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norman-fucking-reedus · 8 months

Note

I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing! I was hoping I could request a one-shot where Daryl and fem!reader are married. They are working on separate outdoor projects but Daryl can’t stop watching the reader throughout the day. The dirtiest thoughts cross his mind as he watches her. Later that evening when they are home and finally alone he recreates all those thoughts with her throughout the night. Daryl has a pleasure and praise kink, includes oral, Daryl loves going down on the reader!

*Set during later Alexandria or Commonweath era (Daryl never goes to France!)

STOP IT RIGHT TF NOW ANON CAUSE WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF A PLEASURE KINK. DROOLING RN

Heres me admitting im only on season 9 of TWD so this takes place in Alexandria 😿

A/n: Thought I’d actually title this bc reading it again months later I just think it needs one 🥸

gif creds @daryl-dixon-daydreams

BUSY BEE

Daryl was going to simply pass away and die.

He hated his own mind for it’s never-ending thoughts, even more so when he had a literal job to be doing. His racing thoughts had been distracting him the whole day, occasionally using the wrong tool, knocking something over, and even almost spilling all the oil at one point.

It was just the way your hips looked, so well rounded in those jeans, shirt clinging to your body as you walked quickly with your own tasks in mind, not noticing your husband’s hardcore staring.

His mind was bursting with thoughts of what horribly dirty things he wanted to do to you. Sometimes he physically can’t wrap his head around how he ended up with someone like you. All Daryl could think about was just how bad he wanted to fuck you, cock already stirring to life in his pants.

No. No. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t be seen not doing his task and also now needed to hide the tent forming in his pants. It was worse that he was out in the open, having been assigned to work on the cars to keep them running longer.

You had been assigned to ask around to see what was needed for the next run, only for some reason you had timed yourself to get to everyone in under an hour, hence your quick pace and focused gaze. Daryl had seen you walk past at least three times, each time you sped past while furiously scribbling on a notepad. He felt like a teenager watching and obsessing over his crush.

God, he was so ready to blow himself up, staring down at under the hood of one of the cars used for runs. He forced his mind to focus on fixing shit instead of wandering off. Rick had been saying that the brakes had been failing, only Daryl couldn’t exactly do much without a jackstand.

He decided to test the car battery instead since it had been having trouble starting. Stepping around the car to the toolbox, he almost tripped as you bumped right into him. “Bulky bitch!” You yelped as you fell down onto your ass, dropping your pen and paper. Daryl gently but quickly pulled you to your feet, picking your stuff up. “Tha’ hell ya runnin’ from girl?” He stepped closer to you, sliding a hand to your waist. “I’m a very busy woman with places to be and times to beat” You rolled your eyes, yet smiled softly at Daryl. “Too busy fer me now?” You nodded, leaning up as if to kiss him but going for his ear instead. “Very busy” You whispered sweetly, placing a faint kiss on his cheek before speeding away again.

Daryl simply stood there with his cock straining harshly against the fabric of his pants, cock pulsating as he could feel himself leaking pre-cum. He should just blow his goddamn brains out, now.

He slammed the hood of the car shut and climbed inside, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. It felt like his head was about to fall off with how many filthy thoughts were flooding in. You were the biggest tease and absolutely knew it, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to silence his brain, hands gripping the steering wheel. He wasn’t about to jerk off inside a car with the clearest windows ever, at that point he might as well do it out in the open.

While Daryl was suffering silently, you were simply serene as you rocked on the porch swing of your house, turning in the list to Rick right before your timer hit fifteen minutes. You toyed with the ring on your finger, smiling down as you thought of how Daryl refused to get you something small. He had found a jewelry shop out on a secret run and spent an hour overthinking and questioning himself before finding the perfect ring. It was a sliver band with clusters of smaller diamonds around a larger one that so happened to be the shape of a skull, matching the one he wore every day. He smashed the glass without a second thought.

You smile fondly, also remembering that the same man was probably struggling to do his work. Getting him super worked up was your favorite thing to do as he basically melted in your hands the second he stepped foot inside.

Speaking of inside, you had stepped in earlier to change out your underwear, switching into a black thong you found. You could practically feel Daryl’s hands roaming your body, shivers running down your spine at the tingling sensation.

Whilst you were enjoying yourself, Daryl was still sitting in the car, staring down at the steering wheel as he tried to focus his mind on anything else, aside from the cocky sway of your hips, and the ghost of your lips against his ears.

He needed to get off badly. The only thing really stopping him were these shitty windows, however he proceeded to begin rubbing his hand on his clothed cock, letting out a shaky moan. Daryl slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as he tried to recenter himself. He thought for a moment, sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

The car door swung open and he kicked it shut behind him, walking quickly to avoid anyone who might wanna talk, quickly making his way back home. He passed Carol, who was sitting out on her swing. She waved and he gave a short wave back, trying his hardest to keep his hard-on concealed as he sped past.

He stepped heavily up the stairs, the wooden porch creaking under his weight as he opened and shut the front door. It was remotely quiet as he kicked his shoes off next to yours, tearing his shirt off as he stomped upstairs to your shared bedroom, where he found you in one of his shirts lying on your stomach reading a book, closing it at the sound of your husband's arrival. “Already stripping nude for me, Dixon?” You pushed yourself onto your knees and he approached the bed, grabbing your face rougher than intended and crashing his lips onto yours.

It seemed like in that moment, Daryl’s hyperactive mind finally shut itself down, his shoulders relaxing as his hands held your soft face, licking into your mouth desperately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers splayed out on his upper back as he moved to join you on the bed, readjusting you so your legs rested comfortably on either side of his hips. There was a burning desire in his gut as he sucked harshly on your skin, grinding against you as he did.

Daryl’s hands stayed locked at your hips, massaging and groping the flesh as he continued marking up your whole body, practically eating you. He reached your boobs and ran his tongue over the right one and started to suck deep marks into the sensitive flesh.

His hips picked up speed, becoming erratic before burying his face in space between your boobs, shaking as he literally came in his pants. It was the hottest thing you’d seen. “Feeling better?” You whispered breathlessly, watching him groan and lift himself sluggishly off your chest. “M’not done yet” His words were slightly slurred as he leaned back on his knees, hands fumbling to undo his pants.

You eventually reached down to unzip his zipper, and he was back on you instantly, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard and dripping cock, precum pouring from the puffy tip. “God, Daryl, you’re so needy tonight” You moaned as he pulled down your pajama shorts, eyes staring down at the black thong. “Yes tha’ hell I am” He whispered, hands sliding up your sides and he slid down, cock pulsing as he got a look at your cunt even with the thong on. There was just so much he wanted to do to you that it was overwhelming his senses.

He ran his tongue up and in between your folds, tasting you through the measly garment. He rubbed circles in your clit as his tongue explored every inch, slipping past the thong and into your entrance, causing your brain to short-circuit as he worked you to release, especially since his own was drying in his underwear. Alongside his tongue, Daryl eased two fingers in, stretching and scissoring you open, his tongue going in much deeper and curling. “Fuck yes, baby just like that” You bit your bottom lip harshly, sliding your own fingers down to stimulate your clit, knowing how to push yourself off the edge quicker. He got so fucking hard at the sight of you playing with yourself, even more so that it was your ring finger, the diamond skull standing out as your fingers sped up. Daryl pulled his tongue out, continuing to move his fingers as he licked your clit, a strangled sob coming from you as you came.

Daryl settled for unleashing another attack on your torso while you recovered from your orgasm, licking, kissing, sucking, and biting at the smooth flesh of your stomach, one hand holding your thigh over his shoulder, and the other resting right by your boob, his thumb teasingly stroking the skin under it. He felt every curse, moan and gasp you let out, licking right in between your already marked boobs, kissing the junction of your throat all the way up to your lips. The head of his cock nudged your pussy slightly, and the heat of the kiss had you dizzy. “C’mon handsome, I can’t wait much longer” You batted your lashes at him, running your hand down his one of his big arms, your ring shimmering in the dim lamp light.

Your other hand slid in between your bodies to shift your soaked thong to the side, pulling him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. He used one hand to steady his cock, and gripped the headboard as he slammed in, two of you moaning in unison. Daryl’s cock was more sensitive than ever, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he readjusted himself, pounding roughly into you as you gripped his bicep.

Daryl’s thrusts were relentless as he kept his pace up, bed creaking and headboard slamming as he panted like a dog, watching the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, a giant wet spot forming on his jeans as he showed no signs of stopping. “My big strong man, always fucking me so good with your fat cock” You bit down on your lips as one of your hands came to rest on his cheek. He turned his face to the side, kissing your palm while staring into your eyes with a lovingly lustful gaze. “M’all yers, m’gon always give my woman wha’ she wants” His voice was raspy and breathless against your hand before he locked your fingers together, pinning your hands onto the mattress and dipping his head down to press his forehead against yours, simply panting into each others spaces.

From how tightly you were holding hands, your rings dug into one another’s fingers, and it only turned Daryl on more. You were his and he was yours. “M’so proud ta call ya Mrs. Dixon. Gon fill ya up w all my kids” He whispered, bumping his strangely cold button nose against yours. “Let’s just start with one?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, and by the way Daryl’s hips had sped up you could tell he was close “Not one now!” You shrieked, nails digging into his hands as he railed your sweet spot, orgasm already hitting him incredibly hard as he practically laughed in your ear from how hard he came, pulling out just a little too late.

He fell on top of you, but recoiled when something wet touched his navel, eyes flickering down to see his cum soaking into the black fabric of your thong and seeping out your hole. “Gonna clean that up for me?” You winked suggestively at him, and he lowered himself to be eye level with your messy cunt, massive hands spreading you further apart as he licked his lips. “Yes ma’am”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I made myself very horny writing this but I also kept falling asleep as I was writing

also I based both rings off Normans ring :3 (he should put his finger in my body)

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion smut #twd daryl #daryl x you #daryl dixion x reader #daryl imagines

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redflagshipwriter · 18 days

Text

Check yes ch 11

masterpost

Jason repressed honest to god giggles until Danny phased them out of the building and to ground level. Then they started running back to where he had left his bike, laughing with adrenaline as Jason’s footsteps beat down on the pavement. They ran through a thick cloud of smoke outside a barbeque place, bathed in spice and meat essence. “The look on his face!” Jason gasped. “Why did that looney tunes plan work?”

“That’s how my battles go,” Danny defended himself, grinning so hard he glowed under the yellow tinted streetlights. Jason wasn’t sure he was actually running, per se. Was he touching the ground? “I do shit like enter video games and physically fight firewalls. You people are not prepared for me.”

“No shit, Bugs Bunny.” Jason snickered and wiped tears of laughter away before he unhooked his helmet from his bike. Danny shied away like he was worried Jason would force him to take head protection. Jason had fought enough of those battles for today, so he let it go when he never would for a normal passenger. After a moment Danny skittered back into grabbing range and Jason jokingly snagged his arm to reel him onto the back of the bike. “Where to, Prince Charming?” he teased.

Danny went stiff and cold behind him, which was really on brand for a corpse. But it also made it very obvious that he was trying to suppress some kind of reaction.

Okay. That nickname was either really good or really bad. Jason kept his body language loose and open, not really concerned but very aware that he did have an interdimensional monster guy on the back of his bike. “Brr,” Jason complained mildly. For real, it was like having a big ice pack pressed up against his back. How did it permeate his leather jacket and layers of tactical material so easily?

“...Sorry,” Danny said, voice flat. He reached out and gripped onto Jason’s front pockets. “Please don’t call me that one, for mysterious reasons.”

“...Alright.” Jason took that on board. He’d stepped near some kind of trigger. He made sure to remember it. “I have questions that are answered by the ‘mysterious reasons’ clause at the end of your sentence. Fair play. Let’s go to the arcade. It’ll take him a while to follow us.” He latched his helmet and kicked up the stand. “Hold on.”

Danny snorted. “Hang on,” he said scathingly, but there was a teasing lilt under the words. “You cannot possibly throw me off. Grungier men than you have tried.”

Grungier? Not bigger or meaner or whatever? Jason choked down a laugh. Danny sounded so serious about it, too.

“Odd flex.” Jason turned on the engine and started off before Danny could do more than sputter at his deadpan response. They weaved between heavy Gotham traffic, protected from car fumes by Jason’s breathing filters and Danny’s nonchalant attitude regarding reliance on oxygen.

Click

Danny jerked behind him, a clear indication that he heard the tiny sound of Jason’s helmet mic turning on.

He hadn’t done that, so the list of suspects was very short. “Hello, Barbie,” he drawled.

Her unfiltered voice rang out in his ear. “Let’s go party,” she dead panned. Danny pressed his palms a little harder into Jason’s stomach in what might have been proprietary. Was he jealous? “Terrible of you to set a fox in the henhouse when I am off work.”

“Dick started it,” Jason whined honestly. He hit the brakes as the light ahead turned a yellow that cast eerie shades across lingering puddles. “I’m just trying to have a nice night out, and he wants to bother us.”

A female voice faintly floated across the background of Barbara’s call. “Poor baby,” Babs cooed mockingly. “Are you really so innocent? No instigation?”

“Not a word,” Jason lied. He put his feet down to brace the bike. Danny was the weirdest passenger he’d ever had, by virtue of being weightless and having no wind resistance. It was like driving alone except that there were hands on his front and a face pressed against his left shoulder blade.

Someone laughed in the distance. “I want to play,” Barbie sighed. It came across crystal clear into his ear.

“On my team?” Jason asked hopefully.

She snorted. “Depends on how the chips are falling when I’m done with this presentation. Right now, it’s two to one, isn’t it? Dick’ll look for someone to play on his team before too long. It won’t be me, at least for an hour.”

Information was never free. “Thank you,” Jason said, already mentally allotting a couple hours next Saturday to moving heavy things around the Clock Tower. “Damn decent of you. Wanna say hi to Danny?”

Babs paused. “He’s not wired in, is he?”

The light turned green. Jason kicked up and breezed through the intersection. “No, but he can hear you.”

Danny’s chest became a little more solid against Jason’s back and he- slithered? Was he slithering?

“Hello, Barbie,” he said, politely and somehow inside Jason’s helmet.

Jason was very still. Wow. Bad. His hindbrain did not like this.

“Call me Barbara, please,” she said. “Danny, right? Are you boys having fun at Dick’s expense today?”

“I dumped water on him,” Danny said happily.

There was a long moment. “How?” Barbie was hiding it, but she was a little disturbed. Jason got it. Dickie was one of the best in the game.

“I phased through the ceiling when he was distracted, talking to a waiter.”

“Ah, you can fly. That’s pretty ghostly.”

Danny made a grunt. “Well, yeah, but actually I went zero gravity and made it look like I was lizard-crawling on the ceiling with glowing eyes.”

“...Can you hand the helmet back to Jay?”

“I’ll just back out,” Danny said, and slid back down Jason’s back. He suppressed a shiver. It was like- it was like being partially overlapped with some kind of cooled gel. It wasn’t just on his skin, it was sliding easily against the first layers of muscle or something underneath.

‘Interdimensional monster,’ Jason reminded himself. ‘Hot interdimensional monster.’ He put his questions away for later. “He’s fabulous, right?” he drawled. “We’re about to our destination, if it’s alright to get off the line.”

“Stay safe out there, loverboy.” Babs cut the call abruptly.

“She seems nice,” Danny lied. Or maybe he was just a bad judge.

“She will become our enemy real quick if it’s more amusing to her,” Jason corrected. “She’s a terrible enemy to have. I hope her date goes so well she doesn’t check in.”

Danny sulked against his back and slid his cold fingers through Jason’s jacket to rest of his skin directly. Jason suppressed a yelp, barely. “Boring,” he moaned. “If she’s powerful, she should fight me.” “Don’t buy that trouble,” Jason muttered. Jeeze. This dead guy had no self preservation instinct.

#red check yes #dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main

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disneyprincemuke · 9 months

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that’s just the way things go * femdriver

when her and logan crash out in a race, well, now what?

pairings: sebastian vettel x femdriver, logan sargeant x femdriver

warnings: accidents, car crash

notes: i warned you all.

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

-> canada, 2024

"ready, kid? one minute until the race starts," she hears sebastian in her ears. "everything good?"

she looks around her, trying to look at the grandstands with what little vision the halo provides her. typically, she'd not be able to hear the crowd cheering. but either something is up with her earphones, or one of her senses has heightened.

there has been an uneasy feeling in her stomach that she's not been able to shake off since she landed. there's a ringing in her head that's persistent all weekend.

"are you there?"

"yes, i'm sorry," she says quickly, perking up at the confusion in sebastian's words. "everything’s good.”

“is everything okay? you’ve had this worried look on your face all day,” sebastian states. “are you nervous? starting in the second row for the first time in f1?"

she looks to her side, noticing the ferrari mechanics working on charles’ car. she sighs and looks right up ahead at max’s red bull in front of her. diagonal to her is oscar’s car. “maybe it’s that. maybe i’m just nervous.”

“don’t worry about it, kid. i’ll be here.” she gets a feel for her steering wheel — the same one she’s had since she started last year. but for some reason, it didn’t feel great in her hands today.

her steering wheel doesn’t fit her palm today.

“let’s try and fight with the front row, alright? don’t let max get too far ahead.”

she breathes as the mechanics start to disperse. “i told max to always check his side view mirrors now that i’m behind him.”

she drives out of the pitlane, watching the car passing her before she rejoins the track. "who is that in the williams? is that alex or logan?"

"logan," sebastian says. "he's got good pace, but you're faster than him. you can overtake him whenever you see fit."

"how much faster than him? can i overtake him this lap?" she asks.

"up to your discretion. if you think you've got enough pace to catch him eventually – you have the fresher tires."

"okay."

she tries, trying her best to catch up to the williams car. she grunts under her breath, stretching her shoulders as she braces herself to fight logan on the track again.

she smiles. she hasn't fought logan on the track in a while so this is a very nice change of scenery. she tries to fight it fair and square, but she's noticed – only now – that he's developed a different driving style from the one she's used to.

she concedes about three corners into the lap, trying to get used to logan's driving style before she makes the decision to pull an overtaking move that would push logan out of the podium spot. which, realistically, she doesn't want to do if she had the choice.

maybe she should just let logan have the podium? she's already had one for herself last year in singapore after all. but no, she can't do that. there's always been a mutual understanding that whatever happens on the track should be a separate entity from their friendship.

if she concedes and lets him have the podium, despite knowing that she could very well beat him on the track, she is lying to herself and logan. and oscar, who is ahead of logan.

whatever happens on the track, stays on the track.

she always comes close, only to have to pull away from the early braking point that logan seems to be pulling at.

"seb, i can't find an opportunity to get past logan," she speaks, turning on the radio. "i need you to help me out. he went to the alex albon school of defending, apparently."

sebastian laughs. "okay, just keep trailing behind him. i'll let you know when."

"okay."

the uneasiness has managed to creep up into her body again. she feels her grip around the steering wheel falter, and her legs lock up on her as she tries chasing after him. logan manages to keep her behind him for a couple of laps, probably 3 or 4 if she remembers it correctly.

but there's a corner that logan runs too wide. she changes gears, suddenly changing her mind about slowing down and taking it slow, stepping on the gas pedal and taking a dive between the williams and the side of the track.

"beautiful overtake, kid," sebastian speaks into her ears. "he's still very close. keep the position until the flag if you can."

"i'm not chasing oscar?" she frowns, glancing at her side mirror. "i can shake logan off at the series of corners ahead, i'm sure."

"okay, but no risky moves. play it safe because you're already guaranteed for a podium at this rate."

and she holds off logan, for the better part of the next lap. they've been fighting head to head for a while until she turns into the corner, deeper than she typically would have done to throw logan off. but it seems that he's caught up with her games because he's directly next to her.

but she's already trying to go for the next corner while his car is still trying to finish the previous one. and it happens very quickly.

his left front wheel is caught slightly by her right rear, sending both of them off track. and because she was going a little faster than him, she’s spinning out at a much quicker rate than he is.

she shuts her eyes, feeling her car being flung onto surface that doesn't feel like the track anymore. she lets go of the steering wheel and bunches herself up. why is she still spinning? it shouldn't be taking this long.

until she feels the car come to a rude halting stop, the side of her car completely buried into the barriers of the track. she heaves as she tries to process her crash. it isn't as bad as her crash the year before, head first into the barrier in the streets of baku at 200 kilometres an hour.

but she does know one thing. she doesn't know if this is what she's been dreading all day, but she's furious. despite the ringing in her ears and the growing pain in one side of her body, she starts climbing out of the car.

"are you okay?" she hears sebastian asking her.

she doesn't respond. she reaches up for the halo of her car to pull herself up and climbs out of the car. she's on too much adrenaline now that the crash happened. the pain is absolutely nothing to her right now.

she unclips her helmet and yanks it off along with her balaclava, approaching the blue car in the gravel next to hers. logan is already out of the car, slowly approaching her.

"it’s o-"

she throws her arms into the air. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

logan tilts his head, only taking off his helmet now. "what?"

“yeah, what is wrong with you? you ruined our fucking race!” she scream, flailing her arms in the air. “why did you do that? you knew there was another corner i had to make a sharp turn for!”

“you went deep! you accelerated way too soon.”

“no, you hit your brakes way too soon! now we’re here! i don’t get my podium and you don’t get your fucking points either!” she turns away from him, wiping her face on the sleeves of her racesuit in frustration. “fuck you, logan!”

a soft knock lands on the door, immediately being pushed open to reveal sebastian with a small smile. he has a paper bag in his hand and lifts it up to show her. “how are you feeling, kid?”

“fine,” she answers firmly, looking down at her phone. “have you seen liam? he’s supposed to be back with my twix bars by now.”

“he’s on his way back from the paddocks,” sebastian nods. “logan’s doing okay. mild concussion, from what james told me out in the hallway.”

she looks up from her phone, the anger in her eyes very prominent. it almost makes sebastian wish he hadn’t said anything in the first place. she furrows her eyebrows. “i don’t remember asking how logan is.”

“oh. you don’t want to know?”

“no.” she promptly goes back to texting on her phone, shaking her head. sebastian walks deeper into her room, careful not to agitate her more.

she puts her phone down on her lap and looks up. she takes a deep breath. “why would he do that, seb? not only did he ruin his own race, but he also ruined mine! why would he do that?”

sebastian shrugs. “i don’t know. i’m sorry. i’m sorry you had to retire from the race, kid. but it’s not his fault. things like these happen, you know?”

“not to me! not to us!” she rolls her eyes. “he’s so reckless for that! do you not think so?”

sebastian hums, patting her hand. “calm down, kid. i know you’re angry. but you and logan have been competing with one another half of your lives. don’t be like this.”

she shakes her head, moving her hand away from sebastian’s touch. she folds her arms over her chest. “he needs to apologise for ruining my race.”

“we’ll watch the playback later, okay? don’t jump into conclusions now. don’t ruin your friendship.”

“you’re saying there was possibility i caused the accident?”

“i don’t know yet. i immediately came to your side after the accident,” sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “please just get some rest. worry about this later.”

the door opens, revealing liam with mick trailing behind him. “oh, hey, logan’s-“

mick cuts himself short when sebastian’s head snaps to him, shaking his head profusely. mick’s lips form an ‘o’ shape as he slowly puts his attention to the silently raging girl on the hospital bed.

“we got your twix bars!”

“and a pepsi!” liam cheers, dancing over to her with a straw in his other hand. “blythe said she’s on the phone your parents, but once she’s done, she’ll come right back up here.”

she nods, returning her attention to her phone. she scoffs at the notification at the top of her screen, a text message from logan rolling in.

i’m not apologising this time

she scoffs and puts her phone down. she reaches out to liam. “give me my stupid pepsi.”

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#logan sargeant x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

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kimarii-00 · 3 months

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How would armando react if he is in love with the reader (and the two of them are a couple) but they have a fight of differences and they break up (she leaves him), a few weeks pass and armando doesn't likes her distance, and he doesn't want to lose her, so he does everything in his power to get her back

I follow you! 💗

Break-Up Make-Up

AN: I'm probably going to rewrite this and make this into a fic at some point!

❥ You’re at your breaking point, seriously. How much longer does he expect you to put up with his shit?

❥ He works all day everyday, and only returns at odd hours in the night, if at all. Sometimes you make an attempt to stay up to greet him when he comes in, but it’s rare that you are able to catch him before you end up falling asleep yourself.

❥ The rare times that depriving yourself of sleep actually pays off and you get to see him, he’ll brush you off and answer any questions you may have for him with one worded, half assed answers: “Yeah.” “Nah.” “I’m just tired.” “Mhm.”

❥ You knew his job called for most of his attention, and you knew what you signed up for when you both started dating but you never imagined that it’s be this bad.

❥ You’re starting to think that your relationship is just something he can indulge in whenever he feels like it, which is not often.

❥ Even on his “days off”, he’s working. He’ll get a call from a colleague or something of the sort, and then rush off back into work, kissing your cheek and promising that he’d be back before dinner (He never meets that deadline). If he’s not working, then he’ll blow you off when you try to get him up and out of the house to go do something fun for once. The usual, “Sorry, I’m tired. I’ve been working all week” (like you didn’t know that).

❥ It was another boring day alone in the house you shared, late at night. You didn’t feel particularly tired, so you decided to stay up watching your favorite show until your boyfriend decided to show his face again. You don’t know how long you were up, but your heart skipped a beat when you heard him slide the key into the front door. You were especially excited tonight because, well, it may be cold by now, but you’d made his favorite meal as a thanks for all of his hard work.

❥ You knew he was usually grumpy when he came in due to the lack of sleep, but tonight he was like another man. Another one that you didn’t like.

❥ “Would you please just fuck off, you can’t see I’m tired?”

❥ No matter what other nasty things he said to you that night, that one stung and stuck with you the most.

❥ How does he have the right to treat you like garbage, dispose you when your not needed but then retrieve you when he wants something from you? Who does he think he is when all you wanted to do was show him the meal you worked so hard on, even if it was cold.

❥ “I’m sorry I just wanted to fuckin’ greet you when you finally decide to bring your ass home. I barely get to see your face anymore. This is our first real fucking conversation in— I don’t know how long!” You’d responded to his out of pocketness.

❥ The argument just kept escalating until you reached your breaking point, and you released the bombshell.

❥ “If that’s how you really feel then maybe we should take a fuckin’ brake, since I’m such a damn insect to you!”

❥ “Are you breaking up with me right now?”

❥ You didn’t respond with words but rather actions. You stormed into your shared bedroom, snatched up a suitcase you were sure wasn’t going to fit all of your stuff, but it was big enough for essentials.

❥ You stomped around the room, picking up and packing things you deemed necessary, with him in the doorway trying to get your attention to calm you down.

❥ He didn’t mean for it to get this far.

❥ Once you finished, you shoved your way past him and flung yourself out of the door, taking your car and dialing a friends phone number, whom you were sure would let you crash at her place until you were back on your feet. After all, the two of you lived together, so your decision to leave basically left you homeless.

❥ Armando didn’t see or hear from you for three whole weeks. The time that was spent with you not by his side was damn near the embodiment of hell itself, that is, until he saw you through the peep hole at his front door.

❥ You were half expecting him to not even be at home, you thought he’d drown himself in more work now that you weren’t a factor in his life.

❥ You were surprised by how quickly the door opened and how enthusiastic he seemed. You haven’t seen him like that in a long time and it somewhat weirded you out.

❥ “(Name), I just want to say I’m sorry for—“

❥ “Save it.” You said, “I’m just here to pick up whatever I left behind.”

❥ You watched first hand as the enthusiasm all faded from his face and all he seemed like was a hunk of flesh and bones. Albeit, a hot hunk of flesh and bones, but that’s besides the point.

❥ You walk in and he shuts the door behind you. You walk to where the rest of your things resided and ignore the way Armando followed you around like a lost dog.

❥ “If you’re going to follow me around like that the least you could do it help me load this stuff into my car…”

❥ He nodded and immediately got to work, and you internally face palmed.

❥ This was the man that you fell in love with, not the workaholic asshole that you’ve been dealing with for months on end.

❥ “I am sorry, y’know. About what I said that night… And everything that came before it.”

❥ This caught you off guard, because you’ve only heard Armando apologize a few times, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard an apology by his so genuine.

❥ “I said some things that night too, don’t feel too bad.” You say, acting nonchalant but your mind was racing a thousand miles per second.

❥ “I didn’t even realize how much I worked affected you… Though I guess that’s part of the problem too, right?”

❥ You looked away slightly and nodded, glad he was acknowledging his actions.

❥ “(Name), I miss you. So damn much.”

❥ This caught you entirely off guard but you didn’t reply.

❥ “This house is so empty without you in it. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to work knowing how bad I fucked us up.”

❥ “I can’t forgive you so easily… This was a problem for months along with other things, how am I supposed to be assured that it won’t happen again?”

❥ “I’ll prove it to you.”

❥ He’d royally fucked up your relationship, yet for some reason, he couldn’t seem to find any anxiousness about the process of getting you back… He still loved you, and he trusted that love to guide him into winning your heart back. (He also knew you still loved him, so it definitely wouldn’t take that long… 💀)

TAGLIST!

@dasaniswrlddd @thedarkworldofhananerea @taylormcguire282 @timebomb1101 @5arlan7 @desiiiisworld @babygurl030 @lovelyme22 @Leavemealing @lewispool @yeahnohoneybye @velocitynyoom @maybepersuasivetom @deadpool15 @believeinthefireflies95 @lxla04 @planetnique @arinotarianagrande

#armando aretas x reader #armando aretas #armando aretas x you #bad boys #bad boys ride or die #kimarii-00 #armando aretas fan fiction #armando arenas headcannon

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lavenderstobins · 5 months

Text

It's the third day in a row that Wayne Munson has seen the girl in the diner.

Usually, he doesn't pay attention to new faces. He's been frequenting the diner for some years now and there's often ones he doesn't recognise: people passing through Hawkins, visiting family, etc.

The girl has caught his attention, though. She's sitting tucked into the far corner of the diner, a glass of water in front of her and nothing else. She's wearing the same t-shirt and flannel shirt she'd been wearing yesterday, and the day before, he's pretty sure. She didn't order any food yesterday; she hasn't ordered any food today.

Bev likes to joke he has a sense for kids who need help. Says there's an alarm in his head that makes him worry himself sick whenever there's a waif in need.

She's sitting next to him now, one eyebrow raised. He sighs. Waif in need alarm, indeed.

"What's the deal with the kid?" he murmurs, nodding subtly in the girl's direction.

Bev shrugs. "Beats me. That's Robert's girl, that's all I know."

He frowns. "Robert?"

"Nurse. Took good care of me when my knee went bad." She takes a swig of coffee, her eyes going sad. "Died, oh, maybe eight months back."

Wayne looks back at the girl. She's staring down at her half-empty glass of water. Tucked under the table there's a bulky-looking backpack.

"She got family?"

"Just her mother, far as I know. Met her a couple of times, too. 'Nother nurse. Seems nice enough."

"Hmph." Wayne turns back to his coffee. Ain't his business, he tells himself firmly. He should focus on his lunch.

When he gets up to pay, he glances once more in the girl's direction. He'll give it a couple of days, he decides. If she's still here then, still in the same clothes, he'll see if she's alright.

—

Wayne doesn't even last the day.

He's on his way home from work when he sees movement in a phonebox on the side of the road. The road's empty aside from him, and it's raining, and the sky's getting dark, so it immediately strikes him as odd. When he sees it's the teenage girl from earlier, he nearly crashes his truck with how hard he hits the brakes.

She's huddled down in the phonebox, clasping the backpack he'd noticed. She looks sodden. It had been raining heavier earlier; from the looks of it, she'd been caught in it. Her hair's plastered to her face and she's shivering.

He's winding down his window before his brain's even caught up to the movement. He's actually not sure how to go about it, very conscious of the fact that it's just the two of them out here and she's a teenage girl while he's an old man.

Feeling very much like he's approaching a wild animal, he clears his throat. "You okay, miss?"

The girl jumps, her head jerking up. She looks at him with wild eyes, wide and afraid. She reminds him of Eddie the day he showed up on his doorstep, timid and small.

"I'm f—fine." Her teeth chatter as she speaks. Where is this girl's mother? Where are her guardians?

"You need to call someone? I got a couple o'quarters, I think."

She shakes her head. Wayne frowns. Something ain't sitting right with him.

"You waiting on your ma?"

To his horror, her face crumples, and she buries her face in her arms. He's out of the truck like a shot, rushing over to find her shoulders heaving.

"Now, now—" He's panicking, admittedly. She can't be much younger than Eddie is.

"She—She—" the girl sobs. "She kicked me out and I—I don't have anywhere to go and it's so cold and wet and—and—"

A bout of rage washes over him. He pushes it down, tugging his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. It doesn't have a hood, but it's dry. Christ, she must be soaked to the bone.

"Listen," Wayne starts, hesitating almost immediately. It's an insane suggestion from a strange man; he doesn't want to scare her off, but he doesn't want her spending the night in this phonebox, either. "I got a kid about your age. My Eddie. You come to mine and we can get you sorted out, okay? Or—Or I can find you a motel room, or something."

Sniffling, the girl looks up at him, wrapping herself up in his jacket. "Is that... is that okay?"

His heart breaks. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course."

She stands, wobbly, still clutching her backpack. She's soaked through like he'd thought, and she shivers once she's in the front seat. He's quick to turn the heating up, starting the truck again, and for a moment he's furious: her immediate agreement, the lack of hesitation about getting into a vehicle with a strange man, makes him boil with hatred towards this girl's mother.

The journey's quiet and, thankfully, not too long. Wayne ushers her into the trailer, already preparing to make a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Eddie's out at Jeff's for band practice, so he says, but Wayne knows him well enough to know he'll come home stinking of weed.

The girl stands awkwardly in the living room, still shivering. It occurs to him, suddenly, that he doesn't even know her name.

Still. An issue for later. He focuses on the hot chocolate. Once it's ready, he hands it over to her, and doesn't miss how eagerly she accepts it.

Only then does he broach the subject. "What's your name, miss?"

She's quiet a moment, cradling the mug in her hands. "It's Robin. Uh, Robin, sir."

"None of that 'sir' business," he says gruffly. "Name's Wayne. Eddie'll be home later but you can have his bed if you need a place to stay for the night."

This might be the most he's spoken in years, trying desperately to come across as reassuring. It breaks his heart how trusting she's being, though.

"Thank you." Robin goes quiet, her fingers curling around the handle of the mug. "I, um, I can pay you back for the ride—"

He waves a hand, frowning. "None of that. I'd like to think if it were my Ed in your shoes, someone would be there for him like this."

She manages a small smile. She's still in her soaking clothes. He hustles over to Eddie's room, raiding the drawers for whatever looks most comfortable. Eddie won't complain, he knows.

Robin gratefully accepts the clothes. He goes back into Eddie's room to give her privacy, unsure exactly how long to wait. There's that stereotype that women take forever to change, right? It must hold some truth.

He gives it an hour, just to be safe. When he emerges, he finds that she's curled up on the couch, out like a light. His jacket's pulled up to her chin like a blanket.

Waif in need alarm. He sighs. Bev's right after all. He won't be surprised if this situation resolves with him having another kid in his care.

Well, Eddie always wanted a sister, anyway.

#wayne adopts robin au #stranger things #wayne munson #robin buckley #eddie munson #my writing #st ficlet #st fic #this ran away from me so unbelievably badly #my wips

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beyondthesefourwalls · 11 months

Text

This Love Came Back to Me (13-Final)

Summary: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: second chance romance, language, smut and allusions of smut, stalking, breaking and entering, violence, attacks, blood, unhealthy obsessions, delusions of feelings, unwanted attention.

Part Thirteen Word Count: 6.1K

Part Twelve :: Series Masterlist

----

Bradley had an incredible feeling that something was wrong.

He couldn’t really explain it, but there was a twisting in his stomach and his heart was steadily beating faster in his chest. He knew he was being paranoid and he tried to calm himself down, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Come on,” he muttered, tapping his hand against the steering wheel. Traffic was slow moving and he was so close to the turn he needed to make, but his rare impatience was shining through. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when he could finally take his foot off the brake. He sped up, driving faster than he normally would. But it seemed that the closer he got to your house, the more anxious he became.

He thought it would go away when he finally pulled behind your car in the driveway that wouldn’t be yours for too much longer. But then he realized that you weren’t in it, hadn’t waited for him like he asked, and he cursed under his breath. He got out of the Bronco quickly. He had just slammed the door when he heard a scream come from inside.

His blood ran cold, his heart stopped in his chest, and he ran.

_____

“It’s so good to see you,” Paul breathed, smiling at you in what he probably thought looked reassuring. “You look so pretty today. I love when you wear blue. It’s my favorite color. How did you know?”

The light blue sweater you were wearing was suddenly making you itch. Your bottom lip wobbled against your will as you stood there in front of him. Paul looked more disheveled than usual. He was in his normal work attire of khaki pants and a wrinkled plaid button down, his lanyard with his badge still draped around his neck. His red hair was mused like he had been running his fingers through it, and his thick glasses were sliding down his face, the eyes behind them wide and crazed, even as his words were spoken almost…gently. It was a horrifying juxtaposition.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he continued, not waiting for you to answer his previous question. He took a step closer to you, and you backed up on instinct, your heart pounding in your chest. The fear that you had been desperately trying to hold at bay was creeping up your spine. Your lower back hit the edge of the counter and you whimpered when you realized you had allowed him to cage you in. The scent of his cologne was overpowering, like he had poured the entire bottle on himself. You wanted to gag. You needed to get away from him, but you couldn’t seem to move your feet.

Oh, you should have waited for Bradley. Why hadn’t you listened to him?

“Have you missed me?”

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t, not with this terror sitting in your throat. You could tell by the huff that he let out and the way his smile dipped that your silence was starting to make him angry. You had to swallow several times before you could force any words out, and even then, your voice was soft, nothing more than a whisper.

“Paul…why are you doing this?”

The man in question cocked his head to the side, his brows drawing together in a frown. “Doing what?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“All of this,” you said, your voice shaking.

“What do you mean? I’m doing it for you. For us.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, tears slipping down your cheeks. “There is no us, Paul. I don’t want anything from you.”

He huffed out a loud breath through his nose as his jaw ticked, and the hair on your arms stood up. You were frozen in place as he took another step closer to you, nearly flush with your own body now. His hand reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. You flinched away from his touch, and his blue eyes darkened as he shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you swore.

“You’re confused,” he argued back.You could feel his hot breath on your face, and you wanted to scream. You couldn’t remember a time when you had been more scared than you were at that moment.

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” he snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. Another tear slid down your cheek as your body trembled, and he leaned closer. "You know, I've been waiting for this moment for so long," he whispered, his lips brushing against your cheek. You recoiled from his touch.

“Please, Paul. Just let me go.” You knew that you were trying to rationalize with someone who was probably too far gone to be reasoned with, but you had to try. At the very least you had to buy yourself a little bit of time.

“I can’t do that,” he said, his voice growing more desperate. “I can’t let you leave me again. I won’t let you.”

You pressed your luck and shuffled just the slightest bit to the side to try and escape, but he grabbed your arms as soon as you shifted. You gasped at the intensity of his grip. God, why didn’t you listen to Bradley? You never should have gotten out of the damn car. This was all your fault.

Bradley.

“Bradley’s on his way here,” you stammered, and you weren’t sure if you said it to see if it would give him enough pause to let you go, or just to reassure yourself. But Paul’s expression changed in an instant. Gone was the fake kindness he had been trying to maintain, replaced by an ugly sneer that made the fear that had been consuming you turn into panic. He looked completely unhinged, and you knew now, more than ever, you had to get away from him. You started to struggle against the hold he had on you, but his fingers pressed down harder and his nails dug into your skin.

“Everything changed as soon as he showed up,” he hissed, and you flinched when you felt his spit hit your face. He shook you, like he was trying to will you to hear him. “He took you from me.”

You wanted to tell him that you were never his to be taken, but you didn’t think you could get the words out. You were trapped. Panic was clawing at you from the inside out, making it hard to think. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you could barely hear anything else, and it was starting to get hard for you to breathe through the panic. Tears streamed steadily down your cheeks, and your blurry eyes shifted quickly, searching for something, anything. You tried your best to inhale and unintentionally caught the off putting scent of the rotting and fresh flowers that were littered all over the counters at your back.

Several vases of them.

Before you could overthink it, or really even think of it at all, you jerked your leg up. Your knee connected with Paul’s groin and he let out a loud groan, stumbling back and doubling over. His grip loosened just the slightest bit and you wrenched your arms free of him. You turned quickly and grabbed the vase of freshly purchased flowers, identical to ones you had loved so much before. You swung it at him right as he was standing back up, and the glass connected with the side of his head with a satisfying shatter. He yelled out in pain and you took your opportunity.

You shot past him, trying desperately to go for the front door. You just had to get to the door. But you had only taken a few steps when your feet were kicked out from under you, sending you sprawling to the ground. Stars exploded in your vision when your head caught on the edge of the side table by the couch on the way down, and then bounced off the hardwood. Your eyes fought to adjust as you tried to get up, but a rough tug on your legs had you sliding across the floor. Your vision swam as you were flipped onto your back, and Paul was on top of you in an instant.

You struggled under him, trying to push him off, but his weight pressing on you made it hard to move - hard to breathe. His eyes were wild and his breathing was ragged as he stared down at you. “I told you that you couldn’t leave,” he said, low and menacing. “Why did you do that?”

“Get off of me!” you cried, trying to free yourself. Paul fought to grab onto your wrists as you flailed underneath him.

Get away, get away, get away.

“Stop it!” he yelled. You sucked in as much of a breath as possible with the weight on your chest and screamed as loudly as you could, desperate for someone to hear you. To help you.

Paul’s eyes widened and he slapped his palm over your mouth so hard that it stung, pushing your head harder into the floor beneath you. “Shut up!”

You bit down on the hand muffling your sound, and Paul hissed, yanking it away. You kept screaming as you managed to get one of your hands to his face. You scratched, feeling the skin break underneath your fingernails. You kept struggling beneath him even as one of his hands found its way to your neck and a loud bang echoed throughout the room, followed by a terrified shout of your name.

—--

Bradley had experienced fear in his life before, and anger even more than that. The emotions were all too familiar to him. Yet there was something different about the way they spread through his body like wildfire as he burst open your front door and saw you on the ground with the man who had been tormenting you on top of you, his hand around your throat. Your legs flailed as you tried to kick your way out from under him, and Bradley saw nothing but pure, hot, dark red.

Your name tore from him as he lunged forward. He tackled Paul off of you, the force of his weight sending him sprawling to the side. The smaller man’s expression transitioned rapidly from shock to anger, but Bradley wiped it off just as quickly.

He didn't even think about what he was doing, he just acted, his fist connecting with Paul's face once, and then again, and another time after that. Each hit was fueled by the months of anger and frustration he had felt knowing what he was putting you through, of the nights he spent holding you after you woke up screaming, and each tear he had wiped away.

The man underneath him did his best to swing back, catching Bradley once awkwardly on the jaw, but Bradley quickly overpowered him and his limbs fell weakly to the ground at his sides. He felt as Paul’s nose bent under his knuckles, blood flowing freely down his face. It was like something else had taken over his body. He couldn’t feel anything but the need to protect you.

It wasn’t until his name on your lips broke through the ringing in his ears that he came back to himself at all.

He looked over his shoulder to see you had pulled yourself up enough to lean against the couch. You were gasping for air as you sobbed, tears streaming down your face, and Bradley felt his heart break at the sight of you. He spared Paul one more glance. The man was still conscious, if only barely, staring up at him with bleary eyes, and Bradley leant over him with a sneer, pressing his forearm against his throat. He spoke low, so only he could hear. “Don’t fucking move.”

He quickly moved off of him, crawling the few feet to where you were. You were shaking, your eyes wide and scared and trained on the worthless lump of a man sprawled out on the ground. Bradley knew he needed to get your focus on him, and he also desperately needed to touch you, to assure himself you were as okay as you could be. He moved slowly, trying not to startle you as he brought his hands up to cup your face. He guided you so that your eyes locked on his. He breathed out your name in a shaky exhale.

“Bradley,” you croaked, and his heart broke a little more.

“I’m right here,” he promised. His voice was hoarse, and he couldn’t help the tremble of his hands as he brushed away your tears. “I got you.” You let out another sob, and Bradley’s face softened. “Come here, baby.”

You didn’t resist when he pulled you into his arms, curling against him and burying your face in his chest as you cried. Bradley held you tightly, shifting off of his knees to sit so his back was against the couch, and your back was to the man still bleeding by the coffee table. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling your scent as he did. He tried to focus on the feeling of you in his arms to calm his own racing heart. He ran his hand over your hair, and his eyebrows pulled together when he felt something wet and sticky. He pulled his hand away, seeing blood on his fingertips. His eyes widened as he pulled back from you just far enough to meet your eyes. They were still wide, and now he could see how they were slightly dazed, too.

“Bug, baby are you hurt?” he asked, his voice urgent and laced with concern. He was already carefully touching your head again, searching for injury. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the bump on the side of your head. He gently pushed your hair aside, his eyes narrowing as he saw the gash that had opened up on your scalp. It was small, which is maybe why he hadn’t noticed it before. But it was there.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He felt a rush of anger all over again, heating him from the inside out. He felt the urge to scramble across the room and finish what he had started, but your soft whimper as he touched around the wound kept him grounded. He knew that you needed him right now. He had to swallow the fury he was feeling and focus on you, but it was thick in his throat.

Slowly, he let his hand drift down to your neck. The skin was still hot from the pressure Paul had put on it, but he pushed past that, focusing on the feel of your pulse thudding against his fingertips. He let his eyes close for just a moment and took a deep breath.

He had to take care of you.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away and cupping your face in his hands again. He brushed some of your tears away as they fell, slower than they were before. Your sobs had lessened, too, but your breathing was still shaky. He gave you a sad, tight smile, trying to push some sort of reassurance to you. “I need to call 911, sweetheart.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the front of his shirt in your hands. He knew that you hated hearing that. Your head lolled slightly, and his heart thudded in his chest as a shot of panic went through him. Your name was on his lips before you nodded, opening your eyes and straightening up to look at him. They were still fluttering, fighting for focus, and he was fairly positive that you had a concussion. But you whispered a soft “okay”. Bradley pressed another kiss to your forehead and helped you stand just far enough to get off of the floor and onto the couch itself. He pulled you back into his arms as soon as he was beside you, tucking your face into his chest so you were facing the cushions. He wished he could get you out of here completely, but you weren’t the only one he had to keep an eye on right now. But he’d be damned if you had to look at the piece of shit across the room.

He ignored the sound of him groaning as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the three numbers quickly, his voice calm and steady as he talked to the operator. He gave them your address, as well as the case number he had memorized from the police report you had filed. All the while he held you close, rubbing soothing circles into your back. Once he hung up, he risked a glance over at Paul. The man was still crumpled on the floor, holding his bent nose. But he didn’t try to move or to run, laying on his back and blinking up at the ceiling; Bradley wondered if maybe he finally realized how fucked he was. Or maybe if he had just hit him so hard that he was concussed, too.

Still, he felt his anger ignite once again and his hands unconsciously clenched into fists. He wanted nothing more than to go over there and finish the job, to make sure that man never hurt you or anyone else ever again. But he knew that wasn't his place. Right now, his only place was here, holding you. You were the only thing that mattered.

"I got you," he whispered into your hair, his voice soft. "I got you.”

——

You kept your eyes closed, face pressed into his chest, focusing on the sound of Bradley’s voice as he spoke with the 911 operator as opposed to the words he was speaking themselves. You didn’t want to think about what had just happened, about the feel of Paul’s hands on your arms and on your neck and the weight of his body on top of yours. You wanted to go back to the carefree happiness you had felt and forget this night ever existed. You just wanted to stay in Bradley’s arms and pretend that everything was going to be okay. You felt safe, protected from anything; nothing could hurt you.

You just wanted to stay right here.

"I love you," Bradley said softly, his lips brushing against your hair. You weren’t sure when he had gotten off the phone or if he had said anything else to you, but the words made you blink your eyes open slowly.

You had to swallow a few times, your tongue heavy and your mouth dry. Your voice was hoarse when you were finally able to return the words in nothing more than a whisper that still felt too loud. "I love you too.”

Your head was fuzzy and your arms were tingling, your fingers still weakly curled into the fabric of his shirt. You wondered if you were going into shock.

After what felt like an eternity, but simultaneously no time at all, you heard the sound of sirens outside. Bradley’s grip on you tightened, and you felt the exhale he let out against your forehead. His voice was gentle and comforting when he spoke. “We’re going to get this all taken care of, okay?”

“Kay,” you whispered.

He pulled away and cupped your face in his hands, and the calluses on his palms felt so good and familiar against your cheeks that you couldn’t help but lean into it. You blinked at him slowly when he asked you to look at him, and the worry that shone in his eyes made your heart clench. “I’m going to take care of you, Bug. I promise.”

You knew he would, without a single doubt in your mind.

It was all a bit of a blur after that. The cops arrived first, and you let Bradley do most of the talking. It was almost like you were separate from your body, or listening through a seashell, as he explained what he had walked in on and everything that had happened before this, too. You flinched when Paul’s voice broke through the fog in your head. You had almost forgotten he was even in the room, he had been so quiet, but now he was saying your name, the sight of the police officers having sparked something back in him.

“Don’t do this, please. Just tell them this is all a misunderstanding. We-we belong together. Why don’t you know that?”

He sounded weaker and less sure of himself than you had ever heard, but you didn’t want to hear him at all. You squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in Bradley’s chest again, trying to block it all out.

You were relieved when, almost immediately, your boyfriend was scooping you up into his arms and carrying you outside. You rested your head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his cologne as he whispered soft reassurances to you. “The paramedics need to look at you, baby. And I need to finish talking to the police. I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

He set you down gently on the edge of the open ambulance. You gripped his t-shirt in your hands, drawing his eyes to you. You felt pitiful and small when you whispered, begging him not to go too far. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and promised he’d stay within sight. You felt a pang of separation anxiety as he let go of you. He only stepped a few feet away to where one of the officers from inside was now standing, notepad in hand. He was close enough where you were sure he could hear everything the paramedics were saying, too.

They were all business, but their touch was gentle as they checked you over, asking you questions and assessing your injuries. You felt the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again as the dull pain in your head where the gash was and the ache in your neck and your arms where Paul had grabbed you seemed to register. It was all too much, and you wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.The flashing lights from the police cars cast an eerie glow over the street, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You kept your eye on Bradley the whole time. He stood tense with his arms crossed over his chest as he talked. He kept glancing at you, sending you reassuring smiles. But there was a pinch in his eyebrows, and -

You cried out at a sudden pain on your scalp. Bradley was by your side before the paramedic had even finished muttering her apology.

“Sorry about that, just cleaning it up.”

You gripped Bradley’s hand as a tear slid down your cheek. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand and shushed you, his voice low and soothing. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.”

You focused on his touch and his voice as the paramedics finished with you. You vaguely heard the words concussion and antiseptic, and you forced out a thank you where you hoped was appropriate. The woman who had been helping sent you a warm, kind smile as she took her gloves off. She nodded in your direction and muttered about giving you a moment before she slipped away.

You leaned into Bradley’s side when he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, grateful for the warmth and comfort he provided. You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you just wanted to close your eyes and rest. But the sound of someone clearing their throat made you open your eyes again. The officer who had been talking to Bradley was now standing in front of you, his expression serious.

“Can’t this wait?” Bradley asked. You glanced up at him, noticing that line between his narrowed eyes again. Without even consciously thinking about it, you raised your hand, smoothing it out with your thumb. He looked down at you, his features softening. He smiled, but you knew it was half hearted at best.

The officer’s lips thinned and he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We need to take your statement, miss.” He looked at you expectedly, pen poised over the paper.

Bradley’s grip on you tightened. You leaned further into him, and it was like you were both trying to draw and give comfort to one another all at the same time. His fingers traced soothing patterns on your arm as you took a deep breath.

Your voice was shaky, detached, as you described as much as you could muster. The man in uniform standing in front of you jotted down notes on his notepad and asked questions as you went, which you answered as best as you could.

“And when your boyfriend showed up? What happened then?”

Even through the haze in your mind, you saw how the older man’s eyes flicked over to him. You looked at Bradley, too, seeing the way his jaw clenched. He stayed silent beside you, but you could feel the tension in his body. You knew he was angry, thinking back on the interaction. You thought about how Paul’s grip on your neck and weight on your body had released so suddenly. You had scrambled away, and it had taken you a few gasping breaths to register that Bradley had him on the ground in much the same position you had been. You had watched, almost transfixed in a way, as he laid into him.

But he stopped as soon as you said his name. You could only imagine how he had felt in that moment, seeing you like that. You knew how much anger and hatred he carried toward your old coworker, contrasted and heightened by the love he had for you. It was in Bradley’s nature to protect the ones that he cared about, and he had walked into something terrible. But he hadn’t hesitated to put his own anger and vengeance aside the moment you needed his comfort, instead.

“He protected me,” you murmured quietly. You heard the breath of air that he let out at your words.

The questions continued for a few minutes, until a commotion near your front door drew all of your attention. Your breath caught when you saw Paul being led out with his arms behind his back. For a terrifying moment, he met your eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as fear spiked in you all over again. And then he started yelling for you, struggling against the hold another of the cops had on him.

You flinched back, squeezing your eyes shut. Bradley turned so he was shielding you completely and drew you into his chest in much the same way he had done inside. He went the extra step of covering your ears to drown out all the noise and kept them there until a slam of a car door cut off the voice screaming your name. The tears you had been desperate to hold back slipped down your cheeks, and your chest felt tight all over again.

“Please,” Bradley pleaded softly, and you knew he wasn’t speaking to you. “She’s been through enough tonight. She’s given you more than enough - just let me get her out of here.”

The officer must have agreed, because the next thing you knew, Bradley was buckling you into the Bronco. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head and murmured that he would be right back. You heard the click of the lock once he closed the door, and you let out a breath of relief at knowing no one could touch you now. You let your eyes fall close and your head rest against the cool glass of the window as you waited.

He was gone for several minutes, and when he unlocked the car and climbed in himself, he set your bag down on the floor at your feet.

The trip back to his apartment was silent, not even any music playing on the radio. Halfway there, you unbuckled your seatbelt and slid over on the bench seat to press yourself to his side. He didn’t say anything, just shifted to wrap his arm around you. You let your eyes close, and when you opened them again, you were parked in his normal spot.

“Let’s get you inside, baby,” Bradley murmured, and you felt so drained, you could hardly even nod. You barely register him leading you inside, or how he knelt on the ground to take your shoes off, and then helped you sit on the couch. He brought you a glass of water that he helped you drink, and now, sitting here in the quiet of one of the places you felt the safest, that you felt the emotions hitting you all over.

“I’m sorry,” Bradley said softly, running his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you. You didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t his fault, that you were just grateful he had come at all. You just wanted to be held, to feel safe. He seemed to sense that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

You leaned into him, the tears streaming down your face as you buried your head into his chest. Every part of you ached, and you didn't know how to make it stop. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, but the sobs kept coming. All the while, you clung tightly to Bradley’s body, his arms secure around you.

You don’t know how long you sat there, crying and clinging to one another on the couch, when the thought came to you. Mustering all the strength you could, you muttered the words into his soft shirt. “Is it over now?”

“What, baby?” Bradley asked, and you sucked in as much air as you could, letting it out slowly. You pulled away just enough to look up into his dark eyes.

“It’s over now, right? He can’t…he can’t hurt me anymore, right?”

Bradley’s expression softened, and he ran his hand up and down your back. “No, he can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe now. I promise.”

____

Six Months Later

You woke up to Bradley’s lips on your skin.

You were laying on your stomach, face pressed into the smooth material of your pillow. The sheet had pooled near your hips as you slept and you could feel the warmth of sunbeams through the thin curtains on the window contrasted with the cool air from the ceiling fan spinning above on your bare back. Bradley pressed kisses along your shoulder blades, featherlight touches that had you wondering if maybe you were still dreaming. But then you felt his fingers tracing up the indents of your spine and you knew this was real. You shivered in delight, a sleepy moan escaping into the pillow before you rolled over.

“Morning, Bug,” he rasped, voice thick with sleep. You couldn’t help but shudder again at the sound of it. You opened your eyes to see Bradley propped on his side, head supported by one hand. With the other, he traced the outline of your collarbone.

You smiled and reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Morning, handsome.” You leaned in for a kiss, relishing the feel of his warm lips on yours. “What time is it?”

“It’s still early. I couldn’t sleep, so thought I’d wake you up instead.” The next kiss was deeper, and you felt your body starting to respond to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and after a moment, he chuckled against your lips.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, pulling back slightly to look at him.

“Nothing.” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Just happy to finally wake up here with you.”

You hummed in response and smiled, knowing exactly what he meant.

It was almost hard to believe that just six months ago, you had been in the middle of a nightmare. It had been a whirlwind since then. You had started a new job that you absolutely loved and that you were thriving in. Paul had been arrested and charged with assault, stalking, and breaking and entering. You had been granted a restraining order against him, even though hopefully you wouldn’t need it for a while while he served out his sentence.

Bradley had been there every step of the way. He never pushed, never pressured you into anything you weren't ready for. He just held you close, listened when you needed to talk, and loved you fiercely.

You had decided pretty soon after the incident that you wanted a fresh start together, in a place completely on your own. You had found a cute little house that suited both of your needs. It was the exact same distance to work for both of you, had a spare bedroom and an office that you would utilize on your work from home days, and a small yard where maybe you could get the dog you had both been joking about for awhile. It wasn’t totally updated and would need some work, but it was perfect. You were in the middle of closing when Bradley had gotten deployment papers in the mail. He was scheduled to leave a week before you were planning on moving in, and would be gone for nine weeks. You had talked, briefly, about putting everything off. He knew that you were still working through a lot, and he hadn’t wanted to put the pressure of moving into a new house completely on you.

But you had been tired of feeling weak and dependent. So you had smiled and kissed him and told him that it would be okay. You waved him off with tears in your eyes while you watched the carrier ship pull away, and then you went back to his apartment and finished packing boxes. You were determined to make the house you had purchased together into a home for him to return to, and that was exactly what you had done. He had looked around in wonder when you brought him home just yesterday. It was the first night you had spent together, and it had made all the stress worth it.

“Hey,” Bradley said softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

You smiled and snuggled closer to him, burying your face in his chest. “Just how lucky I am to have you,” you whispered.

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around you tighter. “I’m the lucky one,” he said. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. He brushed his nose against yours when he pulled away, and for a long moment, you just laid there together, sharing the same breath. “I think we should take a trip,” he murmured, breaking the peaceful silence you had fallen into.

You let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head. “You just got home.”

“I know,” he shrugged. “But I have a few weeks of leave, and you have some PTO saved up. Maybe we can go this weekend.”

“Did you have somewhere specific in mind?” you asked, deciding to humor him. A playful sparkle that almost looked mischievous crept into his dark brown eyes and he nodded, kissing you again.

“I was thinking of a cabin in the mountains. I might know a place with a good hot tub.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at the thought of the first trip you had taken together to just the place he was describing, and how it had been the perfect escape. It was the first time you had expressed that you loved one another. You hadn’t been back since, but you had thought of it, every once in a while. Clearly he had too. It would just be the two of you, secluded away from reality, able to enjoy each other's company without any distractions.

You smiled up at him, and he returned the gesture, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Sounds amazing," you said, and he leaned down to kiss you again, his hands roaming over your body. The kiss quickly turned passionate, and before you knew it, you were lost in each other - just the way you should be.

-Fin-

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

Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: And there we have it. Thank you so much for everyone who stuck around. Can't believe we made it🖤

Thank you to Mak and Em for all of your help making this story come to life. This one is for the two of you.

And thanks to Mak for the AMAZING banner!

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watcheraurora · 5 months

Text

Deepfrost Pass

More than a little inspired by @/mellozheist's want to give credit but not bother with my shipping nonsense so no tag unfinished Let It Go Tango animatic that I was watching... but as always I've got Rancher brainrot on my brain... have fun! 3.2k words

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"Absolutely not," Grian snapped. "No. Not happening. You can't."

"Try and stop me," Jimmy challenged. "You're not a Watcher here."

"I am a Watcher here, but my powers are limited. Not gone. And I say no."

"Well I say yes. And you won't stop me." Jimmy shoved Grian out of the way of the door. "It's your fault anyway."

Grian's wings went rigid. "Excuse me?" he demanded, voice cold.

"It's your fault!" Jimmy retorted. "If you hadn't made that stupid server—"

"If I hadn't made that stupid server, you two wouldn't ever have met the way you did!" Grian spat back. "You wouldn't ever have known him like this if it weren't for me. If anything, you should be thanking me."

"I am grateful to you for that. But only that. The rest? Yeah, I do blame you for."

"If you go there, you'll die."

Jimmy shoved his arms into his coat. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Tim—" Grian's hand lashed out and caught Jimmy's wrist. "Even I can't—and I'm a Watcher—It's just—there are nearly ten wardens in there. They've taken him over. He left for a reason. Can't you just—"

Jimmy shook Grian's hand off. "No. I can't 'just.' I know you think that whatever he found up there corrupted him or possessed him. I think you're wrong. That server was awful to him in a way he wasn't prepared for. I can take being the butt of jokes. I'm used to it. He never handled betrayal well and put on such a brave face that no one noticed. He snapped. And I'm don't care. I'm going to see him. I'm not here for very long before I'm going to get kicked."

"Tim, don't be stupid—"

"That's me. Stupid, stupid Tim," Jimmy spat. His wings snapped open and he hurled himself into the sky.

Grian was a fantastic flyer. He was small and nimble and could maneuver incredibly well. But he couldn't hold a candle to the raw power and strength of Jimmy's massive wings. That was what came from their height difference and builds. Jimmy was built for strength and speed. Most real canaries weren't, but he wasn't an actual bird, for crying out loud.

His armor barely even weighed him down as he surged higher into the sky. Grian would never be able to catch up. In small areas with lots of obstacles, Grian would win a race any day. But wide open sky going in a straight line? He'd have to work extra hard to keep up with Jimmy's casual flight.

He flapped his wings and soared higher. The world dropped even farther below. He knew this would be a long flight—hours, probably—but he would make it most of the way on the wing. Then the last leg of the journey on foot. He was prepared. He knew what he was doing.

He hoped.

All sorts of landscapes passed by beneath him. For hours. Gradually lifting up from plains into hills into foothills. Until he was in a taiga. Nearing the tundra tree line. Mountains surged up from the ground ahead of him, and he'd have to gain more altitude to access the pass between two of them that he needed. His wings beat the air harder, lifting him up until the air was almost too thin to cushion his wings and keep him aloft.

Jimmy flew until frost started to crystallize on his feathers. He knew he wouldn't be able to get any closer via flight, so he tilted into a sharp dive and braked hard, landing with a crunch of his leather boots in the deep snow. He pulled his coat tighter around him and drew his wings in close. They were so long that they dragged through the snow behind him. And they took the bite of this cold mountain range the most. But he couldn't let himself care about that.

He pulled a Blaze Rod out of his inventory and held it in one hand, a torch in the other. The Blaze Rod lit the torch and both helped keep him warm as he trudged up the mountain. He knew he couldn't be far now. The sun was going down. Mobs were going to start spawning soon.

He ate as he hiked. A golden carrot styled to look like a churro every so often. Scar had insisted he take them, so he had.

The sun went down. A full moon began to emerge over the mountain peaks. Jimmy caught sight of it when he was between peaks. There was no path to where he was going. Just the ever-worsening cold to lead him on. But he felt the direction in his heart.

So when he rounded the mountain and saw the fortress, he wasn't sure how to feel.

The thing was massive. Dark stone and teal accents. Grey-black towers clawed at the midnight-blue sky, as though trying to feed the stars to the gaping, frowning mouth partway up the enormous central tower. A warden's mouth.

The doorway was open, the portcullis raised.

Who needed security like that in a place like this? When the dangerous stuff was inside?

Jimmy stared.

The Deepfrost Citadel.

Blood. Pain. Screaming. Tango's yellow fire hair simmering down, blazing back up with the ice-blues and teals of soul fire. His friends' betrayals still lingering in his heart. The rage never fully going away, just pretending it was gone...

Jimmy still had some of Tango's memories. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night in Tumble Town, not too long after he first settled there after Double Life had ended, to Tango's screams in his nightmares. He remembered waking up months ago to a message from Grian, panicking that Tango had retreated into the mountains and no one had seen nor heard from him since.

Tango had even avoided him when he'd crossed over into Jimmy's world. Jimmy had rebuilt their ranch and everything. Tango promised it was his home. And then he spent all his time down in Gobland, too absorbed in work to... to ever... to ever come home.

A tear slid down Jimmy's face, trying to freeze but so hot that it made his skin tingle from the contact.

He trudged closer to the citadel.

Fine. If Tango was going to go back to his cave and his castle since returning home to Hermitcraft, then Jimmy was going to go to him.

He made it into the maw of the open doorway and shook off. Snow fell off his hair, wings, and the shoulders of his coat. His sheriff clothes were designed for the broiling heat of the mesa. They were thick and protective, but lightweight to release body heat.

Not a good idea for this taiga. He was freezing.

He climbed a long, dark staircase into a semi-constructed great hall.

"Tango?" he called. His voice echoed to the towers above him.

He heard the humming of a warden, coming from somewhere deep below. Just that sound alone made his blood run cold.

"Tango!" he called louder.

Something moved in the shadows cast by the soul fires. He whirled, expecting a warden or a ravager.

Nothing.

He held the Blaze Rod closer to his chest and extinguished the torch, tucking it back in his inventory. The lack of its warmth made his wings shiver. "Tango. Is that you?" he asked quieter. "Tango, please."

The movement was a shadow itself. Humanoid in shape, but nothing more than silhouette. It pointed, dodged to another shadow, and pointed again. Jimmy followed. "Tango, is that you?" Jimmy asked more urgently.

The shadow shook its head. Pointed again. Flitted to another shadow. Pointed. Jimmy followed its path.

A hole in the wall that led to a hole in the ground. The shadow briefly appeared, pointed down, and vanished.

Jimmy looked down apprehensibly. He didn't see any water... but there was a water elevator right next to this drop. Obviously a way up and down to somewhere.

Trusting in Tango, trusting in whatever they'd been on that first Ranch, hearts and souls in each other's hands, he closed his eyes and stepped off the drop, pulling his wings in tight so they wouldn't smash into anything or break and holding the Blaze Rod to his chest.

He landed on powdered snow, covered in a carpet square. It absorbed the damage of his fall. He ducked low to clear his wings and stepped out.

He was in a storage room. The walls were lined with rows and rows and columns and columns of chests. It was a remarkably compact storage room, all things considered. He'd seen the incredibly complex, sprawling system behind the doors of Scar's shop fronts in his theme park. That was huge. This was just chests. All shoved against one another. A Nether portal droned off to his left. And beside it, an archway that led out into a huge open cavern. Jimmy stood on the edge of the storage room's packed mud brick floor and looked out, his wings extending slightly behind him.

The cavern wasn't just some empty hole. It was filled with an unfathomably complicated web of redstone, all woven around structures. Jimmy couldn't make heads or tails of any of it.

This kind of area is where Grian's flying skills would be more beneficial than his. Jimmy could fly around in here, but he'd smack into every wall and track of redstone he came across. He couldn't maneuver anywhere near as well. This was an obstacle course dream for Grian.

Jimmy unfurled his wings and launched into the cavern, trying to keep his ridiculously long wingspan as close to himself as he could while still staying airborne while he flew around, searching the structures and the web of redstone.

"Tango?" he called. His voice echoed around the structure. He wondered if, for a moment, he actually saw that shadow running through the darkness alongside him. Or if he was losing it.

He heard giggling. Tango's distinct giggle. He pulled up short and banked in a circle, looking around.

"Hmhm! Dungeon's making me hear my birdie," Tango said in his high-pitched, silly voice. Sounding... slightly manic.

A firework rocket shot off. Jimmy heard the snapping of Elytra membranes. He looked around—

And caught sight of Tango flying back toward the storage room, a shulker box in hand. Jimmy twisted sharply and shot after him, catching his wings on tracks of powered and activator rails. He grunted in pain at the impacts.

When he finally made it back to the storage room, Tango was kneeling in front of a ground-level chest, rifling through it. He had a black hood on, attached to the long black coat he'd worn on Jimmy's world. The one that had spawned on him in Jimmy's nightmare when he snapped and his yellow fire hair had turned blue. The nightmare where the wardens broke through the ground at Tango's command and attacked the other Hermits who tried to contain them—and him—before he retreated up Deepfrost Pass and churned out his fortress.

He was singsonging under his breath as he moved materials from the chest into the shulker box. "Just keep workin'. Do the buildy-buildy. We'll show them. We'll show 'em all when I watch Ravagers munch their faces off. Especially Bdubs."

He shuffled over, popping another shulker box onto the ground and filling it with contents of another chest.

Jimmy just watched for a few moments.

"Gotta finish. Have to. Can't wait to feed the Hermits to the wardens."

Jimmy crept closer. He set a hand on Tango's shoulder. "Tango," he said gently.

"Wah-ga-gah!" Tango exclaimed, whirling around with his coat flaring around him. His hood fell off, revealing soul-fire hair. And, for just a moment, black eyes. But the black disappeared, and they were back to blue with deep blue sclera. He started laughing. "Very funny, Decked Out!" he called toward the cavern of structures and redstone. "Making me hallucinate Jimmy isn't going to speed things up, you know!"

"Tango, I—I'm not a hallucination," Jimmy said, tightening his grip on Tango's shoulder. The coat was so thick, he couldn't feel Tango's muscle giving underneath.

Tango leaned closer conspiratorially and winked. "That's what a hallucination would say," he said playfully. He turned back to his materials and kept shoveling them over into the shulker box.

"No, I'm not. Tango—" Jimmy grabbed Tango's shoulders and spun him around. "Look at me. I'm really here. I flew most of the way here and hiked the rest. I had to come see you. I had to—you—I miss you. I've barely seen you since our home worlds collided. You never came home to Tumble Town. The only reason I came through the Rift was to spend more time with you, and I've barely seen you since I've been here. You just left. What did I do, Tango? What have I done to warrant you avoiding me?"

Tango tried to turn back around, but Jimmy held him firm.

Tango blinked. Something like clarity sharpened in his eyes. "You're really here," he said.

"Yes. I'm here. I'm not some illusion or hallucination."

"I thought... the dungeon..." Tango looked out to the cavern, then back to Jimmy. Somewhere deep below, a warden hummed and sniffed. Jimmy's wings shivered. Tango's eyes snapped back to his. "I have to finish Decked Out. The dungeon needs to be whole."

Jimmy knelt so he and Tango were nearly at eye-level, still holding the shoulders of the coat. A glassy look made Tango's eyes unfocus.

"The others... they tried to stop me from leaving. But they've already held me back for so long. Bdubs betrayed me. We were teammates. He stabbed me in the back. He was no match for my wardens. Grian thought he was some almighty eldritch creature. But six wings are just more targets to get blastificated. Even Etho—the original!—was powerless to stop me when I finally let go of everything I'd used to hold myself back."

"Tango. Can you find it in yourself to forgive your friends?" Jimmy ran a hand through Tango's soul fire hair. It burned his skin in a way he wasn't used to. Soul fire was hotter than normal fire, but back when they were SoulBound, Tango's fire hadn't even been able to burn Jimmy's skin.

Tango bared his sharp teeth. His hair blazed brighter, higher, and hotter. Jimmy leaned away.

"Tango," Jimmy said soothingly. Repeating his name over and over to remind him who he was. To remind him he was a person. He cupped the side of Tango's face. "Look at me. Look at my eyes." He waited until Tango did. "Can you?"

Tango grumbled under his breath. Bitter and sarcastic.

"Hey. Remember when we first met? In Third Life? And I died to your lava game?"

"Dare to Flare," Tango said automatically.

"That's right. Do you remember when we met again in Double Life? After the creeper?"

Tango's voice pitched up. "You were angry."

"I wasn't," Jimmy said. "Not at you. Just that I'd lost the resources I'd gathered. It had nothing to do with you. And you were always so kind to me. I'm used to everyone putting me on the short end of the joke. You never did. You were a little sarcastic with me, sure. But you always put yourself at the short end of the joke. But you were kind to me. You're one of the only people who ever treated me with unconditional respect as a person, all the time. It's why I..." Jimmy cleared his throat. His wings twitched and ruffled. "It's why I fell for you, so fast."

Tango blinked, slow, like a cat. His head tilted into the contact of Jimmy's hand.

"You saw, while we lived on the Ranch, how everyone else treats me. I'm used to it. I encourage it. If they have to be mean to someone, they should be mean to me. I can take it. But you... you were never anything but loyal. Not just to me. To your team. And you got nothing in return but betrayal. You and me—we really feel our emotions. We pretend we don't, but we do. Our emotions are big and deep. The good, and the bad. Maybe it's why we got put together." Jimmy bent closer and rested his forehead to Tango's. "We have to learn to let the bad slide off, once we've felt it. You have to forgive the other Hermits. You have to let go of the rage."

Tango took a deep breath. "I... I can't."

"Please? Just try. For me?"

Tango reached up and wrapped cold hands around the back of Jimmy's neck, lacing his fingers together. "Birdie..."

"I'm only asking you to try. Breathe with me, and thing about letting it go."

"I'll try."

They shared deep breaths. Trying to tune out the wardens deep below. "Thank your emotions for keeping you safe, and release them," Jimmy whispered.

They knelt on the floor of the storage room for what felt like a long time. Just breathing and quietly encouraging Tango to forgive and let go. Jimmy kept quietly whispering affirmations he used to tell himself when he was learning not to mind the jokes.

A warden screamed somewhere below.

Tension surged out of Tango's shoulders and he slumped forward.

Jimmy caught him, cradling him to his chest. "I got you. It's okay. It's okay. You're fine." He rocked them both, his wings encircling them in a gold shield of protection. "What was that? Why did that warden...? Was Grian right? Were the wardens' influence bleeding into you?"

Tango shook his head against Jimmy's heart. "No. Other way around. My pain was bleeding into them. Wardens are mourners. They were mourning for me. But you're right. I can let it go."

Jimmy smiled. "That's it. Exactly."

There was a long pause. "I do still have to finish this game though. I've been working on it for so long—I can't just stop now."

"No, I know. But let it be just that. A game. Not a vessel for revenge or a channel for betrayal. Just a game."

"I can do that," Tango said. "Or. Well. I can try, anyway."

"That's all you need to do. Just try. Because there's merit in trying. And eventually, trying can pay off. Next thing you'll know, you'll be doing."

"Yeah... yeah. I can do that."

Jimmy kissed the top of Tango's head. The soul fire hair didn't burn him. "That's all I ask." He pulled back a little. "Come up with me? Outside? Come see the sky, please? The sun went down, but the stars are beautiful this far from everyone else. It's so dark and high altitude up here. They're beautiful."

"Okay."

Jimmy smiled. "Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay!"

"Come with me!" Jimmy pulled Tango toward the water elevator.

#trafficshipping #Team Rancher #Rancher Duo #TangoTek #Jimmy Solidarity #that shadow was the consciousness of Decked Out btw. if you didn't get that #Team Ranchers #Tango Tek #Aurora Writes #Rory Writes #i tried to make this one short. I really did. I was shooting for less than 2.5k words. I failed

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heartthrobin · 1 year

Text

paint my sunset peach (1)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 6.71k

warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n

an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33

summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

part two

Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.

The Red Lotus.

On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.

It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.

They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.

Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.

It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.

But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".

Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.

He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.

You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.

Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.

Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.

The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.

They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.

"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"

They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.

The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.

And you were fine with it.

Mostly fine with it.

Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.

Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.

Maybe.

But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.

Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.

Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.

Either way, it didn't matter.

She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.

At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.

The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.

You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.

"You're messing, Cherry."

Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.

You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.

"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"

His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.

"No problems, alright?"

Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.

You nodded.

It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.

The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.

Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.

You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.

Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.

"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.

It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.

It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"

"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"

"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"

A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"

"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"

You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.

"About two or three miles north west of the house?"

You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."

"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"

But the line was already dead.

You glared at the phone.

Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.

The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.

There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.

Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.

It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.

You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.

Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.

You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.

Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.

"Shit!"

You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.

The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.

Daddy was going to kill you.

Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.

Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.

"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."

Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.

The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.

For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.

The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.

Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.

Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"

He looked taken aback.

"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"

"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"

Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.

A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.

It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.

"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.

Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.

"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."

You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.

The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.

"I'm Eddie!"

You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.

Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.

It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.

Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.

You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.

"Hey, miss!"

He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.

Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.

"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."

You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.

"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."

It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.

But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"

"I'm fine—"

"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.

His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."

It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."

Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.

"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.

Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier."

You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."

Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.

They were cool against your sweaty ones.

He was grinning again.

You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.

"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"

But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."

He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.

The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.

"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."

Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.

In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.

The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.

His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.

A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.

"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.

Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.

He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.

But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.

The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.

Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.

Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.

He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"

"Hardly, boss."

Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.

The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."

Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"

By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"

Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.

Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."

Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.

"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."

"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"

"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."

A sweaty hand shrugged him off.

"Get back to work, Munson."

But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."

Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."

The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.

"Appreciate it."

"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."

Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.

Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.

You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.

By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.

That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.

He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.

Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.

"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."

Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.

Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"

"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."

Your father handed the next plate over carefully.

Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"

"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"

Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"

The old man sighed.

Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.

"I want to fix up the Cobra."

In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.

The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.

"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"

He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.

"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."

You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"

"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"

Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”

Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.

Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.

You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.

At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.

When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.

"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"

"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."

The little man's eyes screwed at you.

"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"

By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.

"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."

The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.

"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."

You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."

"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.

"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"

Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.

"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."

Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.

"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.

But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.

"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."

The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.

"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."

With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."

The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"

"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."

You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."

Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.

He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.

Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.

"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."

Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."

Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."

But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."

Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.

"Cherry! The mech's here!"

You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.

Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.

He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.

"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."

"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.

The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.

As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.

It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.

There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.

Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.

"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.

We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.

"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."

You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."

You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.

Hm. Not today.

"Doll works just fine, greenie."

Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.

The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.

Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.

"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"

Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."

You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"

"Yes, you must really."

And he was gone.

The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.

Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.

You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.

The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.

Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.

Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.

The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.

His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.

"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.

"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?

You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"

The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."

You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.

He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.

"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.

Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.

"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.

You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.

"I should go—"

"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.

Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.

"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."

Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.

Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?

"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."

It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.

He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.

"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"

You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.

"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

His amused look matched yours.

"Pulling carrots out the patch."

He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."

"You have no idea."

You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.

"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"

Your chest pinched at the question.

"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."

He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.

Okay, sensitive spot.

The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.

"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."

It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.

You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.

It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.

There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.

"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.

You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."

"Peaches are good."

"No boyfriend then?"

It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.

You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.

The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.

"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"

Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.

The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.

"... Can imagine."

Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.

"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"

"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:

"Cowboy! Baby!"

Cowboy?

There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.

"Baby!" You called again.

Then he heard it.

The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.

From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.

"Hey, boy—!"

He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.

The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.

You were laughing.

The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.

It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.

Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.

"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"

But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.

"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."

"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.

Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."

You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."

"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."

Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."

Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.

"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."

"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"

Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"

"Nope ... none that come to mind."

You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.

It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.

"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"

You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.

Instead you stood up.

"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"

Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.

He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.

"I'll see you later then, doll?"

But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.

"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."

tags:

@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au

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cowboyfromh3ll · 11 months

Note

Charles smith is usually a very quiet, reserved man. But when he hears Micah insult fem!reader (Whom charles is sweet on) for rejecting his advances, the reader pushes him away, which he responded with slapping her hard enough for her to fall down.

Charles couldn't help himself, and he tackled Micah and would have beat him to death if Arthur and John didn't pull him on.

Afterwards, after his adrenaline seems to wear off, he starts to feel pain in his knuckles. The reader pulls him aside to set his broken knuckle back into place and to wrap his hand up. She thanks him with a kiss :) fluffy, angsty, the works <3

Million Dollar Man

(Charles Smith x Fem!Reader)

This was so cute. I love my followers' reqs. Also I have a near identical request after this which is kinda freaky but they are literally asking for the exact same thing and idk how to do a different spin on this so this will be for both of y'all anons whoever you are.

Warnings: Man on woman violence, then man on man

There was something about the vulgarity of a man that made you all the more appalled with them. Often when Micah would be near you, you’d have to swallow hard in fear that you might abruptly throw up on your shoes. There was nothing appealing about the man. Whenever he spoke to you, you would’ve liked to wring his neck for disturbing your peace. And his tepid attempts at flirting were described as otherwise laughable. His initial advances were turned down politely, not something you wanted to make a big deal out of. But he was consistent, so much so that your patience began to wear down with him.

You once giggled and waved your hand dismissively, repeating reluctant no’s over and over until Micah finally got tired and left you alone. It seemed to be a ticking time bomb though, because the next time he approached you his advances would increase tenfold. Walking around freely in camp felt like walking on eggshells, and you’d often have to duck behind someone anytime you heard the familiar raspy, drawl of Micah. Your polite refusals slowly transformed into you demanding he leave you alone, hoping and praying that one of the men in camp would come over and help you get rid of him. Occasionally it’d get as bad as Micah calling you a whore, before throwing a flurry of other insults at you and storming off angrily. It was times like these you wished you were a man, so you could possess the same mass as one to hopefully beat the hell out of Micah. But your limber body provided no such abilities.

“C’mon sweetheart, just let me take you on one date.” He invited himself over to your tent, leaning on the wagon situated behind it with crossed arms, eyeing you uncomfortably. You were sitting there with Mary-Beth, who was just as uncomfortable, and frankly scared, as you were. She offered you a sympathetic look, mouthing a “sorry” to you before averting her gaze back to her sewing.

“Micah, for the last time, leave me alone already. I said no.” You were firm in your inflection, your body rigid and shaking out of irritation and fear. As much as you hated the man, he also intimidated you. You knew how violent he could get, and the fact remained in the back of your mind always.

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.” He insisted, chuckling afterwards in a way that made you swallow a gag of disgust. His attempts at having a sugar sweet laugh that could seduce you were fruitless, sounding instead like the metallic screech of a train braking.

“I could show you a real good time…” He added.

You stood at once, gathering your things to move elsewhere in camp and bidding Mary-Beth a silent farewell. You bunched your fabrics and sewing materials against your lap, moving to walk away until you felt Micah clamp his hand down on your upper arm. You tried to push him off but he was using all his strength.

“You ain’t going nowhere.”

“Micah, you're hurting me.” You warned him, your voice inflected with actual fear. It wasn’t so much the pain but the act of him holding onto you that felt so awful, the knowledge that he was the one in control of the situation. You weren’t sure, despite his violent streak, if he’d actually hit you right now. But he definitely wasn’t opposed to using applied force.

“This is the last time you say no to me, you hear?!” He yanked you towards him by the arm, looking to Mary-Beth, who had already gone up and left to retrieve someone for help. When your chest met his, you dropped your materials and instinctively put up your arm between the two of you, your elbow acting as a protective barrier. You shoved as hard as you could, just barely managing to push him off of you.

“Let me go you fucking creep!”

Before you could even register him stepping forward, he delivered a heavy slap to your face. Your body jerked to one side from the force of the slap causing you to fall on your hip. You raised your elbow once again to protect yourself from the fall, promptly moving to cup your stinging cheek. You were seething at this point.

“What the fuck?!” Your voice trembled in your rage, squeezing your eyes hard with each blink so as to not allow tears to escape. You dare not look up at him again in fear, only staring at the ground beneath you. You hoped to god people from around camp had noticed by now.

God himself seemed to have answered your prayers, because not a second later you turned to see Micah tackled by Charles. With a guttural yell, he pinned Micah down to the floor, swinging his fists at him with his full force. You weren’t sure of the force intended by Charles, but the impact of his fists alone caused Micah’s flesh to lacerate, forming raw gashes that began to bleed in seconds. Charles’ anger was near animalistic, seeing red and blinded by rage as he continued to strike Micah’s face, who was helplessly clawing at him in an attempt to get him off. You’re sure he would’ve killed him, if not for the fact that Arthur and John had to pry him off. You hadn’t even registered the horrified screams of people around camp, some even clicking their tongues and slyly commenting that Micah was asking for it.

You felt two gentle hands lift you up, presumably Miss Grimshaw, who was frantically asking you if you were alright. You whispered out a yes, the stinging of your cheek reduced to a throbbing warmth. No one offered Micah any help in getting up; everyone was far too focused on getting Charles’ to calm down so he wouldn’t charge him again.

Once the dust settled, you insisted you were fine and walked past Miss Grimshaw, approaching Charles who still seemed to be grappling with his anger and keeping it in check. In unison, the two of you looked at eachother and asked, “Are you okay?”

The two of you stared at each other, and you felt a small laugh bubble up in you at the coincidence, Though your amusement was replaced by horror when you looked down at Charles’ left fist, which was swollen and bruised.

“Oh my god!” You cried, moving to cradle his hand but promptly retracting your own when you heard him hiss. “Your hand! It’s broken!” You looked back up at him in concern, feeling the heavy weight of guilt settle within you like a boulder thrown into a lake before sinking to the waterbed. He shook his head, wincing as the pain became more prominent as his adrenaline wore off.

“Don’t worry about me. Are you okay? Micah hit you pretty hard… I…” Charles pursed his lips at the very mention of his name, having to suck in a deep breath before he looked back at you. You shook your head, grabbing Charles’ arm and leading him to your tent.

“I’m fine! But we need to tend to your hand asap.” You sat him on a crate just outside your tent, briefly venturing inside before remerging with some bandages you had sourced from your satchel. You sat before him on your knees, taking his massive hand into your own. You felt your heart swell in tenderness for him, wanting to throw yourself on him as an embrace to thank him for the valiant act.

“You didn’t have to do that…” You began carefully coiling the bandages around his knuckles, looking back up at his face occasionally to spot any signs of pain you might be causing.

“He had it coming anyways. It was bound to happen. But I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” He motioned to your cheek once again, which was still a flush red. You were sure it would bruise, but you tried not to think about it. As you tightened the bandages around his fist, he hissed, his body jerking slightly.

“I’m sorry…” You stilled your ministrations, looking up at him with a pout.

“No it’s okay… Thank you. This means a lot. And it was worth it to defend you from the scum bag Micah.” He smiled warmly at you in a way that made you giddy.

“Well.. thank you for that. It was actually quite satisfying to see.” You admitted with a sly smile, breaking into laughter.

“Anytime, I mean it. Anytime.”

You finished wrapping his knuckle up, planting a gentle kiss on it to finish your care off; a bold act that left you internally panicking. But he found it rather cute, and continued to hold your hand as he moved to stand.

The final act of your boldness would be you leaning forward and landing a kiss on Charles’ lips, leaving him standing there in bewilderment and pleasant surprise.

“Thank you, again.” You cooed, your face burning up and blending in with the shade of your already red cheek. In the morning, your cheek would ache with the memory of the pain inflicted on you, but your heart would swell in remembrance of your salvation.

Million Dollar Man - Lana Del Rey

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #charles smith #charles smith x reader fluff #charles smith x reader #Charles smith fluff #micah being an ass #micah bell

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tokischaaaaa · 3 months

Text

corny

!hamzah x !poc reader

summary: hamzah meets reader in curaçao , reader works at a vets clinic on the island, hamzah meets reader on the island due to him driving carelessly and hurting a liter of kittens. (hamzah’s a little dumb in dis one :P)

warning! : fluff!!

word count!: 975

too goood- drake ft. rihanna

⇄ ◁◁ I I ▷▷ ↻

00:32 ━━●━━━━━━━━ 03:12

it was hamzah’s second to last night in curaçao, he wanted to go out with a bang. not litterly to, he just wanted to get out on his own since he has been stuck with martin’s family the whole week. as hamzah was walking out, martin was editing the iguana mukbang, “be safe dude, let me know if you need something or if something goes wrong.” martin said seriously while still focused on the computer in front of him. hamzah nodded, appreciative of his friends worry of his wellbeing.

hamzah grabbed the keys on the counter and started his travels, he decided to plug in the directions to the farthest beach, soto is what popped up. he plugged his phone into the aux and began driving, as he was driving he realized how the sun was leaving his view, he decided to follow the sun, ‘screw the gps’ he said to himself. he followed the sun, followed it so he could see the sunset. last time he saw the sunset was with his siblings 5 years ago, finding and watching the sunset made him feel an emotional urge to follow the sun no matter what..

well until a cat popped up in the road, hamzah slammed the brakes. his heart was beating so fast that he his ears were pulsing at the same rate, he pulled over and opened his car door to see the mother kitten’s side slightly bleeding. hamzah’s mind was racing, ‘what should i do? should i call the police?’ he kept asking himself. from a distance he could hear a bike approaching him, he turned around and saw a young woman with green cargo shorts, blue bikini top and the thick curly brown hair that had risen due to the humidity approach him. “ya a’right?” she asked in her heavy accent, it took hamzah a few moments to answer her since she was so breathtaking, the departing sun had left such a beautiful filter across her skin, her skin was basically the color of deep gold. “hello, ya all right mister?” she asked once again, “oh, yes. no! i’m not alright, i was driving and this cat family stopped in the middle of the road, and then i tried-”. hamzah said attempting to explain while rubbing his forehead. “yeah im sure you tried,” the young woman scoffed as she got off her bike to inspect the wounded cat.

as the young woman continued checking the wounded cat out, she said, “what are you even doing out here this late?”

“might sound corny, just wanted to follow the sun.”

“ha! wait, what does corny mean?”

“means like awkward funny, but yea i was just doing that.”

“oh okay, so you running over this cat is corny!” she exclaimed putting her finger to her chin.

“no! that’s a horrible example!” hamzah cried

“what’s ya name man,” she asked softly placing the hurt cat in her arms.

“hamzah, and you’rs?”

she said her name, her accent thicker than before. she took a cloth out of her pocket, and held it out to hamzah. “man hamzah, take this cloth and wrap the kittens in it. don’t forget one.”

“okay, but what are you doing?”

“we doing! we gonna go to my clinic, ya messed up the mama.” she said.

hamzah nodded but before he could ask about transportation the young woman said , “we gotta ride in ya monster truck.” she smiled.

hamzah nodded and opened the door for her with one hand while the other was holding the crying kittens. as they got in the car, the young woman directed hamzah to the clinic. as they were on the road, hamzah continued his music, now ‘too good’ by drake was playing , “this won’t take long, you’ll be able to see the sunset trust.” the young woman said. she realized how when hamzah was explaining the incident he was very passionate and determined to see the sunset. she could tell that that action had a very significant meaning to hamzah.

hamzah’s worry started to drift, as his eyes stayed glued to the road he felt a pair of eyes looking at him, trying to read him, “what are you staring at?” hamzah said in a deep tone. “the corny hurter of the mother of the kittens,” she said giggling. “i told you i didn’t mean to!” hamzah gasped. “sure pretty boy, turn on the next stop sign.” the young woman said getting closer to hamzah and gently touching his jawline.

being frank, the young woman was slightly tipsy from drinking a few too many mojitos at the beach. however that didn’t stop her from helping those who she specialized helping, animals.

as she touched hamzah’s jaw , hamzah felt an urge to give her a sign to continue. it had been too long since he felt this especially from a stranger.

“keep going.” he demanded. the young woman’s eyes widened. she blinked a few times before decking to continue, she came to the realization that meeting such an attractive stranger that obviously wasn’t a regular to the island was a rare, a rare moment that was worth taking advantage of like there wasn’t a tomorrow. but before she could continue with her plan to indulge in her lustful behavior she had to take care of the cats. she gently stroked his jaw once again, slower this time, feeling his skin.

she quickly took off her finger once she reached his chin, “you too distracting pretty boy, the poor cats need my attention not you.” she sneered. hamzah scoffed in response. “okay sure, but maybe, i can get some of that attention if you know what i mean.” he smirked giving her the message.

“oh i get what you mean pretty boy.” she smiled looking down and playing with one of the kittens that laid in her lap.

tokischaaaa speaks: so how bad yall want a part 2? 😈😈😈

#hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x y/n #slushy noobz

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mcromwell · 6 months

Note

Genuine question, sorry if it's dumb -

How do you work when there's something on the line? I find I freeze, and it's just so much more difficult to properly organize myself to produce something I'm proud of. But you've been to conventions, and you sell your work, so I'm assuming you feel pressure at least *sometimes.* do you work with it? Around it?

Hey Tymbul, it's not a dumb question, it's actually a really good one. I can only answer it to the best of my own abilities, in regards to my own art and practice, so mileage may vary.

This feeling of something being is "on the line" was what burned me out hard in 2019/20. I'd been making and sharing art for decades and all the while my thoughts took the shape of, "it has to be GOOD, it has to SAY something, it needs to hit X and Y requirement to be worthy" etc. Wherever that habit of pressuring myself came from, it wasn't helpful. I would glare at the blank page and curse every sketch I made because it (and by extension, myself) wasn't ever good enough.

I knew something had to change, so I changed. I began trying to make art with no pressure. Instead of pushing myself I let my foot off the brake. I changed the way I talked to myself about art. "I'm going to make this as good as I can. And if I can't, there's always next painting." I began starting a piece with fast, easy, not-precious stuff--random paint smears, doodles, gesture sketches. The pressure was off when all I had to do was start with trash and play around. If it just wasn't working and I had to scrap it or start over, oh well, it was just trash. I still run into this pressure today, though. Growth ain't linear and all that. Old habits die hard. I have to snap myself out of it with a feral screeching JUST THROW PAINT ON IT RRRRRRRRGH and I can usually let up on the brakes enough to get it going. It's a journey.

I like to think of this in terms of dog training. If you punch your dog and yell at it, that dog is going to have fear and doubt and won't be a healthy dog capable of performing the tasks you ask of it. But if you use positive reinforcement, they develop confidence and become dependable and sturdy. If you sit down to make art and every time its a barrage of IT HAS TO BE GOOD! YOU HAVE TO BE PROUD OF IT! EVERY NEW PIECE HAS TO BE BETTER! IF IT ISN'T YOU'LL BE A FAILURE! WHY AREN'T YOU DRAWING YET then man, that dog is cowering in the corner, it is not going to sit or fetch or anything. What if instead you said, "Okay! Time to make something. Let's do warm-ups and thumbnails to prepare so I'm ready to jump in. I am open to surprising myself by making something I'm excited about, but I won't beat myself up if today isn't that day. I know by doing this I'm practicing and getting better, it is never a waste." You are much more likely to Do a Thing if that thing feels good to do. That's just being an animal, man. Positive feedback.

To be honest, though, I still haven't found a successful way to make commissions less like pulling teeth. My method of art-making is to fuck around and find out and that's not a conducive method for a comm, which usually has a ton more expectation and strict parameters and my nemesis: Should-Look-Like. I am good at some things, I am not good at comms. Progress is not linear. I am still learning. My efforts to let up on the brakes made it so the car was a lot harder to control... for better or worse.

Hope this helps. Mostly, my advice is to find out how making art can feel good to you and then make a ton of it. Make more art than you think you should. It gets easier. And don't punch your dog.

#art advice #art block #self-talk #that being said I often fear I have 0 discipline but then again I am sick so I might just be kinda grumpy about stuff

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mynameismckenziemae · 10 months

Text

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Chapter IX

We Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader (no use of y/n)

Reunited and it feels so good

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: smut, oral (m and f receiving), unsafe driving practices, p in v, fluff

Unfortunately, you can’t leave work early, so you’re pulling in the parking lot right as he’s walking out.

You barely get your car parked before you’re jumping out and Bob’s pulling you in his arms.

A choked sob escapes as he squeezes you against his chest. “God I missed you.” He says into your hair.

You pull back, rubbing your thumb under the cut on his cheek. “I missed you too”.

You hear familiar footsteps behind you and Bob releases you for Bradley to hug you next. You gush over Nat’s ring and pat Jake on the back. Penny calls out that anyone is welcome at their house for a few drinks. You’re desperate to get Bob alone, but you can wait until after.

Everyone starts to file out of the lot as you pick up Bob's duffle to put in your trunk. “Hey, hey, hey. I’ve got that.” He tsks, taking it from you. “Will you open the trunk?”

You nod and hit the button on your key fob. You fail to stile a yawn as he walks back around. “Want me to drive? You worked all day and I got a nap earlier.” He asks, holding his hand out for your keys.

“Yeah, that’d be great. I hate driving” you reply, placing them in his palm, and pull him in for a kiss. You deepen it, licking into his mouth as he groans. His hands cup your ass and pull you into him, rubbing his erection on your stomach. “I didn’t think you could get hotter, then I saw you in scrubs” he mumbles against your lips.

You pull back laughing. “Is that so? Got a little bit of a nurse kink? Do you need me to check your temperature? I take it the old-fashioned way…” you wink, pinching his butt before walking around to the passenger side.

You rest your hand on his inner thigh as shifts into drive. As soon as he’s out of the parking lot, your hand moves up to palm him. You lean over the console to kiss his jaw to his ear.

You unbutton his pants and pull him out. “I thought…aren’t you tired?” He stutters out, sighing as you stroke him.

“I just wanted you to drive,” you whisper against his ear, “so I could do this…” You duck your head and swallow him down.

“Ohhh. Sunny, fuck.” he groans lowly, steering with his left hand while his right grips your ponytail, pushing you a little farther down before pulling you up to repeat the motion.

“God, your mouth. Those pretty pouty lips you love to bite, that wicked tongue,” you flick your tongue against his frenulum causing him to inhale sharply. “That tongue is gonna get you in trouble someday”. You moan around him.

“I’m getting close” he pants out as you feel the car slow down for a yellow light. His body tenses suddenly and releases his tight grip on your ponytail. “Shit. Sunny, wait. There’s a cop behind us. Don’t move.”

Knowing they can’t see anything, you take him deeper into your mouth and he curses, but doesn’t stop you.

Your hand reaches to play with his balls as you bob up and then down again, a little deeper each time. You swallow around him while gently tugging on his sack and he cums with a drawn out groan.

You swallow it with a moan and he shivers, on the brink of overstimulation. His foot lets off the brake and you keep your head down, tucking him into his pants.

“Okay, you’re good,” he tells you as he turns right and the cop car continues straight.

“Holy shit…that was insane” he laughs after a beat. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and laugh too.

________________________________________

Bob calls Annie from the driveway while you run up to your apartment to grab Steve and change out of your scrubs.

He’s hangs up as you let Steve go at the bottom of the steps. Bob crouches down to greet him. “Steven! Hey buddy, I missed you. Were you good for mama—Miss Sunny?” You act like you didn’t hear that Freudian slip.

“He was such a good boy. Watered all the plants by the garage, protected me from a squirrel, but hid behind me when we passed a sketchy-looking seashell on our walk yesterday”.

“That is a good boy,” he gives him a few pats as he rises, holding the door open for you.

________________________________________

Your face hurts from laughing as you and Bob head up to your apartment a few hours later. Amelia had a friend over and begged to let Steve stay with them.

Jake and Nat were heading home too. You had asked Bradley if he wanted to come up but he declined as he, Javy and Mickey were gonna hit the town and then crash at his place after, which was a relief, you didn't want him to be alone tonight.

You locked the door and went up behind Bob, gently wrapping your arms around his torso. “I feel gross. I hate getting into bed after the ER without a shower first. Do you want to join me?”

“Yeah, a shower sounds good.”

You lead him to the bathroom and undress him slowly, pressing your lips to each bump and bruise you uncover. Thankfully it’s not as bad as you’d imagined. You turn the water on and undress yourself before getting in. You wash his hair and help him rinse it out to avoid soaking the sutures. He does yours next, and you melt as his fingers massage your scalp. You take turns washing each other too. It’s not sexual but is intimate.

“To bed?” You ask as you finish toweling off. He nods but you can tell he’s apprehensive.

“There’s no pressure. We don’t have to do anything, okay?” You tell him, ghosting your lips over his.

“I want to. So much.”

You smile and take him by the hand.

________________________________________

You climb into bed and he crawls over you, leaning down for a kiss. You run your fingers gently over his chest, avoiding the bruises. You lightly pinch his nipples and are rewarded with a shudder and drips of precum on your stomach.

He trails down your neck with wet, open mouth kisses. He sucks a nipple into his mouth before softly biting, while his fingers pinch the other. You whimper and run your fingers into his hair. He teases you into a frenzy until you’re begging him for relief. “Just returning the favor, since you like teasing me so much” he murmurs against your tummy as he finally obliges and continues his journey south.

He licks a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit without warning, causing your back to arch and fingers to tighten in his hair. He eats you out like a man starved, using his chin, lips, tongue, and nose. You watch him devour you; eyes closed, ass clenching as he ruts into the mattress. “Sososoclose” you whimper.

He moans as he grabs your ass to pull your hips closer, the vibration enough to push you over the edge. You cry out, fingers tugging at his hair as the pleasure rolls over you. He laps at you gently as you come down. “I could stay here forever” he mumbles against your thigh, placing a final gentle kiss to your clit. He chuckles as you jolt and then kisses his earlier path up your body.

You pick your head up to meet him for a kiss as he settles his hips between your legs.

“Waitwaitwait, do you have any condoms? I’m sorry, I didn’t think to pack any.” He asks, voice strained.

“I think I do. But I’m on the pill, and I’m clean…I got tested after I found Derek cheating. I haven’t been with anyone since. So we don’t need one unless you want one, which is okay too.”

He shakes his head “No, it’s okay. I trust you.”

Your hand snakes between you two and he hisses when you grip his erection and drag his head through your arousal for lubrication, catching him on your entrance. “Ready?”

He nods. “I’m ready”.

He leans down to kiss you again, arms sliding under you. He flexes his hips and slowly begins to push into you.

You gasp against his lips. “Ohh God, you’re big”.

He shudders and tucks his head into your neck as he pulls out to push in again, deeper this time. “Christ Sunny, you feel amazing,” he pants, pulling back once more before burying himself fully.

He waits, trembling but giving you a second to his size before moving again. He groans out praises as he thrusts into you in a slow rhythm, his tip kissing your g-spot each time. “So tight and perfect. Fuckkkk you take it so well.”

You mewl, hands running down his back to grab his ass, pulling him against you so his pubic bone rubs your clit. “I can’t-I’m gonna…cum“ he grits out, trying to hold on, but you’re already there.

You cry out as your back arches. Your pussy tightens around him like a vice and he cums inside you with a low groan.

He rolls off you, pulling you with him to lay on his chest. His heart is racing under your ear. Yours is too.

“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the words.

“Yeah. That was.” he chuckles breathlessly.

________________________________________

He holds you as you trace the ridges of his abs You break the comfortable silence after a few minutes. “Bob?”

“Yeah, Sun?”

“Do you remember what you said yesterday? Before you hung up? You ask.

“Yeah, I—“ he starts but you interrupt him.

“Because…I do too. I know you probably said it out of habit and I know it’s too soon, but I’ve never felt like this before,” you pick up your head to look at him, “You let me be myself, you encourage it actually. You’re so kind, loving, selfless, observant…I just—I don’t know. I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you.”

He stares at you with an unreadable expression. Oh fuck, said too much too soon.

“I’m sorry, that was…a lot. It’s okay if you don’t feel—“

He stops you with a kiss and pulls you on top of him. “No…I feel it too. I realized I was in love with you when I deployed. It felt like I left part of myself behind. I was planning on keeping it to myself for a while until I was sure you felt the same, but my subconscious had other ideas,” he chuckles.

“I love the way you brighten every room you enter, how you listen so intently when people talk to you—you make them feel like what they’re saying is important, which is really nice when someone is quiet or shy like me. I love that you’re there for Bradley, and Jake, and Natasha, and I just love you” he finishes, a blush staining his cheeks.

Tears (once again) are steaming from your eyes as you lean in to kiss him.

________________________________________

Bob was insatiable.

You’d always thought that ‘making love’ was just another term for having sex.

The way he said so much without saying a word while he touched, teased, and fucked you showed you just how wrong you were.

________________________________________

Alrightttttt. I’m wrapping this one up and will be starting Bradley’s story next. I will likely come back to write more smut for Sunny and Bob too.

Taglist:

@blindedbythelightt

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #jake hangman seresin #natasha phoenix trace #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #aint no sunshine when she’s gone

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kikiswriting7 · 2 months

Text

Take a Chance ✵ JJK ✵ MYG - 5

✵ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

✵Summary: Y/N just move across the world to start her University. She is paired with a roommate who is complete social butterfly and makes a bet, Y/N needs to take more chances. And at the hint of her new found friend, her social and romantic life take a dramatic turn.

✵Tags/Warnings: Smut, College AU, red flag, sexual tension. angst, dirty talking, drinking, friends with benefits, full of cliches, friends to lover, temptation

✵Notes: Hello! Now that I somewhat have a vacation time and I could not stop thinking about this, my fingers slipped so here goes another chaper! And if you want to be added to the tag list and be notified when theres a new chapter please sign up on this link!

lots of love, Kiki

CHAPTER 5 - Guiding lights and shadows

The week was a relentless sprint, each day bleeding into the next in a haze of exhaustion.With finals approaching, it feels like every teacher is piling on extra work, making the days even more grueling. The highlights are lunch with the boys and the lingering memory of that kiss, which I am trying not to overanalyze. My heart is skipping a beat each time Yoongi’s name is appearing on my phone with a new message about a show or something he’s done. The conversation is always light and definitely far off from the moment we shared the previous weekend. So when he texts today asking if I want to join him in the city center to shop for headphones, I can’t resist. The stores are staying open later than usual, which works perfectly—I just need my finance teacher to let us out on time.

As the clock is ticking toward the end of the period, I am finding myself glancing at it repeatedly, willing it to move faster. When the bell finally rings, I am quickly gathering my things and rushing out, excitement bubbling inside me.

Yoongi is saying he doesn’t want anything serious. He has put the brakes on whatever we have, and I don’t understand why I am still hung up on him, other than the fact that he is clearly my type. When I arrive at the city center station, I spot Yoongi leaning against a lamppost, his gaze focused on his phone. He looks up as I approach, a small smile on his lips.

"Hey," I greet, slightly breathless from my hurry.

"Hey," he replies, his eyes lighting up. "Ready to find some headphones?"

"Absolutely," I say, matching his smile.

We are wandering through the busy streets, popping into various electronics stores and comparing different models. Yoongi is in his element, enthusiastically testing out headphones and discussing their pros and cons. I am admiring his passion for even the smallest things.

Eventually, he finds a pair he likes, and we make our way out of the store. The sky has darkened, with city lights casting a warm glow on the streets. We walk side by side, our conversation flowing effortlessly from one topic to another.

"Want to grab a drink?" Yoongi suggests. “We can get a bottle of something and take a walk by the beach?”

"Sure," I agree, glad for the chance to spend more time with him, though slightly concerned about the growing chill. The days have been warmer, but the nights, with the cold sea breeze, are frigid.

We stop by a nearby convenience store before heading back to our neighborhood bus, hoping to reach the beach faster. I can’t help but steal glances at Yoongi. Even in silence, his presence is comforting.

The city noises are fading as we reach the beach, the gentle sound of waves crashing against the sand taking over. We walk to the end of the beach, where a lighthouse stands amidst a stretch of rocks. It isn’t a long distance, but it feels removed from the city’s bustle. We drink from one of the bottles of wine we have bought, and conversation picks up again. Yoongi talks about his week and how he is grateful that his grade is based mainly on projects rather than exams—a luxury I am wishing for.

“I’m definitely a hands-on learner. It’s not my forte to just sit and absorb a subject,” I say as we reach the rocky path at the end of the beach. “So even though I have just started, I can’t wait for it to be over.”

“There’s definitely a strange feeling when you start,” Yoongi agrees. “Being away from home, studying in a different language... you grow up fast.”

His words are resonating with me. “Yeah,” I say softly, gazing out at the dark, rippling sea. “It’s like you’re forced to figure out who you are, but it’s hard to keep up.”

We are quiet for a while, sipping from the bottle of wine and watching the waves. A shiver is running down my spine, snapping me out of my thoughts. The cold is more biting than I’ve realized. I am stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets, desperate for warmth.

“You know, being cold is just a state of mind,” Yoongi says, breaking the silence. I shoot him a skeptical glance while blowing hot air over my hands.

“Yeah, sure. Try living your whole life in a warm country and then talk about cold being a state of mind,” I huff, making him chuckle. He takes my hands in his, warming them with his touch.

The contact is light, but it sends a jolt through me. Yoongi subtly moves closer, focusing on the sea ahead to distract from the growing warmth between us. “It’s strange how much can change in such a short time,” he muses, taking another sip from the wine bottle before handing it to me.

I also drink from it, feeling the warmth spread through me, but it pales compared to the heat between us. “You know, I never thought I’d be here, sitting with you like this,” I admit, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Dice…” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. It is as if everything suddenly crashes into his mind, and he pulls away, leaving me missing his warmth immediately.

I swallow hard, feeling the effects of the wine as my words tumble out. “I’ve never had a relationship before. But I think what’s important is doing things because you want to, not because someone told you to.” I look back at the sparkling city. “I don’t want to date someone who buys me flowers because they feel obligated. I want to live in the moment and enjoy whatever life throws at me.” I shrug, avoiding his gaze. I notice he is nodding slightly and taking a bigger sip from the bottle.

I turn to him to take my turn and realize it is almost empty. Have we drunk that much? I take a sip, feeling his eyes still on me. A smile starts forming on my lips. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Gabi is right. I just want to roll the dice and see where it lands.”

He chuckles, his gaze lingering on my lips. I find myself unable to look away from the softness of his gaze and the smile playing on his face. The world around us seems to fade, leaving just the two of us in this moment that feels both exhilarating and intensely intimate. My heart is pounding, almost drowning out the distant city sounds and crashing waves.

I try to maintain my composure, but Yoongi’s gaze makes it difficult. Thankfully, the darkness hides my blush. “You know,” I say, my voice wavering slightly, “sometimes it’s easier to talk about things when you’re... a little tipsy.”

Yoongi’s smile widens as he wraps his arm around my shoulder. His touch is warm and comforting against the cold night air. I lean my head on him. “Yeah, I get that,” he says softly. “Sometimes it’s easier to say what you really feel when you’re not overthinking everything.”

We are sharing a moment of silence, just enjoying the closeness, the intimacy of our shared warmth against the cold. I feel like I could stay here forever, lost in this strange, captivating bubble we are creating.

“Dice,” Yoongi says, his voice barely more than a murmur. He tilts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine. “If you really want to roll the dice... what would you want to happen?”

I meet his gaze, and the question is hanging in the air between us. My pulse is quickening as I struggle to find the right words. “I guess,” I start slowly, “I’d want to take chances. Live in the moment.” I frown. Who would say that I would be thinking like that.

“What is it?” he asks, confusion laced in his expression.

“If you tell Gabi that I said that, I will have to kill you.” I chuckle.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise, but he can’t hide the amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, so it’s that kind of secret?” he teases, his tone light but his gaze still intense.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Yeah, definitely. I don’t need her making fun of me for being all... introspective and sentimental. Especially when it makes her right.”

Yoongi chuckles, and his laughter seems to dissolve the last remnants of tension between us. “I promise, your secret is safe with me. I wouldn’t dare spill it, especially not to Gabi.”

He leans back slightly, but his hand remains gently clasping mine. The touch is both grounding and electrifying. “So, you want to take chances and live in the moment,” he says more as a statement than a question, his voice softening.

I look down at our entwined fingers, feeling the warmth from his touch seeping into me. The silence is comforting, filled only with the gentle sounds of the waves and the distant hum of the city. Yoongi’s thumb is tracing small, soothing circles on the back of my hand, and I find myself leaning in slightly, drawn to the intimacy between us.

“Do you want to know something?” he asks suddenly, his eyes locking onto mine with a mix of vulnerability and determination.

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yeah, tell me.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, his expression serious but soft. “I don’t want to overthink things either. I’ve been trying to figure out what I want, but... being here with you, right now, it feels right. And I think maybe that’s enough for now.”

The sincerity in his voice makes my breath catch, and I can see the same longing mirrored in his eyes. The distance between us feels like it is shrinking with every passing second. I take a small, deliberate breath, feeling the weight of his words and the promise they hold.

Yoongi’s gaze remains fixed on mine, and I see his eyes soften with a mix of relief and affection. He leans in, his face close enough that I can feel his warm breath against my skin. The world seems to slow down, the only sounds the gentle rush of the waves and our quickened breaths.

Yoongi’s face is inches from mine, his warm breath mingling with the cool night air. Our eyes lock, and in that shared gaze, I can see a mix of hope and vulnerability. His lips are soft and inviting, and as he leans in, I feel a flutter of anticipation.

When our lips finally meet, the kiss is gentle and exploratory. There is no rush or intensity—just a tender connection that speaks volumes in its simplicity. I can taste the faint, tangy flavor of the cheap wine on his lips.

Yoongi’s lips are warm against mine, moving with a soft, deliberate rhythm. He doesn’t press too hard or deepen the kiss, instead keeping it light and delicate. His kiss is like a whisper, full of unspoken promises and gentle affection. I can feel the slight, hesitant brush of his lips, a caress rather than a demand.

The sensation is comforting, almost comforting in its tenderness. His hand, still holding mine, is providing a reassuring warmth that makes the kiss feel even more intimate. The touch of his fingers against my skin is gentle, almost as if he is afraid of breaking the spell of the moment.

When we finally pull away, our foreheads are resting together, and I can see the soft smile playing on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi’s arms are wrapping around me, drawing me into a close, comforting embrace. We stay like that for a while, our bodies pressed together, with the city lights twinkling in the distance and the cool sea breeze gently brushing against our faces. The night feels suspended in time, a quiet and intimate pause amidst the chaos of our lives.

His warmth is seeping through my jacket, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest is a soothing rhythm against mine. We sit in silence, simply existing together in the stillness, the soft rustling of the sea and the distant hum of the city our only companions.

The kiss lingers between us, a tender moment. It is soft, fleeting—a brief spark that doesn’t demand anything more than what it is.

Yoongi’s gaze remains on the city, his expression contemplative but relaxed. His hand is resting lightly on my back, a casual touch that speaks of comfort rather than commitment. I lean my head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of calm wash over me as we share this peaceful moment.

“Cold isn’t so bad when you’re not alone,” he says softly, breaking the silence with a quiet, reflective tone.

I smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, it’s not so bad.”

We remain there, side by side, wrapped in each other’s warmth and the tranquility of the night. The city lights continue to shimmer in the distance, a backdrop to our shared silence. It is a moment of connection, open-ended and unspoken, leaving the future uncertain but the present moment perfectly still.

The library is unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. The usual hum of activity is replaced by the soft rustling of pages and the faint tapping of keyboards. Eli, Gabi, and I have claimed our favorite study spot near the windows, the table covered in books, notes, and highlighters. Despite the serene setting, there is a palpable tension in the air, especially around Eli.

Ever since the club night last week, something has shifted. Eli is seeming distracted, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced with a more subdued, thoughtful one. I keep my head down, focusing on my notes, trying to ignore the undercurrent of awkwardness.

“So, Eli,” Gabi says, breaking the silence. “Any updates on the marketing project?”

Eli snaps out of her thoughts, blinking rapidly. “Oh, um, yeah. I think we’re almost done. Just need to finalize a few things.”

Gabi nods, looking satisfied. “Good to know.” She drops her head on her books. “I’m seriously stressing about this test.”

Eli forces a smile. “Yeah, me too.”

The exchange is polite but strained. I can feel Gabi’s curious eyes darting between us, sensing the awkwardness but not pushing for answers, even though we probably knew the answer to it. Yoongi. I also definitely needed to keep quiet as I have also been keeping things from my friends.

Just as the silence threatens to swallow us again, Jungkook and Taehyung arrive, their presence like a breath of fresh air. Jungkook’s warm smile and Taehyung’s energetic demeanor instantly lighten the mood.

“Hey, everyone,” Jungkook greets, pulling up a chair beside me and resting his arm on the back of it. “Hope we’re not interrupting.” He offers the brightest smile that doesn’t fail to bring up the mood.

“Not at all,” Gabi replies, her eyes lighting up. “We could use the company.”

Taehyung plops down next to Eli, grinning. “So, what are we studying today?”

“Marketing,” Eli answers, her smile returning a little. “Big test and deadline coming up.”

“Fun,” Taehyung says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Good thing I’m here for moral support.”

As we settle into our study session, the atmosphere gradually becomes more relaxed. Jungkook and Taehyung’s playful banter helps ease some of the tension, and even Eli seems to loosen up a bit. However, my phone buzzes incessantly, a series of messages from Jimin lighting up the screen.

Jimin: "Hey, what are you up to?"

Jimin: "Studying again? On a Saturday?"

Jimin: "C'mon, let's do something fun!"

I sigh and quickly type a response.

Me: "I really need to study, Jimin. Maybe later?"

But Jimin, being Jimin, was relentless.

Jimin: "Pleeeeease? I'm bored out of my mind."

I try to ignore the messages and focus on my notes, but my phone buzzes again.

Jimin: "Fine, if you're going to ignore me, I'm just going to complain in the group chat"

A few seconds later, the group chat litghts up with Jimin's messages.

Jimin: "Why are all my friends so boring? It's Saturday! Someone come save me from this boredom!"

Gabi snorts, reading the messages over her own phone. "Sounds like Jimin's having a meltdown."

I roll my eyes, a small smile playing on my lips. "He's just being dramatic."

"Isn't he always?" Jungkook says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

As we continue studying, the group chat buzzes with more messages, most of them teasing Jimin for his dramatics. Even Jungkook and Taehyung join in.

Taehyung: "Jimin, maybe you should try studying. It's very stimulating."

Jungkook: "Or you could come help us. Plenty of fun to go around here."

Yoongi: “Don’t you have a test to study for?”

Jimin: "Ugh, you guys are the worst."

I chuckle at the exchange. It was comforting to have these people around. I am deep down glad of the friend group we formed. I don’t know how I would’ve survived so far without them.

Eli catches my eye and gives me a small, appreciative smile, as if to say thanks for not pressing her about her unease. I return the smile, but feeling the heaviest feeling in my gut from also holding stuff from her.

After Jungkook and Taehyung joined us, I notice Eli glancing at her phone more frequently, her fingers twitching as if she was expecting a message. Each time it buzzed, she looked both hopeful and anxious, her eyes darting quickly to the screen and then away.

"Everything okay, Eli?" Taehyung asks gently, clearly clueless about all the slightly akward day we had so far.

She nods quickly, too quickly. "Yeah, just... family stuff."

He nods back, not entirely convinced but clearly willing to let it go for now.

Throughout the afternoon, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Yoongi's absence is unusual. He was usually a steady presence, especially during our study sessions. Even though quiet and burried in his computer. During the week he acted like nothing had happened after he dropped us off at the apartment. But I guess last night might have drawn him away.

As we take a break, Taehyung stretched and glanced at me. "By the way, have you heard from Yoongi today?"

I shake my head. "No, I haven't. It's weird that he's not here."

Taehyung leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and shruggs. "Maybe he needed some time alone. You know how he can be."

Eli's face tightens at the mention of Yoongi, and she quickly looks down at her notes, pretending to be absorbed in her work. The look on Gabi’s face came and went like lightning. She also saw how she reacted. And the quick glance we shared afterwords was enough to tell me we were going to be talking about this later.

"Yeah, maybe," I say, giving Taehyung a small smile. "He does like his alone time."

As the afternoon wore on, the group started to leave one by one. Leaving me alone with Jungkook at the library. He claims that he knows the subject by heart and that he already finished his part for the group project of the class. He was lucky. Unfortunetly the girl who decided to team up with me convinced me she was hardworking and that we would be done with it in no time. All lies as she would never show up to any of the meetings I tried to set up with her about this damn project. “I can help you if you want.” Jungkook says looking up from his phone. “I hear the wheels turning inside your head from here” I quickly throw him an annoyed look. “I just feel so overwhelmed. How am I supposed to present this with someone who didn’t even write a single word”

“Well she did write like 3 paragraphs?” He tries to comfort, but it doesn’t work.

“Yeah, that I had to re-write because it didn’t make any sense.” I can feel my shoulders drop as the realization that it will be my first failed report in school. Great. Jungkook reaches over and gently pats my shoulder. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You're smart, and you'll figure it out. Maybe we can brainstorm some ideas together?"

I sighed, appreciating his constant attempts to lift my spirits. "Thanks, JK. I might take you up on that."

The library is starting to empty out, the quiet atmosphere becoming almost too peaceful. I glance at the clock, noting that we still had a few hours before closing time. I decided to take a short break and walk over to the vending machine to get a snack. Jungkook follows, his presence comforting in the silence.

As I feed coins into the machine, Jungkook leans against the wall, his eyes fixed on me. "So, what's really bothering you? I mean, besides the project and Eli."

I hesitate, not sure if I was ready to unload everything that had been on my mind. But Jungkook's earnest expression convinced me to open up, at least a little.

"It's just... everything feels off lately," I admitt. "Eli's been acting weird, because… well, you probably know why.” I have to bite my own tongue for not spilling out that Yoongi and I made out. Not once, but twice now. ”And this project is stressing me out. I feel like I'm drowning in everything."

Jungkook nods thoughtfully. "Yeah, I noticed Eli's been on edge... But you don't have to carry all this by yourself, you know? We're all here to help."

I give him a grateful smile, feeling a bit lighter. "Thanks. It helps to hear that."

We returnto our table, and I resume my work with Jungkook's support. His presence made it easier to focus, and I manage to make some progress on the project. We bounce ideas off each other, and I start to feel more confident about the upcoming presentation.

Just as I was starting to feel a bit better, my phone buzzes again. It was Jimin, of course.

Jimin: "Im still broed. Seriousljy, can't you come hangt out with mwe?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. He clearly had already his share of drinks tonight by the looks of it. "Jimin really doesn't know when to stop, does he?" I show the phone to Jk who is peeking above my shoulder.

Jungkook laughs. "Nope, but that's part of his charm. Maybe we can do something fun later, after you've finished studying."

"Maybe," I say, glancing at the time again. "I just need to wrap this up first."

As we continue working, I can’t help but think about Yoongi. His absence was gnawing at me, and I wondered what could have driven him away. Eli's reaction to his name had been telling, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions. I decide to check my phone once more and noticed that Yoongi had been active in the group chat earlier, but hadn't sent any messages since.

The evening progresses, and the library starts to fill with the low hum of closing announcements and the gradual packing up of students. By the time we wrap up, I feel much better about the project, thanks in no small part to Jungkook’s help.

“Ready to head out?" he asks, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah," I said, feeling a mix of relief and lingering stress. "Thanks for staying with me."

"Anytime," he replied with a warm smile. "And remember, you're not alone. We can figure all this out together."

We exit the library doors, blinking in the sudden twilight. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of the faint tang of the approaching sea. Jungkook stretched beside me, his phone clutched in his hand.

"Well, that was productive," he says, more to himself than to me. "Hopefully, your teammate will magically appear before the presentation."

I offer a weak smile. "Yeah, hopefully."

Suddenly, my phone rings in my pocket. My heart leapes – maybe it was Yoongi, finally reaching out. I pull it out, a smile faltering as I see the name on the screen: Gabi. I glance at Jungkook, who was still stretching and checking his phone. I pick up the phone with a soft smile on my lips. Jimin must have gotten into her head about going out and now its her turn to bother me.

“Hey thank God you picked up,” her voice is shaky at the other end of the line “I need your help. Jimin’s hurt. Can you come over right now? I’m worried.” “What do you mean?” I ask her, frowning. Jungkook notices my sudden change in demeanor. “Everything okay?”

My eyes lock with Jungkooks as he is quick to drop the attention from this own phone.

My breath catches. Something happened to Jimin? He had texted me not long ago about going to hang out with him. I feel a rush of panic and concern. “We came to this new bar and Jimin got into a fight. Hes not looking too good. I’ll send you our location.” She rushes and before I get the chance to reply she hangs up.

“I—Gabi says Jimin’s hurt,” I say, my voice tight with anxiety. “We have to go.”

Jungkook’s expression shifts to concern. “Do you know where they are?”

I agree quickly, looking at the directions to the bar. “Yes, she just sent me their location.”

We hurry through the darkening streets, each step heavy with worry. I try calling Gabi, but her phone went straight to voicemail. As we approache the place, the music throbbed through the night and silhouettes move on the sidewalk. My eyes scan the area, landing on two figures – one slumped against the wall, the other pacing impatiently. Relief washes over me momentarily, but then I see Jimin.

He is sprawled on the sidewalk, his hair disheveled and his clothes askew. A grimace contorted his face, clutching his stomach with a groan. Gabi hovered beside him, her face pale and streaked with tears.

"He… he got beat up," Gabi stammers, her voice cracking. "I don't know what happened!"

Jungkook kneels beside Jimin, his brow furrowed as he assesses the situation. Thankfully, there was barely any blood, but Jimin definitely looked worse for wear.

"What the hell happened?" Jungkook asks, his voice laced with concern.

"I don't know," Gabi sniffles. "We were just leaving the bar when these guys started shoving him around. They kept calling him names…" Her voice trailes off, tears welling up again.

Jimin winces as he tried to sit up. "Ugh, my head…" he mumbled, his voice slurred, as he sat back down.

I kneel beside Gabi, my own worry bubbling up. "Are you okay, Gabi?"

She shakes her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "I'm scared. What if they come back?"

Just then, a group of three young men emerge from the bar, their faces flushed and their voices loud. They spott us and start swaggering over, a menacing glint in their eyes.

"Hey! Looks like the little party's still going on," one of them sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Leave us alone," Gabi says, her voice trembling.

The leader of the group scoffs. "Not until we settle the score with your little boyfriend here."

Jungkook stands up, his jaw set in a hard line. He was a big guy, but you could barely notice underneath the jacket he wore. But he radiates a quiet intensity that made me feel a flicker of hope.

"We don't want any trouble," he says calmly, though his voice holds a steely edge. "Just let us go."

The leader barks out a laugh. "Trouble? You started the trouble when your friend got mouthy with us."

The situation was escalating quickly, and I know we were outnumbered. My mind races, searching for a way out.

The tension in the air is palpable, and the group's hostile approach sent a shiver down my spine. I glance at Jungkook, who was visibly bracing himself for a confrontation. My mind desperate to find a way to defuse the situation before it got any worse.

Jungkook steps in front of Jimin protectively, his posture solid and unyielding. “Look, we don’t want any trouble,” he states firmly, though the strain in his voice was evident. “We’re just here to help our friend.”

The leader of the group’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between Jungkook and Jimin. “Help, huh? Seems like you’re just trying to play the hero. You should have thought about that before your friend decided to act tough.”

The men behind him shuffle closer, their faces etched with aggressive intent. I could see the situation spiraling out of control, and my heart pounds with fear. I take a deep breath and tried to gather all the courage in me.

Squaring my shoulders, I rise to my feet, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. "Listen, gentlemen," I say, my voice surprisingly steady considering the tremor in my legs. "This is all a big misunderstanding. We're just leaving."

The leader's gaze flicks to Jungkook, who remains a stoic figure beside me. A smirk played on his lips."Misunderstanding, huh? Looks like your little boyfriend here needs a lesson in respect."

My smile falters. Respect? These guys were looking for trouble, and I wasn't about to let them take it out on Jimin. "He didn't do anything wrong," I counter, my voice gaining a touch of defiance. Maybe if I played it tough, they'd back down.

One of the guys snorted. "Yeah, right. Maybe you should teach him some manners yourself, sweetheart."

Their amusement fuel a surge of anger within me. They clearly didn't see the pepper spray nestled discreetly in the side pocket of my backpack. This wasn't a situation that called for playing nice.

With a deep breath, I reach back, my fingers brushing the cool metal canister. They didn't need to see it, just know it was there. "Look," I say, my voice dropping to a low growl. "We're not here to fight. But if you keep pushing, things could get messy. And trust me, you don't want that mess."

The leader's smirk falter for a brief moment, replaced by a flicker of something that might have been apprehension. He glances at his buddies, a silent question hanging in the air.

But then, as quickly as it appeared, the sneer returns. "Empty threats, doll?" he scoffs. "Let's see you back that up."

He takes a menacing step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab me. It was now or never.

My hand shoots into my backpack, emerging with a hiss. The pepper spray gleams in the dim streetlight, a silent warning.

The leader freezes, his eyes widening in shock. His hand retreats as if burned. The air crackles with a different kind of tension now, thick with fear.

"Maybe you should reconsider," I say, my voice leaving no room for argument. “We’re not here to fight, but if you push it…”

The leader’s smirk falters, replaced by a flicker of hesitation. He glances at his buddies, weighing the situation.

Finally, he gives a dismissive wave. “Whatever. We’re done here. Get your friend out of here and don’t come back.”

The group turns and walk away, their retreating figures dissolving into the night. As the adrenaline begin to fade, I let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of relief settle in. Jungkook takes away the can from my hand and quickly analyses if I am ok. He softly squeezes my hand in reassurance, before returning to Jimin’s side, helping him to his feet as Gabi wipes her tears away.

“Lets get him home.” He quickly says while leading the way. Previous ✧ Next

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Honestly, I am quite excited with this story! Hope you guys are enjoying too! Anyway! Share your thoughts! It honestly makes my day hehe Hope you are liking it so far :)

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madhatterbri · 3 months

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Choose You | F.B. Demon King

Summary: A demon king reveals his feelings for Y/N.

Author's Note: Please don't come after me, JD McDonagh girls. 😂😂

Taglist: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps

"What a day," Y/N sighed as she walked out of work. The work day seemed to never want to end. Endless amounts of paperwork and phone calls, but at least it was Friday.

She frowned at the realization. It had been a week since she spoke to Finn. The Demon King that seemed so interested in her yet rejected her. Only left with a vague explanation on why they could never be.

At first, he claimed he was trying to protect her. People were sent to watch him. Y/N made a joke that the government is always watching them. When that didn't work, he said he could never fall for a weaker species like a human. Y/N wondered if he was truly embarrassed of her.

Her friends told her not to give up hope, but it was hard to. All the messages she sent to him. They were just left there. He even turned off the read notification on his phone.

Her friend, Lena, pulled up to pick her up and take her home. After Finn's rejection, her tires were slashed. Once her car was taken to the mechanics, they noticed someone tampered with her brake lines. Y/N had no idea who could do this to her car.

"Who is that man that is staring at you?" Lena asked while seeing a figure under one of the street lights. The man appeared short with a large head. His brown hair laid by his shoulders. Y/N shrugged, figuring it was just one of the new employees their boss recently hired. They were constantly understaffed.

When she was able to see better, Y/N finally recognized him. They passed each other when she left Finn's apartment. He had a blank stare as she walked out with tears in her eyes.

"That is one of Finn's friends, JD. Maybe he has heard from Finn, and I can ask about him," Y/N smiled hopefully. As he drew closer, there was something off about him. His eyes were black as charcoal. Black vein lines ran underneath his eyes.

"What the hell?" Lena asked. "Sir, are you alright?"

"Lena, we should go. Now!" Y/N urged. He had a similar appearance to Finn's demon form. Lena unlocked the car for Y/N. JD grabbed Y/N's arm and threw her to the ground. The injured woman started to crawl backward.

"Leave her alone!" Lena demanded and left her vehicle. She smacked JD on the side of her head with her purse. The Demon laughed and shoved her over the car. Lena hit her head on the ground and passed out.

"No! What are you doing?" Y/N asked. She sat on the ground. There were no options for her to fight back against him. Blood ran down her wounds.

"You are keeping Finn here and away from his duties back in hell. Eliminating you will make the devil very happy and afford me a nice promotion," he answered. His hand suddenly turned black. Long, black fingers replaced his human ones. Sharp, white nails were at the tips of his fingers. "It will be quick if you just accept it,"

JD raised his hand high in the air. Y/N closed her eyes and looked away. Her impending doom is much too horrible to bear witness. Her mind only thought about one person. Finn. She would never see him again.

The blow never struck her. Y/N opened her eyes to see Finn standing in front of her. He was panting heavily as he held JD's wrist. He grunted and shoved him away weakly. JD's back crashed against the car behind him.

"You can't beat me in your human form. The longer you are away from hell, the weaker your true self becomes. Come back to hell with me, and father promises your punishment will be less severe," JD informed him.

"No chance. Dad has a whole realm of prodigal sons to manipulate and use," Finn growled. His skin started to turn black. Within moments, he was in his true demon form. The advantage quickly favored Finn.

"Dad always said you were weak. Your past human life made you a liability," JD laughed. The two men fought. Punches and kicks were thrown at the other. After a brief battle, JD's body lay slain on the floor. Moments later, he turned to ash and blew with the wind. No trace of him was left on the Earth.

Y/N crawled to her friend. Lena slowly started to come to. Before they could thank Finn, he was gone. With no trace of either demon, it was as if nothing ever happened.

Y/N decided to drive Lena to her apartment that night. She helped her inside and took care of her injuries. Lena thanked her for her generosity. They watched television together until Lena drifted off to sleep.

Y/N was setting up the couch when someone knocked on the door. She looked through the peephole to see Finn standing outside. He was pacing. She opened the door cautiously.

"Hey," Y/N greeted. He said nothing. Finn continued to pace. "Okay, I guess I will do the talking. I wanted to say thank you. For saving Lena and I, of course. I didn't know he was your little brother. I'm so sorry if there is anything I can do-,"

"I care not about your friend. I'm here for you," Finn spoke rudely. Y/N stepped outside so her friend couldn't hear him. Finn noticed the cuts on her. His eyes softened, and he stopped pacing. "Are you all right? I tried to get there as soon as I could,"

"What is your problem lately? First, we almost kissed. Second, you want nothing to do with me. Third, you save me from your psychotic younger brother, and now you are being a complete dick about Lena. Did I say something or do something to you?"

Finn felt his anger rise and paused. "If another demon comes between you and your friend again, I will gladly let your friend die. I will always choose you,"

"So you will choose me and fight for me to not die, but you won't be with me?" Y/N asked. The man before her was giving her major whiplash. The silence and tension grew. Both their emotions were getting the best of them.

"Fuck it," Finn growled and placed her against her door. They stared into each other's eyes. Their lips locked to the other.

#fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #finn balor x y/n #finn balor x reader #reader insert #demon king

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sycamorelibrary754 · 10 months

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Guardian Angel

Chapter 4: Fly Me to the Moon

Summary: In your worst moment, Wanda is there for you.

Warnings: Trigger Warning—car accident, blood, injuries, hospital, surgery.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This was an intense chapter. 😭 Shoutout to @arlana-likes-to-write for helping me with some dialogue at the end.

Guardian Angel Masterlist

On this gloomy Friday morning, you came to the decision that if you had a superpower, it would be the ability to fly. You could effortlessly soar above the annoying traffic and get to work on time. However, the sad reality is that you are no superhero. You can barely work the defroster in your car.

This morning, you woke up to the realization that your alarm had failed to go off. You had overslept and were now rushing to get ready for work. You had to forego your usual morning routine of sipping on coffee and listening to relaxing music, which usually helped you start your day on a positive note. Instead, you took a hurried shower and got dressed as quickly as you could. You had to get out of the door as soon as possible to avoid getting stuck in the morning traffic. The rain outside only added to your sense of urgency. As you drove across town, you couldn't help but worry about getting to work on time. The Candy Bar had recently become increasingly busy, especially with the start of the holiday season. You were hesitant to leave Harper to handle the rush all by herself.

Rain lashed against your windshield. The windshield wipers whipped back and forth over the window of your black Honda Acura, attempting to clear away the large droplets clinging to the glass. Wary of the number of cars around, you gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. As you approached the intersection of Second Avenue and Crosby Street, your traffic light turned green. You began to cross the threshold of the intersection when suddenly, a green car to your right rushed through the intersection at full speed, presumably trying to beat the red light. It happened so fast that you barely saw it coming out of the corner of your eye. You quickly slammed on the brakes and tried to turn the car to avoid a direct collision. The sound of your car's screeching brakes and tires skidding on the wet pavement shattered the silence of the street. In that split second, images of your life flashed across your mind like a slideshow. You saw yourself as a child, your high school graduation, your first day of college, and the day you opened The Candy Bar. All these moments seemed to flash before your eyes as you struggled to regain control of your car. But it was too late. Your car was struck with a tremendous force, causing it to flip once, then twice before landing upside down in the middle of the street. The last thing you remembered before the airbag deployed was the sound of shattering glass and the distant sound of cars piling up. Everything went black after that.

*^~^*

Natasha was undeterred by bad weather. She ran like clockwork every morning, converting her emotional pain into miles covered. She had a warrior spirit that never quit and knew that training was the key to success. Even off the clock, her training stayed with her, making her more alert, confident, and always on the lookout for vulnerabilities.

Maria was better at compartmentalization. Outside of work, a run was a run. That’s why when they both awoke this morning to the relaxing sound of rain, she was keen to skip the run and cuddle in bed with Nat just a bit longer. Unfortunately, she did not win that argument. Which is how she found herself running down the street next to her better half in the rain; hoodie pulled tight over her head. The soundtrack of their morning was the splish splash of their running shoes as they pounded through the puddles that had formed along their usual route.

"Let's go one more block, and then we'll head back," Natasha shouted over the sound of the rain.

"Thank God," Maria whispered.

“What was that, malyshka?”

"Sure thing, sweetheart!" Maria replied, giving a thumbs up.

Amid a peaceful moment, a sudden, piercing screech shattered the tranquility. The two women turned their attention to the noise and were met with the terrifying sight of a black car hydroplaning wildly out of control through the nearby intersection. Their breaths caught in their throats as they watched in horror as a green car, careening recklessly from the opposite direction, slammed into the driver's side door of the spinning vehicle. The black car was sent flying, rolling twice before coming to a rest upside down in the center of the street. The sickening sound of metal bending and glass shattering echoed eerily through the rain-slicked air as multiple cars piled up behind it as if they had all hit an invisible brick wall.

"Call it in!" yelled Maria.

*^~^*

After dropping her boys off at school, Wanda pulled into her driveway when a call came through on her Bluetooth. She quickly answered the call from FRIDAY's interface, displaying the compound's number.

“Ms. Maximoff, there has been a multi-vehicle accident approximately 2.3 miles from your current location. There are possible fatalities and multiple injuries. The team is on the way and requires your assistance.”

“On my way.”

As soon as Wanda landed on the scene, she could see chaos around her. Bruce had arrived and was frantically setting up triage to tend to the injured. At the same time, Maria was busy establishing a secure perimeter to keep the bystanders at a safe distance. As emergency services rushed to the scene, the sound of distant sirens could be heard in the background, growing louder with each passing moment. Onlookers had gathered, their faces etched with worry and fear, as they watched the unfolding events with a mix of shock and disbelief.

“Where do you need me?” Wanda asked.

That car took the worst of it,” Natasha interjected, pointing to the overturned black vehicle in the intersection. “See if you can help Stark with the driver!”

Wanda sprinted to the scene and arrived at the car just as Tony touched down, quickly scanning for a heat signature.

“One occupant. Female, early 30s, multiple internal injuries, vital signs ready,” FRIDAY announced.

Wanda crouched down to ground level and tried to peer through the broken window. Droplets of water ran down her skin, making it difficult to see. Her breath left her body as she finally took in the sight before her. You were still strapped into the driver's seat; the airbag deflated in front of you like an old balloon. Blood was trickling slowly down the side of your bruised and battered face. Wanda stood up and frantically tried to open the upside-down door, but the frame was poorly bent out of alignment.

"Whoa, Red! What are you doing? There's a safer way," Tony shouted.

“I know her!” Wanda yelled.

A repulsor ray from Iron Man’s hand quickly cut through the hinge of the car door. Wanda reached inside and unbuckled you from the seat. A trail of blood followed you across the pavement as she carefully slid your unconscious body from the car.

"Please don't do this to me, y/n. I can still feel you," Wanda said, her voice trembling.

Sam quickly rushed to your side and applied pressure to your stomach wound, tapping into his military training. "I've got you, Wanda. Cap and Bucky need your help."

The redhead looked over to see two super soldiers working to pry twisted metal apart to free other drivers from their cars. She then glanced back down at you, her breathing uneven as she hesitated, not wanting to leave your side.

"Friday, please contact the nearest Level One Trauma Center and inform them of the situation," Tony instructed.

“Go!” Sam exclaimed.

Wanda swiftly cleared the debris from the center of the pile-up. Her magic making quick work of the scene and created a path for Steve and Bucky to reach the other victims. The relentless rain showed no signs of letting up, causing water to collect around the wreckage. After an eternity, Wanda finally returned to you, navigating through the maze of broken and battered cars. As she approached, she could see that you were still lying motionless on the ground, a few feet from your vehicle. Meanwhile, Sam and Yelena were working frantically to save you. Sam was applying pressure to your abdominal wound while Yelena was administering CPR. They were so focused on keeping you alive that they failed to notice the fuel leaking from your gas tank.

“Sam, Yelena!” she screamed.

Your car ignited in a flash of fire just as Wanda reached you again. The bright flash hit her eyes just before the force of the explosion knocked the three of them back. She acted purely on instinct, containing the explosion in a sphere of glowing red energy. Dropping to the ground in exhaustion as the blast was diffused.

"Well done," Steve praised as he helped Wanda to her feet.

"Where are the first responders, Hill?" asked Bruce.

“The rain and the pile-up are making it difficult to get through. I’m working on it.” Maria said.

“She can’t wait. We need to get her out of here now,” Sam cautioned, removing his undershirt and packing your wound.

“I’ve got a pulse,” Yelena announced.

"St. Peter’s is the closest hospital," Kate said.

“I’ll clear a path,” Clint offered.

"No," Tony interrupted. "Take her to the compound. Get her to the MedBay. I'll notify Helen." He locked eyes with Wanda.

She looked into Tony's eyes, searching for insincerity, but found none.

“FRIDAY, run an X-ray and CT scan to assess spinal stability,” he ordered.

“The spine is stable, boss,” FRIDAY replied.

“Take her,” Tony ordered.

Wanda picked you up tenderly and vanished into the weeping grey sky. If she hastened, she could reach the compound within five minutes. Wanda prayed silently that you would hold on for that long.

A sharp intake of breath brought you around as searing pain surged through your broken body. A mixture of blood and water hit your tastebuds. Your vision was blurry and your hair was falling wetly in front of your eyes, but you could just make out Wanda’s face staring down at you. Her eyes began to glow red, and you felt the same sense of calm wash over you as the day you met her.

“Stay with me, Y/N. We’re almost there.”

Your eyes grew heavy as you succumbed to unconsciousness once more.

*^~^*

“Concussion, ruptured spleen, two cracked ribs, shattered collarbone, collapsed lung, fractured ankle.”

As Wanda stood there with tears in her eyes, her hands instinctively flew to her mouth, trying to suppress the gasp that threatened to escape her lips. She couldn't bring herself to accept what she was hearing, but as Dr. Cho went on reciting the list of injuries you had sustained, the harsh reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks.

“She’s in surgery right now. We can regenerate the damaged tissue with the cradle once she is stable. The nano-molecular functionality is instantaneous, but with the severity and number of injuries, it will take some time. Y/N will have a long road ahead of her to recovery.”

Wanda nodded, too afraid to say anything that might cause her to break down.

“Do you know if she has any family we should notify?” Helen asked.

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“It’s going to be a long day. You look exhausted. Why don’t you try and get some rest?” Helen suggested, placing a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “I’ll have Friday notify you when there is an update.”

“No, no, I’ll stay. I need to call Darcy to see if she can pick up the boys from school, but I’ll stay. I want to be here when she wakes up,” Wanda said somberly.

Helen nodded in understanding before turning and walking back into the Operating Room. The redhead sat on the sofa in the corner of the Med Bay, unable to process everything that had transpired in the last hour. Her mind replays the image of your broken figure lying upside down and motionless in your car. She glanced down at the drops of your blood staining her shirt; the shock prevented her from feeling anything.

The sound of the rain outside continued to fill the room as Wanda sat in the compound waiting room. Nurses and doctors walked in and out, their faces unfamiliar to her. She sat there, anxiously watching the clock as one hour turned into two and then three. Suddenly, a text message from Darcy lit up her phone, offering to help with the boys for as long as she needed. Wanda felt grateful for the offer and quickly sent a reply thanking her. She took off her coat and balled it up to create a makeshift pillow. She curled up on one end of the sofa and let her gaze linger on the operating room door. The redhead felt her eyelids grow heavy, and she fell asleep within minutes.

A gentle nudge on her shoulder woke Wanda after half an hour. She looked up to see Sam and Yelena standing nearby.

“Mhmm, what are you guys doing here?” She murmured.

“We wanted to see how she was doing,” Sam said.

“Y/N”

“Y/N,” Sam repeated.

“How is she?” Yelena asked, taking a seat beside her.

I don't know," she said, dragging her hands down her tired face. "I spoke to Helen when they first brought her into the OR, but I haven't heard anything since. She's in pretty bad shape," tears threatening to fall again. "What happened after I left the scene? Were there any casualties?

“No, thankfully.” Sam shared. There were a few other serious injuries: broken back, internal bleeding, severe whiplash. The first responders could get through a couple of minutes after you left. Hill wants to meet with law enforcement to discuss working together to improve response times.”

Wanda struggled to speak, her words catching in her throat. "Thank you for what you both did for her," she finally managed to say.

Noticing your blood on her shirt, Sam placed his hand on Wanda's thigh and said, "I'll be back with a change of clothes for you."

"Can I ask how you know y/n?" Yelena asked softly once they were alone.

“She was… is, the woman I helped in the café, and I bought the candy for Billy and Tommy’s birthday from her sweet shop.”

“I see,” Yelena said. “Does she know you have feelings for her?”

Wanda was baffled as she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Oh, little witch. Don’t tell me you are that deep in denial?" she said, her voice laced with disbelief and concern. "We risk our lives daily to help people survive the worst moment. We are trained to do so with composure and presence of mind because otherwise, we risk letting our emotions affect our actions in the field," she continued. “You can't argue with that - it's the truth. I’ve fought alongside you for almost three years, and in all that time, I’ve never seen you react the way you did today. You care for her," the blonde said, her tone softening.

Wanda averted her gaze from Yelena, fixing it on an imaginary point on the dull white wall right in front of her.

“I barely know her,” Wanda sighed. “She doesn’t know me at all. Honestly, I’m not sure she should,” a single tear rolling down her cheek that she quickly wiped away.

“That is what you think, not what she thinks. Let her in. Sooner rather than later,” placing a loving hand on her arm.

"Wanda?" Helen interjected softly as she walked out of the operating room.

The redhead stood up anxiously. “Y/N is out of surgery and stable. It was touch and go at times, but she pulled through. She’s still under, but you can sit with her if you’d like. She's in Room 4.”

“Thank you, Helen. Thank you,” hugging Helen before looking back at Yelena.

“Go on, I’ll wait here.”

*^~^*

Wanda took a deep breath before opening the door to your room. The sight that greeted her was heartbreaking. Your face had bruises, and your hair was unkempt. You had a nasal cannula on your face, and there were several butterfly stitches. Your left arm was in a sling, and your right leg was in a cast below the knee, propped up gently on a pillow.

Despite your physical appearance, you looked peaceful. If it weren't for the steady beep of the heart rate monitor, she might've thought you were only sleeping. The redhead took a seat at your bedside, unable to take her eyes off you. Wanda could hardly believe she was sitting here. Three weeks ago, she didn't even know you existed. Now she was sitting in your dreary grey hospital room, praying you would wake up soon.

A young nurse walked into the room with a tablet in her hand. She recorded your vital signs and acknowledged Wanda's presence with a nod and a sympathetic smile. After leaving the room, Wanda was left alone with her anxious thoughts. She replayed your two brief encounters in her head and began to worry about your recovery. She couldn't recall you mentioning any family or significant other, which made her concerned about what your recovery would look like if it was true that you were all alone.

As you slowly started to stir, a barely audible groan broke Wanda from her trance. Hearing the sound, her head snapped in your direction. You felt heavy and broken all over your body, and when you tried to shift slightly, everything hurt. Gradually, the blinding light subsided, and you began to take in your surroundings, but you had no idea where you were or how you got there. Panic started to set in before a soft, sweet voice met your ears.

“Y/N, hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.” grasping your hand.

You turned your head and saw Wanda's beautiful green eyes.

“Wanda?” Tears form in your eyes. “What happened? Where am I? What are you—?” Your raspy voice cracked and set you into a coughing fit. Wanda reached across your body and grabbed a cup of water sitting on the bedside table. Helping you to sit up slowly, she held the cup to your lips as you took small sips. She rubbed gentle circles on your back as the coughing subsided and your lungs relaxed.

“Easy, easy.. that’s it,” helping you lay back down. “You were in a car accident, y/n, but I promise you’ll be okay. You’re in the MedBay. It’s the hospital wing of the Avengers compound.” You stared at her for a few moments. Your brain was fuzzy, and you were having trouble understanding everything she was saying to you, “Avengers comp—what?” your voice hoarse and tired.

“I’ll get Dr. Cho,” reaching for your call button.

"No, no, wait, just wait," she did. She said you were in the Avengers compound, but that means, no, that's impossible. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t recognized her before. "You're an Avenger," you said slowly, her green eyes cast downwards to avoid looking at you. "Right?" You questioned when her silence wasn't a good enough answer. "That's the only way they would allow me in here."

"I am," she finally spoke but her eyes remained trained on the ground. "But I didn't want you to find out." You were a little taken aback by her confession. The stories that surrounded the Avengers were nothing short of heroic.

"Why wouldn't you want me to find out?" You questioned, voice barely above a whisper. "Being an Avenger is amazing. You are a hero. You-" you trailed off as you watched the woman sink into herself. "Wanda, why didn't you want me to know?" Sighing, she bit her lip and looked up at you.

"Does the town of Westview, New Jersey, mean anything to you?"

*Chapter 5 coming soon*

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