needed a little more, the chair tipped and you bounced off the side of the bed as it crashed down onto its side. The impact had your head spinning and shower faucet squeaked off.

You kept moving your arms and legs, desperate to free yourself before he could discover you. There was no hiding your intent anymore. The bathroom door opened and your heart swelled. Shit. You hissed as you heard his footsteps and looked up as his shadow loomed over you.

Frank stood in nothing but a towel, his thickly muscles torso still damp as he glared down at you. You cringed and tried not to see more than you wanted.

“I gotta take a leak,” you lied, well, not exactly untrue.

“Uh huh,” he hummed doubtfully and grabbed the chair. 

He hauled you back up and planted the chair back in place. He shook his head at you and retreated. He pulled one of the white robes from the hook on the wall and pulled it over the towel. He tied the belt tightly and dropped the other layer before he disappeared back into the bathroom.

When he emerged again, you watched him dully, “I really do have to go,” you said.

He ignored you and checked his gun. He slid open the drawer and set it inside.

“Well,” he came around the bed, “I got some bad news for you, There’s no window in there,” he grabbed the strip around your left wrist and unknotted it, “so, I’ll give you two minutes.”

He untied you and watched as you rubbed your wrists. You stood with a wince as your legs ached but he didn’t back up. You sidled past him and he turned to keep his dark eyes on you as you approached the bathroom. You swung the door shut and nearly collapsed on the other side.

The bathroom smelled of the gardenia scented soap that came with the room and there was still moisture in the air. You relieved yourself quickly and stood to gaze into the mirror. You looked awful, you felt awful. You splashed your face with cold water and leaned heavily on the porcelain. 

Whether you listened to that man or not, you were fairly certain the result would be the same. You could see it now, the black barrel of the gun, his finger on the trigger. You shuddered and shook out your hands as if to get rid of your nerves. You stood straight and groaned as you stretched out the knots in your limbs and back.

You went back into the hotel room as you rubbed your neck, the needling pain still buried at the base of your skull.

“Tell you what,” he said as he sat on the bed and aimed the remote at the screen, “I can tie you up again or you can make both our lives easier and just lay down.”

“Is there a third option?” you winced as another jolt went through your spine.

He snickered and pointed to the pillows, “we’re leavin’ early,” he said, “so you can sleep now or sleep in the car.”

You gave no response as you went around the other side of the bed. You eased yourself down against the pillow and let out an unwitting groan. It felt good to lay down. You turned onto your side, your face away from him, and he finally stopped switching stations.

You closed your eyes and hugged yourself as his weight rested at the bottom of the bed. It wasn’t hard to drift off as the pain chased you into unconsciousness and the stress of the last day shrouded your mind. You only hoped he wasn’t waiting for you in your dreams.

💀

The night's stay was taken out of the deposit and you were back on the road to nowhere. The man gave you gruff directions as he closed his eyes in the passenger seat. At night, you switched and you grew complacent as the endless travel wore on your wits. You didn't know why he wouldn't just let you go. He could take the car and the last of your money and just leave you alone. Likely the separation would be preferable to both parties. 

Another motel after a week of driving and you were thankful to be standing still. You were asleep on your feet as you dragged your feet behind your grumpy captor and as you leaned on the front desk and bid farewell to even more of your cash, you barely processed the conversation happening around you.

Frank's arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close. You flinched and sneered at him. You felt so gross, you didn’t want to be touched, let alone by him. The desk clerk handed him a key and chuckled.

“It’s been a long trip,” Frank said, “think we just need some R and R.”

You blinked at him stupidly as he turned you around and swept you out the door. Outside, you shoved him away and stumbled as he laughed at your pathetic effort.

“What the fuck was that about?” you scowled.

“Well, you looked like you were about to keel over, just tryna keep you on your feet,” he jingled the keys and led you up to the second level.

“Don’t do that again,” you mumbled as you waited for him to unlock the door.

“Sure, honey,” he said mockingly as he slid the key out and kicked the door open, “come on.”

Just like last time, he locked the door and you looked around at the small room, a single queen and another rickety chair. 

“Please, don’t,” you said as you crossed the room, “I’ll stay, just don’t tie me up. I need to lay down.”

“You need to wash the road off ya,” he quipped as he peeked into the bathroom, “ladies first.”

You stared at him and tilted your head. He might have kept you alive so far but you could hardly trust him. After all, you weren’t exactly there by choice. You tiptoed forward, warily eyeing him as you got closer. He stepped back and crossed his arms.

“You might not be able to smell ya but I can,” he nodded through the door, “ten minutes.”

You stepped inside and he snapped the door shut behind you. You sat on the toilet and rubbed your eyes. You looked down at your clothes, rumpled and stained with sweat and filth. You took a moment and stood to strip off the layers one at a time. 

You cranked on the shower and stepped under the stream. The shower curtain rang as you pulled it around the tub and you basked in the hot water. It felt good and your muscles relaxed as rivulets trailed down your skin. You scrubbed with the vague floral scented soap and scrubbed until you felt a little more like yourself.

Reluctantly, you turned the faucet off and reached for the towel on the bar. You lowered your foot onto the tile and patted yourself as you stared at your blurred silhouette in the steamy mirror. A knock sounded at the door and had you wrapping yourself in the white cotton.

“Ay, they got some machines here,” his voice scratched, “should probably wash those rags up while we’re here.”

You tucked the towel in at the top and gathered up your clothes. You neared the door hesitantly and cracked it open. You peeked out at him as he watched you impatiently.

“Figure you can’t run naked… well, if you try, it won’t be so easy,” he remarked. You shoved your clothes through wordlessly, “there’s some robes out here when you’re done with your sauna, princess.”

You rolled your eyes and shut the door. You heard him chuckle and move around the room as he grumbled under his breath. You waited for the other door to open and close before you emerged. 

You took the robe folded over the bottom of the bed and tied the belt tight around your waist. You sat on the bed, your back to the frame and switched on the television. You thought of running but he was right, even if you eluded him, you doubted there were many who wouldn’t do worse to a barely clothed woman, not out there in the middle of nowhere.

He returned shortly and dropped a haul of processed foods on the bed from the vending machines. He wore a robe as well but it was smaller on him and the flimsy white slippers provided with the room. He shuffled through his trove of salt and sugar. 

He took the two cups and placed them on the small round table and filled the kettle from the bathroom sink. He plugged it in and flipped the switch. “Hope you like chicken noodle,” he said.

You read the guide on the TV and punched in the channel playing re-runs of Law and Order. It was a grim choice but you just needed to disassociate from the dingy motel. The kettle clicked and his shadow flickered in your peripheral. Frank sat and the mattress dipped beside you. He held out a steaming cup with a plastic spoon sticking out of it.

“Thanks,” you took it and leaned back as you stirred the boiling soup.

“We’ll grab some burgers at the next stop,” he grizzled, “Fuckin’ starvin’.”

You said nothing and stared at the lawyers arguing on screen with the detectives. They were trying to figure out how a woman ended up in a motel with marks around her neck; dead. A chill went through you and you slowly glanced over at the man beside you.

He squinted and returned your gaze. His mouth slanted and he shook his head, “really?” he challenged nonchalantly.

You took a deep breath and turned back to the screen. You sipped at the hot broth and scooped up noodles as you tried not to think about being strangled to death on the bathroom floor. 

When you finished, you set the empty cup aside and slid under the covers as the afterglow of the shower weighed down your limbs. You just wanted to sleep. If he did decide to kill you then, you wouldn’t even know the difference.

He grabbed a candy bar from the mess and sat back, jarring the whole bed as he did. You rolled onto your side and pulled a pillow over your head. You squeezed your eyelids shut and tuned out the old tube television and the chewing of the man behind you. Sleep crept up on you in haze, half-aware of the muffled voices and the movement on the other side of the bed.

You pushed the pillow away as it grew warm beneath and sleepily pulled it under your head. You heard the distant noise of the pipes. Groggy, you sank back into a shallow sleep as the constant noise lulled you.

You were disturbed again when you were jostled and the television shut off. You felt him behind you and wiggled closer to the edge. He barely seemed bothered as he stretched out and you felt the heat radiating from his body. You drifted off once more, dreaming about the eternal highway and Frank’s bristly orders.

You snorted awake, this time from a haze so deep it felt as if you’d been drowning. You felt the arm over the middle, heavy and firm, and the hot breath on your neck. Your lashes fluttered, threatening to close again, but your adrenaline forced your eyes open. 

He was flush to your back, his hard body against your back as his hand was slid into the opening of your robe. His rough fingertips rested against your soft torso, just beneath your breast.

“Frank,” you rasped and tugged on his wrist, “the fuck are you doing?”

He groaned and shushed you as he nestled closer. You went rigid as you felt a prod against your ass. You grabbed him more firmly but could not move his hand as he squeezed you tighter. His hand glided up against your resistance and he cupped your chest. You gasped and pulled at his long fingers.

“Frank, get your fuckin’ hands off of me--”

He ignored you and rolled his thumb over your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat and tried to push yourself up. He held you down as he snaked his other arm beneath your.

“Honey, just relax,” he said drowsily, “I ain’t hurtin’ ya.”

“Get off!” you slapped the back of his hand.

“Mmmm,” he purred and nuzzled the back of your head, “you smell like flowers.”

“Frank--”

“What else are we gonna do, honey?” he asked and his breath tickled your ear, “hmmm.”

He nibbled at your lobe and a chill went through you. You pressed your hands to his and knew he could feel the frantic beating of your heart. You shivered as his arousal poked against you again. You gulped and gasped as suddenly rolled onto his back and pulled you up onto him.

Your robe fell loose as you laid atop him, your back to his hard torso as his other hand roved lower. You squirmed and grasped at his wrists. He easily ignored you as he kneaded your tit and his other hand slid along your vee. You held your breath and pushed your legs together.

“That’s your problem, you just need to let go,” he hummed and brushed his fingertips down the line of your leg, “come on and open up for me.”

You shook your head against his shoulder and he pinched your thigh. You yelped and he did it again. You hit his hand and he laughed, a deep rumble that flowed through you. He dug his nails into your flesh as he continued to fondle your chest with his other hand. 

You whimpered as he threatened to break the skin and let your legs fall open around his. He slid his fingers between your folds and over your clit. You gasped and he swirled his fingertips, sending a bolt of electricity through you. You gripped his thick wrist and gritted your teeth as you tried to resist the fire in your core.

“What d’ya think you’re still around for, huh?” he slithered as he poked around your cunt, pressing his fingers to your entrance.

You murmured a weak protest as your eyes rolled up and you stared at the wall above the bed. You huffed between your teeth as he shoved two fingers inside you. You clenched around them and your nerves rippled with the wave of pleasure.

His palm rubbed against your clit as he rocked his hand slowly and you shook your head, fighting the unwelcome thrumming as it pulsed deep within you.

His fingers slipped easily in and out of you as you slickened and reached back unthinkingly to curl your fingers into his sides. He moved his hand faster, the friction building to a spark. You closed your eyes as your nails pressed against his muscles and your legs bent around his.

You spasmed as you came, your surrender declared with a pathetic squeak. He didn’t stop until you were panting uncontrollably, your head lolling on his shoulder as you bit the tip of your tongue. When he pulled his fingers out, you whined at the sudden emptiness.

He rubbed his wet fingers along your cunt and spread your lips as he snaked his other hand beneath your leg. He tore open the tails of his robe and angled his tip against your opening. He urged you onto him, sliding you down his body until your back arched to accept him. You moaned as he entered you and the overwhelming fullness fueled your helpless voice.

“Hmm, honey,” her purred as his hot breath touched your scalp, “just what you needed, isn’t it?”

You sputtered as he moved his hips beneath you, rocking into you from below as he planted his feet in the mattress. He lifted you carefully and kept an arm around your middle as his other toyed with your sensitive bud. His thick breaths clouded around you as he moved your body in time with his.

He hooked his arm around around your left leg and pulled it higher, doing the same with your right as he fucked you harder. He reached from below to keep his thumb on your clit, your legs folded against your chest. He growled in your ear and bit the lobe again. You clawed at the blanket below him as he used you so easily, your shame smothered by your pleasure.

You orgasmed again and as your walls clenched around him, he groaned and his legs slipped down straight. He turned onto his side and quickly rolled you onto your stomach as he forced your legs down. He pinned you beneath him, weaving his arm through yours as he pulled them back as his twined his fingers behind your head.

He kept you pinned beneath him as his flesh clapped against yours loudly. You moans seeped into the pillow and his animalistic grunts punctuated each thrust. The bed shook beneath your bodies and he pushed his thigh up around yours. He sat up, still bucking his hips as he pulled your arms back and forced you to arch with him.

He gripped your elbows as he hammered into you. Your moans turned to whines as he pounded your walls and you gulped down air desperately. He growled and you felt his body tense as his hold on you broke. He shoved your head down against the pillow, almost suffocating you as he once more sped up.

He snarled and his motion grew spasmodic. He slowed and his hips jolted into you in jagged thrust. He emptied himself into you as his long fingers stretched over your scalp. Finally, he stopped, still straddling you as he heaved a shaky sigh. He sniffed and trembled as he ran his hand down your back.

“Really makes me happy I didn’t put a bullet in ya,” he rasped, “real…” he squeezed your hips and pushed in as deep as he could go, “happy.”

[teawaffles]

Albert’s Drinking Contest: Chapter 2

“——This is, the twentieth!”

Announcing the number of glasses he’d drained, Moran set his empty wine glass on the table with a thud.

He was still clear-headed, and able to hold a conversation. But those wild features of his were now flushed, as red as the copious amounts of wine that had entered his stomach.

“Ready to give up now, Albert?”

In his tipsy, trembly vision, Moran beheld his opponent before him.

But far from giving up, Albert was completely sober. There was no discernible change in his complexion; as if he’d started drinking right there and then, he tipped back his glass, and downed his wine with ease.

With that, they were now tied at 20 glasses each. Ignoring the man staring at him with twitching eyes, Albert called out to Louis, who was still serving as their waiter.

“No matter how many glasses I drink, this profound flavour never ceases to delight. To have procured such an excellent vintage — your selections are exquisite as always, Louis.”

“Thank you very much. As I recall, this is an import from America.”

“Ah: I’ve heard that the French vineyards are still afflicted with blight. [1] It’s a pity we won’t be able to enjoy their splendid red wines for some time to come; but it’s also our good fortune to have learned about the quality of wines from the New World.” [2]

“…………”

Albert was being much too relaxed, and had even started to digress into areas completely unrelated to the match; hearing that, Moran shot him a look of displeasure.

Incidentally, the challenge had been much too great for Fred: he’d been the first to pass out, flopping onto the table with his glass in hand. Immediately after, they’d covered him with a blanket so he wouldn’t catch a cold, and the man was presently fast asleep.

“Well then, both sides have managed to consume twenty glasses. It seems both of you still have room for more, but…… if I were to speak from an impartial standpoint, you appear to be at a slight disadvantage, Moran.”

Having observed their match, William leisurely shared his views.

Moran knew his analysis was unbiased, and that was precisely why he let out a groan of frustration. His face flushed, he grabbed the bottle of wine, intending to pour his next drink; but when he realised that not a single drop had trickled out, he waved the bottle in the air.

“Sorry, Louis. It’s empty, so could you bring a new one?”

“Understood.”

Louis promptly retrieved a fresh bottle, and with brisk efficiency, filled both their glasses.

“This’ll be, the twenty-first.”

As soon as his glass was full, without any intention of savouring the wine, Moran chugged it all in one breath.

But the next moment, he was swamped by an intense wave of vertigo: somehow, it seemed he was much nearer his limit than he’d thought.

In contrast, Albert merely tilted his glass, observing the colours and clarity of the freshly-poured wine. Then he swirled it once, bringing it near his nose to savour its aroma, and took a sip to taste.

“Is this a Madeira?” [3]

Standing beside them, Louis revealed the bottle label with a smile.

“Indeed — your wine tasting is accurate as always, nii-sama. Would you like some salted cheese to complement it?”

“I’d prefer to pair such cheeses with a sweet port. [4] Or perhaps we could have a chicken with that, like Sir John Falstaff.” [5]

“In exchange for one’s soul, indeed.” [6]

Watching the two brothers quote Shakespeare as they chatted, Moran was incredulous.

“……Y’know, this is a drinking match on which I’ve staked my dignity as a man — not some wine-guessing quiz at a party,” he protested.

However, in a long-suffering gesture, Albert merely shrugged.

“Although this is an earnest match, Colonel, it’ll become a dreary affair if you leave no room for entertainment. Moreover, this wine was used to toast the American Declaration of Independence, making it perfect for tonight’s celebration.” [7]

At that bit of trivia from Albert, Moran looked positively fed up.

“Oooh, if you have so much time to share your vast knowledge, then why don’t you hurry up and drink already?”

But far from being put out, an elegant smile rose to Albert’s lips.

“Oh dear; you’re in an awful rush, Colonel. Could it be a sign that you’re nearing your limit?”

“Wha……! N-No way. I can still continue.”

Albert had hit right where it hurt, and Moran uttered a groan that was rather different from before. It seemed his opponent had observed his giddy spell from earlier.

Although the match was far from over, Moran was now consumed by a crushing sense of defeat. Seeing that, Albert made a show of draining his glass at a leisurely pace.

Even after downing a substantial amount of wine, the eldest son of the Moriarty family was unruffled, and Moran shot him a complaint.

“You’re not actually drinking some deep red tea instead of wine, are ya?”

Perhaps it was because the liquor had addled his brain, for Moran put forth a suspicion that he wouldn’t normally have entertained.

To that, both William and Louis burst into laughter.

“That’s a very unique deduction, Moran,” said William, as he struggled to rein in his mirth. “But even I can’t devise a magic trick like that.”

Louis was also trying very hard to suppress his amusement. “I filled both your glasses from the same bottle: how could it be that alcohol came out one time, and tea the next? It’s so unlike you to even consider such a ridiculous idea, Mr Moran. Wouldn’t you agree that it’s time to cut back on the liquor?”

“S-Shut it. I was just saying. And I’m not giving up now.��

Their teasing had completely soured his mood. Glancing to the side, he saw Fred, who was sound asleep.

“Somehow, I think he might’ve just laughed at that too……”

Moran gazed at the man he thought of as a younger brother, dead to the world with a peaceful look on his face. Then he fixed his blanket, which had slipped a little out of place.

When his two brothers had finally managed to regain their composure, Albert spoke up.

“In fact, Colonel: it would better protect your good name if we were to pretend that outlandish trick was true. Or perhaps we could give you a handicap, and allow you to alternate between wine and tea.”

“You don’t say. Then I’ll have two drinks the next round.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, coming from you. If you’re the one to set up the cause of your own defeat, then it’ll make a convincing excuse to others, I see.”

“Urgh……”

No matter what he said, Albert had a ready riposte. As such, Moran swallowed his frustration, and returned his focus to the match.

“Anyway: Louis, keep it comin’, please.”

Seeing Moran try his utmost to put on a brave front, Louis was even beginning to find that a little cute; muttering his acknowledgement, he proceeded to fill Moran’s glass once more. Then, with great force, the man poured its entire contents down his throat.

“…………”

The alcohol burned like fire as it flowed into his stomach — all of a sudden, Moran came to his senses. Placing his glass on the table, he pondered.

His vexation at the Moriarty brothers’ teasing. His alcohol-induced befuddlement. And above all, Albert’s ability to hold his liquor, which had far outstripped his expectations.

His irritation at those three things had wound up completely flustering him. But once Moran calmed down and took stock of his situation, he realised William was right: he was clearly on the back foot.

Until now, he’d been unconsciously averting his eyes from his predicament by being oddly stubborn. But this pickle wouldn’t resolve itself if he just kept running away. If he continued to drink without a scheme in mind, then in his mind’s eye, he could see the outcome plain as day: he’d be out like a light in no time.

However, if he lost, then he’d have to listen to anything the victor said. Moran had originally set that rule as a way to spur himself on, thinking that there’d be no way he would lose. But now, it had lost virtually all effect in rousing his will to fight — all that remained, was the dread of what Albert would make him do upon his defeat.

He absolutely had to win. But the way things were going, it was all but certain that he’d lose.

In that case, the only option left would be——.

Within him, that conflict crystallised into a single decision.

“William,” he said. “Won’t you join in the match? Or rather: please, join.”

“Me? But why?”

Up to this point, William had been serving as an impartial judge, and he asked that with curiosity. But Moran did not answer; instead, his expression twisted into a bitter one as he continued.

“That’s not all. On top of you joining in…… If you’re agreeable, Albert, let’s ignore the count thus far and start afresh……. This is, truly a personal…… request from me.”

That faltering reply was very much unlike him, and William broke into a meaningful smile.

Moran’s decision — was to request that they increase the number of participants, and restart the game.

Despite his frustrations, Moran was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to beat Albert alone. Hence, he thought he’d bring in more opponents to counter him: even if it was just one more person.

The other part of his plan was to reset the match. If Albert agreed to that, then compared to the two existing players, someone joining in halfway would naturally have the advantage. But from Moran’s point of view, even if he was defeated, it would still be better than having Albert directly exercise his “winner’s privilege” on him — such were his complicated emotions. It was an absurd request, to be sure; but at least he hadn’t proposed having Albert compete against the combined total of both his and the other participant’s tally: perhaps that was a reflection of whatever faint scraps of self-respect Moran still had within him.

Perceiving Moran’s complex tangle of emotions, William placed a hand under his chin and pondered.

It’d also be fun to take on his suggestion. Although he did have his role as the judge, it wasn’t as if the match had any strict rules to begin with — they could easily do without one.

However, if he were to join in, and the match were to be restarted, then both Moran and Albert would be at a disadvantage. When it came to wine, he knew his elder brother’s stomach for it was bottomless; but still, it was clearly unfair to have a new and virtually-sober participant waltz into an honest drinking match. And yet, then again, he didn’t want to dismiss Moran’s “request” out of hand.

In this situation, the best option would be——.

But the instant William made his decision, and tried to voice his answer, Louis quietly raised a hand.

“Hold on a minute. Could it be that you were thinking of taking up his suggestion, nii-san?”

“……Yes, I was just about to say that. Seeing as Albert nii-san doesn’t appear to have any issue with that.”

William looked at his older brother, seated across from Moran. Then, Albert flashed them both a slight smile. Although it would mean that he would gain a new opponent, and the contest would start again from the top, it seemed he didn’t mind one bit.

Registering Albert’s generosity, Louis pointed at himself.

“In that case, may I participate?”

“……You, Louis?” Moran asked.

Louis proceeded to explain himself briefly. “I cannot countenance the possibility — however slight — that after joining the match, my brother will end up drinking too much and impacting his health. Hence, I believe that issue will be negated if I were to join the match in his stead.”

“But in that case, I would end up worrying for your health, Louis,” said William, furrowing his brows slightly.

At his brother’s kindness, Louis unwittingly cracked a smile.

“It makes me very happy to hear that. But it’s rare to hear Mr Moran make such a serious request, and so I can understand how you’d want to help him out. Of course, as Mr Moran said: this is only if you’re agreeable, Albert nii-sama.”

“Alright. Having heard that much, I shan’t object,” replied William. “What about you, nii-san?”

His elegant smile unfaltering as ever, the eldest son of the Moriarty family nodded.

“I don’t mind. If you’re certain, Louis, then I shall respect your decision.” Then, Albert’s expression turned solemn. “However, as you mentioned yourself, you absolutely must not reach the point of destroying your own health. Even though the colonel can’t help it, Louis, my condition is that you cannot drink recklessly. Is that alright?”

“Understood, nii-sama. ——Well then, it’s settled.”

Nodding in assent, Louis quietly took a seat beside Moran. Absorbing how his ridiculous request had been granted, more than gratitude, Moran’s expression was one of astonishment.

“Is this really alright, Louis? I know I was the one who asked, but Albert’s no pushover. If we lose, then you’ll have to suffer the forfeit too……”

However, Louis smiled wryly as he replied.

“I already knew that when I asked to join, didn’t I? To be honest, I don’t want to stand opposed to either you or Albert nii-sama. But now that I’ve made my decision, I have no intention of going down without a fight.”

“……Louis.”

That resolve had shaken Moran, so much so that he began to tremble. Watching him out the corner of his eye, Louis filled both their glasses; then Albert too filled his glass by himself, and raised it toward the two of them.

“Well then, once again, let’s give it our all.”

“I won’t be holding back either, you two.”

“Oh, both of you will be sorry real soon.”

Having gained a dependable ally, Moran’s enthusiasm was now back in full force.

Looking at the three of them, William spoke.

“So with Louis’s entry, the contest shall start again from scratch. But for both Moran and Albert nii-san, the next glass will be your twenty-third: please take care not to injure your health.”

With that word of caution from William, the drinking contest had resumed.

Footnotes:

[1] French vineyards had been devastated by aphids in the mid-19th century, and then fungal diseases after that. (Wikipedia)

[2] The “New World” refers to the Americas, in contrast to the Old World, or Eastern Hemisphere of the Earth. (Wikipedia)

[3] Madeira is a fortified wine made on the Madeira Islands, off the African coast. (Wikipedia)

[4] Port is a fortified wine produced in the Douro Valley in Portugal. (Wikipedia)

[5] Sir John Falstaff is a character featured in several of Shakespeare’s plays. (Wikipedia) He is renowned as a drunkard and glutton, whose favourite food is capons — roosters reared specially for their meat. (BBC article)

[6] A reference to Faust, who traded his soul with the Devil in exchange for worldly pleasures. (Wikipedia)

Aside: As far as I can tell, this line doesn’t actually appear in Shakespeare’s works. But in the legend of Faust, Faust makes his pact with the Devil via the demon Mephistopheles — who is mentioned in Shakespeare’s play The Merry Wives of Windsor (Wikipedia), which stars Sir John Falstaff as its main character.

[7] This is apparently true: Wikipedia

[hoe-imaginess]

cornered | dabi

dabi x reader

requested prompt: Villain F! Reader got secret information about the League, but is cornered by Dabi who is deciding what to do with her

word count: 2.2k

a/n: this honestly just turned into a little chase scene... hope it’s alright

⤰⤰⤰

You were teeming with triumph as you hurried down the alleyway.

Part of you knew that you were cruising on a premature celebration; you’d succeeded in your furtive plot, and taken the information you needed from the League. But obtainment was one thing—now came escape.

The benefactor of your risky mission required that you deliver the information to a warehouse near the old side of the city, the same place you’d made the deal in the first place. So there you went, almost as soon as the deed was done. You’d taken a sonorous route as a precaution, just in case you had any pursuers. But now, satisfied that you had no tail, and that you were mere moments away from collecting your due pay, you made haste to your destination.

The warehouse was empty and darkened, no lights giving illumination inside or out. You thought that was inconvenient at most, but not necessarily suspicious. Therein lay your mistake.

You pushed inside the warehouse and waited to be greeted. No one came.

Increasingly antsy, you moved around the gloomy interior as carefully as possible. You thought better of finding the lights and switching them on, so you continued your tepid investigation in the darkness, if only to idle while you awaited your patron.

Halfway into your search, you decided against testing your own patience, and pulled out your burner phone. Almost in the same instant that you dialed the confidential number, an offensive smell invaded your space. That, too, you found inconvenient, and nothing more. It was an old warehouse, you reminded yourself, as you put the phone to your ear. Nothing odd about a rank odor.

You heard the phone ringing through the speaker, and then, you heard the ringing in the warehouse.

Puzzled, you moved the phone from your ear and listened closely. Yes, there was a simple ringtone resounding through the place, and yes, it had to be your benefactor.

Still, the line continued to ring, and ring; the tone in the warehouse sounded in tandem. It was clear to you that you would be receiving no answer. And it was then that suspicious took its root.

You followed the ringtone in the dark, until you could see its faint glow yards away. By then, the horrid smell had turned almost intolerable, but also decipherable: like the stench of overcooked pork, stinging your nostrils with every inhale.

You envisioned a dozen nasty sources for the stench, some imaginatively morbid, but the scene you found upon following the ringing overwhelmed you.

A burnt corpse lay strewn on the floor. The scant moonlight coming in from the warehouse rafters gave poor illumination to the scene, but you could see quite clearly the blackened body, its form mangled by fire—a fire that hadn’t smoldered very long ago, if the heat coming off the body was any indication.

Beside the body lay the cell phone. It gave its last ring as your call went unaccepted, then the screen’s light gave out.

Your benefactor was dead. That much was certain. The rest was a mystery that buzzed in your head, quickly gaining into panic as you realized the demise that had befell the now-corpse was likely one you were meant to share. Why else would the man have been killed this way? Why here? And by whom?

The question was quickly answered.

“You must’ve taken the long route to get here,” a voice came in the darkness. “I’ve been waiting a while.”

You spun toward the sound, and took a step backward the moment you spotted a figure leering beyond the burnt body.

“Who are you?” you asked, unwilling to play the part of the victim, not when this assailant clearly had lethal purpose.

“Naive of you not to expect this, ya know,” he muttered, and moved out of the shadows.

You were just short of thinking that his voice sounded familiar, when he came into full view of the moonlight to reveal himself.

Dabi.

With hands in his pockets, and a joyless smile on his face, he carried the aura of a man who had all circumstance on his side. And you knew very well that he did.

“I figured if you were dumb enough to double cross us, that you’d also be dumb enough not to cover your tracks.” His foot tapped the forgotten phone on the ground, the one which had belonged to your late benefactor. “Eavesdropping on calls is easy enough, if you have tech savvy acquaintances.”

You tried to remember the League associates you’d met, and what their quirks had been. You couldn’t recall any with the capability to exploit your schemes, but that certainly didn’t mean you hadn’t been ignorant to assume you’d get away with this betrayal so easily. Apparently, you’d underestimated Dabi’s mistrust in you.

“As for whatever information on us you’re willing to sell,” he began, “I’ll be needing that back.”

You stood tall, proud to stand your ground, even as your hands started to fidget anxiously.

“Did Shigaraki send you?” you asked.

“He doesn’t know I’m here. But I’ll tell him the gist of it later, after I handle it. I’m curious. What exactly do you have on us?”

“Nothing,” you declared calmly, and without a haste of defense. “I have nothing on you.”

“Yeah?”

He kicked the burnt body with the cap of his boot. A piece of the crisped limb crumbled under the minimal force, and scattered along the concrete like debris.

“Is that what you were comin’ to sell to this guy?” he asked. “Nothing?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing the evidence and ambience were stacked against you. But you weren’t about to be cowed. You met his stare, matching his menace with defiance.

With the gravity of this situation quickly rising, you felt the warm brush of your quirk ready itself, prepared to defend in whatever way possible. You’d seen enough of Dabi’s power—and worse, his cruelty—to know that the dreadful anticipation you felt was fully justified.

“Bet you thought you were good at this sneaking around stuff, huh?” He took a step toward you; you stepped back. “I’ve been suspicious for a while, but honestly, I was more curious to see what you’d do, and how you’d do it.”

Now he was walking around the burnt body, forcing you to circle in the opposite direction.

You decided to drop any pretenses, lacking as they’d been in the first place.

“How long have you known?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve got an eye for this sort of stuff. And lately, it’s been on you.”

The threat behind his words suddenly made you hyperaware of the corpse between you two, of the putrid smell steaming off of it. Morbid fantasies seized you, and you realized you might soon be joining the heap of ash at your feet.

“So, I’ll ask again. What is it that you have? And what did this guy want with it?”

“I thought you were well-informed,” you returned, risking his patience, buying yourself some time.

He gave a gruesome, humored smile. It was a grisly contrast to his lifeless, torched victim below.

“I guess it doesn’t matter what you have on us,” he finally said.

The debased smile on his face remained, but there was a threatening descent in his demeanor, a pointed narrowing of his eyes that put a shiver down your spine.

“No one’s ever gonna get it, anyways. I’ll make sure of that.”

In the instant that his flames illuminated the gloom with their cyan, you turned on your heels and dashed into the darkness.

You didn’t know how spry Dabi was, or how easily he could catch up to you. But with what his long-range firepower could make up for, you doubted it mattered.

With most of the structures in the warehouse silhouetted against the dainty moonlight, traversing the interior in haste was nearly impossible. Even as you ran, you could still smell the cooked flesh, following you and dizzying your senses.

You couldn’t pinpoint the entrance, nor an exit. It left you stumbling practically blind through the poorly lit building, and you were thankful once you floundered upon a wall. You stumbled along, fingertips moving across the brick to guide you.

Somewhere behind you, Dabi was on the move. Now he spoke, his voice low and reverberating in the darkness.

“You’re startin’ to piss me off,” he called after you. “This’ll be a lot easier if you stop running.”

It occurred to you that he might want you alive, so that he could drag you back to Shigaraki Tomura, and face punishment at his hands—literally. That put heat into your steps, and you stumbled along that much faster in the darkness, hoping against hope that some source of escape might present itself.

The footsteps were behind you again, and quickly gaining. You moved carefully over junk strewn on the floor, and found yourself near a door. You twisted the knob, breathed out a quick sigh of relief to find it unlocked, and slipped inside.

You found yourself in a spacious room, an office of some sort. The first thing you noticed was the window across the room, throwing moonlight through its pane and brightening the dusty interior. You went to it quickly, and tried to wedge fingers underneath the frame and haul it open, to no avail.

“Come on girl, don’t make this hard,” Dabi called into the room. He was just beyond the door.

You bit your lip to keep a groan of frustration down, and hid in the corner of the room. As you did so, the door creaked open. You heard his boots crunching over the wooden threshold. Then the sound of the creaking door moving again. It closed, and clicked. He’d locked you both inside.

Then came silence.

You waited for him to speak, but nothing came. You peered out from your hiding spot, searching for him in the darkness. You saw only a faint outline of his form, the scant moonlight catching off the leather of his outfit.

“If I have to light this place up with you in it, that’s fine,” his voice echoed in the dark. Then came his punctuated, languid footsteps somewhere in the room. “But it’d be easier if you’re alive. I still have some questions for you.”

The thought of enduring what would probably be a horribly sadistic interrogation made your skin crawl. He wasn’t just here to catch you in your trespasses, but to squeeze information out of you, too.

Dabi moved across the room, searching for you. You couldn’t see him now, his silhouette hidden by stacked boxes and other clutter in the darkness. There was a side door that led to the outside, you knew. And you knew it had to be on this side of the building. You’d clocked it in your previous visits to the warehouse as an escape route in case of an emergency. This more than qualified.

But the dark gloom was so profound that locating the door was nearly impossible. This room was denied even a sliver of the moonlight.

At the least, Dabi was apparently as lost as you were. That, or he was taking his grueling time in his approach—which sounded much more fitting, especially knowing his fire might do him well if he needed to illuminate the room somehow. But clearly, he was toying with you. At least for now.

Just then, his footsteps stopped somewhere in the darkness. You waited, and waited some more. You wondered if he was expecting you to make a move, to expose yourself by sound. But you refused; the gloom was your ally, and you would utilize it in full.

But just as you thought you were safe behind the boxes, one of the shadows in the corner forsook its concealment, and he appeared.

Then, as you tried to flee, he slipped over to block your path. “I don’t think so,” said his shadow.

His cruel confidence gave his silhouette the appearance of something taller, something more menacing. The burnt odor returned in full force, and you realized it must have been radiating off his corrugated skin.

An instant later, you felt the wave of fire, and shrieked as the flames fed through the fabric of your shirt, singing delicate skin.

You dove for the floor, and rolled onto your back to extinguish the flames. But the damage was done, and as you backed yourself against the wall, your skin seared with fresh pain.

He stopped in front of you, leering down. His attack had merely been one of intimidation; he’d purposely grazed you, but the surrounding wooden boxes gladly kindled his fire, and quickly caught ablaze.

The flames rising around the room threw a sheen of blue over his expression: rigid and lacking mercy. You wondered if your schemes, your complicity in this act of betrayal, was worth whatever was to come next.

Your throat was tight. The dry, hot air choked you. But all you could do was glare up at him in a desperate show of defiance.

"You’re gonna regret ever thinking you could get away with this," Dabi said with a smile.

Indeed, you were thinking that very thing, when he reached for you.